by Holt, Cheryl
She yearned to be close to him in a way she didn’t understand. She knew nothing about him, not even his name, but she suspected many nefarious details: that he might be a pirate or other sort of criminal, that he regularly engaged in illegal activity. But she wasn’t concerned about any of it.
Even though she’d always lived with her father, he’d never taken charge of her or their life. At an early age, she’d had to assume control, so she’d been on her own with no one to watch over her, no one to lean on in times of trouble. Nine Lives offered a type of manly strength that intrigued her very much.
She wanted to lean on him. She wanted him to watch over her, and she couldn’t conceive of what to do except kiss him back. Practically of their own accord, her arms rose and wound themselves around his neck.
With her small sign of acquiescence, he moaned with satisfaction and deepened the kiss, his tongue flitting into her mouth.
He pulled her to him so the front of her body was pressed to his, her breasts rubbing his chest. The intimate contact ignited feelings she’d never previously noted. She was electrified, on fire. Her innards were rioting, her heart racing, her pulse pounding in her ears.
He lifted her onto his lap. Her hair was down and tied with a ribbon. He yanked the ribbon away so the soft strands were loose, and he could riffle his fingers through them. The move was scandalous and exhilarating, and she felt like a total wanton.
Where was the modest vicar’s daughter she’d always been? Where had that prim, stuffy girl gone?
She was craving things from him she couldn’t define. His naughty hands were roaming everywhere and generating sparks, and she hated that she was so reticent and reserved. She’d like to entice him as a woman should, to act as a strumpet would, but she was clueless as to how.
She couldn’t say how long they loafed on the sand, but it had to be hours. The moon drifted from the eastern horizon to where it was directly overhead.
Gradually, he drew away, and he murmured, “What’s happening to us, Helen?”
“I can’t begin to guess, but why did we stop?”
“The better question is, why did we start?”
“Are you wishing you hadn’t kissed me?”
He made a sound that could have been a laugh or a groan. “No, I’m not wishing that.”
“What are you wishing then?”
“For the foreseeable future, you’ll stay at my camp.”
“I can’t. I have to search for my father.”
“I’ll send some men to search for you. If you trot off on your own again, I’ll worry too much.”
“You’d worry about me? Really?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember anyone ever worrying about me before.”
“Well, I won’t claim I’m glad to be the first. Why doesn’t your father worry? He should.”
“He knows I can take care of myself.”
“If that’s what he supposes, then I declare him to be an idiot.”
She might have argued the point, but she often thought her father was not only an idiot, but certifiably insane too. She wouldn’t defend him. He was undefendable, and when she was snuggled with Nine Lives, she had other issues—more important issues—to keep her busy.
He stared at her forever, and he seemed on the verge of sharing a profound statement or perhaps a vital secret. She was convinced he had many of them, and she hoped he’d seize the poignant moment and confide in her.
In the end though, he set her away and said, “You should get back to the tent.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, and you have to quit looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like the vixen you are.”
He deemed her a vixen? How exciting! Still though, she felt compelled to object.
“I’m not a vixen.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me.”
“I’ve tantalized you, but how have I managed it?”
“There’s no explaining it, Helen. It just is.”
“Will you be here tomorrow?”
“Off and on.”
“Don’t hide from me.”
“I won’t.”
He delivered a final kiss that was desperate and full of longing. Had she inspired longing? How utterly peculiar.
“Go now.” He gestured to the camp. “For if you don’t, I can’t predict what might transpire.”
“What might?” she inquired like the innocent maiden she was.
“The fact that you have to ask tells me that I shouldn’t come within a hundred yards of you.”
“I’m not sorry we did this. Don’t you be sorry either.”
“I won’t be sorry. Don’t you fret over it.”
She was anxious to tarry, anxious to confess how much she liked him, how flattered she was that he’d noticed her. It was such a marvelous gift to discover he viewed her as being special and unique. Yet she had no idea how to voice those remarks, and she was positive—should she reveal personal emotions—he’d be aghast.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” she said. “Yes?”
“Oh, yes, Helen. You’ll definitely see me.”
“Swear it.”
He chuckled. “I thought you didn’t believe in swearing.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“I swear I’ll be here.”
She grinned up at the sky. “You swore, and we weren’t struck by lightning. I’ll take that as a very good sign.”
She pushed herself to her feet and hurried away, but an ear was cocked in his direction, expecting he’d call her name or offer some other delicious comment, but he was maddeningly silent.
When she arrived at the tent, she glanced back, but he wasn’t there. Apparently, he hadn’t watched her depart, and on realizing he hadn’t, she was terribly disappointed.
My, my, but wasn’t she in trouble?
CHAPTER FIVE
Hayden was out on his ship, the Nine Lives, and directing his crew at their tasks. They were stocking supplies for the trip to England, but also stowing cargo that would bring him a small fortune after he arrived. His years of traveling with criminals, of observing and assisting as they’d plundered and pillaged, had turned him into a businessman.
