Happily Ever After (11 page)

Sophie lifted a brow. “Man?” She tried to retain
her coolness though her heart beat like native drums. “And what about woman,
Mr. MacAuley?”

“Of course, I’m an advocate of women, as well,” he
answered softly, and Sophie quivered at the sultry timbre of his voice. He
winked at her, but he hadn’t quite answered her question as yet, and she wasn’t
so flustered she didn’t notice.

He was standing too close, but she found she
didn’t want to move.

What was wrong with her that she didn’t just walk
away? This was an entirely inappropriate position she was in, and yet...

“That’s not precisely what I meant, Mr. MacAuley.”

His voice was silky. “Tell me what you meant, Miss
Vanderwahl.”

He came closer, she thought, though it didn’t seem
as though he’d moved at all, and his proximity dizzied her. His breath was warm
against her face, teasing her. His scent drew her nearer... sunshine and sea...
and something more.

She tried to keep her train of thought. “Do you
believe in free will for women too?”

“Of course.”

She tilted him a smart glance. “Even for your
own?”

He smiled slightly, bending closer, his eyes
sparkling with mockery. “Personally I have never owned one,” he whispered, “but
if I did, certainly.”

“Owned one?”

He grinned slowly, and Sophia realized he was
toying with her. Her eyes narrowed.

“What a bigoted thing to say!”

She straightened indignantly, but the response
merely brought her face nearer to his.

“In defense I would argue that yours was a
confrontational sort of question, Mizz Vanderwahl, including even its phrasing,
and that I was merely answering as in kind.”

Their lips were entirely too close now, their
breaths intermingling as intimately as that of lovers, and his voice was
seductively low. Sophie felt strangely exhilarated by his nearness. Harlan had
never made her heart pound so fiercely. Nor had her skin felt so hungry for his
touch. Jack’s simple gesture of removing her hair from her face had left her
wanting somehow.

Did he intend to kiss her now?

Did he want to?

Sophie held her breath, gazing up at him.

“I wasn’t looking for an argument.” Her voice
sounded strange even to her own ears.

“No?”

She lowered her eyes, lest he read her thoughts.

“No.”

“Then what were you looking for?”

Sophie blinked at his question. Indeed, what was
she looking for? And why was she still here?

He reached out and touched her forehead with his
thumb, a soft caress. “Definitely a bruise, but not too bad.”

Her knees felt suddenly weak. She lifted her hand,
brushing his in search of her bruised forehead. “It doesn’t hurt,” she said
softly.

He smiled, and the smile gleamed wickedly in his
eyes. “Need someone to kiss it and make it better?”

The very suggestion took her breath away.

She took a step backward, and he followed. Did she
appear as wide-eyed as she felt? Suddenly she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Why did you book passage on this ship, Sophia?”

“I... I wanted to see Harlan,” she stammered, but
it seemed suddenly the most ridiculous notion.

He leaned against the doorframe at her side. “Did he
put you up to it?”

Sophie swallowed, uncomfortable with the look in
his eyes. She shook her head, and took another step backward. “He doesn’t
know.”

“What doesn’t he know?”

“That I’m coming... to see him. I didn’t tell
him.”

His expression changed suddenly and something
flickered in the depths of his eyes... concern perhaps. For her? Her heart
squeezed just a little. Did everyone know about Harlan’s dalliances but her?
Anger welled once more within her.

She didn’t
need Jack MacAuley’s pity.

But he was looking at her suddenly as though she
were some wretched little girl whose heart had been broken by her favorite
beau. Well, her heart was not broken! Harlan was not the one calling the shots
here!

She was not a victim!

Sophie didn’t know what came over her in that
instant—anger perhaps, but not anger alone.

By God, she was not to be pitied!

She flung herself at Jack, wrapping her arms about
his neck, and kissed him smartly. He was so startled by the embrace that he
scarce had the good sense to hold her. Sophie pushed away as comprehension
seemed to reach him, and spun on her heels, leaving him open-mouthed and
staring after her.

