Magnolia stared at the man she was supposed to charm. Short in stature and as wide as he was tall, he reminded her of the toad she so often called Hayden. Thin, greasy hair crossed the top of his head in perfect rows as if he had plowed furrows in his scalp. His posh broadcloth coat with satin lining did nothing to enhance his boorish mien or the aura of base ignorance surrounding him.
She cringed and looked away. Right into Hayden’s anxious green eyes.
“He’s despicable,” she said.
“You think so? Wait until you meet him.” He chuckled and sipped his wine.
“Who is he, anyway?”
“The immigration officer.”
The dance ended, and a flood of people cascaded to the refreshment table. Taking her arm, Hayden led her aside, whispering in her ear. “Take my lead, Princess, and use that seductive charm of yours.”
“All of a sudden, I’m seductive and charming, is it? I seem to recall other names flung my way in the jungle. Shrew. Spoiled. Harridan.” They twisted through the crowd as the scent of cheap perfume and cedar oil threatened to strangle her.
“I admit you are a woman of many talents.”
Before she could come up with a witty retort, Magnolia stood before Mr. Santos. The taller man he spoke with excused himself and the immigration officer faced them, his dark eyes flitting over Hayden in brief recognition before landing on Magnolia like a bird of prey. Delight, followed by desire, strolled across them as a feline smile lit his face.
“Mr. Santos.” Hayden dipped his head. “What a pleasure to see you again.”
The man seemed reluctant to draw his gaze from Magnolia. Though she did nothing to hide her disinterest. Finally he glanced at Hayden. “Yes, indeed. Mr….Mr….”
“Gale.”
“Gale. Ah, yes.” He cocked his head. “I thought you would have joined your American colony by now.”
Despite his strong accent, Magnolia was impressed with the man’s English.
“I did. But Owen Godard was not where you said he would be.”
“Owen Godard.” The man ran a finger over the thin hair on his forehead, his bulbous nose pinching. “Ah yes. I remember. Older gentleman. Small group of Americans. But I told you where he settled.”
“He wasn’t there,” Hayden repeated.
The orchestra began playing a waltz.
Mr. Santos sipped his drink, staring at Magnolia over the rim of his glass. “But where are your manners, senhor? I must be introduced to this lovely creature.”
Hayden’s jaw tightened beneath a forced smile. “My apologies. This is Miss—my wife, Magnolia Gale.” He placed a possessive arm across her back.
Under any other circumstances she would have enjoyed the protective action, but instead she stiffened and stifled a gasp. With great difficulty, she extended her gloved hand. “A pleasure, sir.”
Mr. Santos ran his thumb over her fingers, fondling them as if he’d never touched a woman before. She tugged away before he could raise her hand to his lips and cause the wine to curdle in her stomach.
Hayden gave her a sideways glance, frowning as if displeased with the action. Which only made her angry. Just like her father, just like every man she’d ever met, Hayden used her like some pretty puppet to achieve his ends. Forcing down the agony burning in her throat, she looked toward the door. She should leave. She wanted to leave. But Hayden said this man’s information might make it possible for him to accompany her on the voyage home. And she was so very frightened of traveling alone. The thought of being safely escorted back to the States, even the slight possibility of it, kept her feet in place. Kept her willing to help Hayden.
Mr. Santos sipped his drink. “I had no idea you were married to such a beauty.”
“My wife and I have returned to Rio in the hopes that Mr. Godard may have also returned recently,” Hayden said. “Perhaps for supplies? Or to submit the appropriate paperwork to settle on a different plot of land?”
Impressed with Hayden’s ability to lie without blinking, Magnolia wondered who this Godard man was and why he was so important to Hayden.
Wrinkles formed on Mr. Santos’s forehead as if the attempt to recollect such a transaction taxed his tiny brain. “Hmm. Maybe he returned. Maybe not. I cannot remember, Mr. Gale. Perhaps”—the gleam in his eye turned greedy—“you have something to help me recall?”
Hayden released Magnolia, a tiny twitch in his jaw the only indication of his vexation. “I’m afraid I haven’t any more money to give you, sir. I appeal to your generosity.”
