Blackwell 2 - Timeswept Rogue

by Amy J. Fetzer

  "I am fit, aye."

  Apprehension curled in her stomach. His voice sounded strained and why wouldn't he look at her? Penny moved close, and he shifted further away, his long hair shielding his face. The knot twisted tighter and a part of her warned that this was bound to happen if she opened herself up to anyone again. But still, she came to him, worry creasing her features.

  Ramsey tried to compose himself, keeping his gaze on the narrow pier and boathouse beyond as he stuffed the tailor's receipt in his pocket. Unable to sleep, he'd studied the history books since dawn, stunned to discover his country battled the British again in 1812 and horrified to know the colonies had waged war amongst themselves fifty years later. The notion sickened the Continental Marine, especially after witnessing so many perish in the revolution. God almighty, we actually killed our own people! Ramsey struggled with the knowledge of a war dividing a country he'd fought to bind together and tried to imagine cutting Dane down for merely having a different opinion. He couldn't, thank God. Ram glanced at the book titled, Jane's Fighting Ships, and his spirits plummeted further. His profession was utterly useless in this century; ships were no longer sailed by celestial calculations, wind speed and the

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  skill of a seasoned sailor, but by machines measured in horse­power, steered by bloody computerized rudders and throttle controls and something called RADAR.

  The vessels Ramsey had mastered were for mere pleasure now, and smaller than a bleedin' sloop! My God, how was he to pay his bills now? A reasonable man, Ramsey considered the cost of garments and lodging would have increased over the years, but sweet Christ, sixty-five dollars for a pair of well-worn breeches? 'Twas friggin' near a boatswain's yearly wage!

  A glassy clink made him look toward the source. His gaze turned sharply from the delicate hand retreating from the steam­ing cup to the woman kneeling afore him.

  Ramsey looked at the deck and the motion smacked of cow­ardice. "I beg of you, lass, leave me in peace."

  Her heart shifted at the quiet plea. She never thought to see him like this. "Talk to me, Ramsey."

  A muscle worked in his jaw. "I cannot." He still wouldn't meet her gaze.

  "It can't be that bad."

  He scoffed. "You would not understand, Penelope. Please, trust me in this.'' To bring her into his troubles was dishonorable and damned complicated.

  "Come on." She ducked, trying to catch his gaze and he slowly titled his head to look at her. Penny quickly schooled her features. God, he looked so ... defeated. "Let me help. I can see you're upset."

  He shocked her with a quick lop-sided grin. ' 'Are you admit­ting that after one evening of showering me with your unspeak­able passion, you can make that deduction?" God almighty, but she was worth any anguish.

  Penny blushed to the roots of her hair, failing miserably to ignore those dark eyes that gleamed, a bit smugly, with the memory of her spread naked and eager beneath his skilled touch. Why was he so pleased about last night when she'd left him suffering? "Try to behave yourself."

  "'Tis not in me nature," he said with a half smile, his silky tone speaking volumes as his gaze caressed her bare shoulders. Her yellow skirt fluffed around her like the creamy petals of

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  a buttercup, and Ramsey was pleased a night of loving left her radiant and glowing and unbelievably relaxed. He'd have to remember that.

  "I didn't mean anything by it."

  He leaned closer. "I did," he said and she inhaled sharply, suddenly brushing his hair back off his shoulder. Several thin red lines streaked his skin. Her nails, she realized, her face darkening with embarrassment.

  "'Tis a bit like being branded," he teased, and her gaze flew to his, yet before she could apologize he asked, "Will you sneak into my rooms and again bestow—"

  She clamped her hand over his mouth. "Please. Don't say it. I asked for that." His eyes gleamed with laughter. "And I wasn't sneaking." Her gag still in place, he arched a brow in doubt. "I want you to know I don't do that sort of thing. Ever, At all!" She stared at a spot beyond him, frowning. "That was really so unlike me,"

  He peeled away her hand. "What is like you, Penelope? The wild cat I ensnared last eve?" Her skin pinkened, his husky tone sending goose flesh down her back. "Or, my icy princess, confident and in control of her kingdom? Or was it, mayhaps, the teasing lass who fed me comfits and pig's brains at two in the morn?" He drew her hand to his mouth, dropping moist kisses to her palm, the inside of her wrist, his softly spoken words warming her damp skin. "I confess I prefer all three, especially the tempestuous siren who marked me with the heat of her passion."