It was only as she fled the scene that she even
realized what she’d done.

“What the hell was that all about?”

Jack was still fingering his lips and staring at
the door when Kell poked his head inside.

“Damned if I know,” he answered, dazed.

“She ran straight into me on the way out. Don’t
think she even noticed.”

Jack, too, was having a tough time focusing.

He’d fully intended to kiss the bloody wench,
teach her a lesson, and what did she do? She kissed him first! And not tenderly
at all. She’d done it in anger, and he hadn’t the first clue what had gotten
her prickles up. One instant he’d had her under a spell, and the next she was
angry and in a tizzy.

Why the devil had she kissed him?

It didn’t make sense.

“Bit of a she-wolf, isn’t she?”

Jack shook himself out of his stupor. “Aye… can’t
quite figure her out.”

Kell gave him an amused look and then sauntered in
as though he knew something Jack didn’t. It infuriated Jack when he seemed to
think he knew everything.

“She’s up to something,” Jack disclosed. “I want
to know what.”

Kell smiled and turned to him. It was only then
Jack noticed the papers in his hand.

“I have something to show you that might shed some
light.”

Curiosity outweighed Jack’s annoyance.

“Then again, it might not.”

Jack nodded. “What are those?”

Kell tossed the papers down on Jack’s desk and
said, “See for yourself.”

CHAPTER 9

Sophie had kissed a complete stranger—worse,
she had thrown herself into his arms!

What in
God’s name had come over her?

There was no excuse for it, except that she’d been
blinded by her pride. Inevitably, Jack would discover the reason for her journey,
and when he did, she couldn’t bear it if he were to pity her. She didn’t want
him to see her as a victim, didn’t want him to think her a fool.

Even if she
was one.

Harlan had used her from the first. He’d never
loved her, that much was evident, but she’d wanted so desperately to believe he
did.

The night air was cool at sea, and the sounds of
the ocean waves comforted her. She stood at the bow of the ship, staring out
over the midnight-blue horizon at the diminishing skyline that was Boston. All
that remained now was a barely indiscernible glow that was, at best, poor
competition for the bright half moon.

If she dared forget everything but the place in
which she stood, time seemed to suspend itself.

In that instant, she understood exactly why Kell had
looked forward to this experience. It was, indeed, nostalgic in a way nothing
else had ever been. This wasn’t a luxurious private yacht, nor was it some
elegant ocean liner, laden with newfangled gadgets, but it held a simple charm
all its own.

The crewmen who remained on deck had drifted from
their chores by now and lounged about the helm, trading quips with the
helmsman. Sophie heard bits of their ribaldry and found herself smiling despite
her mood.

“Damn I’m hungry!” one man declared.

Come to think of it, so was Sophie.

She frowned, wondering why no one had bothered to
call her to dinner. Surely Jack didn’t intend to starve her to death?

“What the hell happened to Shorty?” she heard
someone ask.

“Who the hell knows,” she heard another reply.
“Probably smothered himself between her tits. Did you see those gems?”

Sophie’s brows lifted, and she put a hand to her
mouth, stifling a horrified giggle. She wondered if they realized she was
listening.

“Who could miss them!” she heard the first man
exclaim. “Though he’d better be dead as a doornail, else I’ll kill that horny
bastard myself for leaving us high and dry!”

Sophie sat down so as not to be seen, feeling
terribly guilty for eavesdropping. Her cheeks burned fiercely, and she wondered
over the wisdom in traveling alone with a ship full of men—not that it
hadn’t crossed her thoughts before. She just hadn’t expected it to be quite so
intimate a journey. In truth, it was as though they were all under the same
roof, very little privacy to be had for anyone at all—except of course
Jack.

“Stubby little bastard!” someone grumbled.

The others chortled.

“Blimey! It’s gonna be a long two weeks if we have
to eat bread and cheese the entire time!”

