by Day Leclaire
“Sam Beaumont, you are the bossiest man I’ve ever had the misfortune to cross paths with. It’s just a splinter and I can darn well take care of it myself.”
He didn’t bother arguing. Crossing to her side, he seized her hand and held it within a shaft of fast-fading sunshine. It arrowed through a knothole in the plank wall and landed on her palm like a sprinkle of gold dust. Sam examined her wound, light gilding the side of his face, as well, before being swallowed by the fierce darkness of his hair.
“Face facts, sweetheart,” he said pragmatically. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you couldn’t take care of a mouse in a field full of ripe com.”
That just had to be an insult, if she could only figure out why. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Hang on.” He squeezed the ball of her palm uncomfortably tight for an instant. “Got it. Better?”
“Yes, thanks.” She sucked on the wound. “Come on, Sam. Explain what’s earned me your latest insult. What haven’t I caught on to yet that you have?”
“We’re being set up.”
“Set up?” she repeated, staring at him blankly. “You mean someone locked us in here on purpose?”
“You’re kidding, right? They locked us in here, syphoned off the gas in your outboard engine, sabotaged my doorknobs after I’d repaired them and locked us up in jail while still handcuffed together. And none of that struck you as the least bit odd?”
“Well, I’ve noticed we keep getting stuck in the strangest situations. But I thought—”
“What? That they were accidents? Coincidences?”
“I guess I don’t have as suspicious a mind as you do.” She regarded him curiously. “What makes you believe it’s deliberate?”
“think about it, Annie. Someone had to barricade the door. It didn’t do that all on its lonesome.”
She stirred uneasily. “I figured it locked automatically whenever the door closed.”
“Nope. It wasn’t locked when I first opened it. Only when we tried to get out. I’m guessing somebody gave that door a helping hand.”
His wry tone brought a reluctant smile to her face. “But...who?”
“Like I said, I have my suspicions.”
She perched on the edge of a barrel, fixing him with an avid gaze. “So? Come on, spill it.”
“I’m guessing it’s the same person who beat the tar out of me seven years ago. You remember. The night the Three Musketeers threw me off the island.”
She slowly stood. “What?”
“Oh, did I neglect to mention that minor detail?” he asked with mock innocence.
“Yes, you neglected to mention it!” She couldn’t contain her shock. “Dear heaven, Sam. Are you serious? Someone beat you up that night?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No!” An image blossomed in her mind—fists impacting on flesh, Sam’s flesh. Sam, battered and bruised and barely conscious, left without a backward glance. Sam, without the strength to get help, alone and hurt, no doubt cursing the one responsible for his pain. Tears burned her eyes. Cursing her since she was the one responsible. Her lungs closed up as though seized in an iron fist. “Sam!” She fought for air. “I...I can’t breathe. I can’t...”
He was beside her in an instant, holding her close. “Easy does it, sweetheart. It was a long time ago. I’m fine. None the worse for wear, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
His reassurance didn’t help. The tears came anyway, noisy, inelegant, gut-wrenching sobs, escaping in a uncontrollable torrent. She’d never been one to cry pretty. “They hurt you. Why did they do that?”
“It’s what men do when they’re angry and helpless. They strike out.”
“But I told them it was my fault. I told them you hadn’t done anything wrong.” She fumbled in the pocket of her dress and pulled out a tissue. It fluttered helplessly in her hand like a wounded bird. “I told them I’d changed my mind but didn’t have the nerve to face you.”
“Apparently, they put their own spin on things.”
“What happened?” she demanded the instant her tears had abated enough for her to think straight. Anger slowly took hold, helping to swamp all other emotions. “Who attacked you?”
“Someone jumped me after I was dumped at the ferry dock.”
“Who?”
“I never saw him. It was dark and he caught me from behind while I was working to get free of the ropes.”
“And he hit you?”
“Gave me a right good pounding. Since I was still tied up, it was a little difficult to return the favor.”
“Oh, Sam!” The air shuddered through her lungs. “I’m so sorry. I never meant—”
“It was a long time ago,” he soothed. “And I’m fairly certain you were just the excuse for the attack. The fury coming off whoever it was felt personal.”
She applied the tissue to her eyes and nose. “You suspect either Ben or the mayor or the sheriff, though, don’t you?” It made her heartsick to level the accusation. She hated to think it could be any of them. But then, she hated to think anyone on the island would be capable of such violence.
“They’re the most logical choices. For the record, when I returned to the island and confronted them, they denied it.”
“Did you believe them?”
He started to answer but hesitated. “I thought so.”
“Something’s happened to change your mind.” It wasn’t a question.
“When I met with them, I warned they weren’t to interfere this time around.”
“Interfere how?”
His grin said it all. Interfere in his seduction of her.
It was hard to maintain one’s dignity while turning six shades of red. Fortunately, the light was dim enough she hoped he wouldn’t notice. His teasing also helped dry the last of her tears. “I can’t believe you told them that.”
“Actually, I didn’t. What I said was that rd come back for you and they weren’t to get in my way.”
