Slowly walking back to the bedroom, she hesitatingly picked up the phone and dialed cabin 42C.
"Hello?"
"Hi, this is Brittany Carter."
"Brittany! What a pleasant surprise. Your timing is perfect, I just popped back to my cabin for something."
"I'm going back up to The Seven Seas for a drink. I know this is a bit weird, but..."
"Are you asking me to join you?"
"Yes, if you're interested. Just a drink, mind you. Nothing else."
"I'll meet you there. You can cry on my shoulder or dance on the tabletop. Either is fine by me."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Seated next to Cooper Cross in a booth near the dance floor, Brittany bobbed her head and drummed her fingers to the beat of the music.
"Thanks, Cooper, you've really helped," she said gratefully, "and you were right. This wine is really good."
"Uncle Cooper knows how to take care of you. I'll make sure you forget about that British jerk. What an asshole."
"Thanks for all this. It's nice to have someone to talk to."
"You're welcome. I'm happy to be here for you," he replied, emptying the bottle into her glass. "If you'd gone to all that trouble for me I would've been thrilled. He's crazy. Drink up."
"Do you want to dance?"
"I'd love to. Finish your wine and we'll tear up the floor."
Watching from a nearby table, Simon grimaced, then made a decision. When Brittany had reappeared he'd been delighted, but then he'd seen her join Cooper Cross. The man was bad news. Though she'd been rude, Simon didn't want her to fall victim to Cooper's lechery, but Simon was no match for the tall, athletic, powerfully built jock. There was only one person he could think of to call for help.
* * * * * * * * * *
Trying to take his mind off Brittany and the accusations she had leveled at him, Duncan was unsuccessfully trying to focus on the cover for his new book when the phone rang.
Startled, he stared at it.
Hoping she was calling him, simultaneously hoping she wasn't, he picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Duncan?"
"Yes."
"Hi, Duncan, this is Simon. We met briefly at The Seven Seas bar."
"Hello, Simon. How can I help you?"
"I hope you don't mind me calling, but I'm a bit worried about your friend, Brittany."
Duncan hesitated.
"Did she put you up to this?"
"What? No, not at all. There's a guy on the ship called Cooper Cross. You might have seen him around. He's blonde, good-looking, kind of smooth. He takes these cruises all the time for uh, various reasons. Anyway, he keeps filling her wine glass and she's really out of it. I wouldn't have bothered you but I can't tackle Cooper. Perhaps I shouldn't have called. This is none of my business, but like I said, I'm worried. He's bad news."
"Simon, you did the right thing and I'm grateful," Duncan said solemnly, a chill creeping through him. "I'm on my way."
"Thanks, Duncan. I'm really glad you're coming. Like I said, he's bad news."
Duncan's logic kicked into gear. Mr. Smooth wouldn't give her up easily, and Duncan didn't want to cause a scene. He needed help, and decided to call the steward.
"Joe, this is Duncan Rhys-Davies. I apologize for the late hour."
"Good evening, sir. How may I be of assistance?"
"I need some assistance. Brittany Carter is at The Seven Seas in the company of a man by the name of Cooper Cross. Are you familiar with him?"
"He's not a first class passenger, but yes, I am familiar with Mr. Cooper," Joe replied diplomatically. "Is there a problem?"
"There might be. He was escorted from The Mermaid last night because he was leering at Miss Carter and making her uncomfortable. I've since come to learn he may not be the most reliable of men, and I fear Miss Carter may be in over her head. I'm heading up to The Seven Seas now, and I'd appreciate you calling the manager to alert him, and ask him to keep an eye on the situation until I get there."
"I have heard rumors about Mr. Cross, and you may be right," Joe said carefully. "We're not supposed to intervene in personal matters with passengers, but in this instance I believe it's appropriate. I'll call the manager right away. His name is Peter Abrams."
"Thank you. Please tell him I will be taking her out of there in a rather unceremonious way."
