The wall stopped her from retreating further, and she gasped. Her wide eyes searched for escape, but he closed in on her. He pinned her against the wall and stared into her wide eyes.
First, he stroked her cheek, then brushed his fingers over her hair, pulling out the blue ribbon holding the bulk of her blondish-brown mass together. Waves cascaded over her shoulder, and he threaded his fingers through her glorious tresses.
“Querida,” he repeated, huskier this time. A craving took over his body, and he gave it free reign. “You are so beautiful, so desirable.”
She pressed her hands against his chest. “Anton, please.” Her breaths came quickly, just as his. The fast rise and fall of her chest showed her excitement. He took one of her hands and brought it to his mouth.
“I think of nothing else during the day but taking you in my arms and loving you.”
“Anton.” Her voice softened.
She was on the verge of giving in, he could tell.
Anton turned her hand over and kissed her palm. When he looked into her eyes, those grayish-blue flecks blazed with passion’s fire. He took her hands and placed them back on his chest.
“Tell me, Vivian.” Over the erratic beat of his heart, he flattened her hand. “Do you feel that? Can you tell what your nearness does to me?”
“Antonio—” she mouthed, her lids lowered half-mast, focusing on his lips.
This woman excited him more than any other, and once again, he couldn’t resist her. He placed his mouth over hers, and kissed her long and hard. A sigh released from her throat before she relaxed against him.
Just as his heart sang with victory, she broke the kiss. Her brows drew together in seriousness as she stroked his goatee. “You’ve been very gentle and attentive since we have first met, making me feel things I’ve never experienced before. But—” She looked away.
“What is it, querida?” He cupped her face and brought her beautiful eyes back to him.
“I’m still afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That I’ll...fall in love with you.”
He chuckled. “What is wrong with that?”
She licked her lips. “After this is all over, you’ll leave me. You will stay in Spain, and I’ll return to New York. We’ll never see one another again.” She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. “And I don’t think I can do that.”
His heart wrenched, and he squeezed his eyes closed. “What do you want, Vivian? What are you trying to say?”
She lifted her head, and he looked into her eyes. “If I can’t have all of you, I don’t want any part of you. It’s all or nothing.”
With a groan of confused frustration, he pulled away from her, raking his fingers through his hair. He stared at the ceiling, silently cursing that she’d voiced her thoughts—those he didn’t want to know. He wasn’t ready to settle down. At least she had been honest with him. When she told him she had never been with a man, she’d said she wouldn’t be with them that way unless it was with her husband.
Could Anton give her that kind of commitment? Not now he couldn’t, but what about after this mess with his uncle was over? Could he commit to her then?
With a sinking heart, he realized he wasn’t certain. He enjoyed his freedom as a bachelor, pleased with doing as he wished and living the life of a performer in an operatic group, knowing he didn’t have a care in the world.
Vivian folded her arms, her stare laced with sadness as her lips quivered. “You don’t have to answer. Your expression tells me all I need to know.”
She pushed past him and rushed out the door. He cursed fate for messing up his life again, especially the bad timing it dealt. But then, she had given him a lot to think about. Unfortunately, she already knew his feelings.
Strange, but she had been right, after all. The only reason he wanted her was to bed her, but the deep ache in his heart argued. He didn’t want to think about what the crushing pain meant. With so much danger in his life, the best thing for Vivian would be to go back to New York, far away from him. But could he release her when the time came?
Chapter Nine
For Raúl’s sake, Vivian pasted on a smile and forced herself to eat that evening. She tried to ignore Anton’s presence at the table, noting that he acted as if nothing earth-shattering had transpired between them earlier that day.
The way he relaxed in his chair, sipping his wine and conversing with Raúl irked her. She tightened her fingers around the fork and seethed, fighting the growing urge to claw at Anton’s face and ruin his beautiful appearance. No use showing her temper now. It wouldn’t make him love her.
She held her breath and blinked back tears, wondering why emotion overcame her. Why was she acting this way? She didn’t love him.
Or did she?
Mindlessly, she placed a forkful of food in her mouth, annoyed that Raúl continued to pour on his sweetness, even when she neglected him to stare at the elaborate lobster dish on her plate. His charm had no effect on her tonight. Then again, it never really had.
Bits and pieces of the conversation between the two men penetrated her senses, but for the most part, they spoke in Spanish. Her mind floated elsewhere so the sound of their exotic language which was wasted on her.
Swallowing a mouthful of food with a dry throat, she came to terms with her emotions. Despite all the time she spent trying to convince herself to avoid Anton’s advances, she’d somehow allowed herself to fall in love with him. Strange to think it happened so quickly. Too late to turn back now. She’d made a fool of herself and had no choice but to spend her remaining days on this voyage, probably longing for a man she could never have, hoping for a man Anton could never be.
Raúl’s suggestion for a stroll on the upper deck interrupted her depressing thoughts. She blinked and met his gaze, accepting his offered arm. Anton trailed behind as the three walked out of the cabin. Vivian wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, trying hard to divert her eyes from him.
