Chapter 6

D REW WAS IN A HURRY. He had just been told that his brother Boyd's ship, The Oceanus, was anchored in the harbor waiting for dockage. It would be days before it was given a berth because the line of incoming ships was long. But that didn't mean Boyd hadn't rowed ashore already, and if not, Drew would find a dinghy himself to pay Boyd a visit.

He hadn't known Boyd was scheduled to stop in England, but his timing couldn't have been better. The family had just returned to London yesterday from Jeremy's wedding and would be sailing to Connecticut in less than a week. Drew had come down to the docks today to let his first mate know they would be sailing sooner than planned.

He'd actually expected to find The Oceanus in Bridgeport, since it usually transported sugar and tobacco from the West Indies to the northeastern states. He'd been looking forward to a reunion with his youngest brother. That was his main reason for sailing to their home port himself.

If Boyd had come to England merely to visit with Georgina, then he might like to sail home with Drew this trip. Now, that was a pleasant thought, especially since their brother-in-law, James, hadn't taken the hint and was still determined to sail with his wife and daughter. Drew could use some reinforcements with that particular Malory aboard.

Georgina and Boyd were the only two Andersons who didn't captain their own ships. She'd never been expected to and would probably have had quite a fight on her hands with all five of her brothers if she'd ever suggested it. Boyd simply didn't want to. He loved to sail, he just had no desire to take command.

They'd always thought it was nervousness and he just needed time to outgrow it, and that eventually he'd become captain of his ship The Oceanus when he was ready. But he'd finally admitted he saw no need to ever take that step, that he preferred to simply enjoy the voyages without the responsibility of being in charge, and since he paid his captains from his own pocket, his brothers had no reason to complain. Since Boyd was not needed for The Oceanus to set sail again, he might be agreeable to traveling with him and Georgina and her family on The Triton.

Hurrying along the crowded wharf to the Skylark Office, where he expected to find Boyd if he'd already come ashore, Drew didn't pay much attention to the traffic, other than to avoid it. But it was hard to miss the woman about to fall right in his path.

It was a mere reflex to grip her arm to keep her from falling. He wasn't really paying attention to her because his eyes were on the two fellows walking behind her who charged forward just as Drew set her back on her feet.

"Let go," she growled at him, and he did.

Drew wasn't sure if the two men were really with her, because now that she was standing steadily on her own two feet, they hung back behind her, trying to appear as if they weren't keeping an eye on her. Odd. Drew glanced back at the woman to see why she'd been unappreciative of his help, and forgot about her escort entirely.

The palest blue eyes he'd ever seen surrounded by black lashes were glaring at him. They were eyes so startlingly beautiful that it took him a moment to take in the rest of the package.

Drew wasn't often given pause. Piqued, certainly. But being rendered speechless just didn't happen all that often to a man who'd pursued the loveliest of the lovelies across the world. This one was pretty, yes, but many could outshine her. A pert nose, black brows barely arched, probably because of her frown. But full, lush lips boldly red, though not from any paint. Because she'd been biting them would be his guess.

Her black hair was tightly contained in an artful coiffure. Her blue dress and hat were nearly as pale as her eyes. She was dressed like a lady in the height of fashion, and yet she had a rich, golden tan that the ladies of England simply wouldn't acquire. He'd wager she'd been in a warmer climate recently.

Was that what surprised him, the deeply tanned skin that was darker than her eyes? Or those sinfully lush lips? Or perhaps it was simply because she was glaring at him when he'd helped her, for crying out loud.

"Should I have let you tumble at my feet, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You were about to fall," he reminded her. "Or has that slipped your mind? I know I do have that effect on women, scattering their thoughts every which way," he added with a boyish grin.

Instead of charming her out of her ire as he expected, his remark had her drawing in her breath indignantly and claiming, "You've bruised my arm, you lout."

"Did I? Let me see."

She jerked her arm out of his reach. "I think not. If you were indeed trying to be helpful, I thank you. But next time don't be such a brute about it."

His smile gone, Drew replied, "There won't be a next time, because if you stumble again, I'd definitely think twice about trying to catch you. In fact, I'm sure I'd let you fall. Good day, miss."

He heard her gasp of outrage as he walked away. It was a sweet sound, but it didn't bring back his smile. Ungrateful wench, he thought. He was so annoyed he felt no urge to look back at her, which was unusual for him when he encountered a beautiful woman. He just barreled past her escort, if indeed the two men really were her escort. Too bad neither of them took exception to it.