"Unceremonious?"
"Brittany can be a handful, and what I have in mind will get her out of there quickly, and with the least amount of difficulty."
"I'll call Peter, and I'll swing by myself in case you need me."
"Thank you, Joe, I appreciate that."
Though Duncan hurried from his cabin and raced up the stairs, when he walked into the bar he appeared calm and casual, but spying the cavorting couple he had to summon all his self-control. Cooper's hands were locked on Brittany's backside and he was grinding against her. Duncan's first instinct was to march across the room, punch Cooper in the nose, then grab Brittany and drag her away.
"They're quite a sight."
Turning around, he found Simon standing behind him.
"I'm really glad you're here," Simon continued. "Thanks for coming."
"And I'm really glad you called," Duncan replied. "Looks like I got here just in time."
"Good evening, sir," Joe said, abruptly appearing at Duncan's side. "Peter will be joining us. Ah, here he is now. Peter Abrams, this is Duncan Rhys-Davies."
"Nice to meet you," the manager said, extending his hand. "I was already concerned when Joe called. We want our guests to enjoy themselves, but the bartender informed me the young lady appeared to be drinking heavily."
"I'll take care of her," Duncan said, "but could you please keep Mr. Cross at bay?"
"Shouldn't be an issue," Peter assured him. "Mr. Cross and I are acquainted."
Duncan headed to the dance floor with Joe and Peter following closely behind. The moment Cooper saw them, he stopped dancing and raised his palms.
"Hey, I don't want any trouble! Take her back. She's all yours."
But with her eyes closed and continuing to gyrate to the music, Brittany remained blissfully unaware that Joe and Peter were escorting Cooper to a nearby table.
"Brittany!" Duncan said, his lips at her ear, trying to be heard over the band. "You're coming with me."
"Oh, it's you!" she grumbled, opening her eyes. "Why are you here? Cooper and I are having some fun. Huh, that's weird, where did he go? No matter, I'll find him, but you, Mr. High and Mighty, you can leave."
"Are you refusing to come with me?"
"Hell, yeah, I am refusing."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I'm sure."
Taking a step back, Duncan bent down, effortlessly lifted her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder.
"Put me down," she squealed, squirming furiously. "Put me down now! Right now!"
"Stop that noise at once or I'll put you over my knee and spank you right here in this bar."
The threat worked, and Duncan walked quickly through the bar towards the door, pausing briefly as he passed Simon.
"Simon, I owe you. Tell Peter to put your drinks on my tab."
"Hey, thanks. Glad to help, I won't forget this moment for a long time, if ever."
"Trust me, neither will I," Duncan said ruefully.
Marching outside, abruptly hit with the cold night air, Brittany pushed herself up as best she could, and gazed around the dark, empty deck.
"Please, Duncan, please put me down. I'm freezing."
"This should warm you up," he declared, landing a hard swat. "Sobering up yet?"
"Definitely, and I didn't plan this," she exclaimed as they entered the elevator. "Please, you have to believe me."
"Do you honestly think I would have come to your rescue if I thought you had?"
"Can't you please put me down?"
"Stop asking and I might think about it," he said brusquely. "Honestly, Brittany, you really are a very bad gi
rl."
As the elevator gently stopped, he marched to his cabin, and taking her directly into his bedroom, he dumped her on the bed and ripped off her clothes.
"These are going in the trash," he declared, disappearing into the bathroom.
Shivering with the cold and beginning to feel nauseous, she was about to slide under the bedcovers when he reappeared and pulled her to her feet.
"Oh, no, you're not going to bed."
"But—"
Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her to her feet, bustling her into the bathroom and under the shower.
"Get that makeup off your face, and wash away the stink of cigarettes. There'll be a toothbrush waiting when you come out."
As he closed the stall door, and as the hot water splashed over her, she didn't know if her sudden tears were of shame, or joy that he'd come to her rescue.
