“I preferred the way you thanked me before,” he said, straightening to his full height. “On the top deck that first night.”
The kiss! He remembered! She’d tentatively kissed him that night for helping her board the Irish Rose. She’d never forget that sense of being desired. There could be no harm in repeating that moment. She stepped close, demurely closed her eyes, and offered her lips to him.
RAFFERTY HAD BEEN CALLED MANY THINGS BUT NEVER a fool. He’d regretted not showing her the full depth of a real kiss that first night. He wasn’t about to let this second opportunity pass, even if it meant he would pay for it with a slap across the face.
He slipped his hands beneath the oilcloth to find the natural curve of her waist. Then he pulled her against his chest, letting his hands roam up her back, keeping her tight. His lips claimed hers. As soon as she parted them with a soft gasp, his tongue took advantage and explored with abandon. He thought she might pull away. Much to his surprise, her hands slipped up behind his head, pulling him down for more.
Sweet Jesus! His hands slid up her sides until he could cup her unbound breasts in his hand. His thumbs found the rosy centers that he had glimpsed last night and quickly stimulated the nipples into two hard berries that he yearned to taste. They scraped across his chest as his arms lifted her, then set her down so that her back pressed the wall.
One of them broke the kiss; he wasn’t sure who. Urgent need pulsated through him while his lips found her cheek, her neck. He heard her gasp, but she didn’t push away or protest.
He could have her right there. His John Henry was fattened and ready. Want and need throbbed with such a passion that he could barely think straight.
A door latch clicked. Immediately, he put his hands on the wall by either side of her, shielding her with his body. She pressed her forehead into his chest. Tiny puffs of heated air slid over his stomach toward the waistband of his trousers. Sweet Jesus, this was agony.
Footsteps ambled down the steps.
“Rafferty? Good lord, man,” Briggs said. “Where do you find the stamina?”
The captain continued down the winding steps. Once he had passed their floor, Arianne let out a long breath and straightened. He did so as well. Jesus! What the devil was he thinking? This wasn’t some common strumpet.
“I . . . I have to go now,” she said.
Rafferty just shook his head. She started to leave when he remembered. “Your maid is in the room with Mrs. Summers. Where will you go?”
“I can’t stay here.” She looked down her front. “Not like this. I need to change into something suitable. For that, I have to go to my room.” She took two steps down the passageway, then stopped. “Thank you . . . for everything.”
SHE SHOULD FEEL HUMILIATED FOR HER ACTIONS, BUT she didn’t. She’d used up all her shame on the Baron. The sad truth was she hadn’t felt a fraction of the fervor with the Baron that she had just now with Rafferty.
She’d been alone for so long, desperate to find the contentment her brothers had found with their spouses. The intense hunger and blazing desire that she’d just experienced in Rafferty’s arms was so much more than the Baron’s polite pressing of lips. She’d never wanted more of him, not the way she wanted with Rafferty. Perhaps Karl recognized that as well. He’d freed them both from a passionless marriage.
Looking back toward the stairwell from her cabin door, she saw he was still there, watching. His hands pressed on either side of the passageway as if he alone held the Rose together. From this distance, she could see that she’d failed in changing him into a nonthreatening, suitable negotiator. He looked predatory and male and ready to charge down the passageway and claim her once again. Christopher, she wished he would. A titillation lifted the tips of her breasts and raced to that center between her thighs. The feeling was so intense, her fingers almost slid to that very place to fill the void she felt there. She opened the cabin door and escaped inside before she did something she knew she would regret.
She could see now that the Baron had not desired her in the same way as Rafferty. Even so, the Baron had abandoned her once he had sampled her in that private way. Rafferty could do the same. Rafferty only wanted her because he believed she was a lady, she reminded herself. Once he learned the truth, he would feel betrayed and leave. Arianne leaned back against the cabin door, reliving her body’s response to Rafferty’s hands and lips. Would she forever live in this cruel hell where granting the one thing that her body craved would lead to another abandonment?
She couldn’t risk that. This time, she reassured herself, she would keep her legs pressed tightly together. The voyage must soon come to a close, and Rafferty would bid her farewell. This time she would part with her head held high.
RAFFERTY WAITED UNTIL SHE ENTERED HER CABIN, AND then waited some more. She might come back. If he had his way, the door would open and she’d run back down the passageway and into his waiting arms. He didn’t expect that to happen, of course. But then he hadn’t expected her to return his kisses with such passion. Who would have suspected that beneath her cold and aloof exterior, and beneath those yards and yards of starched stiff linens and restrictive laces and Lord knew what else, a real woman smoldered? A real woman who if . . . if Captain Briggs hadn’t interrupted, the men in the boiler room would have heard scream of pleasure.
The thought twisted his lips. Would she have let him go so far? Or more to the point, would he have been able to stop if she resisted? Lord, her skin was so soft and scented. She was quality goods, top-shelf. No question about it. But she didn’t hold that over him. She’d been open . . . accepting.
Her cabin door hadn’t opened. She was probably regretting turning to him for comfort when she was vulnerable. Chastising herself for coming on this trip to help improve the likes of him. And he repaid her efforts by taking advantage.
