Three Redeemable Rogues

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  All right then... if sayboyas were onions... then no tienes must mean “do you have.” She tried to remember that while she endeavored to ignore the woman who was staring at her so rudely and so suspiciously.

  Maria, Jack had called her.

  She tried not to acknowledge the attraction Maria obviously had for Jack, and tried not to notice the way her gaze shifted to desire when she managed to pry her eyes away from Sophie to look at him.

  But she couldn’t help but wonder who the woman was.

  And she couldn’t help but be just a little jealous... even though she told herself she wasn’t... not at all.

  Though whoever she was, she was someone Jack was obviously very familiar with... judging by the grip she’d had on Jack’s throat. Sophie’s stomach turned at the thought of Jack and Maria together in any form or fashion.

  But then... she really didn’t want to think of it, so she thought instead of breakfast. She was eager to prove herself, and itching to begin. But first she needed eggs. Should she scramble them or should she make them into perfect little suns, with the yolks bright yellow and the whites perfectly formed?

  She patted her basket in approval. She had plenty of the colorful peppers and intended to throw them into the pan along with ham. And she had plenty of smoked ham from the ship’s pantry, but she needed bread as well.

  Growing impatient to return so that she could begin, she tapped Jack on the shoulder again and whispered, trying not to distract the man he was talking to from his explication, “How do you say eggs?”

  He gave her a curious look.

  “How do you say eggs in Spanish?” she asked again.

  His brows collided, but he answered. “Huevos.”

  Sophie mentally added that to what she already knew and practiced it to herself a few times, committing it to memory. No tienes huevos? No tienes huevos? No tienes huevos.

  She kept repeating the phrase to herself, dutifully ignoring the glaring woman. She tried to be patient with the interminable conversation going on between Jack and the man, who, she now assumed through Jack’s conversation, was named Jose. He was either the woman’s husband or her father... and judging by their ages, she assumed father.

  No tienes huevos, she repeated mentally while she waited for her chance to speak.

  She really ought to ask Jose first, before looking elsewhere. It wouldn’t make much sense to run around looking for eggs elsewhere if Jose had them to sell, but their conversation was becoming tedious. She couldn’t understand a single word they were saying and she was growing impatient... not to mention battling a severe case of jealousy that was growing to monstrous proportions.

  Never in her life would she have guessed herself capable of such terrible envy, but she was. She wanted desperately to put her hand possessively on Jack’s arm, but couldn’t bring herself to do it, so she found herself standing so close to him that she could smell the wonderful scent of his skin.

  Her body remembered, and warmed. It drew her nearer, despite her resolve not to appear competitive with that woman!

  She refused to lower herself to such an unseemly level of behavior. If Jack chose to be with her, then so be it. He wasn’t hers to command—and neither was she his!

  Still... she had every right to stand as close to him as she pleased. She was the one making breakfast for him after all!

  She cast the woman a baleful glare, though she really hadn’t meant to, and then became annoyed with herself when the woman returned it.

  What on earth was she doing trading evil glances with a woman over a man who wasn’t even hers?

  It was ridiculous, and Sophie was ready to go, but Jack seemed to be pleading with Jose for something, determined to win his compliance.

  Jose shook his head, stubbornly refusing whatever Jack was requesting of him.

  His daughter’s hand in marriage?

  Sophie’s stomach twisted at the ridiculous notion. Her thoughts were running amok. Jack was not the sort of man to make love to her one day and marry another woman the next.

  Still, she decided they weren’t getting anywhere, and she wasn’t going to stand around and watch them butt heads all day long like two stubborn bulls. She decided to go look for her eggs now. At least that would while away some of the time while they argued.

  The man continued to shake his head, not speaking, only staring at Jack, and Sophie didn’t feel the least bit guilty about interrupting this time. She had shopping to do. It wasn’t pleasant for her to stand here and listen to them argue in a language she didn’t understand while that woman glared at her in a language she couldn’t help but comprehend!

