Читать «Rising Tide (зксм-1)» онлайн - страница 161

"Enough!" he said with iron in his voice.

He took her wrist in his hand and broke her grip, lifting her arm between them to use as a lever to keep her away.

"Are you sure?" she taunted. Her smile seemed brighter and colder than ever.

Blood pounded in Jherek's temples. He was embarrassed and angry, not understanding what he'd done to deserve such treatment at the serving girl's hands. Over the roar of anger that filled his ears, he also heard the rollicking laughter of the sailors.

"Unhand the woman," the bartender growled.

Jherek glanced at the big man and saw the oaken club he rested easily across the bar top. Reluctantly, the young sailor complied, stepping back again out of the woman's easy reach.

She closed on him at once and a fresh wave of braying laughter filled the bar.

Nimbly, Jherek pulled out a nearby chair and placed it between them, creating a momentary barrier against the woman's unwelcome attention.

Without hesitation, she stepped up into the chair. The tavern patrons hooted and shouted their support. She flung her arms wide, preparing to throw herself at Jherek, sensing that the young sailor wouldn't let her hit the floor.

"Essme!" the bartender called in his thunderous voice.

The waitress hesitated.

"It's enough," the bartender told her. "You've had your fun. Get back to work."

Reluctantly, the serving girl stepped down, away from Jherek. "Another time," she promised throatily, and blew Jherek a kiss.

Face flaming with humiliation, Jherek almost turned and fled the tavern. Only a recognized voice stilled him.

"What's wrong with you, boy?" a man gruffly demanded.

Jherek turned toward the man stepping out of the shadows behind him. He recognized Aysel from Breezerunner's crew, and the three men that stood behind him as the sailor's cronies.

"You too good for women a regular sailor has to bed down with if he's to know something warm and willing?"

The small daggers hanging from Aysel's ears glinted in the dim light. His thick mane of black hair was held back in a rawhide thong, but his beard was unkempt, frosted with ale foam. His open shirt revealed the pelt of dark hair that coiled on his massive chest and covered his big belly.

Jherek guessed at once that Aysel and his companions had put the waitress up to her performance. He felt shamed that he'd reacted as he had, letting the deceit get to him. He should have thought more clearly and found a way to stop the serving girl without obviously rebuffing her. Malorrie, he knew, wouldn't have reacted in the same fashion, but the woman's advances had been too bold, too blatant, and somehow Aysel had sensed what effect they would have on him.

"You stand in a tavern filled with seafaring men who know how to appreciate a real woman's charms," Aysel stated. "Every manjack here probably feels insulted at the way you disrespected that woman." He glanced around and got the support, halfhearted as it was, of the rest of the sailors in the tavern.

"No disrespect was meant," Jherek replied. His voice sounded tighter and higher than he'd intended. He glanced at the serving wench, watching her move easily through the tables, back to business as usual. "Nor do I think any was taken."