“And from that they assumed you meant...” She cleared her throat. “You know.”
“Since my less-than-noble intentions were all over the island within the hour, I suspect that was precisely what they assumed.”
She nibbled on her lip as she sorted through all he’d told her. “I don’t understand something. You told them to back off...but they haven’t. Every time we’ve been—”
“Compromised?”
“Almost compromised, they’ve rescued me.”
His eyebrows shot upward. “Hell, sweetheart. I didn’t realize you needed rescuing from me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“It means I haven’t been doing a very good job seducing you if you consider their bad timing a rescue.”
“You’re ignoring the point.”
“How crass of me.”
“Sam! The point is...they have been rescuing me. Your warning didn’t work.”
“Actually, it was more of a threat than a warning,” he confessed with a charming smile.
“You threatened them?”
He shrugged. “I wanted to make sure they stayed out of my business this time.”
“You mean—” her chin betrayed her by quivering “—you threatened them and they still rescued me?”
“Yeah.” He shook his head in disgust. “Who’d have figured they’d be so damned noble.”
“What did you threaten them with?”
“Oh, not much. Public disgrace, revealing a few secrets they’d rather keep hidden. The usual dastardly deeds.”
“I can’t believe you did that!”
For a brief instant, his expression hardened. “I was determined to get what I wanted.”
“Me. Or rather, your revenge on me.” She pulled free of his arms. “But those three dear, sweet men wouldn’t let you.”
“Let’s not get carried away. Two are dear, sweet men. One of them’s the SOB who attacked me and is now sneaking around doing everything he can think of to assist in your downfall.” Sam chuckled. “It
must be aggravating him something fierce that the other two keep getting wind of his antics and riding to your rescue. Not to mention dragging him along, too, forcing him to undo all his hard work.”
“Oh.” She perched on the edge of the barrel again. “So, which one of them is it?”
“I can’t quite figure that out. Odds are it’s Rolly.”
“Why the sheriff?”
“Because he has a mean right hook.” Sam rubbed his jaw. “Whoever pounded on me that night knew what he was doing. I can’t see Ben or the mayor having the skill or nerve to pull off a stunt like that, can you?”
“To be honest, I can’t see Sheriff Rawling doing it, either. He might be a mite hotheaded. But he’s not mean.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it. Not that it matters.”
She was almost afraid to ask. “Why doesn’t it matter?”
“Whoever it is hopes to get back in my good graces. He figures helping to compromise you will do it, and all will be forgiven.”
“And will it?”
“No.” There was just enough light left to see the ruthlessness blacken his eyes. “When I find out who jumped me that night, he’ll be next on my list to take care of.”
She shivered at his tone. It was so hard and cold and final. Apparently, forgiveness wasn’t a virtue Sam intended to cultivate—which didn’t bode well for her. If Sam’s attacker was next on his list, that meant she occupied the top spot. Assuming no one arrived in time tonight—a very real possibility—he’d undoubtedly attain his goal.
And then what?
“What happens after I’m ruined?” she asked nervously.
“Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“Not really.” She crossed to the door and tugged at it. Nothing had changed since she’d last tried, but a girl could always hope. Slowly, she turned, pressing her back against the rough wood. “Maybe no one will believe anything happened.”
“Maybe.”
She edged toward the barrel, not that it offered any more protection than the door. “Unlikely is what you really mean.”
Sam picked up an armful of the burlap sacks he’d been sitting on and dumped them into the boat. “Highly unlikely. I haven’t made any secret of my intentions. If we’re trapped here overnight, everyone will assume the worst.” His grin flashed in the darkness. “Or the best.”
“And then you’ll go on your merry way? Return to New York?”
“Nope. I plan to make my home here, remember?”
For some reason, she found the reminder reassuring. “Oh, right. Plus you still have more people to destroy. I’m just at the top of the list.” She wished it wasn’t quite so dark so she could determine whether his expression remained as merciless as before, or whether that odd tenderness that she glimpsed every so often tempered his rancor.
Another armful of sacks went into the boat. “You sound worried.”
“I am.” She deserted the barrel to slip toward the side of the boat farthest from him. “Sam?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I’m not sure I want to be ruined. I don’t think I’ll like it as much as I thought.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
She probably should think about her answer some, but her brain apparently had better things to do. “I’ve always trusted you. I always will.”
“Then trust me when I say that you’ll like it just fine.” He shook out a thick quilted pad and spread it over the sacks lining the bottom of the boat.
“What about the man who attacked you?”
“I’m afraid he’s not going to enjoy his ruination nearly as much as you’ll enjoy yours.”
She couldn’t think of a single blessed thing to say to that, so she chose silence. Outside, she could hear the gentle splash of the water as it lapped against the marsh grass outside the boathouse. Locusts sawed away in the trees nearby and bullfrogs bellowed so loudly it was a wonder they ever attracted a mate. Who would want to put up with such a noisy fellow? In the distance, a screech owl called, the eerie sound a cross between a whinny and a groan.
The awkward silence finally spurred her into speech. “Owls should hoot, not make ghost noises,” she announced.
