Rafe stopped abruptly. Forgetting where he was, Rafe rubbed his fingers across his lips and tasted mud. “Bleh.” He glanced toward the open lake and acknowledged that the moment had passed. His questions could wait, and so could he. He’d have the lady where he wanted her another time. Another time soon.
Placing his hands on the ground beside the pool, he pushed himself up and out of the mud. From the corner of his eyes he saw Maggie look away, but as he stood next to the clear water spring with his bare backside to her, he sensed her gaze upon him. Rafe indulged in a little preening, rolling his shoulders and flexing his back before he hopped down into the warm water. “I’m going to take a lap across the lake. You might use the opportunity to finish up here.”
Her voice sounded strangled. “Yes. Of course.”
Rafe stretched out to swim, but she halted him with a question. “Mr. Malone? About Barlow Hill. Have my grandfathers explained exactly why they wanted to hire you? Have they told you why we can’t anger Mr. Hill?”
“I know nothing about Hill. All I do know is that your grandfathers want me to steal their treasure.” He gave her a wink and added, “Now I get to decide which one.”
Chapter 3
The man could model for a Greek god statue.
Maggie wasn’t thinking of her Papa Lucky when she watched him take position over the leather and feather-filled ball later that morning. She was thinking about Rafe Malone. When Lucky drew back his wooden club, she pictured the thief s broad shoulders. As the stick swung down and connected with the sphere, she recalled the sensation of hard, sculpted muscle surrounding her. While following the trajectory of the small ball through the air, she remembered the wickedness of his smile. As it landed in a clearing some hundred and forty yards away, Maggie envisioned the flash of firm buttocks as he dove beneath the waters of Lake Bliss.
“Nice one,” Papa Gus observed.
Very nice, Maggie thought, her mind still on that last image she’d had of Rafe Malone earlier that morning. Embarrassed heat warmed her cheeks, and Maggie forced her attention back to the game. Her Papa Ben had lined up over his ball.
The game they played was a bastardized version of a sport introduced to Snake MacKenzie in Scotland years before. When an unfortunate accidental murder sent him fleeing for survival, he brought with him to the sailing life a love for the game called golf and a dozen of the very expensive leather balls, items he’d stolen along with a substantial amount of cash from the not-so-dearly departed. In time, he’d passed along his passion for the sport to the other grandfathers, and once they’d settled at Lake Bliss, the men had gone about establishing a three-hole course along a rolling meadow just west of the hotel.
The competition often turned ugly, and Maggie had started going along with them to intervene when tempers exploded and fists flew. Somewhere along the way she’d caught a fever for the game herself. Now she was as proficient with a club as the papas and had initiated an argument a time or two herself while on the course.
Ben took his shot, and it was Maggie’s turn. She eyed her target, a grassy patch some hundred yards away, then addressed the ball. With a slow, controlled movement, she drew back the club. At the top of her backswing, a loud voice boomed from directly behind her.
“Here you are!” Rafe Malone exclaimed. “I’ve been looking all over for y’all. A stranger rode in. Some blubber belly came out of a room upstairs to greet him, then started hollering for Miss St. John.”
Maggie sliced her shot right. Way right. Into the lake right. Gus gleefully observed, “Bad luck, Maggie—mine. I’m afraid that penalty stroke will make it impossible for you to beat me.”
Maggie rounded on Rafe. “You fool! I’m going to skewer you. I’ll slit your gullet from stem to stern. I’ll—”
“Whoa there, Mary Margaret.” Ben put a restraining hand on her arm. “Allow me to introduce you to the gentleman before you inadvertently ruin our chance to save Bliss. This is Rafe Malone. If you kill him, we all have more trouble than a soggy ball. Malone, this is our granddaughter, Mary Margaret St. John.”
Malone tipped his hat. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”
Maggie tried to reel in her temper and was only partially successful. She nodded abruptly and said, “Malone. You made me miss my shot.”
“Now, Maggie,” Gus chided. “You were the one holding the club.”
Lucky sneered. “Quit being smug, Gus. You can’t beat her fair and square.” Glancing at Ben, he added, “I say we give her a free shot.”
