“No, I was praying. I like to spend time in prayer and reading while I’m waiting for the breakfast gong to sound.”
“Are you hungry? I can go find a steward to get something for you.” Concern etched his face.
There it was, the kid-glove treatment. Too much in the jungle depended on him being willing to defer to her, not to coddle her, especially since he’d already made his position on her authority clear. She’d have to work to change his opinion if she expected this trip to go smoothly.
“No, thank you. I prefer to wait until they’re serving and eat with everyone else.” Authoritative, healthy, strong—any of those would have been the better impression to make. Instead she’d sounded curt, almost rude.
He raised one eyebrow. “Am I being deliberately handed the cold and frosty?”
“Sorry, that came out more harshly than I’d intended. I don’t like to be fussed over. I’m recovered and fully able to take care of myself.” Now she just sounded formal and stilted.
He answered with a grin. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make a note of it. No coddling the missionary lady.” He rose from the chair. “You look like you’d rather be alone. I’ll push off, but perhaps we could talk on the promenade after breakfast if you can get free of Mrs. Dowdy.”
“Wait.”
He sat back down.
She heaved a sigh. “I’m a little grumpy today and taking it out on you. I apologize. I often suspect all the scriptures about the tongue were written personally for me.”
“Feeling a little punk is usually a good sign of recovery. Or so they told me when I used to bite the nurses’ heads off.”
“You’re being generous. Thank you. So what put you in the hospital?”
He looked like a trapped animal. What had she said wrong?
He rallied. “Just one of the many courtesies of the Great War. Nothing you’d want to hear about before breakfast.”
Anna watched the pulse in his jaw. More like something too painful to discuss that he kept hidden behind that smile. Her stomach rumble changed her focus at the familiar throaty resound of the breakfast gong. Anna shoved the blanket back. “Speaking of breakfast. Shall we head for dining?”
He reached out and took her hand to help her up. The gloves she wore were little protection from the heat of his touch or the sudden intensity in his voice. “Not until I speak to you about something. Now. Before I lose my nerve.”
Oh, no. She thought she’d settled this yesterday. The last time a man looked that earnest she’d been forced to turn down his unwanted proposal of marriage. Twice. Surely all his flirting didn’t actually mean something. Every muscle in her body tensed in anticipation of pending disaster.
“I owe you an apology. I was out of line yesterday with my attentions. I didn’t mean any offense. Flirting is an old habit I’ve yet to break myself from doing.”
She relaxed and allowed herself to breathe. “None taken. Apology accepted.”
“Good. To paraphrase Mr. Shakespeare, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot. This is strictly a business arrangement and you’re my guide.”
“Of course. Business.”
His relief was palpable. “Good, we understand each other.” He let go of her hand.
“Most certainly.” She should clarify her whole position while she had the chance. “Of course, to avoid any other possible misunderstandings between us, I need to emphasize that the business of the Gospel is a constant with me and not something I intend to set aside during our journey.”
His brow furrowed. “Are you saying you intend to convert me?”
Wind tugged at her scarf and she reached one hand to hold it secure. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t share the Gospel with those I encounter, yourself included. But my main point is for you to understand that if there is a choice between God’s work and yours, the Gospel takes first priority for me. I’ll do the job you require, but I’ll not allow anything to compromise my higher mission.”
His gaze grew somber. “I think your standards are clear. But I would rest easier knowing you don’t intend to try to make another disciple out of me. You’ll have better luck with the local population.”
“Ah, now I’m being given the cold and frosty.”
“Apparently we both have our sticking points. How about you don’t try to convert me and I won’t flirt with you. Truce?” He extended his hand, this time for a shake.
Anna shook it firmly. “I’ll agree, provided you feel free to rescind your part of the agreement at any time you wish to know more about God. Better to clear the air now, since the jungle trek can be stressful enough. We may have to rely on each other in some very trying situations.”
“Having survived the trenches during the war, I’m sure I can handle anything your jungle has for me.”
His nonchalance urged her to further explanation. “Despite your military experience, you’re in for something quite different here—days on end of narrow, root-ridden paths, climbing over downed trees, wading through waist-deep water and dealing with the sometimes deadly wildlife.”
His grin returned. “You make the journey sound so appealing, but you left out the constant daily soakings from the rains. Not trying to get me to turn back, are you?”
Her misgivings must be more obvious than she’d thought. “No, I’m very grateful for the opportunity to fund my mission work.”
“Well, don’t worry about me. I think I can manage.” He offered her his elbow.
She placed her hand in the crook of his arm and headed to breakfast. “I’m sure you can. You appear very...able.”
“It can’t be too bad if a little bit of a thing like you can handle it.”
She laughed at his implication. “Maybe not. But don’t let that overriding confidence build up too far. When we get off the boat at Garraway this afternoon, you’ll find the trek to get to our first stop at Newaka a bit misleading as to the difficulty that lies beyond.”
He halted abruptly just inside the companionway and turned to face her, freeing her hand from the crook of his arm. “Garraway? No, we are disembarking farther down the coast at Harper. I informed the second steward of the mistake when he asked about the different destinations on our tickets. He noticed that our luggage and equipment were both stored under my name in the hold.”
Dismay snatched the core of her being. Oh, no. They hadn’t even left the ship and his need to take charge was causing problems. Why was it that every woman she’d met tried to marry her off and all the men—her father, her former fiancé—had to be in charge? No, maybe she was overreacting. Stewart didn’t understand the basic geography of the country. “Mr. Hastings, I wish you had consulted me first. I could have told you that departing from Garraway is the most direct route to the village.” Now to soften the blow by allowing him a semblance of control. “Shall I inform the second steward of the