  Sophie didn’t like her, or her father, either, and it must have come across in her tone. “No tienes huevos?” she blurted at the man, and was quite pleased with the way it flowed from her tongue.

  Jack’s head spun about, and the man’s did as well.

  The woman gasped and put a hand over her mouth.

  The man glared at her, and his face began to mottle.

  Sophie peered up at Jack. “What’s wrong?” she asked, sensing something was terribly wrong.

  Jack’s expression was full of something like horror.

  Something was definitely very wrong.

  Sophie’s eyes went wide. Her belly fluttered nervously. “What! What did I say?”

  Jack had only time to open his mouth, when the man hurled a fist at Jack’s face. It hit Jack’s jaw with a sickening thud.

  Sophie screamed as Jack went tumbling backward at the unexpected impact. She managed somehow to catch him.

  Maria screamed, and then chaos erupted.

  Chapter 28

  “I demand to know what I said to cause that much trouble!”

  Sophie held a smelly piece of meat to Jack’s jaw. His jaw was throbbing and the odor was nauseating him.

  Randall and Pete both sported their own bruises, but none as bad as Jack’s.

  “Let’s just drop it, Sophia,” Jack persisted. “Jose apologized after I explained what you really meant. Let’s just drop it, all right?”

  He didn’t really want to tell her that she’d accused the man of having no balls.

  Her timing couldn’t have been worse. Jack had been in the middle of explaining to Jose that most of his other guides had abandoned him long before they’d reached the ruins—that the snakes hadn’t gotten to them, superstition had. Sophie’s question had come as an unwelcome punctuation to his own. He’d gotten desperate and had just asked Jose if he’d lost his nerve—and that after Jose had heard Jack tell Sophie how to say huevos... a very strange homonym for both eggs and the male scrotum. Jack could definitely see the connection, but he’d be damned if he would ever understand how the two were used interchangeably. Sophie couldn’t have known.

  “It was my fault, Jack, and I have every right to know what I said to cause such an uproar! I only asked him if he had eggs! He had no right to hit you like that!”

  Jack groaned and pressed the meat more firmly to his aching face. “Sophia,” he begged her. “Please ...”

  “Well, if you won’t tell me, I’ll just have to ask someone else,” she said stubbornly, and turned to Kell.

  Kell’s brows lifted and he looked pleadingly at Jack. Randall and Pete continued to look away. They’d explained everything to Kell well away from Sophie’s earshot, and for once Kell was keeping his good humor to himself.

  “The odor of this meat is almost as hideous as the bruise swelling on your face!” she declared.

  Jack was grateful for the momentary change in topic—even if the diversion was minuscule.

  He nodded in agreement. “Can’t blame the man for not offering a better piece, considering.”

  “I paid for it!” Sophie complained. “It wasn’t any of his business whether I intended to eat it or bury it!”

  She was definitely a spitfire.

  A beautiful one at that.

  Jack tried to smile up at her, but couldn’t quite manage.

  “Did Jack ever
get you your huevos, Sophie?” Kell asked suddenly, trying to sound casual.

  Jack glared up at Kell, curbing his tongue, though not easily.

  “Yes,” Sophie answered, frowning down at Jack. “I have the eggs.” She gave him a beautiful pout.

  Jack smiled to himself.

  “I suppose I’ll go start breakfast!” she said, obviously displeased with him. She spun on her heels and sighed as she left them, and Jack’s smile turned crooked as he peered up at Kell.

  She had her eggs all right, along with a deuced ton of hot peppers. He hoped Kell would have smoke steaming from his ass when she was through. For himself, he intended to stick to the bread. He tossed the meat away with a grimace.

  “Give it to the dog!” he demanded irascibly, and looked up at Randall. The smell was making him sick.

  “What dog?” Randall asked.

  “Find one,” Jack replied curtly.

  Randall’s eyes widened in understanding, and he bent to pick up the offensive slab of meat at once. He hauled it away, much to Jack’s relief.

