Prince Charming by Julie Garwood Page B

hadn’t felt safe in such a long time. Things were looking much, much brighter.
    They threaded their way through the chaos. The wharf was ablaze with light and activity. Carts piled high with trunks and suitcases stood unattended in the center of the street. Vendors shouted their prices and waved their wares as they pushed their way around the obstacles, while couples huddled together in a waiting line outside the ticketing office. Pickpockets darted in and out of the crowd, some as young as eight, others as old as eighty, but no one got within spitting distance of Taylor. Lucas wouldn’t allow that. Men did gawk. They didn’t touch. She noticed several gentlemen staring at her and believed her formal attire was drawing all the attention. With her free hand, she pulled the dark cape close and held the edges together against her chest.
    Lucas noticed the action. “Are you getting cold?”
    She shook her head. “I’m trying not to draw attention,” she explained. “I’m not dressed appropriately for travel,” she added when he continued to look down at her.
    It wouldn’t have mattered what she wore, Lucas decided. She couldn’t change what she looked like. Her curly hair cascaded down her back. The color, as pure a gold as a stalk of prairie wheat, was like a beacon to anyone who happened to glance their way. Taylor was of medium height, yet she held herself like a tall, regal princess. There was a definite sensuality in her walk, too, Lucas had noticed that right away, and those were just a few of the hundred or so reasons why he didn’t believe it was possible for her not to draw attention to herself. She was damned beautiful, and when she looked directly at a man with those big blue eyes, he might as well give up trying to do anything but stare back. Even if Taylor were dressed in beggar’s britches and an oversized man’s shirt, she would still attract notice and lustful stares.
    He didn’t like the attention she was getting any more than she did. He felt possessive and couldn’t understand why. His reaction to her didn’t make any sense, yet the need to protect her fairly overwhelmed him. Hell, he barely knew her. Yet she belonged to him. She was his wife now. And what in God’s name was he going to do about that?
    He was glaring down at her. His moods, she decided, were as contrary and unpredictable as the weather.
    â€œI should have changed my gown after the ball,” she announced for lack of anything better to say.
    â€œIt wouldn’t have helped.”
    He sounded surly. He was still frowning something fierce, though Taylor was happy to notice the focus of his displeasure now seemed to be centered on a group of young men lounging against the metal hitching posts.
    She didn’t waste time speculating about his sudden change in mood, however, because they turned the corner then and she spotted the Emerald in the distance. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. The ship was a magnificent sight. The moon cast a golden glow upon the mighty vessel, making it appear mystical in size. White frothing caps from the churning waves of the Mersey slapped against the sides but the ship didn’t appear to move at all. Why, the Emerald looked as sturdy as a mountain and as welcoming as a preacher on Sunday morning.
    Taylor was awed by the sight. She came to a dead stop and stared in fascination. “Isn’t it beautiful, Mr. Ross?”
    The wonder in her voice made him feel like smiling. He looked at the ship, then turned back to her. “Yes, she is beautiful,” he agreed.
    â€œShe must weigh at least five thousand tons.”
    â€œNot quite two,” he corrected. “We aren’t in church, Taylor. You don’t have to whisper.”
    She hadn’t realized she’d been whispering; she laughed over her own behavior. “She’s very majestic looking, isn’t she?” she remarked in a louder tone