Run Wild (Escape with a Scoundrel) - By Shelly Thacker Page 0,130
who happily returned her neighbors’ greetings as she carried a basket along the winding Calle Botteghe street, heading for a shop near the Palazzo Pisani overlooking the Grand Canal.
When she reached her destination, she glanced up at the sign overhead as she opened the door and stepped inside: CANDELAIO JMF. JMF Chandlers.
“Permesso, excuse me,” she said, trying to ease through the crowd of ships’ captains, sailors, and clerks speaking several different languages. She made her way around wooden barrels and chests, past polished counters displaying lanterns and coils of rope and twine. Samples of sailcloth, iron hooks, and awls and axes hung on the walls, and the scents of linseed oil, tallow and rosin almost overwhelmed the tantalizing aromas wafting up from the basket in her hands.
Finally, she reached the back of the establishment—where she found the owner in his office, booted feet propped on his desk.
He looked especially handsome today, wearing a dove gray waistcoat and breeches and a ruffled white shirt that set off his tanned skin and dark hair and beard.
He was studying a stack of ships’ cargo manifests while his two co-owners were engaged in a noisy argument from either side of him.
“We can’t possibly fill another half-dozen orders by next week,” Joseph was saying, nodding at a long column of figures in his ledger. “Masud—”
“It’s our busiest time of year, lad. We’ll manage.”
“We’ll manage, we’ll manage,” Joseph grumbled. “That’s what you always say.”
Nicholas looked up at Sam with a smile, dropping the sheaf of papers. “Have you come to steal me away, wife?”
“I’ve come to bring you lunch.” She plunked the basket on the corner of his desk.
“I’d rather you steal me away.” He slipped out from between his partners. “Besides which, what are you doing walking such a distance on a warm day like this?”
“It’s a lovely afternoon. And Signora Marchetti’s lace shop is only on the other side of the central piazza. Besides, I’ve been doing this every Friday for a year now. It’s tradition.”
His emerald eyes full of warmth, he took her by the elbow and led her into Joseph’s adjoining office, closing the door. “It was tradition before you were with child,” he said tenderly.
She smiled back at him, still glowing with the news that they had just begun sharing with their friends. “Nicholas, I’m only four months along. And I’m not that fragile.”
“It seems to me we’ve had this conversation before.” He kissed her. “Allow me to remind you...” He kissed her again, nuzzling her cheek, whispering in her ear. “Of just how completely you shattered in my arms last night.”
A delicious little shiver went through her at the memory. She glanced over his shoulder, through the interior window at the adjoining office. “Nicholas, we have an audience,” she reminded him.
“Hell, they’re enjoying their argument too much to notice if I steal a kiss. And I’ve missed you,” he murmured. “I’ve spent every blasted hour for the last three weeks in this office.”
“That’s what you get for owning the most successful ship’s chandlery in the city. You’ve got a reputation for offering the very best merchandise. Not to mention expert advice to go with it.”
“Aye.” Chuckling, he pulled up a chair and eased her into it, handling her as if she were made of the most delicate Venetian glass. “Masud and I made rotten farmers, but between the three of us”—he nodded toward the arguing pair in the next room—“we manage to make a fair go of this.”
“A fair go,” Samantha concurred with a grin, knowing he was being modest. The ruby and the cash she’d earned during her years as a thief had provided enough seed money for the three men to start their business. Their seafaring expertise, knowledge of ships, and reputation for being some of the most honest businessmen in the city did the rest... though rumors about Nicholas persisted.
Some said he had a mysterious past. Now and then, someone even whispered the word “pirate.”
But Venice’s bustling port attracted seafarers and adventurers from all over the world, and many people here had colorful pasts. And anyone who saw the way Signore Nicholas James doted on his wife couldn’t believe he ever could have been a dark and dangerous character.
“Now then,” Sam said, beaming up at her husband, “are we going to have lunch?”
“We don’t dare leave it in there for long,” Nicholas grumbled, glancing at the basket in the other room. “As soon as that young pup shuts up long enough to notice there’s food in the