He recognized value. He understood commerce. He knew how to sell for a profit and make a killing.
He was incredibly grouchy, and his head was pounding from a hangover, induced by his over-indulgence the night before. He didn’t usually drink to excess. His disastrous foray in London as a young dandy had imparted numerous devastating lessons that had cured any desire for inebriation.
But sometimes, he imbibed now just because he could. There was no one to tell him he couldn’t, and he was prone to intemperance when he was eager to demonstrate that he was free and once again in charge of his life.
On the shore, Helen was sitting in the shade outside his tent. He was struggling to ignore her, but he couldn’t. Where she was concerned, she was like a magnet and he was metal, and he was relentlessly drawn to her.
No matter how desperately he tried, he couldn’t pull away.
She was the reason for his hangover, and he couldn’t figure out why he’d kissed her so passionately. And for such a lengthy period too!
When she’d strolled by in the moonlight, he should have remained hidden in the shadows, but he hadn’t been able to do that. He’d called her over and had behaved precisely as he shouldn’t.
He’d persuaded himself that alcohol had lowered his inhibitions. As he’d proved in the lead up to his disastrous duel, he made bad choices when he was intoxicated. It had been idiotic to kiss Helen, but it had been sweet and thrilling too, and he wanted to kiss her again at the earliest opportunity.
What had she thought about it? Obviously, she hadn’t been incensed, hadn’t risen in the morning and left camp the instant she could. No, she was loafing and letting herself be pampered by his men. Robert’s
sons were being particularly solicitous.
She was watching him as avidly as he was watching her, and her heightened attention was disturbing. Although it had been a decade since he’d lived in England, he hadn’t forgotten the rules of courting.
A female like Helen Barnes wouldn’t snuggle in the dark with a man unless there was some purpose behind it, that purpose being matrimony.
No doubt she’d concocted all sorts of scenarios where he’d declare himself, propose, then they would wed. It would never happen though. He hated to be a snob about it, but he was destined to walk a path that would never include a penniless vicar’s daughter.
He shouldn’t encourage her, shouldn’t pretend affection. It would simply break her heart in the end, but he couldn’t tamp down his potent attraction.
“I’m going in,” he told Robert.
Robert snorted with disgust. “May I ask why?”
“No, you may not.”
“You’ve been gaping at her all day. I’m surprised you concentrated on your chores as long as you have.”
“I haven’t been gaping at her all day,” Hayden lied.
“She’s pretty. I’ll give you that, but should you trifle with her?”
Robert had an uncanny ability to read his mind.
“No, I shouldn’t trifle with her.”
“But you will anyway?”
Hayden shrugged. “I haven’t decided what I’m planning.”
“She’s not a trollop. If you flirt with her, she’ll think it means something.”
“She’ll be wrong.”
It was the very issue that had been vexing him, and even with Robert warning him to be cautious, he couldn’t leave her alone.
“Don’t stir a huge predicament with her,” Robert said. “Not when it’s almost time to sail. I refuse to be trapped here an extra second because of her.”
“Weren’t you the one who suggested we offer her passage to England?”
“Weren’t you the one who insisted we shouldn’t? Have you changed your opinion about it?”
“No.”
“Will we abandon her to fend for herself?”
Hayden didn’t reply, because a true response would sound callous and cruel.
He had no intention of conveying her to England. He could conceive of no worse circumstance than to be on board a ship with her for several weeks. That didn’t even take into account her flirtatious sister. The girl might precipitate any calamity with his crew, and he wasn’t about to hang or flog some dunce merely because she batted her lashes at a fellow who couldn’t resist.
Even if he agreed to transport Helen to England, she probably wouldn’t want to depart Tenerife. She was determined to locate her rapscallion father, and Hayden shouldn’t interfere in that quest.
If he delivered her to England, how would she carry on? She had no skills and couldn’t earn an income. She relied on her father for financial support, so she was in a quagmire either way. He wouldn’t exacerbate it.
He went to the rail and gestured for two of his sailors to row him in. If he hadn’t invited Helen to tarry, he’d have stripped naked and enjoyed a lazy swim to shore. Her presence was already altering things he didn’t care to have altered.
He climbed down the rope ladder to the long boat, and he stood at the bow, his feet braced as the sailors dropped down behind him and manned the oars.
His gaze was locked on her as they pushed away from the ship. She saw him approaching and didn’t try to conceal her piqued interest. He didn’t wait to arrive on the beach, but leapt out in the surf, not concerned that his trousers and boots were wet. He was hot and miserable, and the cool water felt grand.
He whispered to Tom to saddle his horse, then he marched over to her. She was seated on a log in front of his tent, her sister beside her. They were wearing some of the garments that had littered the most recent pirate island where he’d lived.
The ruthless group had plagued settlers in the Caribbean and on the coast of South America. They’d stolen whatever could be stolen: clothes, tools, furniture, pots and pans, gold, jewelry. When he and Robert had finally fled, he’d packed it all and taken it.