Letting her thoughts wander with her gaze, she looked across the dusk-shadowed sea. The ship she’d noticed earlier today moved closer than before. It still worried her that the other vessel had come upon them so quickly, yet if Captain Bushwell wasn’t concerned, why should she be?
“Señor Contreras, tell me what part of Spain you are from,” Raúl asked.
“I am from all over, really. My family never settled in one place in particular.” He shrugged and chuckled. “I suppose it is the gypsy blood in me from mí madre’s side.”
“I have heard gossip from some of the other passengers,” Raúl continued, “that you are an opera singer.”
“Sí.”
“How long have you been performing?”
“Considering I was always pretending in my youth, as mí madre says, and I have been singing since I turned eight, I suppose it is correct to say I have been performing most of my life.”
Vivian held in a snicker. Anton was definitely an actor, trying to fool as many people as he could.
“I find that fascinating,” Raúl replied. “I, myself, wanted to go into mí padre’s business, because he was the greatest matador of all, but I find my love lies in the trading business.”
“Sí. You must go where your heart leads.”
Too bad she hadn’t listened to hers. Vivian’s chest ached. If she’d kept her mind in the right direction, Anton wouldn’t have been able to crush her so deeply. Why had she let her emotions get the better of her? When had she stopped thinking about being a Pinkerton agent and instead, wanting to be a desirable woman?
Another gust of wind whipped around her, teasing the tendrils by her ears and cooling the skin at her neck exposed by her fancy upswept hairstyle. This would be a good opportunity to leave. She couldn’t stand to be in either man’s presence any longer. A shiver passed through her, and she gathered her shawl tighter.
Raúl turned his head toward her first. “Miss Wentworth? Are you warm enough?”
She chuckled. “Actually, no. I
haven’t been feeling well all evening, and the breeze is chilling me to the point of distraction. If you don’t mind, could we continue this stroll at another time? I’d really like to retire to my cabin.”
“Why, certainly.” Raúl patted her hand, then draped it over his elbow. “Will you permit me to escort you back?”
“Don’t be silly. That’s not necessary.” She withdrew her hand. “You and my uncle are having such a lovely conversation, and I’d hate to ruin it. So please excuse me.” She quickly backed away and nodded to Raúl, ignoring Anton. “Have a pleasant evening, and I’ll see you on the morrow.”
“Vivian?” The concern in Anton’s soft voice nearly shattered her defenses. “I think I should take you back to the cabin.”
“Nonsense,” she answered without meeting his stare. “I’m perfectly capable of making it by myself.”
Without waiting for his reply, she hurried across the deck and down the stairs, only breathing a sigh of relief when she reached her cabin and was safely behind the closed door. She shivered again, but this time, Anton’s manly scent lingering thick in the air was the cause. It stirred memories of weak moments she had hoped to forget.
After lighting the lamp, she flung her shawl on the chair and marched to her trunk to pull out her nightgown. Angrily, she removed each article of clothing, taking her frustrations out on the material instead of the man who deserved her temper.
Finally, she left her clothes in a heap and crawled into bed. Anger still surged through her, hotter now than before. Why had she allowed him to charm her so? And to think because of this confused emotion, she had pushed aside her main goal—to prove Anton’s innocence…or his guilt.
Her gaze fell on one of his trunks in the corner of the room. This one had always been locked. Hmm… If she could unlock one of Raúl’s trunks, she could certainly open Anton’s!
Without any further hesitation, she dashed out of bed and knelt in front of his trunk. Since she had yet to take out the coil from her hair, she fished through her locks to find a hairpin. Concentrating, she slipped the pin into the lock and moved it around until it clicked.
She paused, listening for any signs that Anton was returning. Thankfully, she didn’t hear the rhythm of his boots booming on the floor outside their room in the hall.
Cautiously, she lifted the lid to the trunk and peered inside. Books and even a few newspapers lay scattered on top. Then from beneath a book, something sparkled against the lamplight.
Her heart stilled as she moved the book. A gasp caught in her throat and her eyes fixed on the item. A woman’s broach encased with rubies and diamonds winked at her. No! This can’t be right…
She moved a few more books around only to discover a pearl necklace and a man’s silver cufflinks with a ruby centered in the middle. Lying next to that was a gold pocket watch.
She slapped a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Were these the jewels Anton’s uncle had reported missing? With a sinking heart, she figured she knew the answer. Indeed, her first instincts were correct.
Anton was the outlaw.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she quickly closed the trunk and locked it. As the tears streamed down her face, she hurried to her bed and buried her face in her pillow, silently crying out her anguish. Pain like no other stabbed through her heart and caused it to crumble even more.
She prayed for a release from her agony. Never again would she allow Anton’s intimate kisses or his charm to woo her in any way. Her emotions just couldn’t handle it. Rather than go through this much heartache again, she should toss him overboard. Although this would be the best course of action, she still needed to get word to Mr. Pinkerton that she had found their thief.
Curling in a ball, she gave her sorrow a voice, not caring that her cries echoed in the small cabin.
* * * *
Anton stood by the railing and stared across the sea. Although relieved to be free from that Spaniard Vivian thought so highly of, Anton still wished for some company to settle his thoughts. Since things had ended so badly with Vivian, his mind continued to toss on turbulent waves.