  She made a pained sound, an ache blossoming in her chest, her need of him hungry to be fed, yet knew she shouldn't allow this to go further. "Ramsey, don't." She tried to pull free.

  He wouldn't let her. "Do not what? Want you in my arms again? Want to feel your body rejoice in my touch?'' He inhaled through clenched teeth, his mind and groin recalling her every nuance with restless clarity. " 'Twill not happen. For once tasted," came low and haunting, "I crave more." Dark eyes caressed her face, her bare shoulders. "By God, Penelope," he rasped. "Even the woman-scent of you lingered to torment me in my dreams."

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  Penny swallowed, unsure, yet greedy for more. No one had ever spoken to her like that, as if he'd come apart at the seams. "That shouldn't have happened and I'm sor—"

  "Shh," he hushed. "Do not apologize." A gentle warning edged to his tone. "For I do not seek it. And 'tis beyond our control." Her look said otherwise and he asked, "Are you ashamed of what we shared?''

  Shared. She couldn't remember the last time she let herself share anything with a man. "No." She wasn't, would never be. God, last night in his arms felt so right it scared her. "I don't understand you, Ramsey. Any other man would be laying on the guilt for me leaving like that."

  His thumb made a slow circle over the back of her hand, not a hint of smugness in his tone when he said, "I will wage that I am not a'tall like any man you've known."

  That was certainly an understatement. "I haven't known many," came tightly and he smiled. "But I can't give you what you want." Her manner implied the sexual.

  "Again you assume to know what I desire." His expression softened, turning devilish. "And 'tis not the first time a lass has run from me bed satisfied."

  She sat back on her calves, trying to think of something clever to deflate that puffed ego, but, "Oh really?" was sorely lacking.

  "What is this?" Brows high, he tilted his head, offering his ear. " Tis jealousy I hear?"

  She cleared her throat. "Why are you reading these?" She waved at the stack of books, noticing an open, well-thumbed dictionary.

  His smile widened at her avoidance. "One studies a subject thoroughly to diminish one's ignorance, lass," Ramsey said as his gaze drifted over her features, her slim bare throat and shoulders, down across the plump swells of her breasts filling the heart shaped bodice. Was it proper for women of this century to reveal so much skin?

  "Is that so?" Penny swallowed, damning her swift reaction to him and dragging her gaze from his. She inspected the titles; U.S. History, Military Warfare, The Marines of the Frigate

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  Navy, On This Day in America, A Timetable of Inventions and Discoveries. "What did you find that you didn't already know?"

  Unable to answer without sounding like a candidate for Bed­lam, nor resist the feminine temptation perched afore him, Ramsey grasped her about the waist, pulling her closer. A change of subject was at hand.

  "Good morn, Penelope," he whispered, intimate-soft and deep, and her questions vanished beneath the onslaught of his alluring sensuality.

  "Think so?" There goes that tingling again, she thought.

  ' 'Aye. Dare I hope for a kiss to begin me day?'' he murmured, his head descending.

  Penny knew she should push him away, knew she ought to remind him he wa
s assuming too much and best forget what came before now, but as his lips covered hers, her resistance wilted under the hot morning sun. His kiss was erotically slow, a gentle wakening of the desire they shared last night. And he wasn't going to let her forget even a moment, humming his pleasure as her hands slid up his damp chest to wind around his neck. Her fingers played in his hair and he gathered her tightly to him, biceps flexing as he held her off the wood deck, snug atween his thighs. His lips toyed with hers until they were moist and swollen, and he held her tighter, his masculine strength pressing against her.

  "Ramsey." Breathless, hesitant.

  "I'm hungry, lass."

  Penny smiled teasingly. "Margaret said breakfast was ready." Heck, she thought sluggishly, it ought to be charred to a crisp by now.

  He chuckled, hoisting her onto his lap and holding her there when she was wont to wiggle free. ' 'Nay, do not think to leave me now," he brushed his lips below her ear, her throat, "for I seek more delectable nourishment."