  Kell’s grin was annoying. “So you managed to get Jose to guide us, after all?”

  “Yeah,’ Jack said, as he watched Sophie work at a distance.

  Pete had followed her and was helping her set up a small camp fire. He was explaining to her how to cook over the open fire with the frying pan she’d insisted on bringing.

  She didn’t even seem to realize how in tune to her Jack was. He couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t seem to keep his mind even on his work.

  “How’d you manage that?”

  “Thank Sophie’s money. Guess it’s true everyone has his price.”

  “Sure they do,” Kell agreed. “Including you,” he added with a deliberate nod.

  Jack’s gaze snapped up to meet Kell’s. His brows collided. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Kell shook his head. “You figure it out Jack. She’s paying you to deliver her to Penn, isn’t she? And you’re doing it. Why? Because she paid you?”

  “No, I could care less about the money.” Jack’s shoulders slumped. “I’m doing it because it’s what she wants.”

  “Yeah? And how do you know what she wants, Jack? Have you asked her lately?”

  Jack didn’t answer.

  He didn’t have to ask her.

  When a woman couldn’t leave without dragging a damned picture of her fiancé around with her, it didn’t take much to deduce that she had told him the truth to begin with... that she did miss the bugger. Her mood, until the egg incident, had vastly improved since getting off the ship. It was obvious to Jack that she couldn’t wait to see Harlan.

  It needled him.

  Who was he kidding?

  It fucking hurt.

  He was almost grateful for the pain in his face because it reflected the one growing in his chest... that aching feeling of loss even before she was gone.

  Hadn’t what happened between them meant anything at all to her?

  How could she sit there humming so cheerily over the damned frying pan?

  She had paid him—and very well—to do a job, and it was nearly done. Then he could go on with his own work far more comfortably after she was gone.

  So why was he feeling as though he’d lost his best friend? Why did he suddenly feel like handing everything over to Penn and just throwing up his hands and going home?

  “What’s your price, Jack?” Kell asked enigmatically, then walked away.

  Jack turned and glared at his back as he went, and questioned how much his life would be worth if he couldn’t wake up and face the day... if he had to go to sleep at night wondering what might have been...

  Sophie continued to hum and sing, talking animatedly to several of his crew as they set up camp. Jose was expected shortly and energy was high. The crew seemed to share Sophie’s enthusiasm. Every last one of his men had a stake in what they would find. They had applied themselves to learning their chores aboard ship solely for the privilege of muddying their hands in the rich Yucatan soil. Only Jack’s mood was dour.

  What price was he willing to pay for his pride?

  How much was honor worth?

  He thought about it for an instant, and wondered... had anyone even bothered to pay for the eggs?

  He didn’t think so, but hell... Sophie’s bribe money would more than make up for it.

  And everyone was bound to pay for it later.

  He kept his mouth shut anyway, determined to allow Sophie a chance at her moment of glory. It meant a lot to her, and it meant a lot to him to see her succeed. But he wasn’t about to eat her food. From this point on, it was every man for himself.

  It was no use: Sophie was a disaster as a cook.

  She didn’t want to pout, but couldn’t help it. It certainly wasn’t easy to cook nearly sixty eggs in a single frying pan over an open flame. She took such care with the first few, but in the end they’d all ended up scrambled. And it was just as well. They were much too spicy to eat anyway. She nibbled at her bread as she stared at her plate.

  The only thing that kept her from running away in utter humiliation and pouting in the privacy of the woods was the simple fact that it would be the easy way out. To abandon her food now, and leave everyone else to bravely force his down, was too cruel by far.

  On the other hand... she might do them a mercy if she left, because then they might pour out their plates on the ground and bury the evidence, rather than sit there with their stoic expressions while they struggled to eat.

  Sophie felt sorry for them. They’d been hungry and looking forward to a hearty meal to begin the journey.

