"You climbed darned near fifty feet like it was nothin'!" Hank beamed, restarting the car. "Sure was something!"
"Yes. It was the act of a careless individual."
Ram glanced back over his shoulder at Penelope as the car moved away from the curb. "Pray tell, when has returning a frightened child to the arms of her mother become reckless?"
His words sank beneath her veneer, each syllable pelting a wound long since healed. And Ramsey saw her features pull taut, then slowly softened, the angry lines vanishing.
"I guess—never," she whispered, the corners of her catlike eyes tilting up, and a smile, barely there, curving her lips. Ram felt the impact like a musket ball to his chest, the hard slam flowering with an unnamed emotion. 'Twas a glimpse into her soul, he saw, yet 'twas nay enough, leaving him thirsty and yearning for more. Then it vanished, her gentle features suddenly carved into cool indifference.
"Yet, if anything went wrong, Mister O'Keefe, you could have been sued because you are not a professional."
"Penelope, dear," Anthony warned softly. Somehow he didn't think O'Keefe would take kindly to her views.
Ramsey arched a brow. ' 'I care not of the legal consequences you speak," he growled. By Triton's will, had he imagined the moment?
"Regardless, / could be held responsible. After all, you are in my personal custody—"
"—Woman!"
"Well, sort of," she finished lamely, a bit intimidated by his quick rage.
The gall of the little chit, Ram thought. "Madame, I am not an addlepated dolt in need of your coddling. Cast meself with a selfish wench, thinks I," he said lowly, his dark glare so intense she recoiled. "Bah!'v He backhanded the air. "The devil take the bleedin' lot of you." Ramsey opened the car door. Hank slammed on the brakes, and as if the abrupt stop were nothing, Ramsey climbed out and walked away.
Penny looked to Anthony, who sat back and folded his arms.
TIMESWEPT ROGUE
"Anthony!" She gestured toward the window. "Do something!"
"You're the one who's ticked him off, my dear." He flicked imaginary lint off his trousers, thinking Ramsey's speech pattern fit him rather nicely. Her helpless gaze shifted to Hank, but he just sniffed the air, throwing the gear shift into park.
Penny sighed. She hadn't meant to anger him. It was just— oh, damn. She shoved open the door and climbed out. "Mister O'Keefe. Wait!"*
Ramsey halted, twisting to flip a coin at her. "I am grateful for your aid thus far, Mistress. Good day and good life!" Then he continued on his way.
She chased after him. "Wait, please!"
Ramsey stopped again, but didn't turn around, awaiting her approach and she didn't mistake the canned emotion beneath the rigid set of his wide shoulders, in his belligerent stance. It made her hesitate. He was a formidable man and she'd wounded his pride. Hell, she'd practically taken an axe to it.
"I simply wanted you to understand that you can't interfere without first thinking of what might happen later."
Ramsey turned his gaze on her, and Penny flinched at the disgust in his dark brown eyes. "Naught has changed, I discover. The wealthy see to themselves, and the unfortunate must fend alone."
Her features hardened, her voice low and cutting. "I resent that. You know nothing about me or the life I've lead. I—" She stopped. Why am I explaining myself to this man? "Climbing up after that child was reckless. You both might have been injured."
"Spare me your empty concern, woman." Ramsey started walking, and Penny had to practically run to keep up with his long strides.
"It's not empty, for Pete's sake." She ignored the nasty sound he made and said, "Look, Mister O'Keefe. You could have lost everything, including your life."
Ramsey chuckled meanly. "Call the finest barristers, madame." He flung his arms wide. "For what I am is all that you see afore you."
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Penny slowed her step, her gaze glossing over the worn hem of his coat, the thread bare breeches and scarred boots, before she raced to catch up. "That's not the point—"
"You would have ridden by," he cut in savagely, glaring at her sideways.
Her posture stiffened.' 'I probably would have contacted the fire department."
"The child was not ablaze that I could discern."
He wouldn't look at her, and that stung. "Firemen do that sort of thing for a living."