He shook his head. One thing was certain. He’d best find and deal with Toomey this time, because after Lady Arianne reported his abhorrent behavior to Lord Henderson, Rafferty would be tossed out of the Home Office on his arse.
He returned to his cabin, washed and changed, then stretched out on his mattress, but sleep wouldn’t come. The room was too empty, too condemning. As much as he pounded the pillows, they couldn’t duplicate the feel of Arianne in his arms, curled in slumber. In the end, he dressed and joined the ship’s crew in the dining saloon as a hearty breakfast was set on the sideboard. Most of the men who had worked through the storm were sleeping after a long night of hard labor. The few who made it to the saloon were tired but pleased with their performance the night before. Captain Briggs took the empty seat next to Rafferty.
“I know I can’t take the place of your father or your uncle, Rafe, but I feel I should offer some advice. I don’t think Lady Arianne would take kindly to knowing you’re pumping her maid.” Though Rafferty tried to hide his surprise, a bit of it must have caught Briggs’s eye. “I saw her legs between your own, and a bit of nightgown. I know you weren’t just diddling in the corner.”
Though tempted to reply to the “diddling” comment, Rafferty chose to let it pass. “You won’t say anything?”
“To Lady Arianne? Of course not. But if you must varnish the cane, pardon my French, you should do it in your cabin.”
Rafferty’s lips twisted at the irony. “I assure you, that won’t happen again.”
Briggs started to leave, but Rafferty grabbed his arm. “There’s something else for us to discuss.” Briggs sat back down.
“You heard about the break in the boiler room?”
The captain averted his gaze. “Yes. Quick thinking on your part, using your shirt to bind the break.”
“And Kelly?” Rafferty’s voice was grim.
“He’s got some blisters on that meaty arm of his, but he’ll be all right. I’ve seen worse,” Briggs replied.
“I don’t want to see ‘worse’ coming from this ship,” Rafferty argued. “I thought you said the Rose was seaworthy.”
Briggs’s chest puffed
out. “We managed the storm last night. A pipe break like that could have happened anywhere.” Rafferty caught the captain’s gaze and held fast.
“All right,” Briggs admitted. “We’ve got some rust where we shouldn’t, and some belts are wearing thin. We’ve got some patches on pipes that need replacing. The sails need work, but we rarely use them. The Rose could use a good overhaul, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking it’s time for the Irish Rose to retire,” Rafferty said quietly.
“Retire?” Briggs’s face twisted with indignity. “She’s a good ship, lad. She’s seen better days, true, and traveling the Atlantic is a challenge, but she’s been a good, reliable vessel.”
“She’s a ship of the past, Briggs,” Rafferty replied. “Her engine isn’t as efficient or powerful as the new liners. Her cargo holds aren’t large enough to make transatlantic trips profitable anymore.” Rafferty’s gaze bored into that of the captain. “The Irish Rose isn’t worth risking your life or the lives of the crew.”
“So what are you going to do?” Briggs studied his hands.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Rafferty admitted. “But whatever I do, I won’t forget you, Briggs. You may not be my uncle, but you’ve been as close to one as a man can be. I won’t forget you and the crew in my plans.”
“That’s all an old sea dog can hope for.” He stood and shook Rafferty’s hand. “Your uncle was a good man. He’d be proud of the man you’ve become.”
Rafferty thanked him and watched him leave. Then he sat back and watched the calm sea glide by the saloon’s window while he pondered the ship’s fate.
“I’m surprised to see you alone.” Phineas slipped into the empty chair across from him. “After your late-night rescue, I thought you’d have company for breakfast.”
Upon receipt of Rafferty’s harsh glare, Phineas’s smile faded.
“Nothing happened last night,” Rafferty said. “Lady Arianne returned to her cabin intact and untouched.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t have assumed otherwise.” Phineas averted his gaze.
“There’s no need to assume. You didn’t see anything, understood?”
“Understood,” Phineas said, chastised.
They sat in silence with their coffee for a few moments. Around them tablecloths was changed and a finer set of china was placed on the sideboard for the use of the passengers. A wider selection of foods was added to the staples already present. Rafferty doubted many would venture from their beds to take advantage of the meal this morning.
Phineas slipped over to the sideboard and returned with toast points, jam, and butter for the both of them. He broke the silence with an angled smile. “I thought you should know that your wife did not pass the evening alone.” He buttered a piece of the bread and tossed it into his mouth.
“My wife? You mean Eva?”
Phineas nodded, chewing contently. He followed with a sip of coffee before he continued. “When I checked on the other passengers last night, I heard a distinctly feminine voice in Mr. Barings’s cabin. As I had verified the presence of the other women aboard, that left only Eva.”
“If Eva is the lady in green, that would explain Mr. Barings’s misplaced attitude,” Rafferty mused. He reached for a piece of toast.
“It would explain a few other things as well, such as why she volunteered for this endeavor.”
“She volunteered?” Rafferty paused in the process of buttering his toast.
Phineas cringed. “I’m sorry, Rafe. You were in such a hurry to chase Toomey that when Eva offered, I thought . . .”
