Amanda Rose

by Karen Robards

  “I thought you loved him.” He spoke so quietly that Amanda wasn’t prepared for the way the words stabbed at her heart. She turned away to look out to sea, not wanting him to see her face.

  “Amanda?”

  Amanda swallowed, then made an impatient gesture. “That’s the problem—I do.”

  “God preserve me from women,” Zeke muttered, putting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him. “Now, let me understand this: you love him, he wants to marry you, and that’s the problem?”

  Amanda met his steady gaze, and despite everything she could do, her lower lip quivered. “He doesn’t love me,” she explained softly.

  Zeke’s hands tightened on her shoulders, comforting her without words. “Are you sure?”

  Amanda nodded miserably. Zeke started to say something, only to be interrupted by a cry from overhead.

  “Sail ho.”

  Immediately Zeke looked around, his expression changing dramatically.

  “Where away?” he called back to the sailor high aloft in the crow’s nest.

  “Astern,” came the answer, and unaccountably Zeke began to grin.

  “Come,” he said to Amanda, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her with him toward the quarterdeck. Once they were standing on the raised platform, Zeke let go of Amanda and seized a spyglass. Striding to the rail, he peered in the direction of the stern.

  “Christ, it’s too far away to be sure,” he said disgustedly, lowering the glass.

  “Be sure of what?” Amanda asked, mystified. Zeke waved an impatient hand at her.

  “I’ll tell you when I’m sure, which won’t be for a couple of hours.”

  And despite her teasing, that was all he would say. It was rather more than a couple of hours before the ship came close enough so that Amanda could get an inkling of what he was talking about. She stayed on the quarterdeck for most of that time, scowling off and on at Zeke, who seemed oddly lighthearted. The ship behind them was at first no more than a tiny dot on the horizon, but gradually it grew until Amanda could see that it was much like the Eloise and the Clorimunda, a three-masted, high-prowed ship, elegant and graceful. Zeke seemed in no hurry to pull away from it, so Amanda deduced that he must know it for a friend. But he refused to answer any of her questions; instead he grinned maddeningly.

  The sun was just beginning to sink below the horizon, bathing the sky and the sea and both ships with an orange glow, when the other ship pulled alongside. Watching, Amanda saw a sailor in the other ship’s crow’s nest wave two flags at them in a complicated pattern.

  “Captain, he wants to come aboard,” the sailor in the Eloise’s crow’s nest called down to Zeke.

  “He does, does he?” Zeke grinned. “Let’s make him work for it. Tell him no, Darcy.”

  “Aye, sir.” But the man sounded dubious. Amanda turned to Zeke, still puzzled. Then came an earsplitting boom, and she turned back just in time to watch a round black missile arch over the Eloise’s prow. On the deck of the other ship, smoke billowed from the mouth of a small cannon.

  “Zeke, they’re shooting at us,” Amanda exclaimed in horror.

  Zeke grinned. “A warning shot over the bow only,” he explained, his voice soothing. Then he grinned again. “He must be angry as hell.”

  “Who?” Amanda was still mystified. Zeke, shouting an order to heave to, didn’t answer. She turned to look at the approaching ship again. Rosimond was the name on the prow. Thinking further about Zeke’s odd reaction, she began now to have the faintest niggle of an alarming suspicion . . .

  Zeke had left her side to see to the lowering of sails and anchor. Amanda turned back to watch as a small boat was lowered from the Rosimond’s deck. Three men climbed down a ladder from the deck to drop into the boat. Two began to row toward the Eloise while the other stood in the prow with one foot propped on the forward seat and his arms crossed over his chest. Even at that distance he looked furious—and familiar.

  “Zeke, it’s Matt.” Zeke had come to stand beside her again. He was grinning, and at the horror in her voice his grin widened.

  “It is,” he said, sounding amused. “Come, let’s meet him. Amanda, stay close to me, and allow me to do the talking. Agreed?”

  Amanda looked at him. In that instant all her suspicions crystallized into certainty. “You knew he was coming, didn’t you?” she said accusingly.

  “Shall we say I hoped.” Zeke slid his arm around her waist and propelled her with him toward the sailors who were lowering a ladder over the side.