"Please forgive me, Duncan, but why would you? I've been a complete idiot. You probably never want to see me again."
But he'd left.
Pacing in the bedroom, he was filled with conflict. She was the perfect blend of beauty, brains and miscreant, and her response to his discipline and dark kink had been breathtaking.
The shower stopped.
He glanced at the door.
"May I use your hairdryer?" she asked quietly, appearing in his robe with a towel around her head.
"Top right hand drawer!" Then softening his voice, he asked, "How do you feel?"
"Kind of sick, and very embarrassed. Duncan, am I staying here, or am I going back to my cabin?"
"What do you want to do?"
"Stay, if you'll have me."
"I'll think about it. You need to take some aspirin. You'll find some in the right-hand drawer"
"Okay, and, uh, thank you—thank you for everything."
As she closed the door, he undressed and climbed into bed. He didn't want her going anywhere.
"Brittany, Brittany. You were worth every minute of tonight. I just have to figure where we go from here."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The delicious aroma of fresh brewed coffee tickled Brittany's nose, and though her head thumped the pain wasn't terrible. Opening her eyes she found herself alone in the bed, then discovered a small tray with a mug of coffee on the nightstand. Sitting up, she poured in cream, stirred in two teaspoons of sugar, then took a sip.
"Man this is good," she muttered, taking another. "This is so good."
"I'm glad you're awake," Duncan said, ambling in. "How are you feeling?"
"Duncan, hi," she said sheepishly. "Not as bad as I thought I would. I'm loving this coffee."
"I have a new name for you," he declared, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Bratty Brittany, and when Bratty Brittany comes out to play, it's her bottom that's going to pay. You might well remember that."
"Not easy to forget."
"I wasn't sure if you'd have an appetite, but breakfast is waiting."
"I'd love something to eat. I didn't have any dinner last night."
"Oh, you had dinner, but from a wine glass," he scolded. "Come out when you're ready."
"I'm ready now," she said, but climbing from the bed, she added, "Last night, did you say you were throwing away my clothes?"
"I certainly did," he replied, moving into the bathroom to fetch his robe. "Here, put this on. Why would you own an outfit like that?"
"I usually wear a blouse under the top, and the skirt was short because I rolled up the waist."
"I see."
"There you go again," she said with a sigh, wrapping herself in the robe as she followed him into the living room. "Making me feel ten-years old."
"If the shoe fits. Don't worry, I put your outfit in a plastic bag but I haven't had a chance to toss it."
"That's a relief. Duncan, this looks wonderful," she exclaimed, eyeing the breakfast on the table.
"You must not have been as drunk as I thought."
"I have no idea," she said, sitting down and piling scrambled eggs on her plate. "Did I make a complete fool of myself?"
"I only saw you dancing for a minute, and it wasn't pretty. The manager would have stepped in if I hadn't. Apparently Cooper Cross has less than a stellar reputation. How did you end up at The Seven Seas with him?"
"It's no big deal. When I left here I couldn't calm down, so I called him to meet me for a drink."
"You called him? How did you know his cabin number?"
"Sorry, I forgot to mention," she said, buttering some toast. "After you left the bar, Cooper and I bumped into each other while I was waiting for the elevator."
Duncan rolled his eyes.
"Brittany, he would have been watching for you, and when he saw his chance he grabbed it."
"It didn't seem that way."
"You would have ended up in his cabin."
"But I would have said no."
"Do you honestly think he would have taken no for answer?"
Lifting a fork of eggs to her mouth, she suddenly set it back on her place.
"He kept filling my wine glass and telling me I needed to relax. He was getting me sloshed. I'm such an idiot."
"No, but you do idiotic things sometimes."
"I'm sorry to say that's true," she mumbled, then lifted her tea to down the last swallow. "That was delicious. Thank you."
"Do you want anything else?"
"No, I'm stuffed, but I feel better. My head feels clearer."
"Then let's move to the couch. There's something I need to tell you."
