Savannah Heat (9 page)

Silver believed he was worried she might throw him overboard—or at least give it a try.

Instead she smiled at him warmly, asked after his military career, asked after his family, and left him with a far different impression of her from the one he’d had before. Surprisingly she had gained a different impression of him as well. Riley was a dedicated officer and very much a gentleman. He was
kind and considerate—nothing at all like Morgan. But Riley couldn’t help her. Only Trask could do that.

The next night went no better. Trask assigned the job of watching over her to Wilson Demming, whose conversation was as dull as dishwater. He was a short, nondescript man with thinning brown hair whose looks matched his personality. Still, she smiled and feigned interest in his conservative political views, most of which she silently refuted. Eventually they hit on the subject of his travels, and Wilson surprised her with rousing tales of faraway lands. In the end they wound up friends, and she was sure he’d sing her praises to the major.

It wasn’t what she had planned, but at least Trask could see she wasn’t quite the hoyden she appeared.

And the days went somewhat better. Whenever she saw the major on deck, she started a conversation. As a gentlemen—no matter how questionable that might be—he was duty-bound to reply with at least some measure of civility. Once he asked about her mother. Apparently he had heard rumors of her death years after it had happened. Silver only confirmed the news, unwilling to discuss her family more than she had to.

She worked hard to be open and friendly, smiled a lot—although that wasn’t something that came easy for her—and watched him through her thick dark lashes in a manner that she hoped might at the very least stir his interest.

“Did you order this beautiful weather just for me, Major?” She walked up to where he stood at the rail, a booted foot propped on a ratline, his shirtsleeves billowing in the wind. Wavy dark blond hair curled loosely above his collar.

Morgan clenched his jaw. Where the hell had she
come from? It seemed every time he looked up, Silver Jones was standing there beside him, smiling and looking at him with a pair of warm brown eyes that looked decidedly doelike, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders and so pale it did indeed look like silver. “If we’re lucky,” he replied with a sour note, “we’ll get fair weather all the way to Katonga.”

That wiped her smile away—and good riddance, Morgan thought. If she’d been beautiful before, sullen and angry, shouting and throwing things, she looked incredible when she smiled like that or gazed at him so sweetly.

“Katonga,” she repeated, her tone a little flatter than before. “Have you ever been there, Major?”

“No. But I can hardly wait to get there.” He was being surly, and he knew it, but he was tired of her not so subtle attempts to manipulate him and even more tired of fighting his attraction to her. Silver Jones was no more docile than she’d ever been, no meeker, no milder, no sweeter. She was just more desperate.

“Well, you haven’t much longer to wait,” she said.

“Sometime next week, if we don’t hit the doldrums, which isn’t likely this time of year.” When Morgan turned to face her, she was standing so close he could feel the heat of her body through the fabric of her flimsy cotton blouse. He started to speak and had to clear his throat. “When we get there, I’ll speak to William, if you like. Maybe he’s changed his mind about the man you want to marry. If not, and you’re still that determined, I might be able to convince him.”

“There is no man, Major. I’ve tried to tell you that, but you refuse to listen.”

“Then why have you run away?”

Silver glanced off in the distance. Her fingers tightened on the tarred hemp stay she held to steady herself. Her breathing seemed a bit more shallow than before. “My father is a very strong man,” she said. “He wants to run my life. I, on the other hand, wish to be independent, to live life as I see fit.”

She was lying, and he knew it. Silver was good at hiding her emotions—but her eyes gave her away.

“As I said before, I’ll speak to him. Maybe it will do some good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a turn at the wheel.”

Silver laid a hand on his arm, forcing him to stop. “It was kind of you to offer, Major.”

Morgan didn’t answer, just turned and walked away. Damnable vixen! The touch of her slim fingers still burned like a poker on his arm. The sun had pinkened her nose and her cheeks, making her look radiant and oh so tempting. If she knew what was good for her, she’d damned well keep her distance. Morgan shook his head. As a seductress she’d obviously had litde experience. Still, it was those exact amateurish efforts, her obvious inexperience that made her all the more attractive.

“As God is my witness, William,” he muttered beneath his breath, “this bloody well cancels my debt.” But he couldn’t resist a last glance over his shoulder to where Silver still stood by the rail.

She stared down at the frothy blue water, Morgan’s words still ringing in her ears.
Then why have you run away
? He had every right to ask, but she couldn’t tell him—not Trask or anyone else. Not now, not ever.
Seduction
, she thought for the hundredth time,
it’s the only chance you’ve got
. But even that effort seemed doomed to fail.

What in the name of Hades am I doing wrong
? Silver bit her lip in vexation. She’d been polite when it
galled her to do so, been sweet when she wanted to call the wrath of God down on Morgan’s head. She thought she’d been at least a trifle seductive. Trask was buying none of it. Still, she knew she had captured his interest. She had worked in a tavern long enough to recognize the heated look in Morgan’s eyes whenever she stood too near or “accidentally” bumped against him.

The major was definitely not immune. Unfortunately neither was she.

The more time she spent with him, the more she noticed how handsome he was. She had never seen a finer specimen of a man. Though she was no smaller than most other women, when she stood in Morgan’s tall shadow, within inches of his wide, muscular shoulders, she felt tiny. And those eyes! So green they seemed bottomless. And there were tiny crinkles in the corners whenever he smiled, which he hadn’t done much lately.

Silver sighed, wondering who was seducing whom. To make matters worse, time was running out. They’d be in Katonga by the end of the week. She had to try harder.

Determined to make her plan succeed, Silver doubled her efforts, spending more and more time on deck, more and more time in his company. She always stood as close to him as she dared, touching him now and again just to heighten his awareness of her. Still, he never made advances and rarely spent more than a. few short minutes at her side.