Ramsey stopped abruptly, gazing off into the distance and Penny stared at his profile, waiting. Suddenly, he pounced, his scowl black as midnight, his tall body towering, blocking the sun. "Do you truly enjoy viewing the world from your crystal carriage, princess?'' His voice grated with outrage and disappointment and Penny blinked, unreasonably hurt. "Is the distance well beyond scarring your privileged realm?"
Penny swallowed, opening her mouth to defend.
' 'Nay! Do not speak. For our association is at an end, Mistress Hamilton." He dismissed her with a flick of his hand. "Away with you."
Ramsey left her, alone, in the middle of the street.
She ought to be pleased he was walking out of her life.
But she wasn't.
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Chapter 11
"What do you make of the fireworks?" Hank asked as he picked up the coin the captain had tossed and rubbed it against
his sleeve.
Anthony leaned against the car, his interest on the pair arguing in the middle of the street. "Certainly does stir up trouble, doesn't he?"
' 'For who?'' Hank grinned. As if he didn't know. ' 'Probably the first man who hasn't taken her lip."
"I consider myself among that group, you know."
"You're management, you have to," Hank explained. "Hell. I figure that guy doesn't know a thing about her, least wise not her famous career." His last words he practically sneered.
Anthony chuckled, watching traffic weave around the couple. "That's his advantage. And it appears Mister O'Keefe doesn't give a fig—oh, dear. Look at him, leaving the poor girl like that." Ripping move, he thought, sadistically enjoying her dumbfounded look. Then his smug expression fell. "Damn!"
Hank glanced up from examining the coin, then dashed around the side of the car as Anthony called out a warning to Penelope. It was no use. The crowd of fans were like a swarm
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of killer bees heading for their queen. Anthony jumped into the Rolls, and Hank burned rubber to get to her first.
At the excited cries and rapid footsteps, Ramsey spun about. Citizens poured from shops and tall glass buildings, waving slips of paper, crying her name with an odd desperation, converging on Penelope til she disappeared amongst the sudden crush of bodies. Ramsey scowled darkly. The lass did not appear to be enjoying the attention, he decided, storming over to the group. Discovering politeness gained him little with this motley collection, Ramsey forced his way between the people, his big body like a rolling bolder as he shouldered a path toward Penelope.
He reached, grabbing her arm and nearly lifting her off her feet, his stinging grip making Penny twist around, ready to deck someone. She looked up, relief sweeping over her as recognition dawned, til she realized that angry glare was directed at her!
"Be gone!" Ram bellowed to the crowd, and the din lessened. "Stand fast, I say, afore I dress the bleedin' lot of you!" The noise died a little more, yet when none obeyed, he made a wide swipe with his arm, clearing a path and propelling her toward the carriage.
Penny stumbled, glaring back over her shoulder, but he simply gave her a push as the carriage screeched to a halt before them. The door burst open and Ramsey clamped a hand on her head, a palm to her back, and shoved her into the rear seat. He turned and walked away.
"Get in!" Anthony shouted, half out of the Rolls.
"I'll stand me own ground, English." Ram took a step.
"Trust me. Get-in!"
The crowd set upon Ramsey with a vengeance, groping,
questioning, those damned little black boxe
s flashing white
lights in his eyes, and Ram quickly reassessed the situation;
the last thing he wanted was to have his presence well known
in this century. Out of sheer self-preservation, he ducked into
the back, and the Rolls lurched away afore he shut the door.
He dropped into the leather seat with a thump.
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"Great Neptune, woman! What is it about you that continually stirs the masses to such a frenzy?"
Hank chuckled to himself, but Anthony made no effort to smother his amusement.
"Shut up, Tony," Penny said, rubbing her scalp.
"Damn me, Penelope, it is funny."
"You weren't attacked. Lord, I lost some hair this time!" She shook the broken strands to the carpeted floor.
"Does anyone wish to enlighten me?" Ramsey demanded.
"She's—"
"Anthony," Penny warned, inspecting her torn pocket.
"—rather popular."
"Pray tell, what for? Tis certainly not her sweet temperament!"
Anthony laughed harder, slumping into the seat.