  Matt was the first one up the ladder. As he pulled himself up and over the side, Amanda stared at his face. It was black with temper. Instinctively she shrank against Zeke, who still had his arm fixed comfortingly around her waist. Matt looked up, saw them, and strode toward them.

  “You son of a bitch,” he roared at Zeke when he was still some paces away. “What the hell do you mean, sending me a message that you’ve run off with Amanda?”

  chapter twenty-five

  “It took you a long while to respond,” Zeke replied mildly. The grin still played around the corners of his mouth. Matt glared at him, stalking across the deck until the two men stood eyeball to eyeball. Matt was some two inches taller than Zeke, and much broader and more muscular. Clad in a billowing white shirt and snug black breeches and boots, with his silvery eyes blazing murder and his mouth set in a hard, forbidding line, Matt looked capable of any violence. Standing slightly behind Zeke, ignored by Matt except for a single, searing glance, Amanda shivered. She was glad that all that fire and brimstone was not directed at herself.

  “The only damned ship in port was being keelhauled,” Matt growled. “Or I would have been here much sooner, I assure you. Damn it, Zeke, I should thrash you for all the trouble you’ve put me to.”

  “You didn’t have to come,” Zeke pointed out.

  Matt snarled at him. “You knew damned well I would. Amanda is mine, and I don’t share. Not even with you, brother.”

  One of Zeke’s sandy eyebrows lifted in a quizzical gesture so reminiscent of Matt’s that Amanda was struck again by the elusive resemblance. “Perhaps you should ask Amanda how she feels about that.”

  “I don’t give a damn how Amanda feels. I’ve come to fetch her, and she’s coming back with me. That’s all there is to it.”

  At that blatant display of male arrogance, Amanda gasped indignantly. Stepping in front of Zeke despite his restraining arm, she glared up at Matt. Her eyes shot purple sparks at him while every inch of her small body shouted defiance.

  “You don’t own me, Matt. I’ll stay with Zeke if I please.”

  “The hell you will.” The fury in Matt’s eyes blazed anew. Reaching out to grasp her roughly by the arm, he started to turn away, pulling the resisting Amanda behind him. She struggled, but her strength was as nothing compared to Matt’s. He would have dragged her with him, willy-nilly, if Zeke had not stopped him with a hard hand on his shoulder.

  “Wait, brother. Amanda is going nowhere she doesn’t want to.” Zeke’s voice was calm, but something about the flat, even tone said that this time he was serious. Matt turned slowly back to look at him, not releasing his hold on Amanda’s arm. She stopped struggling, looking from one man to the other with wide, alarmed eyes. There was no brotherly affection evident between them now; they were two hard-eyed men on the brink of doing battle.

  “Take your hand off me, brother, and get out of my way.” Matt spoke with a barely controlled menace.

  “And if I do not?” To Amanda’s horror Zeke seemed to be deliberately trying to rile Matt. They were glaring at each other as if they would come to blows at any moment—and relish the fight. Amanda bit her lip. Zeke was nearly as tall as Matt, with a wiry, whipcord strength, but he lacked Matt’s power. In a fight between them, Amanda had little doubt about who would emerge the victor. And she knew that she couldn’t bear it if she were to cause a rift between these two men who loved each other dearly, and whom she had come to love, each in a differe
nt way.

  “Zeke, I’ll go with him,” she said softly before Matt could reply. Both men looked down at her, Matt’s eyes as hard as the hand that still encircled her arm; Zeke was frowning.

  “You don’t have to, Amanda. He can’t force you to.”

  “Can’t I?” Matt’s silky tone contained a threat. Zeke looked from Amanda’s face to Matt’s, his hazel eyes acquiring a steely gleam similar to his brother’s.

  “No,” Zeke said with soft assurance. “I am captain here, and in command. Take a look around you, brother.”