Mr. Santos frowned and slammed the rest of his drink to the back of his throat.
Magnolia rolled her eyes. Yes, you supercilious buffoon, please do be generous. Just the thought of getting any closer to this man made her insides squirm.
But she could tell from his rigid stance and the indulgent hunger in his eyes that he hadn’t a generous bone in his body.
“What you can count on, senhor, is that I am not without honor. Mr. Godard’s affairs are Mr. Godard’s affairs, not yours. However with a bit of persuasion…” He assessed Magnolia as if she were a gift at Christmas.
Hayden shifted his stance and gazed across the room. Magnolia bit her lip. If he had a speck of decency, if he had a speck of chivalry within him, he wouldn’t leave her alone with this wolf. Finally he faced Mr. Santos and took his empty glass. “Allow me to get you another drink. And you as well, my dear.” He winked at her. “While you two become better acquainted.”
Magnolia growled inside. The man was a cad through and through.
Hayden had never hated himself more than he did at that moment. The look of spite in Magnolia’s eyes as he left her with Mr. Santos shot a gaping hole in his heart. Gaping and vacant and empty—like his soul. Hayden used people for a living. He made money off of people’s pain. Zooks, he’d certainly done far worse than leaving a lady with a lecherous fool. Then why did he feel like such a louse for asking her to do something that came natural to her? Innocent flirting. That was all. No harm done. Besides, what choice did he have? He must find out where his father had gone. He must put an end to this mad quest or he would surely go mad himself.
Yet everything within him wanted to whisk Magnolia away to safety—away from scum like Mr. Santos and anyone who could hurt her. He’d never felt protective toward anyone in his life, and he certainly didn’t want to start now. It made him vulnerable. It made him lose focus on the task at hand. And he couldn’t have that. Not that her kiss hadn’t already distracted him beyond measure. The soft feel of her atop him, the passionate way she’d embraced him, caressed his lips. She’d stirred his passions into such a frenzy it had taken several minutes to regain his composure. So unlike him. He’d always been in control. In control of himself, his emotions. Of everyone around him. And if he was to succeed in serving justice to his father, he must stay in control.
Ignoring the coquettish glances from several women, he made his way to the refreshment table and grabbed a glass of punch. Tossing it to the back of his throat, he yearned for it to soothe his nerves. He would delay returning with fresh drinks—give Magnolia time to perform her magic. In the meantime, he could at least keep an eye on them should Mr. Santos cross the boundary of propriety. Hayden spun around to do just that.
But Magnolia and Mr. Santos were no longer there.
CHAPTER 16
When the pernicious fatwit suggested they take a stroll in the garden, Magnolia almost lost the wine she’d consumed. She’d wanted to say that she’d rather sit in a dung heap, but instead, she smiled and looped her arm through his as he escorted her from the room. She could do this. She knew she could do this. It would only take a few minutes of her bewitching charm to extract the information Hayden needed from this man. How many times had she done the very same thing back home in Roswell whenever she’d wanted a particular favor from a particular gentleman?
Except those particular gentlemen hadn’t smelled like sour cheese, nor made her insides stir into a putrid brew. But no matter.
Glancing over her shoulder, she allowed Mr. Santos to lead her outside through a line of orange trees and cultured palms, framed by resplendent crotons and bamboo. Castor oil lamps hung from tree branches, flinging lacy ribbons of light on the grass below. He gestured toward a secluded spot at the far end of the garden where a stone bench edged a pond.
“We do not see—how do you say, much or often?—such lovely, cultured ladies in Rio,” Mr. Santos said, gesturing toward the bench. Releasing his arm, Magnolia slid onto the hard stone as he took a seat beside her. Far too close.
“You are too kind, Mr. Santos.” She inched away and tugged her fan from her sleeve—if only to use as a weapon.
“And your accent. I hear it from many new colonists but it makes music on your lips.” He took her hand in his.
Something sour and thick rose in her throat.
