Renegade Player

by Dixie Browning

  “Kiel . . she began, hating herself, loving him, wanting him yet knowing they were moving too fast. “Kiel, listen to me.”

  “The time for talking is past, darling. We’ll talk later if you insist, but remember, you’re the one who said, Who needs the story of your life.” He lowered his body onto hers and kissed each eye in turn and she could sense a difference in him, a sort of gentleness that melted her last reserve and she pulled him down and captured his mouth hungrily. They’d talk tomorrow, and if tomorrow never came, she’d have tonight, at least.

  “Come on, we’ll go inside, darling,” he whispered, a febrile light glowing in his dark eyes. “Remind me to trade this tub in on something larger, hmmm?” He stood up and pulled her up with him and she hung there, limp, trembling with eagerness and trying desperately not to think. “Still in the mood for conversation, love? You know what they say speaks louder than words.”

  He ran his hand down over her shoulders to her waist and over the curve of her hip, and at first, all she could hear was the thunder of two hearts, but then came an intrusive note, a thin, irritating, buzzing sound, and even Kiel stiffened away from her, they heard Richy’s voice hailing them from a rapidly narrowing distance.

  “My timing leaves a lot to be desired, doesn’t it?” Kiel remarked wryly, turning her toward the hatch. “Go below, darling. I won’t be a minute.”

  Before she could disappear, though, Richy roared up and cut the engine, calling out to her in his brash young voice. “Hey, Willy, Dotty says would you get her things together for her and let me take ’em back?”

  “What things?” Willy sighed, leaning her hands on the rail as if she lacked the strength to stand, which was not far from the truth.

  “I expect he means her night things,” Kiel put in. He did, and by the time Willy had collected Dotty’s nightgown, her toilet things and a change of underwear, she felt nothing except an overpowering weariness. She handed them over to the voluble Richy and he took them without even pausing in his recital of the types and weights of billfish that had been taken so far this season.

  She turned and made her way below, pulling closed the folding partition that separated her cabin from the narrow companionway. Somehow, she was sure that Kiel wouldn’t come after her, and she was right. Long after she had gone to bed, she could hear his movements overhead, and through the porthole came the drift of cigar smoke. She finally fell asleep, more confused than ever, both about her own contradictory feelings and about Kiel’s. For someone who was only after a quick conquest, he was showing remarkable restraint. Perhaps he only responded to a challenge, and Lord knows, she had long since ceased to be that! How could he help but know how she felt when she melted at his very touch? He followed her into her restless dreams, sometimes wearing the face of Matt Rumark and sometimes Randy Collier, and she awoke a few hours later in dead-calm stillness, hot, sticky and thoroughly out of sorts.

  Chapter Six

  Kiel was doing something to the running rigging and Willy was sipping coffee and waiting for her aspirin to take effect when Dotty returned the next morning. She clambered aboard, her yellow shirtwaist reflecting up on her face to emphasize the expression of almost painful pride there. She had scarcely put both feet over the side before she announced that she and Bill had decided not to wait to get married.

  Willy swallowed past an unexpected lump in her throat and embraced her friend, and Kiel offered his best wishes and then busied himself for the next hour or so with a balky halyard winch. When the last of the boats had passed, outriggers bent before the wind as they headed for the fishing grounds offshore, Willy stirred herself and went below to clear away the breakfast things. She had been lying up on the pilothouse, staring out at the channel, but acutely conscious of every move Kiel made as he went about his nautical chores. If he had any thoughts about what had happened the night before, she decided, they had already been relegated to the ranks of the unimportant, for he had greeted her over the breakfast table as naturally as if she were in fact a passenger brought along for the convenience of Dotty Sealy.

  When, after testing the winch and finding it running smoothly once more, Kiel suggested that they go ashore and stretch a few legs, Willy readily agreed. Here in the close confinement, it seemed that everywhere she roamed brought vivid memories of a kiss or a caress, and she could do without such reminders. Today, Kiel seemed utterly self-sufficient and any small hope Willy had entertained of becoming important to him was fast fading. She didn’t seem able to get on his particular wavelength today, for some reason. Gone was the intimate mood when a glance was enough to set off a conflagration.

