Rowan was not in a good mood.
Already this day he had bought a slave he did not want; he had committed to keeping that slave he did not want; he had boarded a ship in much quicker succession than he might have preferred. Further, the ship was not one he would have chosen of his own volition, regardless of its destination.
For Rowan did not like this ship’s captain, this Baldassare di Vilonte. There was something untrustworthy about the man, something that made Rowan less than pleased to have his own future in this particular man’s care.
’Twas certainly not because Ibernia smiled for Baldassare when she refused to smile for him. That would have made no sense at all. Nay, Rowan de Montvieux cared nothing for Ibernia, nothing for any woman in particular beyond a desire to make them laugh.
