The Wedding Ransom

by Geralyn Dawson

  But, damn, he’d wanted her.

  Stoically he opened his eyes, and once again the lady surprised him. She sat beside him, her loosened sarong clutched to her chest, while a hesitant smile fluttered at the corners of her lips. Rather than refusal in her eyes, he saw a plea to listen. Maybe she wasn’t telling him no after all.

  She had him as confused as a fly in a butter churn.

  Maggie’s voice rang with sincerity. “I think that you—more than any man I’ve ever met—have the ability to understand me. Today you may be a respected Texas rancher, but you have a past. You know what it’s like to be wicked. You know what I am, having been raised how I was.”

  Anger flared and melded with the lust pounding through his blood. “You are not wicked! If that’s not the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. You may act stupid sometimes, forcing your way along on this swim, for instance. And how did you manage to lose your breathing tube? You want to tell me that?”

  “I was daydreaming. You were kissing me, and I went to kiss you back.”

  “Damn, Maggie,” he groaned. “You are wicked after all.”

  She laughed softly. “No, Rafe, I’m not wicked, but I am different. I’m not like the girls at my school in Boston. I’m not like the society women who frequented Hotel Bliss, either. As much as my grandfathers tried to guide me and protect me and give me all the opportunities I could want, I still grew up aboard a pirate ship. I spent time in some of the roughest ports in the world among men who’d just as soon kill you as look at you.”

  “You shouldn’t have been there.”

  “I loved my papas. I wouldn’t have been anywhere else.”

  The simply stated truth created a warm-honey feeling inside Rafe that had nothing to do with sexual heat. Love, pure and simple and freely given despite all the odds against it. It was something for which Rafe had searched but never found. Not yet, anyway.

  Maggie continued, “I may be inexperienced, but I’m far from innocent. For my grandfathers’ sake, I tried to be good, tried to be a lady, and for the most part, I’ve succeeded. But part of me wants…” She took his hand and squeezed it. “A part of me wants.”

  “Maggie…”

  She lay down upon her back, allowing the sarong to slip once again to her waist. Her eyes glistened like blue diamonds. She reached for him, pulling him down to her. Rafe groaned as their bodies met, ache to ache. Hard to soft. “You say you came along on this trip for adventure. Well, I have that same craving, too. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t make me different in that regard.”

  Her expression turned devilish. “In fact, I’m thrilled that I’m here, caught literally between a rock and a hard place.” She punctuated her point with a roll of her hips.

  “That’s bad, woman,” Rafe said with a groan.

  “I know and I love it. I want adventure, you see. We’re here alone in this paradise and I want to take advantage of it. I want you to be my adventure, Rafe. It feels right. You feel right. Make love to me, please?”

  Rafe was two layers of cloth and at most two thrusts away from exploding. This beautiful, exciting, warm, willing woman lay beneath him, asking for something he wanted to give more than he wanted to take his next breath.

  He said the only thing he could say under the circumstances. “No.”

  Chapter 8

  “No?” Maggie’s heart seemed to stop.

  “No,” Rafe repeated and rolled off her.

  Humiliation drizzled over her, quenching the fire that had burned so brightly just moments before. Quickly, she sat up, clutching her sarong against her chest, her fingers working furiously to knot the cloth at her shoulder. She wanted to die, to disappear in a puff of blush-colored smoke. She wished he’d never found her in the tunnel.

  “It’s not right, Maggie. Not for you. Not right now. A person doesn’t make life decisions like that right after she damn near drowns. You are vulnerable.”

  “I’m not vulnerable.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “No, I’m not. I told you how I feel.”

  “Yeah, you did. And it was what you said that convinced me to stop. This has happened to me before, you know.”

  No, Maggie thought, I don’t want to die. She wanted to kill him. Maybe drown him in the blue-water pool.

  “Not exactly the same thing, of course. I mean, I never turned down sex in a cenote before.”

  Where was her gun? Her knife? She’d like to cut out his tongue. She could at least dunk him. She could reach over and give him a nice big shove into the water. Maybe get some leverage on him and hold him under.

