Prize of My Heart

How did he know to find her here? Lorena wondered, doubtful George spoke the truth. Oh, Mrs. Culliford was indeed preparing a celebratory meal, but Lorena did not expect it would be served this early. It unnerved her to think she had been followed, that George was spying on her.

“That won’t be necessary, George,” she said. “You may inform Mrs. Culliford I shall be along directly.”

“Aye, Mr. Louder, I am quite capable of escorting Miss Huntley myself,” Brogan said.

George stood resolute, disdain etched plainly on his thin, angular face and in the sharp glare of his dark eyes. “I am sure you are capable of a great number of things, sir, and given your reputation, a man used to taking what he wants. It is your familiarity with Miss Huntley which raises concern.”

“George!” Lorena rebuked.

“You distrust my character?” Brogan asked George coolly.

Lorena burned with embarrassment and silently willed the shipwright not to provoke Brogan further, but George dismissed the question with a sneer and in a manner more insulting than any answer he could have given. He turned his focus on her.

“I had always thought you a smart girl, Lorena,” George chided. “I gave you warning, and then no sooner do I find you here in a shocking dalliance with this flirtatious fellow.”

“Clearly, you do not approve of me, Mr. Louder.” Refusing to be ignored, Brogan advanced on the slighter man with an authority that caused George to retreat several paces. “However, if you have some grievance, I expect you should address it to me and not Miss Huntley.”

George retreated another step, then steadied himself and straightened his lace cravat. “I have come merely for the lady. I have nothing more to say to you.”

“And yet you have plenty to say behind my back, I hear.”

She should intervene. She should step between them and demand an end to this ridiculous quarrel, but curiosity held her tongue, and Lorena found herself listening with piqued interest. It seemed the direction of Brogan’s upset had turned to something other than George’s rude intrusion.

“Privateering is an unscrupulous business,” the shipwright announced, his guilt confirmed. “And a letter of marque does not make you any less a freebooter.”

Brogan placed himself in George’s face and snarled, “Then it was you who likened me to a pirate to Drew? Did you not tell him I was no more than a thief? Who are you to speak critically of me to others and especially to an impressionable young boy?”

George snickered, unaffected. “You don’t fool me, Captain Talvis. Here I find you trying to beguile an innocent girl, and you pretend to be angered over my comments to a child. Why such concern for Drew? You may be able to charm Lorena, but you cannot deceive me any sooner than you can catch a weasel asleep. In my opinion, you are no better than a pirate!”

Brogan’s jaw clenched. The cords in his neck bulged. “I don’t give a wooden cent for your opinion, Mr. Louder. Besides, you’d be surprised at how well I can catch a weasel.”

“The devil take you first,” George spat back.

For all George’s priggish ways, it took pluck to fling insults into the face of such a large and formidable foe. Pluck or ignorance, Lorena thought sadly, then started anxiously as, like a thread pulled taut, Brogan’s control snapped and he exploded with a fist to George’s angular jaw that sent the shipwright crashing into the wall.

Lorena shrieked in horror, and as Brogan advanced again, she stepped in between them. “Don’t you dare! Only yesterday you greeted each other in a house of God. Captain, I allow you are a passionate man whose emotions dwell close to the surface, but I do not condone fighting any more than I care for George’s contempt.”

Brogan glanced past her to sneer at the master shipwright as though he were something quite foul.

George stepped forward rubbing his jaw. He had provoked the argument with his harsh words, and Lorena turned her disapproval on him with a glare. “Whatever your personal views, George, privateering is an accepted practice in times of war. You judge Captain Talvis unfairly, and not as a matter of morality but because you are jealous of his association with me.”

“Do you not see, Lorena? He doesn’t care about Drew. He’s merely pretending in order to have the advantage with you.”

“Shut your foul trap,” Brogan growled. “You know nothing of what I feel.”

Lorena found her growing appreciation for Brogan blurred by confusion. To her, the severity of his emotion seemed irrational. Rage brewed beneath his rigid exterior when annoyance would have sufficed. What consequence was George’s prejudice and poorly concealed envy to a man who’d been hailed in the papers as a hero? To a man who had won the approval of Duxboro’s citizens and had just lately received their cheers and congratulations? And yet Brogan was vehement.

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