"Sure," she replied, and moving to the sofa, she sat down and looked up at him expectantly. "Aren't you joining me?"
"I will in a minute. Right now I prefer to stand. I think better on my feet. It comes from hours in a courtroom."
"A courtroom?"
"That's the first thing I need to tell you. Yes, I'm an author, but that's not my vocation. I'm a barrister."
"Really? That's Brit-speak for a lawyer, right?"
"Not exactly, but I do argue cases and appear in court. The point is, I have a very busy professional life."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"I'm just a regular man. I'm not a mysterious, literary, James Bond."
"Duncan, there's nothing regular about you. Your work might be regular, but you're not a regular person."
"If you're referring to my—"
"I'm referring to your everything," she exclaimed, interrupting him. "Your personality, and, uh, the other stuff."
"What I'm trying to tell you, is—"
"Duncan, I don't care whether you're a bus driver or the Prince of frickin' Wales."
"My goodness, you really do mean that."
"Of course I mean it. What are you trying to say? Please don't keep me in suspense, just tell me."
"You were right."
"About what?" she asked hastily, just as he was about to explain.
"I am going to buy several gags with your name on every one of them," he exclaimed, throwing up his arms in exasperation.
"I can't help myself."
"Discipline! Regular, strict discipline. That's what you need!"
"Well, duh! I do know that," she quipped, quickly adding, "Sorry."
"I adore your wit, but there's a fine line, Brittany."
"Can we get back to what I was right about?"
"Absolutely. I did use your misbehavior as an excuse to hit the pause button, because, and I'm ashamed to admit this, my fears did get the better of me. A few years ago I hurt someone I loved. I hurt her badly, and myself in the process. Sally was her name. She felt taken for granted, and ultimately she left. It was shocking and inexplicable, and it took some time before I realized she'd been right. The entire episode deeply troubled me for many months. I won't make that mistake again. If we become a couple, I won't take you for granted, not ever."
"Thank you for telling me, Duncan. I have a feeling that wasn't easy. "
"It wasn't, but you needed to know," he said softly, then sitting next to her, he added, "I'm flawed, Brittany, ju
st like anyone else."
The intimacy of the moment engulfed them, and as he placed his arm around her, she curled into his lap.
"Does this mean you changed your mind? Can we spend these last couple of days together?"
"I've been giving this a great deal of thought and I have a proposal. When we dock in Tahiti, how would you feel about coming back to London with me for a week? The first three days will be easy. I always give myself time to adjust before going back to work, but the following days will be my regular life. Would you like to experience it?"
"You're kidding. I don't even know what to say."
"Think about it."
"What's there to think about? Of course I'll come with you. I'd love to."
"Excellent! It will give us a chance to see, uh, what's what."
"I'm so excited. You are the most spectacular man," she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and covering his face with kisses.
"I'm glad you think so, but I'm not sure I'm spectacular. Brittany, one more thing. Do you make a habit of taking off with strange men and getting drunk when you're ticked off? It seemed a very easy thing for you to do. Have you done that before?"
"Um, kind of."
"What does that mean?"
"Going somewhere to dance and have a drink helps me get over things."
"If we have words while you're with me in London, and I truly hope we don't, but if we do, you can't go off galavanting around."
"Sure, no problem."
"I mean it."
"No problem, honestly."
"Now we have to talk about something else, and I must be very strict about this. You will not attempt to manipulate me. You did it once and I punished you, then you turned around and did it again."
"I'm sorry, really, I am, but I have to explain. I saw a documentary about Kate Middleton and Prince—"
"You can stop right there," he said, holding up his hand. "It doesn't matter. You obviously didn't learn your lesson and this must be dealt with. You'll get that spanking over my knee, and it will be meaningful, along with a couple of other things I hope will make you think twice before you decide to pull any more stunts."
"Whatever you say."
"Sir!"
"Whatever you say, Sir."
WET Page 7