  But then the egotistical scalawag beat her to the punch by slipping into the pool himself. “I need to cool off, but this would work better if it were a bit colder.” He hooked his elbows on the edge of the ledge and hung waist deep in the cenote, sucking in a sharp breath. “As much as I’d like attending to the part of me that’s shouting for attention, experience has taught me I’m better off listening to my gut. I figured it out. It was the second time Luke arrested me. I’d just pulled off one of my more creative heists—I’d robbed an east Texas sugar plantation of their cash and jewels during the San Jacinto Day ball. Luke, curse his hide, said he knew it was me because the hair on the back of his neck stood up when he looked at the open safe.”

  Rafe smiled at the memory. “Prescott is funny like that, always sensing stuff. Anyhow, I thought I’d gotten away clean so I wasn’t paying close attention. He caught up with me at Sally’s Whor—uh—place and cuffed me slick as slime.”

  Frustration was a living, breathing monster inside her. “I don’t really care—”

  “It was as he attempted to haul me back to the Nacogdoches jail that he started talking,” Rafe continued, showing no sign of having heard her attempt to interrupt him. “Gave me all sorts of chin music about why it was wrong for me to keep stealing. Now, everything he said made sense. I couldn’t argue with one of his reasons. But the more he talked, the more convinced I became that I needed to stay my course. Luke has the hair on his neck, but I have my gut. I listen to it, Maggie.”

  She gave a snide sniff. “Maybe you should change your diet, Malone.”

  He frowned at her. “The point I’m trying to make here—”

  “No!” She clasped a hand to her breast. “You actually have a point?”

  “Yeah, I do.” His glare would have scared a lesser woman. “The point is that despite a very strong argument originating below my belt, so to speak, my gut told me we need to go about this differently. Something is happening here between us, Mary Margaret. Something beyond romance or adventure. Because of that something, I won’t take your virginity on a rock while your grandfathers are checking their watches.”

  “You weren’t going to take my virginity, anyway. I was going to give it to you.” Maggie’s emotions were in turmoil. She didn’t know what to think or feel or say, so she retreated into pride. “But that was a onetime offer, Malone. We’re not going to go about this differently. You missed your chance.”

  He lifted one brow. “Oh, did I?” Amusement and something else—anticipation, maybe?—glittered in his eyes. He grabbed her ankle and tugged her into the water. His arms wrapped around her waist and he said, “You and your chances. Take a deep breath, Mary-mine.”

  She did, and it was a good thing, because his kiss stole it right back from her lungs. They floated, totally immersed in blue water, white magic, and golden fantasy. Bonelessly, Maggie gave herself up to Rafe. He brought her to the surface, told her to breathe, then took her down again. Finally, but still too soon, he led her back to the ledge. He cupped her chin in his palm, gazed into her eyes, and said, “You, me, Texas, and a bed. No grandfathers.”

  “No grandfathers,” she repeated on a sigh.

  “And plenty of time. I promise. But right now, I’d better go rescue a treasure. This is the last chamber. The one with the extra-deep dive that will take me to the chest. You wait here for me, and I’ll be back quick as a minnow.”

&n
bsp; You, me, Texas, and a bed. Maggie cleared her throat. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No. Your grandfathers and I agreed. You’ll wait here.”

  She felt dazed, her thought processes numb. “All right,” she said vacantly. “You’ll hurry back?”

  He nodded. “Up on the ledge. I’ll feel better if you’re out of the water before I leave here.”

  Maggie exited the water without argument. She watched from the ledge while he lined up beneath the marker on the opposite wall, filled then emptied his lungs of air three times, and dove. And dove. And dove. The clarity of the water made him appear closer than she knew he was. She watched till he disappeared from sight. Then ever so softly, she murmured, “He promised.”

  She trembled, but not from fear of the physical effort facing her as she stood on her tiptoes, filled her lungs, and followed Rafe Malone. Under other circumstances she might have been afraid to face this dangerous dive so soon on the heels of a near drowning, but her mind was too busy recalling the moments just passed. You, me, Texas, and a bed.