“We’d only decided the day before to look for an actress. How did she even know of our need?”
“I had made some general inquiries at the Bard and Bull shortly after your meeting with Lord Henderson. I assumed word had spread that I was looking for a woman to travel abroad and that I would pay handsomely,” Phineas said. “I never considered she received information from another direction. Was she at that diplomat’s reception?”
Rafferty shook his head and consumed the buttered toast. “I don’t know. I was so certain that note was intended for Lady Arianne that I could have missed Miss St. Claire.” That reception seemed so long ago. So much had happened since. He looked at Phineas. “I do know this. It’s time to stop playing at being a gentleman and learn the truth of what’s going on. I believe it’s time to talk to Eva.”
“What about Barings?”
“If he’s with her, we’ll talk to him as well.”
They rose in unison, but Phineas stopped to fill his pockets with apples and oranges.
“Is that for practice, later?” Rafferty asked. Phineas filled some of the breaks in his stage act with a little light juggling. It wasn’t his forte yet, but Rafferty was certain that with time, it would be. Phineas was like that.
“No. I’m still hungry.” Phineas tossed an apple to Rafferty.
Rafferty caught it in one hand and laughed. He turned to leave the saloon and stopped. Lady Arianne stood an arm’s length away watching the boyish play with the apples. A flush rose on her cheeks when he faced her.
She recovered first and nodded her greeting. “Good morning, Mr. Rafferty. Phineas.”
Strange that she always addressed him with the formal salutation. To his best friend, she offered the familiarity of his first name. Phineas made a pretense of returning to the sideboard. Rafferty sought out her gaze. “Did you sleep well?”
She shook her head. “Not much at all.” She dropped her voice to an intimate tone that only he would hear. “But it was a pleasant evening, nonetheless.” Her lips turned slightly at the corners like a secret smile.
A warmth spread through his veins that he couldn’t attribute to the coffee. She was not furious with him over the liberties taken. He let his eyelids drop, so that only her beautiful face filled his view. “Yes.” He nudged his bandaged knuckles against her soft, refined ones, wishing that his aim could be higher, to the beckoning swell of her blouse. “It was.”
They stood that way for a minute, but a sound behind him broke the intimate moment. Her eyes widened. “You were just leaving. I shouldn’t stop you.”
Rafferty made a show of looking over her shoulder, though he knew her shadow hadn’t accompanied her. “And you are alone.” He stepped aside to usher her into the saloon. “Would you like us to stay to keep you company?”
She smiled, the warmth filling her eyes and him as well. “I came to collect some light dishes to take back to Mrs. Summers and my maid. They’re much recovered this morning, but I hope something light in their stomachs will help even more.”
“Do you need assistance with the dishes? Phineas and I would be happy—”
“I can manage.” She glanced at Phineas but returned to him. “There is one thing that you can do for me.”
Odd that being of service to her in some small fashion had precedence over unmasking a traitor or determining the livelihood for a full crew and the ship. Yet it did. He eagerly awaited her command.
“I understand you have a library of sorts?” She blushed anew, probably remembering that silly repartee they’d exchanged about reading. The memory widened his smile.
“Yes, I do. Though I’m sure it’s not up to the standards to which you’re accustomed.” He thought he heard Phineas mutter something behind him.
“I wonder if you’ll allow me to see it? I realize we’ve almost reached our destination, but I’ve exhausted the material that I brought for this journey. If I could borrow a volume . . . ?”
“Of course you may. Perhaps after this afternoon’s lesson—”
“I don’t believe we’ll have an afternoon lesson,” Arianne interrupted. “I imagine after the turbulent night we could all use the time to repose.”
“Yes. That would be wise.” He searched her face, noting the deep purple shadows beneath her eyes. He wanted to say something witty, something personal, something that would let her know what last night’s experience meant to him. But they were not
alone, not like last night. “My library will be at your disposal whenever you find the need.”
“Good day, gentlemen.” She nodded.
After they had left Lady Arianne and the dining saloon well behind, Phineas audibly sighed. “You must admit, your conversations with Lady Arianne were much more interesting before nothing happened last night.”
Rafferty glanced askance at Phineas. “I won’t even pretend to know what you mean.”
Thirteen
RAFFERTY POUNDED ON BARINGS’S CABIN DOOR. “Let me in, Barings. I need to talk to the both of you.” They could hear movement inside, but no reply. Rafferty glanced at the hinges . . . rusted. Just like everything else on the Rose. He called again. “Don’t make me break the door down, Barings. I will if I have to.”
After a minute, the door opened a crack. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m the only one here.”
“We know better,” Rafferty said before applying a shoulder to the door. It swung open, banging on the inside wall. Behind Barings, Eva stood in a wrapper belted loosely at her waist, one wing of her tattoo clearly visible.
“How dare you!” Barings yelled, backing up to shield Eva.
“How dare you fraternize with an unmarried woman in your quarters?” Rafferty countered. “Especially one who is supposed to be my wife?”
Barings laughed, a cruel sound. “Don’t confuse acting with reality, Rafferty. Eva would never marry you. The thought of pretending to be your wife turns her stomach.”
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