  Dotty declined to accompany them, saying that being on a boat always made her sleepy, and Willy closed the door softly, leaving the small brunette curled up with a beatific smile on her face. Something like envy rolled over inside her and she pushed it away and put on her brightest, most impersonal smile as she joined Kiel in the outboard for the short run into the harbor.

  Hatteras village had a bright, newly washed look, as if it had rained in the night, although she was certain it hadn’t. The talk among the men and boys at the dock was of whose chances were best of beating the 1,142-pound record of the blue marlin displayed at Oregon Inlet.

  Strolling through the village, they inhaled the sun-warmed scent of roses, oleanders and the ever-present saltwater tang, and Willy tried to concentrate on the frame houses and small family graveyards tucked in among lush, dark thickets of cedar, yaupon and live oak, with bees droning drunkenly away from the waxy white blooms of yucca. Instead, her peripheral vision admired the way Kiel’s well-shaped head rested on his powerful neck and shoulders, the lithe way he had of walking, as if he owned the very earth he trod, and she was glad when he suggested they wander into the library and look through any books about the area. At least there’d be other people there to dilute the concentrated essence of splendid virility he radiated.

  The day passed with no uncomfortable undercurrents. On the surface, they were easy companions and they talked comfortably of food and cars and land values in the vicinity, and when after a surprisingly good lunch they made their way back to the docks and out to the Tern again, Willy had convinced herself that Kiel was making an attempt to allay any misconceptions about his motives. If he could enjoy her company without once making a pass at her, surely that meant he cared for her?

  It was almost with a feeling of anticlimax that Willy watched Kiel raise the anchors and prepare to get under way. She had been lying on deck, drowsing and watching several small boys swimming out from the breakwater after they returned to the Tern, and at the hum of the electric motor it came to her that the weekend was over, to all intents and purposes. Had she expected more of it when they set out?

  Not really. Lying there now, with her head resting on her hands, she had to admit that although she had begun the trip with a sense of excitement and expectation, there had been no real goal in her mind, nothing she could point at now and say, I accomplished this, or I failed to accomplish that. She stared at the surface of the water, as still and glassy as a mirror, reflecting the small, puffy-dumpling clouds that drifted slowly over the island and out to sea.

  Under that deceptive surface were currents and depths that could draw the unwary swimmer down until there was no escape. Like the water flowing under her, Kiel Faulkner was an unknown quantity, and unless she made up her mind to resist that hypnotically attractive surface, she’d surely come to grief by getting in over her head. Like that water, Kiel was deep and rife with forces it was best not to disturb, so why was it that when she was with him, all wisdom deserted her and she was compelled to skirt disaster in spite of all reason?

  They went back up the sound instead of going out through Hatteras Inlet again, using the motor rather than the fitful breeze. It was anticlimactic, but then, so was the entire trip, and Willy moved restlessly from bow to stem, inside and out. Dotty was in a mood of dreamy self-containment that precluded any conversation, and Kiel seemed strangely anxious to
end the weekend voyage. Probably cutting his losses, she thought defensively, after having failed to get her into his bed. That had been the point of the whole outing, no doubt, and he was disgusted because she had fallen short of his expectations, even as a member of the crew.

  And yet, she couldn’t quite believe that. He was a complex, difficult man and not one to lay all his cards on the table at this stage of the game, and so she’d just have to play along and hope for the best . . . only she wished she knew just what game it was they were playing.

  Oregon Inlet was swarming with small boats. While the tournament might be the big thing for those invited to participate, it was evident that there were plenty who were more than satisfied to try their luck in the waters of the inlet for fish that were less glamorous, but more tasty. Willy had packed her few belongings and stowed away all the food in the ice chests, and now she lay on deck again, enjoying the smooth vibrations and feeling the sun beat down through her jeans and shirt.

  Another crop of freckles would be all she had to show for the weekend, she supposed, unlike Dotty, who had taken a step irrevocably into her future.