  He promised.

  Down, down she went. Pressure gripped her chest, squeezing it like a vise as she found the opening she sought in the wall. Wiggling through, she tried to ignore the bursts of light shining before her eyes. Pull, Maggie, pull. Her arms pumped. Her legs scissored.

  Her head broke the surface.

  Gasping, she spent a moment treading water and replenishing her body with air. A fiercely bellowed curse attracted her attention to a rocky shelf some ten feet wide and thirty feet in length on the far side of the cavern. Rafe stood on the shelf beside a large wooden chest. Maggie was surprised the heat in the glare he aimed her way didn’t start the cenote to boiling. “You

  hardheaded, stubborn fool. You’d think someone who grew up with four fathers would have had the ornery spanked out of her by now. Don’t you have a lick of sense, woman?”

  Short strokes sliced the water and took Maggie to the ledge where she pulled herself up and out of the water. She sat for a moment, catching her breath, then said, “Open the treasure chest, Malone.”

  “I can’t. Gus has the key, and he hasn’t lowered it down to me yet.”

  A muffled voice descended from above. “What are you yammering about, Malone? We can barely hear you.”

  Rafe’s flinty gaze held Maggie’s as he yelled back, “Just send the key.”

  A minute later, a rope threaded through a plate—sized hole in the roof of the cavern, a small burlap bag dangling at its end. “If I could figure out a way to fit you through that hole I’d send you up to them this very second,” he groused. Stepping over to the rope, Rafe removed the bag and opened it. He fished out an ornate golden key.

  Seeing it, Maggie’s hand automatically went to her neck seeking the necklace that usually hung around her neck. It wasn’t there today, of course; she always removed it before going swimming. But she knew at first glance that the key that hung from the chain was a miniature of the one Rafe Malone held in his hands. She burst into tears.

  “What the—” Rafe stared at her in horror. “Maggie, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s just like mine. My papas gave it to me on my ninth birthday. For the true treasure in their lives, they said. Isn’t that sweet of them?” She gazed upward. “I wish I could hug them all right now.”

  Rafe shook his head. “Maggie, you set me back on my heels. Most women I know would be thinking only of what’s inside this box at a moment like this.”

  She sniffed through her tears. “Haven’t you figured out yet that I’m not like most women, Malone?”

  He chuckled as he fitted the key into the lock. “Honey, I figured that out the moment you joined me in my mud bath. Now, come on over. Since you’re here you might as well be in on the moment we crossed the Gulf of Mexico to experience. Personally, I feel like a boy at a mercantile candy counter.” The metallic click of the releasing lock echoed in the cave. “Come take a look, Maggie. It’s your grandfathers’ past and your future.”

  Excitement thrummed through Maggie. She liked jewels as much as the next woman, and she couldn’t wait to see some of the items her grandfathers had described over the years. A million butterfly wings fluttered in her stomach as she moved to stand beside Rafe. Hinges squeaked as he lifted the lid.

  Maggie’s heart thundered. A smile waited to explode across her face. The lid slowly rose.

  And Rafe spat a vile curse while Maggie gazed down upon the contents of the chest in shock.

  The coffer was empty. No gold, no jewels, no riches of any kind. The only item inside was a folded sheet of paper.

  Maggie swayed on her feet as Rafe reached down and lifted the note from the bottom of the box. She clutched his arm to steady herself as he read aloud. “You stole my treasure. Now I’ve returned the favor.”

  Rafe shot a look at Maggie. “Who the hell is Andrew Montgomery?”

  The name hit her like a fist and she reeled backward from the blow. “No,” she said softly. “Dear God, no. It can’t be. Not Andrew Montgomery.” She glanced wildly around the cavern. “He can’t have done this. The treasure must be here. Not him.”

  A bellow sounded from above, and Maggie gazed upward to see Papa Gus’s face hovering over the opening in the roof.