Penelope's eyes narrowed on Ramsey as she said, "Hank! Take-us-home! Now!"
"Yes, ma'am." Hank was grinning.
Ramsey made a low growling sound, disregarding her popularity and focusing his attention on the scenery beyond the window. Though he was back where he started, he could not, in all good conscience, continue in her company, especially to her residence. Nay, not reside under her roof. And to live on her benevolence? His pride would not take the sting and bade him to depart as quickly as possible, to seek his own way. Yet Ram knew naught but a life at sea and was painfully aware that work would be difficult to find in this day of mechanizations. He'd no other choice but to leave.
Ram darted a glance at Penelope.
A prime article of woman, that. And the underlying power of his feelings for the troublesome wench scared him. That he could admit, yet disguising them called on a strength he wasn't aware he possessed ... til now. She intrigued him, beckoned him to look beyond the frame of her face and figure. Though he could not put a name to this odd rugging he experienced since clapping eyes on her, 'twere his brief glimpses of another woman, haunted and needy, secreted beneath a veil of ice that made him regret walking away from her. Ahh, lass, were you
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in my time, my century. I would steal you away aboard me ship til I banished your secrets and discovered your true heart.
But he was in her time.
They'd gone several miles when Ramsey bid Hank to stop.
"Don't, Hank," Penny ordered, glancing at Anthony.
"Here is adequate, mate."
That Hank looked indecisive annoyed Penny. "Where are you going, Mister O'Keefe?"
Ram spared her a glance, wanting to end it now. "I must depart, Mistress, to seek employment, quarters—"
"But you can't go now," she interrupted, that little voice telling her to stop him any way she could. "Please," she added softly when her request had no effect and Ramsey thought he'd come apart with the quiet plea.
"Why, lass?" His blood seemed to freeze on its way to his heart.
Penny latched onto her first plausible excuse. ' 'Because there is a man named Bailey looking for you,"
The wind instantly left his sails. " 'Tis impossible, Mistress. I know no such man, nor do I have kin—a'tall," he added with finality.
Penny knew what that was like. "Your full name is—?"
He folded his arms over his chest, his eyes wary. "Ramsey Malachi Gamaliel O'Keefe."
"Jesus." Hank put in. "That's embarrassing." Ram glared over his shoulder. "Sorry, Capt'n."
"He's the one," Anthony confirmed.
"Forgive me, but I am still at a loss as to why I must reside with," Ram waved, "the three of you."
"No need to get snide, O'Keefe," Anthony said, smiling. "Bailey has a delivery for you from Lloyds of London."
Though aware of the insurers, Ram was unwilling to believe such an outlandish tale, for all he knew was gone. It hit him just then, like a cut to his windpipe, and he turned his face away, Dane, Tess, his mates, his ship, all naught but dust in this century. His broad shoulders slumped and he stared at his
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TIMESWEPT ROGUE
boots, aching, solemn. What happened to Dane and Tess? Did they have a good life? Children? Sweet Christ, did they even make it back to the colonies?
Penny and Anthony exchanged concerned looks but 'twas the driver who interrupted his thoughts.
"Hey, Capt'n. Lose this?" Hank handed the coin back over his shoulder to Ramsey and he fingered the disk, his hooded gaze colliding with hers. A faint blush bloomed in her cheeks and she looked away.
"May I see that?" Anthony asked, palm up. Ramsey shrugged, tossing it to him.
Anthony smoothed a finger over the coin, sending the tinted electric window down and leaning toward the sunlight for a closer examination. "Good God! Is this real?"
'' 'Tis naught but a bit of Spanish gold,'' Ram said absently, his mind on the past; his past.
"Solid gold," Anthony whispered, Penny peering over his shoulder. Anthony looked up. "Do you have any more of these?"
Ram pulled his gaze from the window, his tone dry. "Are you in dire need of funds, English?"
Anthony ignored the dig. "Do you?"
"Aye."
"And is that gold, too?" He pointed to the chains, and Ram nodded curtly. Anthony turned to Penny. "I've got to make a stop. You three go on to the house. I'll catch up." He picked up the phone, briefly glancing at Ramsey as he dialed. "Are you willing to sell this?"