“No!” Gus braced his hands on his hips. “That’s against the rules!”
“What rules?” Snake asked. He took a practice swing with his club. “We make them up ourselves and change them whenever we want. I’m with Lucky. I say we have this new rule: the lass gets a redo whenever Rafe Malone shouts while she’s swinging.”
“If I may make a suggestion,” Rafe interjected, twirling his black felt hat on one finger. “Add the words ‘the club at the ball’ to your rule, would you please? The way she’s looking at me, I’m afraid she’ll think ‘fist at my face’ is acceptable.”
“Perceptive, aren’t you, Malone?” Maggie drawled.
Ben offered Rafe an apologetic look. “This family tends to take our games seriously.” Turning to the other men, he added his opinion about the proposed rule change.
While the pirates argued, Maggie twirled her club between her fingers and eyed Rafe Malone. Curse the man. He was just as appealing with his clothes on. Washed free of mud and dressed in buckskin pants and a blue cotton shirt, he stood a good two inches taller than Ben, who at six feet was the tallest of the papas. Sunlight reflected glints of red in Malone’s dark auburn hair. His eyes were a deep alligator green and glinted with a knowing amusement that put her on the defensive.
She raked him up and down with a doubtful gaze. “So, Rafe Malone. The thief. Tell me, are you any good?”
He folded his arms and grinned wickedly. “I could steal your shadow if I were so inclined.”
“You don’t suffer from a lack of self-confidence, do you, Mr. Malone?”
“That would be stupid. I may have one or two shortcomings, ma’am, but stupidity isn’t one of them.”
“What is?”
“I’m a tad bit hardheaded at times. For instance, if someone tells me I can’t have something, I tend to take that as a personal challenge. I’ve simply got to have it.”
He winked and Maggie felt its effect clear to her toes. She reacted defensively. “I didn’t want you here. You weren’t my choice for the job.”
“Oh, yeah?” He had the nerve to look amused. “Who was?”
“I wanted the bravest man in Texas. I wanted Luke Prescott.”
That wiped the satisfaction right off his face. “Well, I don’t think his wife would agree to that, Miss St. John,” Rafe snapped back, glowering at her.
“I meant that I wanted to hire him to retrieve our treasure. He’s strong and courageous.”
“And I’m… ?”
“Impertinent.”
Lucky took a break from bickering with the other grandfathers to caution, “Maggie, I think you should mind the words coming from your mouth.”
“Aye,” Snake added. “Keep it up and we’ll be living back on the boat again.”
She looked at her papas. “Well it’s true. Luke Prescott is a hero. Rafe Malone is a thief. What’s to keep him from stealing our treasure from us once he’s recovered it?”
“My word,” Rafe said flatly.
Maggie heard a wealth of meaning in his tone of voice. Surprised, she faced him. This was a different Rafe Malone from the rogue who’d flirted with her last night or the fool who’d interrupted her back-swing. This man appeared taller and broader. He was coldly furious. This Rafe Malone was dangerous.
His gaze captured hers, his eyes narrowed and hard. “I’ll say this once, lady, so listen up. My word is my most valuable possession. I never, ever break it.”
She swallowed hard and fought t
he urge to take a step backward. This matter was too important. Her papas’ health and happiness was at stake. “And do we have it, Mr. Malone? Do you give your word we can trust you with our treasure?”
The light in his eyes changed, softened. A lopsided grin stole across his face and he drawled, “Well now, Miss Maggie, I reckon that depends on your definition of treasure. If you’re talking about the chest they have stashed in the Caribbean, then yes, I’ve given your grandfathers my word they can trust me with that.”
Maggie frowned. What other treasure existed to define? Her fingers stole to the necklace her papas had given her years before as she considered the question, then quickly dismissed it. The only prize that mattered was the one they would use to save Hotel Bliss. “All right, then. I guess that question is settled.”
She nodded once, then turned to her papas. Snatching a golf ball from Lucky’s hand, she slid it inside the pocket of her skirt. “This is no way to relax and recover from your trip. I’m declaring the game over. Papa Gus wins this one fair and square.”