“Come here, Annie.”
“Okay.” She twisted her hands together, surprised to discover her legs were trembling. “But you realize I’m honor bound to fight you.”
“You won’t fight. Come on.” He held out his hand. “No point in delaying the inevitable.”
She forced her feet to move, reluctantly circling the boat toward him. “I thought you didn’t want to have premarital sex with me. I thought you weren’t going to have any babies out of wedlock because of all the taunts you suffered as a child. Because of your mother, I mean.” She drew to a halt just beyond his reach.
“We don’t need to worry about that. You won’t conceive my child tonight.” Was that laughter she heard in his voice. What could he possibly find amusing at a time like this? “I promise. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Everything.” It took a moment for the significance of his comment to sink in. “You came prepared? You expected us to get into another predicament?” she demanded, outraged. “I can’t believe it! How could you?”
He was definitely laughing now. “The way things were going, I thought one of us better.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “What do you mean by that crack? How what was going?”
“Your seduction. We’ve been progressing quite well, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I hadn’t!” She worked a bit on her temper, quite relieved when it heated right up. “I think you have a lot of nerve coming out to the boathouse with your pockets stuffed with... with—”
“Hope?”
“Naughty intentions,” she snapped.
“The important thing is that my naughty intentions, as you so delicately put it, will be well covered. Now, shut up, Annie, and get over here.”
Not a chance. “That’s disgraceful. It truly is,” she informed him. “Have you no shame?”
“None.”
“What will Aunt Myrtle say?”
“About damned time.”
“She most certainly would not,” Annie groused. “Myrtle doesn’t swear.”
“Yes, she does swear. But only when provoked something fierce. My guess is our situation has done just that.”
“Only because Aunt Myrtle doesn’t have a clue what you’ve been up to.” He scooped her up into his arms, taking her by surprise. “Don’t!” she shrieked, burying her face against his shoulder. When he didn’t immediately do anything, she peeked up at him. “Sam?”
He released a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Are you really going to ruin me?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Okay. But be gentle. I haven’t done this before.”
“So your sign says.” For a man intent on revenge, there was a wealth of tenderness lacing his voice. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never seduced a virgin before.”
“Oh, well,” she said a tad breathlessly, “you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”
Laughter rumbled through his chest. “I suspect this will be a one-shot deal.”
“That’s a relief,” she chattered nervously. “I don’t think the islanders will tolerate an ongoing process of...” She waved a hand in the air. “You know.”
He swung her over the gunwale of the boat and set her carefully on top of the pad covering the burlap sacks. “I don’t expect they’ll tolerate this one, either.”
She scooted to one side. “Then why do it? You don’t have to.” He’d have had to be deaf to miss the beseeching note in her voice.
“I’m afraid the choice is out of our hands.” In one easy move, he vaulted into the boat and settled beside her. He lay back, urging her down, as well, cushioning her head on his shoulder. “It’s not the most comfortable bed in the world, but I’ve had worse.”
“Really?” She pla
yed with the top button of his shirt. “When?”
“Before I lived with Myrtle. Lots of nights, my parents would fight and I’d slip outside to escape the shouting. Sleeping under the stars was quieter, but the mosquitoes made it a tad uncomfortable.”
“I didn’t realize.” He’d rarely mentioned his parents when they dated. In fact, he’d been quite deft at changing the subject the few times it arose. “I know your mother died when you were ten,” she prompted tentatively. “What happened to your father?”
“He took off.”
“Have you ever gone looking for him?”
“Nope. And he’s never come looking for me. Seems like a fair trade-off to me.”
“Oh.”
“Relax, Annie. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to have happen.”
She cleared her throat. “What, exactly, are you planning to do?”
“I thought I might kiss you for a while.”
Kissing. She wouldn’t mind that so much. She rather liked kissing Sam. But kissing tended to lead to other things. “And then what?”
“Well, then I thought I might unbutton the front of your dress.”
She swallowed. “It... it is a bit stuffy in here. Fortunately, I wore more undergarments than usual, so it won’t be totally improper. Sort of like wearing a bathing suit.”
“Now I’m curious.” He plucked at the clasp anchoring her hair on top of her head. “What is your... bathing suit made out of?”
She shrugged, feeling the slow slide of curls tumble toward her shoulders. “The usual.”
“Lace?” The clasp pinged against the far wall as he tossed it aside.
“I believe it has some lace, yes.”
“And silk?”
She gave a ladylike snort. “Sorry to disappoint you. I’m a cotton sort of girl.”
“I’ve always liked that about you.” He twined a lock of hair around his finger. “A lace-and-cotton bathing suit, huh?”
“Well...the top half of it is. The rest is just plain ol’ cotton.” She was starting to tremble and knew he felt it. She rushed into speech again. “Cotton is surprisingly sturdy. It doesn’t rip very easily.”
“I wasn’t planning on ripping anything,” he reassured her. “Just unbuttoning.”
“Oh.” A silence stretched between them, growing more and more unbearable. Unable to stand it another minute, she blurted, “After you unbutton, what were you thinking might happen?”