  Kiel was busy with the mooring buoy and Willy supposed she should at least offer to help, but she was half-hypnotized by the sun and the motion, in a sweet, drowsy state when she simply could not compel her limbs to obey her orders.

  “You’re incredible.”

  She hadn’t even heard his cat-footed approach and now she rolled over on her back and smiled up at him, still caught up in the thrall of her daydreams. “What do you mean?”

  “Most women would be lying on a pad annointing themselves with oil and worrying about strap marks and you sprawl here on the deck in rolled-up jeans with your shirt sleeves uneven, collecting half a hundred or so more sunspots without a worry in the world. Where’s your vanity, woman?”

  She sat up and blinked away a momentary lightheadedness, brought on by sleeping in the sun. “That’s a low blow ... I think.”

  He ruffled her hair playfully and held out a hand, and when she allowed him to pull her to her feet, he caught her lightly against him for just a moment.

  Unexpectedly flustered, she hurried into speech. “You know, I just might not have them all year around, now I’ve left Florida. My freckles, I mean. I’m not sure I’d recognize me all one color.”

  His grin started in his eyes and spread slowly, crinkling his lean cheeks and the browned skin around his eyes. “You’re a nice lady, did you know that, Willy Silverthorne? But you have a way of changing those spots so that a man doesn’t quite know what kind of cat he’s got hold of.”

  She looked up at him doubtfully. “I don’t think that sounds much like a compliment, but just in case it is, thanks.”

  Sliding his hands up to her shoulders so as to bring her closer to him, Kiel lowered his face to hers, resting his forehead against her own for just a minute before turning his face so that their lips came together. It was a light kiss—no pressure, no demands—and yet it was that very quality of tentative teasing, the playful feel of those firm-soft lips against her own that disarmed her so completely that it was all she could do not to throw her arms around him and force him to admit that whatever it was between them was more than mere physical attraction.

  The tension built until it was a palpable thing, and then he lifted his face and gazed down at her search-ingly, and she was once more thoroughly confused by what she read in his eyes.

  “Kiel?” she whispered tentatively.

  “Time to go.” He turned her in the direction of the cockpit, and as she edged along beside the pilothouse, he remained to do something with the bowline and the moment was lost.

  The tender was secured, both ice chests were loaded in the car, and Dotty had taken her books and her happy memories and headed home to Wanchese. Kiel and Willy were cutting across the parking lot to the Porsche when someone hailed them.

  “Kiel! Kielly, where have you been?”

  They both halted abruptly as a tiny doll-like creature detached herself from the side of the silver-gray vehicle and skipped across the marled lot to throw her arms around Kiel’s neck. At least, she reached up toward his neck, but even with three-inch heels, she was only able to reach the collar of his shirt and she grabbed it and hung on while she chided him in a clear, ringing drawl that could be heard all over the marina.

  “Oh, Kielly, darlin’, I thought you’d never get back! I’ve been waitin’ here for ever so long, and ...”

  The voice went on and on and Willy stood back and watched in exasperated amusement. Kielly, darlin’, didn’t seem to be too happy about seeing her, whoever she was, for he was busy trying to disengage himself, in spite of the fact that the girl was a pint-sized knockout, with magnolia skin, a waving mop of blue-black hair and eyes the color of a blue-enameled Easter egg Willy had had as a child.

  “Melanie, what on earth are you doing here? I thought you were going to stay put until you heard from me,” Kiel sighed.

  “But, Kielly, I wasn’t having any fun at all, and you didn’t call or write and Atlanta is just so hot in the summertime, and— Well, I thought I’d just come on along and help you out. Aren’t you glad to see me?” That last was added on with a delectable pout and Willy made some noise in spite of herself, for they both looked around at the same time.

  “Who’s this?” the girl sniffed.

  “Melanie, this is Wilhelmina Silverthorne. Willy, Melanie Fredericks.”

  The backseat of the 928S wasn’t made for legs as long as Willy’s and she bit back her impatience as she watched five feet, nothing curl up in the front seat and anoint Kiel with a look that was pure syrup. Her own look was less than sweet as she tried to keep her chin from bumping against her knees.