The four grandfathers burst into debate. Maggie folded her arms and shook her head. Seeing they couldn’t sway her from her position, the papas adopted such hangdog expressions that Maggie almost checked the ground to see if they were dragging tails. She sighed and kissed each one in turn on the cheek, giving Gus a second, congratulatory buss.
“Now, since Mr. Malone has joined us, why don’t we use this opportunity to discuss the upcoming trip in relative privacy. Our ‘guest’ has become quite a nuisance about interrupting private conversations.”
“Barlow Hill, the blighter,” said Gus.
“The bounder,” said Lucky.
“The bastard,” said Snake.
“The blackguard,” said Ben.
Malone shook his head in amazement. “I take it Barlow Hill is the blubber belly? Who is he to you?”
The papas shared a look, then Ben gestured toward a shady spot a short distance away. “Mary Margaret is right. Why don’t we sit a spell and go over the plan. Malone needs to know how to deal with that dimwit Hill.”
“The devil.” Lucky sneered.
“The demon.” Gus spat.
“The dastard.” Snake snorted.
Sunlight sparkled off the diamond in Ben’s ear as he headed for the shade. Lucky, Snake, and
Gus fell in behind Ben. Maggie started to follow them, but Rafe stopped her with a question.
“You did hear me say this paragon of evil is looking for you?”
“Yes. He can wait. Barlow Hill isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, blast the bad luck. Come along, Malone. You’ve been saying you have questions. Answer time has arrived.”
~~~~~~~~~~
The buccaneers explained to Rafe that sitting and storytelling was as much a part of their golf game as playing. They’d built benches at intervals all along their short course to accommodate such activity. The men all took what appeared to be their customary seats while Maggie plopped down on the grass.
Rafe sent Snake a measured look as he stretched out beside her. Snake’s brows dipped menacingly and his gray eyes flashed, but he held his tongue. Gus smirked while Lucky pulled a flask from his back pocket and passed it around. “Bliss water,” he warned when it came to Rafe. He declined the offer and passed it along to Maggie. She took a sip, shuddered, and returned the bottle to Lucky.
Ben said, “We told you we want you to rescue our treasure, but we declined to provide the details as to why. After speaking with Mary Margaret earlier this morning and learning that during our absence our enemy has taken up residence among us, I have decided it is best you understand our motives. We cannot afford to alienate Hotel Bliss’s only guest, Mr. Malone. Difficult though it is, we—and I mean every one of us—must be nice to the rat, Barlow Hill.”
“The weasel.”
“The mole.”
“The polecat.”
Rafe slowly shook his head at the pirates’ reaction to the man’s name. Did they do this every time Hill’s name was mentioned?
Ben frowned fiercely and continued. “He has stolen our home right out from beneath our feet. You see, Malone, we purchased the Lake Bliss property years ago from the family who originally homesteaded the land. We’ve lived here off and on for years. Once Mary Margaret finished school, we decided to settle permanently on our land. We built the hotel and opened it up to visitors, offering our guests access to the same healthful waters and treatments we have long enjoyed.”
“That’s when the trouble started,” Gus broke in, stroking the scar on his cheek with an index finger.
Snake nodded, his trio of earrings swaying with the motion. “The vermin saw how well we were doing and decided he wanted a piece of it—the whole piece. Took us to court, he did.”
“We should have killed him the first time we saw him,” Lucky declared in his raspy voice. “Instead, we cured him. A week’s worth of mud baths and Bliss tonic three times a day completely rid him of that twitch. First time I ever wished Lake Bliss was filled with something other than miracle water.”
As one, the marauders sighed sorrowfully and passed around the flask once again. Maggie skipped it this time. She looked at Rafe and said, “He claimed we didn’t have clear title to the land. He produced a lien on the property from years ago. The court awarded Lake Bliss and all its improvements to Barlow Hill.”
“The cockroach.”
“The termite.”
“The weevil.”
“The dung beetle.”
Rafe’s gaze swept the righteous pirates, and he fought a smile. The crotchety old men managed to appear both fierce and almost…cuddly, too. Yeah, Malone, like grizzly bears are cuddly.
He knew without a doubt who was responsible for the softness in the pirates. One beautiful, intriguing woman with sea green eyes, old-gold hair, and a smile that could light the night.