He’d made the right decision, though. He wasn’t ready for commitment and didn’t want to lead Vivian into believing something that wasn’t true. He had hurt her, but it would have been worse had he taken her virginity and then broken her heart.
The ship’s gentle sway lured him into relaxation, and he seriously considered retiring to his room for some sleep. He didn’t want to speak to Vivian about what happened earlier. If he waited a couple more hours before going downstairs, she would probably be asleep. He lurked at the railing, praying for time to pass.
The quarter moon cast spooky shadows on the water, and when he thought the ship jarred a different way, his cautious nature perked up a notch. The water even splashed in a different rhythm. Peering through the night, he tried to focus on the sea, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
Shrugging off the prickly sensations jumping over his skin, he turned away from the railing and walked toward the other side of the ship. He nodded greetings to a few female passengers with whom he’d become acquainted on the trip, and considered himself lucky their husbands accompanied them. He didn’t need them trying to steal his attention right now.
He stopped, leaned his back against the railing, and looked at the dwindling group remaining on deck. The brisk sea air had no doubt sent the rest of the passengers scurrying to their cabins. At the far end, he spied Raúl standing with eight strange men. Anton didn’t recognize them.
Since sailing, Anton cautiously made note of each face, wary of everything and everyone. What were the odds so many men had kept to their cabins since the first day?
When Raúl’s gaze skimmed across the semi-crowded deck and rested on Anton, the heads of the other eight men whipped around to look at him, too. Anton’s doubt as to the men’s identity pulled his mouth into a thin line. Tightness consumed his chest. This was not some coincidental meeting. Somehow, some way, his uncle Juanito was behind this.
Panic gripped Anton, making it painful to breathe. He was unarmed. It had been quite a while since he used his fists. He’d have to retrieve the revolver from his room, yet he didn’t want to lure the men to Vivian.
“Good evening, Señor Contreras.” A feminine voice pulled his attention to his left as Mr. and Mrs. Summers stopped beside him.
He bowed slightly. “And it is a good evening, is it not?” He glanced over the water. “I have not seen a more calming sight in my life.” Despite his words, his mind spun, trying to find a way to retrieve his weapon.
Mr. Summers, probably in his fiftieth year, chuckled, his double chin shaking in the same rhythm as his overlarge belly. “Yes, it’s a perfect evening for romance.” He squeezed his wife’s arm.
Mrs. Summers, who looked to be younger than her husband by at least twenty years, blushed. “Señor Contreras, why are you not sharing the evening with someone?” She glanced around the deck. “Where is Miss Wentworth?”
“She has taken to her room. The weather has made her irritable.”
She shook her head. “I hope she has overcome her bout with seasickness.”
“She has, thankfully.”
Mr. Summers turned away to leave, but Anton touched his arm. “Mr. Summers? Could I have a private word with you?” Anton looked at the man’s beautiful wife. “It will only take a moment, I assure you.”
Pink stained her cheeks again, and she nodded.
After they had taken a few steps away from the woman, Anton said in a low voice, “I need your help.”
The older man’s eyes widened. “For what?”
“I need you to go to my cabin and get my revolver from Miss Wentworth, then bring it to me as quickly as possible.”
Mr. Summer’s forehead creased. “Whatever for?”
“I think I am about to be attacked.”
The other man’s fast intake of breath made him choke slightly.
Anton continued. “Please be discreet. I do
not want these men to know that I am onto them.”
“Who—” Mr. Summers started to look around, but Anton tugged on his arm again.
“Please do not look now.” He waited for Mr. Summers’ attention before continuing. “A group of nine Spaniards are gathered over on your right. I do not think they will make a scene with this many people on deck, which is why I will remain up here for as long as I can. I need you to go to my room and get my revolver. Will you do this for me?”
Mr. Summers nodded.
“Take your wife back to your cabin first. She should not be involved.”
“Do you want me to inform the captain?”
“Only if you meet him along your way. If you do not see him, wait until after you have brought me my weapon.”
He nodded. “I’ll be quick about it.”
Anton managed a smile. “Gracias. I will be in your debt, Señor Summers.”
Mr. Summers looked calm as he walked to his wife and took her arm, then rushed her to the stairs leading down to the cabins. Anton’s worry lessened, and he hoped his instincts were correct. If these men worked for his uncle, they wouldn’t cause a scene, but wait to grab him someplace private. Anton just hoped he had appropriate protection when that time came. Either that, or he prayed Díos would help him.
Chapter Ten
A loud knock boomed on Vivian’s door, bringing her out of a fitful sleep. She jumped to a sitting position. Her heart hammered, and her body shook. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and crawled out of bed, slipping a wrapper over her nightdress.
The loud knock came again.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s Mr. Summers. Señor Contreras sent me to get something from his room.”
Curiosity led her to open the door. The bright light from the hallway made her squint when she looked upon her late night visitor. “Why would he send you when he can come himself?”
He shook his head and stepped closer. The white terror laced on the man’s face let her know he was certainly not being forward with his actions.
The Spanish Outlaw Page 12