  Penny tilted her head for better access, trying to sound defiant. "And what you want is all that matters, right?"

  "Nay, you've only but to ask." His voice was filled with dark promise. "And I will attend to your every pleasure." She

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  moaned, sinking into his embrace and Ramsey breathed deeply, fighting the urge to slide his hands beneath the folds of her indecently short day gown and dragged the ribbon from her hair. Deep red hair spilled over one shoulder and his gaze absorbed all of her in one heady sweep. "By Triton's will, you are a beautiful creature, lady heart."

  He said it with such emotion Penny knew he didn't give the compliment often. She didn't wonder over the nickname either. She couldn't. He was kissing her again and doing it to absolute perfection.

  Like a lover with a hundred years of experience.

  Before the musical doorbell completed its chime, Anthony Wainright pushed open the front door. ' 'I must be in the wrong house. Is that bacon I smell?" Anthony breezed inside, giving Margaret a peck on the cheek as he passed. "Is she up yet?"

  "Oh, yeah, she's awake, all right."

  Anthony stopped, recognizing the humor in her voice and turned to look at the housekeeper.

  With a secretive smile, Margaret inclined her head toward the kitchen as she shut the door. Anthony headed in that direction, halting at the entrance, his gaze skimming over the obscene meal laid out, then around the room. No Penny. Movement beyond the glass doors caught his attention and his eyes rounded when he realized what he was seeing.

  Anthony couldn't believe it. Yes, he could. No, he corrected. He could not. Not Penelope Hamilton, ice queen of Hollywood, in the arms of Ramsey O'Keefe!

  "What's been going on here?" Penelope appeared thor­oughly engrossed, enjoying Ramsey as much as he was enjoying her. Anthony felt like the voyeur in the worst way.

  "You tell me, Mr. Wainright." Margaret poured orange juice into an iced glass.

  Anthony cast her a side glance as he said, "How should I know? They were at each other's throats when I left them."

  "Well, they're heavy into kissing each other's throats now."

  He brought his gaze back to the couple. "Yes. I can see

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  that." Well, it seems they've gotten well past Mister O'Keefe and Mistress Hamilton, Anthony thought, moving away from the glass doors and sloshing coffee into a mug. This was good, he decided, very good.

  "How 'bout you going out there and telling them breakfast is ready?"

  "Me?" Anthony squawked, the mug halfway to his lips. "I couldn't possibly—" Then he smiled, suddenly seeing the merits of the situation.' 'Do you really think we should interrupt them?"

  "Heck, yes! My cooking's going to waste!"

  With mug in hand, Anthony slid back the glass door loud enough to startle the pair and an evil satisfaction slithered over him as they abruptly separated. Ramsey set Penny to her feet, then stood, reaching for his shirt, turning his back as he stuffed the tails in his jeans. Penny was already heading toward him. Damn me, cheated out of a little torture, he thought with a secret grin.

  "Don't say a word, Tony." She kept walking.

  "I wasn't. Honest." The innocent face lost much when his lips twitched.

  "Like hell." She entered the house.

  "Ramsey!" Anthony called. "Good to see you well rested."

  Ramsey's eyes narrowed as he came forward and shook Wainright's offered hand. Ram was angry at himself, less for stealing a kiss and more for placing Penelope in such a compro­mising position afore the Englishman. Would he have to duel for the lady? Though Penelope did have a certain attachment to the man, Ramsey would respect her judgment. For now.

  "Come on and eat before Margaret explodes." Anthony urged him over the threshold. "She's never cooked so much food, and mind you, you're expected to clean your plate."

  When Ramsey stepped inside, Penny was already standing on the far side of the polished butcher's block table, admiring the fit of his white button front shirt, band collar, cotton and clinging. His sleeves were rolled back, exposing thick tanned forearms, and the button-fly jeans did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he was a healthy man.

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  If the woman did not cease her staring, Ram thought, his body would betray him, right here in the galley for all to see. And he could not be accountable for his revenge. Needing a distraction, he inhaled deeply, his grin wide and pleased.

  "Ahh, Meggie, me rose. What have you done?"