Rafe sprawled lazily across the ground, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles, his torso propped on his elbows. The heady scent of magnolia blossoms drifted on the breeze, and he felt a strong urge to shift around and lay his head in Maggie’s lap. But it was too nice a day to die, so he forced his mind back to the business at hand. “So, if the cockroach won the lawsuit, why are you still living here?”
Ben answered. “We pleaded hardship with the judge. He took pity on us and said we could have nine months to vacate the premises. More than three of them have already passed.”
“Hardship? What hardship?” Rafe’s brows arched as Maggie’s eyes shot daggers at her grandfathers. The woman obviously didn’t want them talking.
Gus didn’t catch her look, or if he did, he ignored it. “Hardship on account of Maggie’s rheumatism and her need for Lake Bliss water.”
“Rheumatism?” Rafe sat all the way up. He pinned Maggie with his stare. “How can you have rheumatism? You’re young. And besides, you said you’d repaired the roof. You couldn’t climb around on the roof if you had rheumatism.”
“You repaired the roof!” Lucky shouted.
Mackenzie shoved to his feet, his hand gripping the hilt of the dagger at his waist. “And how did Malone learn about it? When has he been talking to our Maggie? Has he touched you, lass?”
Maggie bounded to her feet. “Papa Snake, you calm down. Mr. Malone didn’t have to talk to me to learn what I’ve been doing the last few days. Yes, Papa Lucky, I repaired the roof, and I won’t be scolded for doing work that needed doing. If we’re going to own Hotel Bliss, then we are obliged to keep it up. I wasn’t about to let the spring rains ruin the upstairs walls.”
Bracing her hands on her hips, she turned her glower on Rafe. “I am not sickly. I’m as healthy a person as you’ll ever meet. It’s true that when I was younger I suffered spells of rheumatism. They came as flare-ups, occasional attacks much like Papa Ben’s malaria. But I’ve outgrown it. I haven’t been bothered by it in years. I won’t have it talked about by any of you.” She fired a glare around at all the men. “Does everyone understand?”
She didn’t give them a chance to reply. “Now, if we’re through discussing my personal business, I’d like to return to important matters.” She waited until each of her grandfathers nodded their acquiescence before turning to Rafe. He held her gaze for a long minute, silently conveying the message that the conversation was postponed, not finished.
Regally, she took a seat on the ground. Rafe had the distinct impression that she almost stuck her tongue out at him. He gave her his wickedest wink, then spoke to Ben. “She mentioned owning the hotel. I gather this is how you intend to use your treasure?”
Ben reached into his pocket and removed his pipe. “Yes. We convinced Barlow Hill, the viper—”
“The varmint.”
“The villain.”
“The vermin.”
“—To agree to sell the property back to us. He set an outrageous price and we agreed to it. We went so far as to have a legal contract drawn up spelling out the particulars. He has no idea we’ll be able to meet it.”
“From your mouth to the Mayan gods’ ears,” Gus grumbled.
“And then to the judge who will oversee the lawsuit,” Maggie added. “You can bet he won’t give up without a fight. That’s one reason it’s so important that we remain nice and friendly to the man. Surprise is a powerful weapon. We need to wield it when its power will be most effective—when we have the cash in our hands.”
“We’ll be able to meet it as long as Malone has better luck than Lucky and I did when we headed down there to fetch it,” Gus said.
Lucky frowned. “The first mistake was sending me to begin with. I’m full of luck—all bad.”
Nobody bothered to argue with him. Instead, Gus said to Rafe, “We’re running out of time. The rat’s moving into the hotel only rams that truth home harder. We have fewer than six months left. It doesn’t leave much room for error.”
“It doesn’t leave any room,” Snake added glumly. “If Malone fails we won’t have time to send anyone else.”
Rafe sat up straight. Lucky Nichols had no way of knowing that his words had touched Rafe’s most sensitive nerve, a nerve born during the war for Texas’s independence almost a decade ago. The setting of a failure that had changed the course of Rafe Malone’s life. He met the gazes of each of the others in turn, then flatly stated, “I won’t fail.”
The Wedding Ransom Page 4