Shorty must have been the cook, Sophie gathered,
and from their conversation she surmised he’d been left behind ... or had
abandoned them one? Either way, it seemed they’d been left to fend for
themselves when it came to supping. Maybe she could offer her assistance
somehow? Maybe that would earn a little good will.

Of course, Sophie hadn’t the least knowledge about
cooking, but it couldn’t possibly be so difficult to learn. Could it? All she
would need was a little direction. She was sure she could do it. And anyway, if
she was to be stuck on this ship for the next few weeks, she was bound to make
the best of it.

In the morning, she decided, she would surprise
them all with breakfast, but this instant, she thought a trip to the kitchen
would be fitting because she had never even used a stove. It would be in her
best interest to acquaint herself with the tools of the trade. Certainly Jack
should appreciate her effort, and she hoped it would serve as an olive branch
between them. They’d gotten off to a terrible beginning, and Sophie needed
allies just now, not enemies.

Besides, Jack didn’t know it yet, but someone was
going to have to bring her home, and she didn’t intend to wait about for Harlan
to do it. And if Jack couldn’t do it straightaway ... well then ...

She smiled to herself. She would simply have to
hang around the dig site, now wouldn’t she? It wouldn’t be the most terrible
fate. In fact, she rather hoped Jack would let her remain in his company as
there was no better time to begin learning than the present. As far as her
reputation was concerned, what did it matter? If she didn’t wish to marry, then
what did she care what people thought of her? Life was far too short, and she
intended to live it to the fullest. Her entire life she’d wanted to do this,
and now the opportunity was there and she fully intended to seize it.

But right now it was time to make herself
indispensable. She didn’t want Jack to have any reason to regret her presence.

The first telegram read simply:
Find out his agenda
And the second
directed:
Make certain he doesn’t arrive
before the board reconvenes.

Not one contained a name, or even much clarity of
direction—merely simple instructions that would be apparent only to the
recipient. Both had been delivered to an address that could have been
anything—an office, a warehouse or a legal office. There was no way to
check until they returned. What was clear was that there was foul play at hand.

“You found these where?”

Kell made himself comfortable on the desktop. “In
the kitchen.”

“All of them?”

Kell nodded. “Stuffed in the stove, ready to be
burned ... except that whoever put them there hasn’t had a chance to get rid of
the evidence yet.”

“I can’t believe that dirty s.o.b.!” Jack
exploded, slamming his fist down on his desk.

“You think it’s Penn?” Kell turned one of the
telegrams so that he could reread it himself.

“Who else would benefit from our absence from the
Yucatan?”

“And yet you aren’t really a threat to him, Jack.
He has backers. You don’t. Why should Penn give a damn whether you show up on
your own or not?”

“Because he’s a lazy, cheating pretender, that’s
why! I’d be willing to wager he hasn’t the first clue what he’s doing down
there. Even Penn will need something to throw at the investors. If they believe
he’s sitting there twiddling his fingers and diddling howler monkeys, he won’t
see another dime.”

“Is the expedition up for review?”

Jack rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That I’m not
sure of. To tell you the truth, I thought he pretty much had free rein, with
his father-in-law on the board.”

“They aren’t married yet, Jack,” Kell reminded
him, and Jack had the impression it was more of a suggestion than a mere
statement of fact.

He eyed his friend with annoyance. “Might as well
be,”

“So you think Penn put her up to spying?”

Jack eyed the papers, thumping his fingers,
considering them thoughtfully. “Who else? Why wouldn’t she spy for him? She
loves him, right? She’s his fiancée.”

Kell’s brows lifting suggestively. “She doesn’t
look to me like any lass who’s missing her lover. And if she were so concerned
about Penn’s affairs, I would think she’d simply ask her father.”

Jack peered up at him through narrowed brows.
“They aren’t lovers,” he corrected, disturbed by the very prospect—and
more at himself for giving a damn.

What the hell did it matter if they were lovers?
They were engaged to be married. That was enough. Why should he give a damn
whether Penn had bedded her or not?