  "Park it there, Ramsey," she said, pointing to a chair as she set a full plate before him. Anthony sat and helped himself.

  Ramsey slid the napkin to his lap as he picked up the fork. He was famished, the midnight grazing only wetting his appetite for more substantial stores. And he did justice to Margaret's efforts, slavering butter on muffins, dunking toast in his eggs and chomping into bacon. And Penny didn't think she'd seen anyone devour so much food in one sitting, then considered how many calories it must take to maintain two hundred-forty-some pounds of man.

  "You never smile like that when I eat," Penny said to Margaret, slipping into a chair and placing a muffin on her plate.

  "You don't eat enough to keep a bird alive and it's all the wrong stuff." She inclined her head toward Ramsey. "And I've waited a long time for this,'' the housekeeper said pointedly as she warmed Penny's coffee.

  Penny frowned, catching the hidden meaning and wanting to blunt Margaret's parental hopes.

  Half his meal finished, Ramsey finally came up for air, leaned back and drained the tall glass of juice without stopping. ' 'Meg­gie O'Hallaran, you're a wizard." He plunked the glass down. "My own cook could not have presented so fine a fare." He patted his stomach and Margaret glowed, freshening his coffee while making a face at Penelope. Ramsey continued eating.

  "Your cook?" Penny piped in. "You had a cook?"

  Ramsey glanced up, seeing three pairs of eyes trained on him. He removed the fork from his mouth and slowed his chewing. "Aye." Ram swallowed. "On my ship."

  "If you had a ship, how come you were floating in the middle of the Atlantic? No, let me rephrase that," Penny said, "drowning in the Atlantic?"

  "She sailed without me." Ramsey forked a chunk of egg

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  and shoved it into his mouth. 'Twas not a lie, he reasoned, Triton's Will did sail without him prior to the encounter with Phillip, and Dane's Sea Witch was left behind, in 1789.

  "I thought you were marooned or something."

  Ramsey smiled roguishly. "I believe we've addressed this subject afore."

  "And you still haven't explained—" The doorbell chimed and Penny's frown deepened. "How come the alarms didn't go off?"

  Ramsey dropped the fork, swiped his lips with a napkin and left his chair afore Anthony said, ' 'I left the gate open and shut off the alarms."

  Ramsey froze, then rounded on him. "You what?"

  Jesus, Anthony thought as he slowly stood. If looks could k
ill.

  "Have you forgotten the lady was nearly molested in the center of the village only yestermorn!" He clenched his fist, itching to throttle the Englishman and Penny recognized the canned fury. Like last night, a voice reminded.

  She came to his side. "Ramsey, take it easy." She touched his bare forearm. "Tony's not a fool and crazed fans rarely have the nerve to approach the front door." He covered her hand, the hot wind immediately leaving him.

  "It must be the coin dealer I contracted," Anthony said, marveling at the quick change.

  Ramsey saw naught beyond the breech of decorum, and the eighteenth century man reacted naturally. "Regardless of your case, a gentleman does not call upon a lady's home without prior notice. Implore this coin vender to return at a decent hour and mayhaps they shall be received."

  "Well, aren't you the lord and master," she said tightly, her look Warning that last night didn't give him the right to rule.

  He arched a brow, very aware of her censure. He chose to ignore it. "You often take callers at this hour?" A wealth of suspicious jealousy colored his tone and Penny experienced a quick flash of girlish pleasure.

  "No, but—"

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  "She don't take callers at any hour," Margaret muttered, meant to be heard and Penny shot her a quelling glance.

  "The coin vender is a lady," Anthony said, Ramsey's anti­quated attitude glaring like a beacon. "I asked her to come here." He headed for the front door and Ram followed, guiding Penelope afore him with a hand at the small of her back.

  "Do you trust me enough to let me handle this?" Anthony grasped the knob.

  Ramsey's gaze collided with Penelope's, and she nodded minutely. Ram agreed with a terse, "Aye," suddenly wishing he was armed as Anthony threw open the door.

  "Who are you?" Penelope said, expecting a woman and finding a portly man in a three-piece suit, complete with watch fob and huffing like a steam engine.