In fact as the days progressed, he seemed to grow more and more distant. She admired his determined role as gentleman, though it heartily pricked her vanity, and it certainly played havoc with her plans. She had to do something, she knew, and she had to do it fast.

By the tenth night out, Silver’s frustration had reached its peak. Major Morgan Trask would succumb to her dubious charms—one way or another.

“The meal was delicious,” she said that night after supper, gently shoving her heavy white china plate away. “You must tell Cookie how much I’ve enjoyed the food.” She flashed the major a smile. “What I’d like now is—”

“I’d be happy to escort you, Miss Jones.” Hamilton Riley shot to his feet, a look of adoration on his face.

“I believe it’s my turn.” Wilson Demming reached for her hand.

“If the rest of you will excuse me,” Morgan said, “I have some work to do.” Though his dark look held censure, he said nothing more. Just shoved back his chair and started for his cabin.

“Major Trask?” Silver said sweetly. “I’ve a matter of some importance I’d like to discuss. Might you spare me a moment?”

Morgan turned, his expression even darker than before. His green eyes settled on the swell of her breast above the low-cut bodice of her blouse, pulled purposely lower than she’d ever dared.

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry, Wilson.” Silver flashed him a soft, warm smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turned to the lieutenant. “Get a good night’s sleep, Hamilton.”

“Good night, Miss Jones.”

“Shall we go?” Morgan said tightly, grabbing her arm a bit more firmly than she would have liked. He helped her climb the ladder to the deck, then pulled her straight to the rail near the bow. None of the men were around. It was silent and dark, except for the moon overhead, lighting a gleaming trail across
the water, the creak of the forward mast, and the clatter and clank of the rigging.

“All right, what is it?”

Silver looked up at him. Why was he making this so difficult? “I just wanted you to know how sorry I am for all the trouble I’ve caused.” She stepped a little closer. “I know you’re still angry with me, and now that I’ve had time to think things over, I don’t blame you.” She linked her arm through his and felt the muscles beneath his shirtsleeve bunch.

“Now you see the error of your ways,” he mocked, and Silver wanted to hit him.

Instead she let go of his arm and rested her hands on the rail. She wished she could make them tremble. “Oh, I still hate the thought of going back—in fact, it’s imperative I don’t return to Katonga—but I understand now that you have your duty to my father to consider. You’re doing only what you feel you must.”

A muscle twitched in Morgan’s cheek. “It’s amazing the change of heart you’ve had of late. No longer the willful vixen, just sweet Salena Jones, hoping to make amends.”

“Something like that,” Silver said.

Morgan glanced down at the soft round globes of her breasts, exposed above the bodice of her blouse. The fabric was frayed from being washed so often, but it was clean and white—and far too revealing. Worst of all, it was pulled low on purpose. God, he ought to strangle her.

Watching her, Morgan inwardly groaned. One more night of her untutored seductions, and he just might go crazy. Moonlight lit her hair, and her skin looked almost translucent. It was all he could do not to pull her down on the deck and take her right there.

Thank God neither Demming nor Riley had the power to alter the course of the ship—at least not without committing mutiny. He hoped to God she wouldn’t go that far.

Then again, he wasn’t really so sure.

“It’s getting chilly,” Morgan said. “I think it’s time we went below.”

Silver silently cursed him. The man was as hard to breach as a fortress wall. She smiled up at him softly. “I’m not cold at all,” she said. “In fact, I’m feeling a little bit … warm.” Moving closer, she slid her arms around his neck, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes. This was the way she had been with Michael Browning, just before he kissed her. If her father hadn’t interrupted, it would have been a pleasant experience. What harm could there be in giving Morgan one little kiss? Maybe it would cut through his defenses.

Silver waited a moment, enjoying the silky texture of his hair against her fingers and hoping to feel Morgan’s mouth over hers. When nothing happened, she opened her eyes.

She almost wished she hadn’t.

The major glared down at her, green eyes glittering with something she couldn’t quite fathom. He reached behind his neck, grasped her wrists, and pulled her hands away. “Come with me,” he said, his jaw tight.

Hesitant but determined to see this through, Silver let him lead her below. What in God’s name had she done? Surely he didn’t find her that repulsive? Silver stumbled across the deck, trying to keep pace with Morgan’s long-legged strides. He tugged her down the ladder and into the salon.

“Excuse us, gentlemen,” he said to Riley and Demming, who sat at the polished oak table playing checkers. Flashing them a meaningful glance, he dragged Silver toward his cabin. “We don’t want to be disturbed—not unless the ship is going down.” With that he opened the door, pulled her inside, and closed it soundly behind him.

“What—what are you doing?”

Morgan tugged his shirt free of the waistband of his breeches and began unfastening the buttons down the fly. “Giving you what you’ve been asking for all week.”

Silver swallowed hard. “I think you must have misunderstood.”

Morgan shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it over a carved wooden chair. As he strode to her side, the muscles in his wide chest rippling in the soft yellow glow of the brass reflecting lamps, Silver had trouble dragging her eyes up to his face.

“So I’ve misunderstood, have I? It seemed when we were on deck that you wanted me to kiss you.” Morgan ran a finger along her cheek, quickening the pulse in the hollow of Silver’s throat. Sliding an arm around her waist, he drew her closer, until his thighs pressed against her and gooseflesh shivered along her spine. Her heart, already pounding, began to hammer wildly.

“You’re an attractive man.… I might have considered letting you—”

Morgan’s mouth came down over hers, cutting off
her words. Silver gasped at the fiery sensation, the jolt of heat that slid into her stomach. His lips felt warm and full; his skin felt hot beneath the fingers she pressed against his chest.