  “Maggie St. John! I should have known you’d follow him. Of all the stupid…”

  Gus’s face was shoved aside by Snake’s. “I can’t believe you followed him. That’s it, lass. When we get back to Lake Bliss, you’ll be punished. Confined to your room. I don’t care how old you are. It scares me spitless—”

  “It’s gone, Papa,” Maggie interrupted, her voice hollow. “The treasure isn’t here.”

  A shocked silence preceeded Gus’s word. “What?”

  The placement of the chest inside the cavern made it invisible to eyes spying from above. Frustrated and angry and filled with fear, Maggie grabbed hold of one end of the trunk and tugged it into her grandfather’s line of sight. Words exploded from her mouth. “It’s empty, Papa! He’s robbed us. He’s stolen Hotel Bliss.”

  At that the fire drained out of her, leaving her weak. Rafe wrapped a supportive arm around her waist as her knees buckled. “We found a note,” he said. “I put it in the bag.”

  The dangling rope slithered upward like a snake, and Maggie waited for the imminent eruption. To her surprise, she heard only quiet—a long, ugly silence.

  Rafe stood with his legs spread, his hands braced upon his hips as he stared up at the hole in the roof, obviously awaiting the grandfathers’ reaction. As the seconds ticked by, he turned his head and looked at her, arching a brow in silent inquiry.

  Maggie couldn’t have spoken past the lump in her throat even if she’d known what to say.

  When finally a face reappeared above them, it was a solemn and subdued Snake who said, “If we hurry we can set sail for Texas this evening.”

  Rafe appeared baffled. “Just like that? Your treasure is stolen and that’s all you’ve got to say? I’m due an explanation, don’t you think? You had promised me a cut of the take, after all.”

  “We will make it up to you somehow, Malone,” Snake replied in a voice devoid of emotion. “First priority needs to be getting our lass back to safety.”

  Rafe looked as if he wanted to argue, but changed his mind. “You’re right. We need to get Maggie out of this place, but we have a bit of a problem in that regard. We’re down to one breathing tube and sharing it would be an unneccesary danger. Since y’all no longer need to keep this chamber hidden, why don’t you enlarge the hole and let us climb out.”

  Snake and Gus discussed the matter briefly and agreed that under the circumstances, they wouldn’t worry themselves about any potential Mayan curses. Rafe and the grandfathers then spent the next few minutes debating the best way to go about chipping away at the hole. Maggie lost herself in thought.

  No treasure meant no way to buy the hotel. No way to buy the hotel meant she might have to deal with Barlow Hill’s other offer. The marriage
offer.

  Maggie sank to the ground and buried her head in her hands. They stood to lose the hotel. They were on the verge of being denied access to Lake Bliss water. What would happen to her grandfathers then? Ben’s breathing trouble and Lucky’s pain from his old shoulder wound. Gus’s aching joints. Her own rheumatism. And what would Ben do without his garden to occupy his time? She hated to imagine it.

  She loathed the idea of marrying Barlow Hill.

  Rafe’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “No, Snake, I don’t think black powder is necessary. You can lash a rock to a tree limb for a sledgehammer. Once you’ve cracked the rock a bit, you can use a tree trunk as a lever and break it from the bottom up. It shouldn’t be impossible. The ground isn’t solid rock or there wouldn’t be a hole to begin with.”

  “I guess we’ll try it your way, Malone,” Gus declared. “We can always go after the powder later if we find we need it. I don’t fancy tangling with the locals today, anyway. The way our luck has been running, we’d end up with even more trouble on our hands.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Lucky stowed away on the boat,” Snake grumbled. “We might as well get to it, though. This may take us awhile. Do you need anything before we go?”

  “How about some food? I worked up a powerful hunger this morning, and I’m pretty sure your granddaughter did, too.”

  Maggie shot him a suspicious look that he returned with an innocent smile. A couple of minutes later the papas lowered a bag filled with fruit and some of Papa Snake’s special mesquite-smoked beef strips. They told Maggie good-bye, warned Malone to keep his hands to himself at the risk of losing them, and headed out to collect their tools.