  Over the purr of the powerful 4664-cc engine she could hear Melanie’s plaintive little-girl voice telling Kiel how she had prevailed on her father to fly her to Manteo. “And then I had to hire a man to drive me when I couldn’t find you. Your secretary said she thought you might be sailing this weekend and so I came to see if the Tern was here and I’ve been waiting ever since.”

  “Any reason you decided to come, other than the fact that you weren’t having any fun and Atlanta was hot?” Kiel asked dryly as he turned off Highway 12 near South Nags Head.

  “I missed you,” she said coyly, and Willy had a ringside view of fanning lashes that were long and thick enough to create a draft. Of course, her own were equally long and thick; only, when they were blond, it didn’t seem to count.

  In the rearview mirror, Kiel’s eyes caught Willy’s for a brief moment, but when he spoke, it was to the girl beside him. “You could have called. Where are you staying?”

  “Why, with you, darlin’,” came the immediate rejoinder.

  “I’m afraid that won’t be very practical.”

  “But, darlin’, when have I ever been practical?” She cast a glance over her shoulder to where Willy sat, contorted around her flight bag and the two ice chests and said disarmingly, “Isn’t that just like a man? They want a woman to be all soft and feminine and helpless, and then, all of a sudden, when it suits them, she has to be practical as well.” Then, with a surprisingly calculating look in her limpid eyes, “Where do we drop you, Miss . . . oh, dear, I’m afraid I never was very good with names.”

  “We don’t drop Miss Silverthorne anywhere, Melanie. She was my guest aboard the Good Tern this weekend and she lives next door to my own place. Now, where do we drop you?” The iron in his voice was unmistakable and evidently it even managed to get through that thick mop of blue-black waves.

  “Well, you don’t have to bite my head off, Kiel Faulkner. How was I to know Miss Silverthing was a special friend of yours? She doesn’t look like your usual type, and anyway, I thought you were supposed to be busy finding out all about this—”

  “We’ll talk later, Melanie,” Kiel interrupted curtly. “Now, if you don’t have a place to stay lined up, you’d better come in with me and we’ll do some calling around.”

 
; It was on the tip of Willy’s tongue to offer a couch, but somehow, she didn’t think Miss Georgia Peach would appreciate her humble lodgings.

  They reached Wimble Court in hot, uncomfortable silence and Willy remained a captive while Kiel wrenched himself out from under the wheel and slammed the door. He strode around the low, sleek hood and jerked open the door, staring grimly off into space as Melanie shimmied her pink-clad body out onto the pavement beside him. One of her plump little alabaster arms worked its way up his chest and her fingers teased his sideburn. “Don’t be cross with me, Kielly, darlin’ . . . it’s been such a tiresome day and I had to wait for hours in that smelly ol’ place while you were out there having a good time without me.” Impatiently, Kiel moved her aside and folded back the seat to allow Willy to get out. She would have ignored his hand if it had been at all possible, but she needed help in levering herself out of the confined space, and when she emerged, slightly off balance, she found herself too close for comfort, especially as every move they made was being closely observed by a pair of enameled blue eyes.

  “Thanks. It’s been fun,” Willy said coolly. “I know Dotty enjoyed it, too, in case she got off in too big a hurry to tell you.”

  “Oh, then you two weren’t alone?” Melanie put in brightly.

  Willy forestalled whatever it was that Kiel opened his mouth to say by telling the younger girl that there had been three of them and they met others at Hatteras by prearrangement. She could almost see the feathers settling nicely back in place again when Kiel, with malice aforethought, said softly, “But it was nice of you to see that I didn’t get lonely while Dotty was studying, and the night she spent aboard the Eldorado. ”

  God, what a silly, childish bunch of idiots! All this innuendo and jealousy, as if there were anything between Kiel and herself to threaten someone like Melanie. Her attachment must be secure and of long standing to give her the brassbound gall to turn up on his doorstep with the ingenuous little statement that “It was hot in Atlanta?”