“Wha—?” Mina tensed, but it made no difference as he dragged her against him and crushed his mouth to hers in a cruel, possessive kiss that mashed her lips against her teeth. His fingers drove into the hair at her nape, almost painfully, holding her fast so she could not escape his embrace. Instinctively she knew that to struggle would be a mistake, so she remained rigidly still, until he released her, his breathing ragged and the light of battle in his eye. Mina’s gaze shifted over his shoulder to the faces all pressed against the inn windows.
“We have an audience,” she pointed out.
“Let them look,” he hurled back at her, his fingers closing about her wrist and dragging her in his wake. “If it means I’ll be spared the sight of you being accosted by all and sundry, then so be it.”
“Accosted?” she spluttered. Once he’d hauled her over the threshold, to her surprise he towed her toward the public bar and not the kitchen. “Nye?” she asked, trying to come to a halt and starting to panic. His strength made her dragging feet pointless.
He flung back the door and hauled her up against his side, his hand at her waist. “Everyone!” he announced. “This is my wife and I’ll thank you all to remember it!” He glared about the room aggressively and Mina winced. “Anyone got anything to say about that?” he challenged.
“What’s her name, Nye?” someone called out jocularly.
“Mrs. Nye, to you,” he replied, lip curling. “Anyone else?” His narrowed gaze seemed to wither any remaining questions on their tongues. “You’ll see her about the place this weekend, but I’ll ask you to keep a civil tongue in your heads or you’ll answer to me. Am I understood?”
There were some cleared throats and shuffling of feet at that. “Aye, you’re understood,” another voice responded to a chorus of ‘ayes’. Mina tried not to meet any gazes, she felt so mortified.
Nye lowered his mouth to her ear. “You can invite Effie and any of the womenfolk you want to sit with you in the parlor,” he said, surprising the life out of her. “But if you allow anyone to be over familiar, I won’t be answerable for my actions, Mina,” he warned direly.
When he released her, Mina stumbled forward before recovering her step. She lifted her chin and picked her way through the tables and chairs toward Effie’s bright puce dress. When she reached the table, she realized Effie was sat with the raven-tressed partner of Mr. Jones. Today she was wearing a striking dress of striped black and white and a matching hat with a black feather.
“Here, darlin’,” said Effie, drawing a seat back for her. “Park yourself here wiv’ us girls. Can’t think when I’ve been so entertained! Allow me to introduce Miss Dottie Jones,” she said, gesturing toward her companion. Then casting a shrewd look over Mina, she nudged her own glass toward her. “Take a swig of this, you’ll feel more the thing then.”
Mina nodded toward Dottie who was surveying her with amused incredulity and accepted Effie’s kind gesture by taking a tiny sip of the gin. She managed it without pulling a face or shuddering. “Thank you,” she said, returning the glass to Effie with a forced smile. “I’m afraid Nye won’t permit me to sit in the public bar,” she admitted. “But if either of you ladies would like to join me in my private parlor, then I would be glad to receive you at any time. I can generally be found in there or the kitchen.”
“My, my,” drawled Dottie Jones. “A private parlor, we are privileged.”
“I’ll join you and gladly,” Effie announced. “Jeb plain ignores me when he gets wiv’ all his boxing cronies and that’s a fact,” she laughed. “But probably not till tomorrow, though Mina. We’ve got the bouts to watch and you’ll likely be done in by then and all. You’re run off your feet.”
“Yes,” Mina agreed. “Perhaps you’ll join me there for breakfast tomorrow morning, say at nine o’clock?” With a slightly unfocussed smile, Mina turned and made her way out of the bar with her head held high. She fancied she did not imagine the swell of conversation as the door swung to behind her, but if there was any justice in the world then Nye’s name was being just as bandied about as her own, if not more.
She was glad to escape to the kitchen after her ordeal but even there was not quite the refuge she would have liked. She heard Edna’s voice upraised in the kitchen and when she pushed the door open, she saw she was talking heatedly to Reuben. On her appearance, they both shut up like clams.
“If those is ready, I’ll take ‘em out now,” Reuben said in a surly voice, clearing his throat.
Edna tutted. “Ten minutes ago, would have been preferable,” she snapped. He picked up the platter of hot pasties with ill-grace and stomped out of the kitchen with them.
“Right sorry I am, Mrs. Nye,” Edna said, turning to her without preamble. “It’s my fault the master took on so—”
“No, no Edna, I knew how he would be, it’s not your fault,” Mina interrupted her hastily. She could not bear to hear Edna speak of what had happened. “We are so short of hands that it really ought to be every man, woman, and child on deck.”
Edna bit her lip. “Yes, Mrs. Nye,” she said repressively. “Least now with the lunchtime rush, things will quiet down for a few hours till evening.”
“I suppose so,” Mina agreed. “What time will you be required in the taproom?”
“Not till six,” Edna said pressing her lips into a thin line.
“It’s a great pity Reuben cannot take a turn at serving behind the bar,” Mina observed,