In his rough, all-male camp, the two women looked like exotic flowers that had been planted in the wrong garden. Helen’s dress was pink and her sister’s blue. Their brunette hair was down and braided. It had been an eternity since a British maiden had smiled at him, and he nearly wept at the commonness of it all.
It seemed so normal, and when naught had been normal for ages, it was overly soothing.
“Hello, Nine Lives,” Helen said. “I’ve been watching you all day. You’re a hard worker.”
“I learned to be.”
“Who taught you?”
“No one you should ever hear about.”
“Your camp is full of supplies, but you haven’t explained where they came from.”
“Does it matter?”
“I believe we had a discussion last evening about your line of employment.”
Her sister butted in. “You talked to him last night?”
Helen blushed furiously. “I couldn’t sleep, so I strolled in the moonlight.”
“Really?” Miss Becky raised a brow. “How absolutely fascinating.”
Helen ignored her and kept her focus on Hayden. “Are you a pirate? Are you a smuggler? I wish you’d provide some idea of who we’ve encountered.”
“At the moment, I’m not anything,” he replied.
Her sister jumped in again. “Are you a pirate? Please tell me you are, because then—for the rest of my life—I can brag that I met you.”
Tom arrived with his horse. Hayden mounted the animal, then he stared down at Helen. “I’m hot and grumpy.”
“Well, the temperature is ghastly,” she responded, “so I understand you being hot. But why are you grumpy?”
“I’m hung over.”
“You shouldn’t drink so much.”
Her sister’s eyes widened with shock. “Helen, you were with him in the dark when he was intoxicated?”
“No!” she sternly insisted. “He just shouldn’t…drink. As he’s fully aware, it’s not the cure for what ails him.”
“What ails him?” Becky asked, but Helen didn’t answer.
He leaned forward and extended his hand to Helen. “Come with me.”
“To where?”
“Let’s ride down the beach.”
She was about to refuse, but Miss Becky saved him, making him think that perhaps she wasn’t a nuisance after all. She nudged Helen with her elbow. “You should, Helen.”
“No, I shouldn’t.” Helen was too maddeningly cautious for words.
“If you don’t want to join him,” her sister goaded, “I will.”
Helen blanched with alarm. “You will not.”
The little minx grinned up at Hayden. “Will you take me instead?”
The taunt was too much for Helen. She stood and walked over to the horse.
“I’d be delighted to accompany you.” Her dour expression belied her remark.
“Don’t look so petulant about it,” he scolded. “If you’re going to be a grouch, I can take your sister. I don’t mind.”
“I do,” she said.
She reached up to him, and with a quick lift, he hefted her up so she was snuggled close.
“Were you taught to ride?” he asked her. “Can we gallop away, or are you afraid of horses? Must I trudge along as if we’re on our way to a funeral?”
“I can ride, and I’m not afraid.”
“Perfect.”
Becky was preening like the cat that had eaten the canary. “Will you be here for supper? Should we wait for you?”
But Hayden had already tugged on the reins. The horse shot off and raced away. He simply waved at Becky, letting her assume what she would.
He didn’t know when he’d bring Helen back. Maybe he’d continue to the ends of the Earth and never stop. He certainly
doubted he’d be weary of her by supper.
At the animal’s powerful canter, Helen whooped with joy. He kissed her ear, her neck, feeling free and happy as he couldn’t ever remember being.
* * * *
Helen sat on a deserted beach, her shoes and stockings off, her toes buried in the sand. Nine Lives was loafing next to her. The sun was over in the western sky, sunset a few hours away.
The turquoise ocean stretched in front of them, Tenerife’s massive volcano towering behind. Since departing the camp, they’d seen no signs of habitation, no people, no buildings, no roads. They might have been the only two humans in the world, and she wondered if this was what it had been like for Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.
“You’re beautiful in that dress,” he suddenly said.
She’d thought he was asleep, and she jerked her gaze away from the lapping surf.
“Thank you for loaning it to me.”
“You can have it. It’s not as if I have any use for it. Actually, I have trunks filled with clothes. You and your sister can dig through them and have whatever you like.”
“It’s marvelous to be out of my black gown, so we might oblige you.”
“I like a pretty girl to be pretty.”
“If you keep showering me with compliments, I’ll get a big head.”
He chuckled. “Heaven forbid.”
“I have to ask where you acquired so many feminine items.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I presume you stole them.”
“I didn’t steal a single thing.”
“Your comment implies someone else did.”
He smiled at her. “Let’s go for a swim.”
“No.”
“Why not? Aren’t you burning up?”
“Yes, but I’d hate to ruin my dress by dipping it in the salted water. I can’t imagine it would be good for the fabric.”
“You can take it off.”
Her jaw dropped in shock. “And be without my clothes?”
“Yes.”
“No. Besides, I told you I can’t swim.”
“You never lived in a farmhouse where there was a pond in the back?”
“No. We always lived in town in church rectories, and even if we’d had a pond, I wouldn’t have jumped into it.”