  Matt glanced swiftly around, and so did Amanda. She was surprised to see the two men who had rowed Matt from the Rosimond planted squarely behind him while the entire thirty-man crew of the Eloise gathered around them in a loose circle. If the Eloise’s men decided to take Zeke’s part, as he seemed to feel they would, Matt and his men would be easily overpowered. But she couldn’t let it come to that. Zeke was dependent on his brother for his livelihood, and, besides, the affection that had always flowed between the two of them had been heartwarming. She couldn’t destroy that, even if she wanted to stay with Zeke. Which she didn’t. Angry or not, she longed to be back in the shelter of Matt’s arms. If nothing else, her flight had taught her a hard-earned lesson: whether or not he loved her, she loved him. If his passion and his name were all she could have of him, she would take them and be grateful.

  “Zeke, I will go with him. Please don’t cause any trouble.”

  Zeke looked down at her. His mouth was still hard, but there was a gleam almost of laughter in the hazel eyes. She stared back at him, frowning. And then it occurred to her that the exchange between Zeke and Matt had been false from the start, at least on Zeke’s part. Why, only a few hours before, he had been bound and determined to return her to Matt whether she would or not. What had caused the sudden reversal? Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “If you truly want to go, I won’t stop you,” Zeke said to her, still sounding grim. “But if I were you, Amanda, I wouldn’t. At least not until I had the answers to a few questions. Why has he come high-tailing it after you, and why is he so angry that you left? He never cared before when a woman left him. In fact, he usually showed her the door.”

  “Be quiet, Zeke,” Matt growled warningly. Amanda’s eyes searched his lean, handsome face, surprised to see a tinge of dark color appear in the high cheekbones. He still looked furious—but also strangely ill at ease. He met her gaze briefly, then his hand tightened around her arm. “Come, Amanda. We’re leaving.”

  She resisted, pulling back against the hand that urged her forward. “No,” she said clearly. “Zeke is right. I won’t leave until you answer the question. Why did you come after me, Matt?” She looked up at him steadily, her head slightly tilted so that her hair spilled down her back in gleaming red waves. The setting sun caught the silky strands, gilding them so that her small face seemed to be surrounded by a fiery nimbus. Her violet eyes were wide and questioning as his gaze met them almost unwillingly. She looked very small and fragile in the full-skirted dress striped with the color of her eyes—and so beautiful that she took his breath.

  “I told you—you’re mine.” The words were gruff. “You knew I’d never let you go. I had made that clear before you left. Which is why, I suppose, you sneaked off like a thief in the night.”

  “But why won’t you let her go, brother?” Zeke prodded mockingly. “You often shared a woman. Why, I remember three that you passed on to me.”

  Matt glared at him. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut, I’ll shut it for you with a great deal of pleasure. Especially if I find you’ve laid so much as a finger on Amanda. I haven’t forgotten that night you kissed her, and it will never happen again.”

  “But what is so different about Amanda?” Zeke persisted. “You never minded sharing before—”

  “Damn it, I love her,” Matt growled, dark red color washing into his cheeks and his eyes staring furiously at his brother. Amanda stood transfixed. She couldn’t believe what she had heard . . .

  “Matt,” she said softly, wonderingly. His hand dropped away from her arm and he turned on his heel, casting a furious glance at the grinning circle of men as he stalked toward the ladder. As Amanda started after him Zeke caught her arm.

  “You’d best gather your things,” he advised softly. “It’s a long way back to New Orleans.” Then he winked at her and grinned.

  “Thank you, Zeke.” Amanda’s smile came from the heart. Then she hurried to her cabin, where she quickly stuffed her clothes and toilet things into her valise. Bright-colored tufts of several dresses and a tier of lace from a petticoat dangled from the valise when she dragged it on deck, but Amanda could not have cared less. She had a horrible fear that, having said what he had, Matt might actually leave without her. And at first she thought he had. Neither he nor his two men were on deck.

  “Zeke.” She turned alarmed eyes on him as he walked to meet her.

  “He’s waiting—in the boat,” Zeke reassured her, taking the valise from her hand and ushering her to the dangling ladder. Looking over the rail, Amanda saw the small boat bobbing below, with Matt in the prow and the two sailors ready at the oars. Matt looked up, scowling.

  “Here, brother,” Zeke called blithely down, and heaved Amanda’s valise over the side. Matt caught it deftly and turned to set it aside. Then Zeke whispered to Amanda, “Be gentle with him. I think, for the first time in his life, he is feeling shy.” And he grinned broadly.