“Mr. Santos, as you know, my husband is most desperate to find”—oh, what was that name again? How could Hayden leave her like this? Ah yes—“Mr. Godard. Any information you have would be greatly appreciated.” She forced a smile that nearly caused her to choke as the man leaned even closer.
“How appreciated?” His breath smelled of wine and curdled milk.
“You would have our…my undying gratitude, sir. Wouldn’t that be enough? Helping out a lady in distress. Why, you would be my true hero.” She fluttered her fan about her face. “I just knew you were a gentleman when I first laid eyes on you. Why, I wager you are quite the ladies’ man. Aren’t you, Mr. Santos?” She tapped his chest with the tip of her fan and smiled.
He shrugged and pressed back the oily hair at his temples. “Sim, yes, I do have a reputation.”
Magnolia could only imagine. She giggled playfully. Which apparently was all the enticement the man needed to lean in and nibble on her neck. “Why, sir, you forget yourself.” She pushed him back, all the while giving him her most alluring smile. “I cannot possibly enjoy myself when my husband suffers so miserably from lack of information.”
A breeze fluttered the palm fronds overhead and sent a ripple across the inky waters of the pond, stirring the cattails lingering at its edge. Distant orchestra music drifted atop the chirp of crickets in a pleasing melody that would have been peaceful except for the brute beside her.
That brute seemed to be pondering what to do. He finally flattened his surly lips. “Yes. I saw this Mr. Godard. He came back with a crazy tale about the land being bad. Cursed, sim, cursed is what he said. He moved his expedition west.” He leaned in to kiss her.
Magnolia turned her cheek to him. “How far west?”
“Twenty of what you call miles, I believe.” A groan of delight erupted in his throat as his lips seared her skin. “I have paperwork in my office with the exact location.” He trailed slobbering kisses down her neck. “We can go there and I show you.”
Magnolia would rather leap into a volcano. In fact, at the moment her skin felt as though a thousand lizards scampered over it. And her stomach wasn’t doing much better. She pushed Mr. Santos away yet again, her heart plummeting like a stone in a pond. The information would take Hayden from her and send him back to New Hope. Leaving her to travel all alone. Yet, at the moment, she was preoccupied with preventing Mr. Santos from tossing her to the grass and having his way with her. Surely she’d learned enough about Mr. Godard to suit Hayden’s purposes, for Magnolia could hardly stand another moment with this snobcock.
A snobcock who dove in for the kill. He nibbled on her earlobe, grunting like the swine he was. Shooting off the bench, Magnolia cast a quick glance around to see whether anyone was near to assist her. “Sir, you do yourself no credit with such beastly behavior.” She kept her voice playful, not wanting to prick his ire in such isolated circumstances. Could she make a run for it? Surely a man as pudgy as Mr. Santos would not be able to catch her. “I bid you goodnight, sir.”
She turned to leave.
He clutched her arm. “Where is my kiss?”
“A kiss was not part of our bargain, Mr. Santos. You have had your fun. Now, release me at once!” She struggled in his grip.
Leaves fluttered and a footstep sounded behind her, but Magnolia hadn’t time to look before Mr. Santos said something about her paying him his due and shoved his mouth onto hers. She squirmed, causing his slobbering lips to slide over her cheeks and chin. More disgusted than afraid, she placed both palms on his chest and pushed him. Tripping on an uneven cobblestone, he stumbled backward toward the pond, arms flailing and curses flying, as he attempted to right himself. Before he did, Magnolia stormed toward him and gave him one final shove into the water. The immensity of his frame caused an enormous splash, which would have soaked her if she hadn’t leapt out of the way.
Flopping like a fish in the shallows, he finally managed to sit in the silt near the shore. Water dripped from threads of hair hanging in his face. He sputtered and moaned and cursed her—and her mother!— to some hideous fate, which she dared not repeat.
Laughter rumbled behind her.
Spinning around, she barreled into a tree trunk that smelled like Hayden. Wait, it was Hayden. All six foot one of his sturdy frame. He held a glass of wine. Her nerves unwound at his presence. Or maybe it was at the sight of the wine. Either way, they quickly knotted again in anger. “You left me with that leech!” She punched his chest.
