Page 14 of Scandalous

“I should like to go over tomorrow and see if I am needed—to translate, if nothing else.”

He nodded. “That can be arranged.”

“I wonder, did your man happen to mention a newborn? She is not quite—”

“I know of the child. She and the father and nursemaid are in a cabin of their own.”

Sarah exhaled, so relieved she felt weak. Yesterday at this same time she’d been certain they would all perish in the hold of that ship. “Thank you for your kindness. I am very—”

He made a dismissive gesture. “Eat,” he ordered, turning to the table and filling a small plate with delicacies.

She looked at the top of his head, her mouth open.

Was he . . . embarrassed?

Sarah realized she was hungry, too, and dropped the matter. She picked up a piece of cheese and took a small bite.

“This is delicious,” she said, forcing herself to eat slowly.

The smile he gave her was the first genuine one she’d seen on his face. She’d not thought he could look more attractive. She’d been wrong.

“How is it that you do not know cheese?”

“We had nothing like this in our village. Perhaps the closest thing would be a type of paste we sometimes received in trade from a neighboring village. The people with whom we lived were quite poor. My father said they were poor even in comparison to the other villages in the area.”

“Your father? Where is he now?”

“He died almost two years ago, shortly after my mother.”

“And you have been living in this village alone since that time?” His frown showed what he thought of such an idea.

“I was born there. It is the only home I’ve ever known. Well, until the last few weeks.” She nibbled on something that looked like meat, but was dry and quite salty. “This is very good, also.”

“That is cured meat from Italy.”

“Oh, have you been to Italy? Is it wonderful?”

Bouchard smiled tolerantly at her enthusiasm. “Yes, Italy is quite beautiful, at least what I saw of it. Tell me, why were your parents in such a remote place?”

“They were missionaries and came to the area over twenty years ago. The church that funded them was among the first to send people to Africa. They used to send us supplies four times a year; then it dropped to twice a year. Three years ago we received one shipment, and the following year, nothing.”

She took a sip of wine. It was actually quite delightful when paired with the salted meat and cheese.

“Your father did not think to leave when this happened?”

“My parents sickened and died shortly afterward. They died within weeks of each other. By that time there was no way to leave even if I had had someplace else to go.”

“How did you come to be on the Dutch ship?” Bouchard refilled both their glasses before leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. The movement did distracting things to the front of his robe.

Sarah tried not to stare. She looked at her plate and told herself to be calm and take this opportunity to befriend him. Perhaps she could find out what his plans for her might be.

“The slavers came to my village—N’goe—and captured everyone who was left.” She shrugged. “I went with them.”

Bouchard’s jaw dropped, and his lips parted in shock. “Graaf bought you?”

Sarah bristled. “Along with hundreds of others—or are they not worthy of mention because of the color of their skin?”

Bouchard held up a hand. “Sheath your claws, Miss Fisher—you will get no argument from me on the issues of slavery and skin color. I was simply making a point that his behavior was rather odd. Enslaving whites is not unheard of, of course, but he was likely headed for Spanish Florida, and it would be difficult to sell a white woman there.” His eyes flickered over her in a way that said especially one as homely as you.