The Lost Knight of Arabia Read online

  “Would your little boy like an apple?” she asked the haggard looking woman trying to keep a hand on the boy while she held a tiny infant on her lap. Before she could decline, the boy snatched the apple from her and began eating.

  “Mind your manners, Mathew,” his mother scolded.

  “Thanky, ma'am.” The boy gave her a toothless grin.

  “And give your sister a bite.” Another tow-headed youngster peeked from around her mother’s side. With a sigh, Mathew complied, keeping his fingers wrapped around the apple so she couldn’t get much of a taste.

  Bri handed the little girl an apple of her own.

  “That’s very kind of you, missy,” the woman said.

  Bri shrugged. “They were in the cabin and I can’t eat them all and Jake doesn’t seem to…” She realized she was babbling.

  The woman stiffened her spine. “You’re in a cabin up’bove?” She looked her up and down. “Don’t look like you belong in one of them.”

  Bri flopped down cross-legged on the deck, trying to be less conspicuous. She knew she didn’t look like even the lowliest female traveler. She longed to confide in someone, but what could she say that wouldn’t make people look at her even more strangely. “Look, I don’t know for sure where I belong. It was raining, and suddenly I was in the river and—”

  The woman gasped. “You’re that woman my Mathew told me about? Some man jumped in and pulled a body out, then gave Mathew a penny to follow him with the clothes up to a stateroom.” She scrunched her eyes at Bri. “Didn’t know it was a woman ‘til my boy came back. Said that man carried a body like it was light as a feather so he figured it had to be a woman.” She leaned closer. “’Sides, Mathew’s small enough he gets around this steamer like nobody notices him and he hears things.” She nodded sagely.

  Bri hung her head. Is that why so many people were eyeing her strangely?

  “Are you a kept woman?”

  Bri was from the twentieth century but she knew what that meant. “No. I just have no place to go at the moment.”

  “We’ll be reaching Gasconade before nightfall. You can get off there.”

  And do what, Bri wondered? At the moment her only link to…herself, really, was the Arabia.

  “I’d better go. Thank you for your time…” Again she was at a loss for names.

  “Maggie Miller,” the woman said with a smile. “You know Mathew, and that’s his sister, Rebecca, and this is Sally.” She nodded to the infant. “We’re off to see their father in Omaha. He’s been gone nigh on eight months getting us a home ready.”

  Bri felt sadness wash over her at the thought the Arabia would never reach Omaha. She stood, reminding herself that while she didn’t know her reasons for being here, she couldn’t tell this woman to get off and take the stage to Omaha. Not only would the woman not believe her without a reason, but Bri felt intuitively that she had better not interfere with history.

  Chapter 3

  I hate depending on anyone. I have been self-sufficient since my parents died. After all, the 1980’s is the age of the independent woman, but here, in this century, I have nothing. None of my studies in archeology prepared me to live in 1856, even if I have studied the culture and have a little knowledge of the artifacts of the time. That’s a hell of a lot different from actually having to use a chamber pot.

  Jake Worth is another story. He’s very handsome, but he’s also the epitome of a selfish, self-centered, extremely egotistical, chauvinistic male. I don’t care if it is 1856, you would think he could have a little more consideration than to drag me across the lower deck…

  “You gotta come quick, Mister.” The voice wafted through Jake’s subconscious, but the banging on his door brought him out of his dream.

  He stumbled over to the door, unlocking it and looking back and forth before a tug on his trousers had him looking down. The young boy who had helped him with Brianna’s clothes bounced from foot to foot, his hands nervously wringing a cap.

  “What is it, boy? I gave you a penny for your help the other day.”

  “This ain’t got nothing to do with helping. Well, ‘cept you gotta help her. She’s in trouble. Don’t know the aft from the stern and she’s trying to get the steward to bring supper down to me maw on the deck. And she’s telling men they gotta give up their seats for the ladies.” He said the word like he wasn’t sure what it even meant, only that it was bad.

  Jake grabbed his coat from the back of a chair and stomped into his boots. He didn’t bother to ask who the boy was talking about. Somehow he knew. Who did she think she was? She dressed inappropriately, used unlady like language, and in the extremely short time he had known her, she tempted him to strangle her. Now she was threatening a mutiny among men on the Arabia who were as rough and tumble as they came. He tucked his pistol into a pocket as a precaution.

  He found her on the main deck, holding a wailing baby of all things and in the other hand she held a basket heaped with food. The obvious mother of a brood of children was trying to corral the youngsters. Jake narrowed his eyes as Brianna caught his gaze. He knew the basket of food wasn’t the kind the woman would have brought on board, so that only left one place to get it. Even as he absently wondered how large a bill he would have with the steamer’s dining establishment, Brianna cooed to the baby, who miraculously quieted.

  “You’re an angel, Miss Brianna,” the mother said as her children finally sat around her and she handed each a chunk of bread. “I wasn’t able to get off at the last stop for fresh food.” She gave a helpless look at her brood.

  Brianna continued to bounce the baby. “Don’t you worry, Mrs. Miller. Just send Mathew up to the cabin if you need anything.”