Which loosened a chuckle from his throat.
Mr. Santos attempted to rise from the pond, but slipped and splashed back in the water with a loud curse.
Grinning, Hayden led her back toward the house. “I was here the entire time. If things had gotten out of hand, I would have stepped in.” He handed her the glass.
She gulped down the wine. “You waited long enough. The man was about to accost me. He did accost me, in fact.”
“You seemed to have things in hand, Princess.” Hayden winked and slid his hand into her free one. “In fact, I thought you handled yourself quite well.”
He led her into the ballroom again. Magnolia blinked at the bright lights as music and the prattling of guests assailed her. She tugged from Hayden’s grip and finished her drink. The comfort of his large hand around hers drained away her anger, bit by bit. And she wanted it to remain. At least for a while.
Returning the smile of a rather handsome Brazilian gentleman, Magnolia set down her empty glass and gathered a full one from the table. Hayden stole it from her hand. “Perhaps you’ve had enough.”
“You are not my father. Besides, I deserve a reward for enduring that oaf slobbering all over me.”
He held the glass out of reach. “And, pray tell, what did that slobbering oaf tell you about Mr. Godard?”
She studied him, wishing the wine in her belly would hurry and numb her conscience. All she had to do was utter one lie. One tiny lie and Hayden would escort her home. One tiny lie and all her fears of traveling alone would dissipate. One tiny lie and she could spend more time getting to know this mysterious man as she longed to do. One tiny lie. He certainly deserved it and worse after using her to get what he wanted. But the desperation in his eyes undid her. Whoever this Godard was, it meant everything to Hayden to find him. And she couldn’t be the one to deny him that.
“Your precious Mr. Godard has moved twenty miles to the west. Isn’t that what you wanted to know?” She speared him with a gaze.
“He is anything but precious.” His tone was shattered glass. “But I do thank you for finding that out.” The corner of his mouth twitched as he gazed absently into the room.
“So who is this Mr. Godard, and what did he do to invoke the wrath of Hayden Gale?”
The twitch intensified. “Let’s just say he stole everything from m
e.”
“Ah, now that I can relate to.”
Hayden studied her. “You speak of this huge mistake you made…of your debt to your father?”
“I was taken in by a charlatan.” But she had said too much already. “Perhaps he is the same man as your Mr. Godard?” She teased, trying to change the topic back to him.
Hayden laughed. “If you had crossed paths with my…Mr. Godard, I doubt you would be in Brazil. He rarely leaves his victims with enough to live on, let alone to travel.”
“So it was money he stole?” Magnolia pressed, desperate to understand this man before her.
“No. Something far more precious.” His vacant stare took in the room as sorrow stole over his features. Perhaps they had more in common than she first realized. She was about to inquire what exactly the man had taken from him when a commotion drew everyone’s gaze to the veranda. Poor Mr. Santos hobbled into the room, scattering droplets on the tile floor and firing an angry glare over the assembly.
Ushering Magnolia aside, Hayden ducked behind a cluster of people as the man let out a frustrated growl and stormed out the other side of the room, demanding the servant retrieve his coat. A moment later the front door slammed, and Magnolia could only assume he’d left since the room suddenly burst with mocking laughter.
Hayden handed her the wine, his smile returning. “I suppose you do deserve this.” The hint of adoration in those jungle green eyes made her want to do more for this man, anything he asked—just to keep him looking at her like that a little longer.
She sipped the wine, keeping her eyes trained on his. A grin lifted one side of his lips as he continued to stare at her, seemingly looking past the silk and lace, past the beads and fripperies, into her very soul, absorbing her with the delight of a man who’d found a priceless jewel. But that couldn’t be right. she was no jewel. Her throat went dry and she looked away. She had to keep her focus. She couldn’t allow this man to charm his way into her heart, for in the morning she had to leave him—buy a ticket and get on a ship and never see him again. An ache radiated through her at the thought. If only Mr. Godard had gone back to America. Then She wouldn’t have to travel alone. And this wouldn’t be her last night with Hayden.
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