  “I will,” Amanda promised, grinning back. Then, impulsively, she reached up to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. To her amusement Zeke actually blushed.

  “I’m glad he’s down there,” he said, jerking his thumb at Matt, who was glaring up at them, his fists clenched in obvious anger. “Take care of yourself, Amanda, and my nephew or niece. And tell my cross-patch of a brother that I’ll see him when I return.”

  “You take care, too, Zeke,” Amanda said softly, and then he helped her over the side.

  Matt caught her as she neared the end of the ladder, his big hands hard on her waist as he swung her into the boat. Amanda clutched at his forearms for balance, looking up at him as he settled her on the seat, searching vainly for some sign of softening in his face. His eyes were like flint, and his face could have been carved from stone. When she smiled at him, his answer was a cold glare. Still, Amanda was happy. He had said he loved her, and he wouldn’t have unless he meant it. They could sort out whatever was troubling him as soon as they were alone.

  When they reached the deck of the Rosimond, however, it became clear that Matt had no intention of giving her a chance to talk to him. He strode away from her, curtly instructing one of his men to show her to the captain’s cabin. Amanda stared disappointedly at his retreating back. Then, suddenly, she had had enough.

  “Matthew Grayson, you come back here,” she yelled. He turned slowly, as if he couldn’t believe his ears, to find her glaring at him, hands on hips as the temper that went with the color of her hair crackled from her eyes.

  “What did you say?” The tone was ominous.

  “You heard me.” Oblivious of the gaping stares of the men as they looked from her slight figure to their captain’s large form, she tilted her chin at him belligerently. His mouth tightened as he strode back to her.

  “Have a care, my girl,” he growled, grasping her upper arms and glaring down at her. “I have enough scores to settle with you.”

  “I want to talk to you,” she said determinedly, ignoring his implied threat and matching him glare for glare. His eyes glittered as they met hers, and a tiny nerve began to jump at the corner of his mouth.

  “I fail to see that we have anything to talk about.”

  Amanda’s eyes blazed. “Oh?” She was quivering with temper. “In front of your brother and a whole ship’s crew, you said that you loved me. And you don’t think we have anything to talk about? Well, I do.”

  The tips of his ears went red. His hands tightened on her arms, and there was a sudde
n vulnerability in his eyes that he tried to mask with an icy glare. He swore under his breath, and then he released one of her arms and began to pull her after him toward his cabin, nestled under the quarterdeck.

  When they were alone, he let go of her, crossing to a cabinet and extracting a bottle of whiskey and a glass. Amanda leaned against the closed door, watching as he sloshed some of the golden liquid into the glass and bolted it back in a single swallow.

  “Matt,” she said softly. His back was rigid as he gripped the edges of the cabinet with both hands. Then he turned slowly to face her.

  “How fond of my brother are you, Amanda?” he shot at her, the telltale nerve still leaping in his jaw.

  Amanda smiled at him. “Very fond. Just as I would be if he were my brother. And very grateful to him, too. He arranged all this, you know, Matt.”

  “He ran off with you, you mean.” He eyed her grimly.

  “No.” Amanda shook her head. “I begged him to take me. He didn’t want to—but I cried. Neither one of you seems to have any resistance to tears. And he meant for you to come after us. He would have taken me back himself if you hadn’t.”

  Matt’s scowl wavered. “I must admit, I wondered about that message. He knew I’d come—and he’s damned lucky I didn’t throttle him. I went mad looking for you that morning. God knows what could have happened to you if you’d gone off on your own. I didn’t get Zeke’s message until that night—and by then I’d searched the whole town. He’s lucky it took so long to reach your ship—I had time to remember that he is my brother.” He hesitated, then shot her an uncertain look. “Why did you leave me, Amanda?” he suddenly asked in a softened tone.

  She met his eyes with a tender gaze. “I couldn’t bear it any longer. It was torture being with you, thinking that you didn’t love me—when I love you.”

  “Is that the truth?” His voice was curiously unsteady.

  “Cross my heart.” She laughed a little, but there was a faint mist clouding her vision. He made a muffled sound deep in his throat, then held out his arms to her. She ran into them with a little choked cry.