  Jake harrumphed loudly. “Excuse me?”

  Brianna gave him a disbelieving look. “Well, you can’t have these children going hungry, now can you?” Her voice clearly held a challenge.

  He answered in kind. “Then perhaps, Miss Brianna, you should look for employment hence with.” It was not his duty to provide sustenance to anyone but himself. He had long ago given up responsibility for others. Couldn’t she understand that?

  “Come with me.” He waited, hands on hips, until she started toward him. “For the love of God, not with the child.” His patience, little that he possessed, ran out. As soon as she handed over the baby, he grabbed her arm to propel her toward the stairs. Male cheers wafted behind them.

  “Let me go.” She wiggled and pulled, but he refused to release her until they were inside the cabin and the door was locked behind them.

  “What is it you do not understand? You can’t go around feeding strangers or telling men to move from their seats.”

  “Why not? The women traveling to meet their husbands have no one to look after them. At the moment they’re homeless, so I was just—”

  “Homeless? What kind of word is that?”

  Brianna’s eyes widened and she looked everywhere but at him. He had forced himself into a solitary existence when Jenny and their baby died, wanting nothing to do with civilization. But he didn’t think he had been so isolated that he couldn’t understand simple English. Yet this woman said things he didn’t comprehend, and did things no woman of the nineteenth century would do.

  “Stay in this cabin. Do not venture forth to feed the multitudes. A woman traveling alone invites trouble.” He adjusted his tie and coat, determined to get away. She opened her mouth to speak, most probably to refute his orders. He held up a hand.

  “As long as you reside in this cabin, you are…to listen to me.” He refrained from saying my responsibility. “If you would prefer to sit on a crate and have men ogle you below stairs, be my guest. But don’t expect me to have the steward bring you supper.”

  He slammed out the door, but turned and, sliding his key in the lock, made sure she would stay put. Storming down the promenade, he went to the salon where there was male companionship. He understood their language, their behavior, and understood the game of poker. That was all he needed. As he du
g in his pockets for his money, he revised that thought to include needing additional funds to pay off the debts that woman was accumulating. The woman for which he wanted no responsibility.

  * * *

  Jake stayed out until dawn, cleaning out the pockets of numerous affluent men who stayed on the hurricane deck. He seldom gambled on the State room deck. Although those passengers could afford a room, it was beyond their means to offer him much of a challenge in a poker game. And regardless of what he thought about the way he lived his life, he did find the game of poker somewhat challenging.

  He tiredly rubbed his eyes as he made his way to his room, ever vigilant of those around him who might want to relieve him of his funds. He longed for a bath and his bed, but the minute he opened the door, he found the copper tub occupied.

  She shrieked. He grimaced, then shook his head and shrugged.

  “This is my cabin, and regardless of your discomfort, I have nowhere else to go at the moment and thought to rest.” He proceeded to recline in the only available armchair, which sat dangerously close to the copper tub in which the lady tried to hide her nakedness.

  “Of all the arrogant…” She scoured him with a look, which he ignored. What was it about her that made his heart beat faster and his insides ache? It threw him off balance, something he hated above all else. Nothing had done that to him in two years, and it took all his control to act as though her nakedness didn’t bother him.

  He stretched his long legs towards her bath, trying to get comfortable in the chair. The soapy bathwater couldn’t wash away the memory of her long legs as he had examined her that first day.

  That was purely to ascertain her injuries, he reminded himself, but he wasn’t a doctor anymore.

  She gave a sigh and tried to inconspicuously wash. He closed his eyes and tried to appear he was napping. She tipped her head back to wet her hair.

  Jake sucked in a silent breath as Brianna ducked her head beneath the water, which thrust her breasts up into the cooler air of the cabin, making her nipples pucker. If she knew he was spying on her, she would unleash that caustic tongue and flay him to pieces. But in his role as gambler, he had gotten quite adapt at concealing his emotions and his face never gave anything away. So he sat, still as a church mouse with his eyes mere slits, and observed her in her bath.

  She really was exquisite. Her mane of blonde hair hung down around her shoulders, which were creamy and smooth. She lifted one long leg to wash, then the other. He watched the lithe movement of her arms, which were muscular yet feminine. She shot a quick glance his way before sitting up straighter to wash her breasts, which were full and heavy, more than a handful. This time he groaned out loud and the next instant a wet rag smacked him in the chest, the water instantly soaking his shirt front. He peeled it off with thumb and forefinger, dropping it back into the tub where she sat, knees tucked against her chest, trying to hide her charms. He leaned close and her eyes widened.

  “You have exactly ten minutes to get out of that tub and get some clothes on.” His body ached and he knew he had to get out of the cabin. “Or else.”

  He turned to leave, thankful that she hadn’t asked, “Or else what?”

  Chapter 4

  Jake usually ignores me or heaves a tremendous sigh when I ask him the simplest question, like where we are in relation to Kansas City. “Will I be rid of you then?” is his pat answer and I am tempted to tell him the truth--that I am stuck in 1856 unless there is a way to reverse time travel. More often than not, he acts as though he wants nothing to do with me; in fact that he wants nothing to do with the human race at all. At other times, he’s very considerate and… unpredictably kind…

  The steward had brought her breakfast, then lunch. The food was excellently prepared and when she asked, the steward stated the chef personally went ashore every day to purchase fresh produce and meat.