Ramsey folded his arms. Sell gold for more gold, he wondered, then seeing the opportunity to possess a bit of this century's currency, agreed.
"Paul? Wainright, here," Anthony said into the receiver. ' 'Clear the next hour, I' m on my way in. Oh yes, it's important." He hung up, still studying the gold disk.
Penny frowned, her gaze shifting between the crude-edged coin, Mister O'Keefe, and Anthony. She'd never seen him so animated. "What are you up to, Tony?"
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T1MESWEPT ROGUE
He grinned. "I'm not sure, but if I'm right, Mister O'Keefe here is a very rich man."
"You're kidding?" Penny blinked, yet Ramsey scowled, uneffected by the Englishman's excitement.
"Methinks you a dull swift, Wainright." He nodded to the coin. " Tis no grand fortune you hold."
"Stop here, Hank. I'll take a cab."
"But we're only a few blocks from the house," Penelope told him.
The car slowed, its wheels spitting pebbles as Hank pulled off to the shoulder. "This can't wait," Anthony said, then addressed Ramsey. "I don't know where you've been. Mister O'Keefe, but gold is over four hundred fifty dollars an ounce. And this," he hefted the coin, "is better than four."
By dollars Ramsey assumed the man meant denominations of money, as in pounds sterling, and if Wainright wanted to spend his day peddling the coin, Ram would not gainsay the matter. He needed money, desperately.
Anthony left the Rolls, yet before shutting the door, he addressed O'Keefe in a voice intended for his ears alone. "I trust you'll see to her safety?" Anthony offered his hand.
Ramsey glanced at Penelope, hesitating, for their argument in the street was unresolved, a wedge atween them still.
"A gentleman's agreement," Anthony coaxed, knowing somehow Ramsey would see it as a matter of honor.
"Aye," Ram answered almost reluctantly and sealed the bond.
"Knew you would." Anthony smiled, then looked at Penny. "Ramsey will see you safely home."
"I don't need his help," Penny called, but he completely ignored her, closing the door and hailing a taxi.
As the carriage pulled away, Ramsey settled back, suddenly delighted by this new turn. His bond of protection and the coin made all the difference, giving him reason to remain where he truly wanted—near h
er. She looked up from assessing her damaged garments, and he smiled, slow and wicked, not giving a tinker's damn what took the Englishman away, as long as he was gone.
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Ramsey's dark gaze slid boldly over her body, her face, afore clashing with hers, and she responded with belligerently folding her arms, repaying the look in kind.
By Triton's will, if 'twas ever a gauntlet lain afore his feet, 'twas in those frosty cat-green eyes.
He arched a brow, incredibly pleased.
Ramsey could never ignore so flagrant a challenge.
Not in his century, nor hers.
Penny tilted her head, gazing across the lush interior of the Rolls Royce. He looked as if he were prepared to wage battle, though she'd no idea what for. He shifted toward her and she flinched. He smiled in return, one of those wide heart stopping grins he gave so easily, then stretched his long legs out, his boots nearly touching her calf. She let her gaze wander from his soles upward, across broad corded thighs straining against his knee pants, over his massive chest to his face.
His brow flicked upward.
"Admiring or taking inventory?"
''Neither. I was wondering how you managed to find yourself one hundred miles from shore."
"Drowning, I believe the surgeon said."
"Mister O'Keefe—"
"—Ramsey."
''Mister O 'Keefe,'' came tight-lipped.
"Aye, lass," he said sweetly.
"Why won't you tell me?"
His features sharpened a little. "For you are, in truth, only feigning interest."
"You'll find I rarely pry into anyone's business, therefore I am interested."
" 'Tis flattered I am, then."
"Don't be. It's mere curiosity."
"'Tis a shame, for I'd hoped 'twas your desire to know the man and not the circumstances."
Are you willing to do the same for me, she wanted to ask, then suppressed the outrageous idea. She'd no desire to be any more involved than she already was, yet she sensed he read
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