  “This is... very good,” Pete offered, as fat tears streamed down his mottled cheeks. His blue eyes glistened with as much sincerity as he could muster considering that his mouth was probably on fire and heat was burning through his nostrils. He struggled to swallow as Sophie watched.

  She lifted up her fork and guiltily stabbed at a blackened crumble of egg... or maybe it was a pepper... or ham. She couldn’t precisely tell.

  She swallowed convulsively and lifted the fork to her lips, saying a tiny prayer that she might be spared the pepper. Her water was practically gone... and everyone else’s as well. Desperation was setting in. She could see them greedily eyeing one another’s canteens, their expressions covetous. Sophie would have gladly offered hers... except that she was starved as well, and she would literally perish where she sat if she ended up with a mouthful of peppers and no water.

  Meanwhile, Jack was feasting on some exotic dish of Maria’s concoction, a private meal for just the two of them.

  That woman had arrived with her father and two other men—her brothers perhaps, because the resemblance was strong—and the five of them were seated separately from the rest, discussing something of import.

  Jealousy reared again, and Sophie couldn’t help but notice how pretty Maria was, with her large, trusting black eyes. She wanted to draw her, capture her spirit, even as Harlan’s almost forgotten letter came to mind. His words haunted her:

  ... skin so velvet brown and eyes so deep a black a man may sigh to see his own reflection in her eyes. And hair... Christ, I have never had the joy of touching hair so rich it flows through your hands like the mane of a fine riding horse.

  Sophie’s cheeks heated.

  Was Jack enamored of her?

  She was certainly lovely enough. Sophie couldn’t begin to compete. Her own hair was drab in comparison and her skin too pale, her nose slightly freckled, and her eyes ... well, her eyes were her best feature, she thought. They were different at least, and Harlan had often commented on their odd golden color.

  Maria was the embodiment of everything wildly beautiful.

  Sophie sighed wistfully.

  It no longer bothered her in the least that Harlan was so smitten with the women here.

  But Jack...

  Her eyes couldn’t help but follow him wherever he went... whatever he did. She found herself even struggling to hear their
conversation and felt guilty for eavesdrop- ping.

  Absurd as the notion was, she wanted to go over and sit right in his lap!

  She should do it, too, she thought petulantly. And she would... except... except that she didn’t have any right to. Nor was she quite so bold as to interrupt their conversation and seat herself so rudely in his lap. So instead she sat there pouting, trying to swallow her food, endeavoring to be as brave as the rest of the crew, and was near certain that Maria would never, never burn her food.

  Kell sat down beside her. “Don’t mind if I join you, do ye?”

  Sophie shook her head, casting Jack a wistful glance.

  “Don’t sweat it, Sophie,” he consoled her. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  What in particular? Her envy of Maria, or her wretched breakfast? Sophie shrugged.

  Kell smiled. “It really wasn’t. I swear.” She looked at him hopefully. “A little hot maybe,” he relented, “but tasty nevertheless.”

  Sophie tilted him a glance, daring to hope. “Truly?”

  He nodded without the least hesitation. “Truly.”

  She eyed her plate a little dubiously. “It is rather hot,” she admitted, and glanced up at Randall, who sat across from her at a distance. “Poor Randall looks as though he could bury his head in a vat of water.”

  Kell chuckled. “Some like it hotter than others, I suppose.” He winked at her. “But Randy is a wimp.”

  Sophie lifted her brows at him.

  “All right,” he confessed. “I’m a wimp, too, but I’m telling you... there are men who like their food so hot it makes ’em sweat. They aren’t happy until they’re snorting smoke from their nostrils.”

  Sophie didn’t believe him, but she laughed anyway, and appreciated his efforts.

  Her gaze returned to Jack.

  He was smiling at Maria, holding his plate before him, lifting it up as though to thank her.

  Maria beamed happily in response, her smile radiant only for Jack, and Sophie’s heart twisted with envy.

  For an instant... just a tiny little instant... she hoped he would choke on whatever he was eating.

  Chapter 29