  That was more than she was able to do. She had tried to leave the cabin, but found the door locked. Jake must have given the staff instructions to keep her locked up. It was probably for the best. She longed to find a way back to her time, but didn’t know how or where to look. As it was, she seemed to find trouble whenever she was out and about.

  Sighing, she sat in the wing chair and flipped through the pages of her journal. When she had decided to write down the details of this adventure, as she called it, she had asked for pen and paper. The Steward had brought her the small leather bound book after the next stop the boat had made. She was trying to track the Arabia’s progress, but she really couldn’t remember the names of all the towns along the Missouri River. She would write down where they docked at night, but those names didn’t give her any idea where she was in relation to Parkville, which was past Kansas City and Quindoro Bend and was where the boat had sunk.

  She would have liked to question the Captain but getting to him presented some problems. Jake had reminded her, after the last little episode, that she wasn’t a listed passenger on the Arabia. Should anyone decide to question her, they would put her off at the next port and then where would she be? Like it or not, she was stuck here, and stuck with Jake.

  She twisted the tiny ring on her pinkie. After throwing it across the room in a fit of temper, she had forgotten about it. When Jake had unceremoniously dumped her back in the room yesterday and left, she had found the ring on the bureau near the basin of water. She had slid the ring on her finger at the Arabia dig site and had ended up on the Arabia, so she had thought getting rid of it would send her back to her own time. Now as she traced the intricate design with the edge of a fingernail, she wondered if perhaps it was a key to getting back to her life when the time came.

  There were so many unanswered questions, but she knew she would have to use extreme caution when talking to the passengers, or to Jake. She curled her hand closed at the sound of a key in the lock. It was too early for supper, which meant only one other person would be entering the room.

  Jake walked through the door, scowled at her, and tossed his coat aside before pouring himself a drink. “We have to get you some decent clothes,” he grumbled by way of greeting.

  She looked down. She was once again wrapped in his shirt, her legs and feet bare. She had regained her own clothes, but they had needed washed again. They now hung around the room. She blushed as he glanced at her undies, draped on the back of a chair near the potbelly stove. Even when she wore her own clothes, which fit better, she was stared at or frowned upon, as women of the day just weren’t seen in pants and boots.

  “You’re willing to give up your poker game to take me shopping at a mall?” The word slipped out before she could stop it.

  “Mall? I don’t know a town of that name. I think we dock at Chamois this evening. It’s one of the more civilized towns along the river, and there may be some ready-wear at the dry goods store.” He appeared agitated.

  Regardless of his severe lack of patience with her, she was very interested in him. Not on a physical level, although he was handsome, but she wanted to know who he was; what he did; why he didn’t want to interact with the human race except on an elemental level – to take their money while gambling. She wanted to ask him questions about this century, but knew that wasn’t likely to happen without giving away her secret.

  He had come in yesterday while she was writing in her journal. He had only cursorily glanced her way but she was careful to hide it in a new place that night. She couldn’t take a chance that he would read it, even if he couldn’t possibly understand her circumstances. She wasn’t writing for him. She was…trying to capture the essence of this time. Hoping that by writing it down, she could analyze it and come up with a plan.

  She mentally laughed at her thoughts. That certainly hadn’t worked yet, and Jake looked at her sometimes like she was crazy. All he needed was another excuse to get rid of her and she couldn’t let that happen. For whatever reason, he was her anchor in this time. So she smiled at him, grabbed her clothes and ducked behind the blanket she had managed to hang across one corner o
f the room.

  * * *

  Jake ran a hand over his face in frustration. Even though he had undressed her the very first day; had seen her in her bath, and thought he had gotten used to her parading around in his shirt, her long, slender legs clearly visible, he had not. He took another swallow of whiskey, which didn’t relieve the pain in his gut.

  He had had numerous physical encounters in the past; always trying to forget Jennie and the life he had left behind in Boston. None of the women had meant a thing and he had easily – gladly – left them after rather brief and unfulfilling sex. But Brianna was different.

  She baffled him with her mannerisms and speech. She infuriated him with her interference on the decks of the steamer. Where he tried to isolate himself against the plights of others, she jumped right into the middle and often dragged him in with her. Most of all, he was intrigued by the secrets he knew she harbored. Her blue eyes glittered with interest and surprise at everything she encountered and challenged the blasé attitude he had about his surroundings.

  The more he was around her, the closer he came to taking an interest in actually living. For the first time in ever so long, Jake felt the stirring of passion, not so much for his life, but for the woman who had invaded it and appeared to want to turn it upside-down.

  To take his mind off the physical longing he felt when his shirt came flying over the blanket she used as a dressing screen, he tried to see things as she might. But what was so exciting about the small towns with their rough board buildings and mud streets? Most had more saloons than business enterprises. Some had a hotel and eating establishment and women of ill repute could be found in all of them.