Breaking Ties (Lost Colony Series #1)

Chapter #1 - Leaving

PREFACE

     Sometimes murder isn't as messy, up-close, and personal as many people imagine it to be. Sometimes it is distant and impersonal – as simple as crossing a line through a name on a sheet of paper. Or one hundred and fifteen names in our case.

—Rose Payne

CHAPTER ONE

Portsmouth, England — April 26, 1587

"Yer outa yer bloomin' mind, Rose!" Her brother banged his empty mug on the inn table. He ran both hands through his hair, as red as her own, standing each flaming lock on end.

Her lips turned up despite the heaviness in her chest. It felt good to hear him lapse into the Gaelic brogue of their childhood.

"Oh, Donnen!" She reached across the table to clasp his large hands and grimaced at the stench of salmon and sweat hanging in the air. "I did not bring you here to quarrel. It's my first offer of employment in weeks."

She dared not share her other reason for leaving.

"Nay, you can stay with me 'til you find a different job. Crossing the Atlantic unwed is bad enough, but these," he shook her upraised palms, "are ink stains. Blast it all, yer a clerk, not a sailor."

"Indeed?" Saints alive! He was acting as if she was still twelve instead of eighteen. "Well, I have some good news for you, then. I shall be accompanied by other women — whole families of people, for that matter — and it's a clerk they need, not just another salty sailor."

"Only because," Donnen glanced around the room and lowered his voice, "only because the other employees are abandoning their posts right and left." His glare was fierce. "Rumor has it, yer entire fleet of ships is bound straight for Jonah's watery tomb. I don't suppose that came up during yer bloomin' interview?"

She held his gaze evenly. "Aye, Madam Dare mentioned some difficulty in recruiting new colonists. It's not every person you run across who wishes to leave house and home and take all they possess to the other side of the world." She withdrew her hands from his and clasped them in her lap. "Nevertheless, our ship leaves in an hour, and I fully intend to be on it. If you have anything else to say..."

"Where do I begin?" Donnen shook his head in disgust. "'Pon my honor, the entire venture is cursed." He proceeded to speak to her of land to be gained in the New World, sabotage, and blood money.

She beheld him with growing concern. He raved like a man deep in his cups, though he nursed only his first pint of ale. Come to think of it, his hands cradling the mug should have been more callused, more scarred. Did he not serve as a groom, after all, on a nobleman's estate in London?

Truth was, she did not much care if he was right or wrong about her decision to sail west. She just wanted away from London, away from every reminder of what she had lost. The option of moving back to their parents' tenant farm held little appeal. As greatly as she missed them, she did not wish to burden their family with one more mouth to feed. She would no longer be of much use to them in the fields, either. Living amongst educated and genteel folk these past few years had made her too soft.

She and Donnen exited the tavern and strolled along the busy Portsmouth wharves, but he was not in the mood for sightseeing. He ignored the cries of the hawkers and spared not a glance at the graceful seabirds circling overhead. Instead he alternated between lecturing and wheedling her the entire way.

She tightened her grip on his arm as they neared their destination.

"You'll give me one good reason, at least." He led her onto the pier and faced her squarely.