Safe in His Arms

by Christine Scott

  His father had named this boat the Marianna in tribute to the lovely woman he’d married. But that wasn’t enough to appease his bride. She’d been a dreamer, a scholar, more suited to reading books than manual labor. Even before Eve Pierce arrived on Prudence Island, his parents’ marriage had been in trouble. But neither of them would admit to making a mistake. Instead, they had allowed their differences to fester between them. They had argued often, their rows becoming frequent and bitter. Both growing more and more unhappy with each passing year.

  As a child, Samuel had silently watched his family deteriorate. He’d been a helpless bystander in a battle he barely understood, wondering if in some way he were to blame for their troubles. Wondering, if it hadn’t been for him, would they have stayed together as long as they had? When they’d first boarded the Marianna that morning, he’d believed that a life with Jessie would be fated to end in the same way. That she would prove as unwilling to compromise as his mother had been.

  Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Instead of giving up, she seemed determined to fit in. After her scare with the snakefish, she had swallowed her fear as well as her pride and had rejoined Jacob and Billy in their chores. What she had lacked in skill, she made up with tenacity. He could find no fault with her efforts.

  The thought left him oddly unsettled. It should please him that she was trying so hard. That she hadn’t spurned the life he led. That she hadn’t abandoned him.

  But he wasn’t pleased.

  If anything he was more apprehensive than ever. He felt as though a weight was pressing against his chest. It would have been easier for him if Jessie had turned on her heel and run after her first taste of a shrimper’s life. Easier for him to distance himself from her.

  Now he was faced with the disquieting truth: if he were to push Jessie away, it wouldn’t be because she wasn’t willing to accept him for what he was; it would be because he wasn’t ready to accept her.

  Chapter 12

  Gull’s Cottage has been so quiet for so long, it appears abandoned. No one answered my knock. I’ll just search the grounds. There’s Jessie’s BMW, parked in the shed near the house.

  The bitch hasn’t left Prudence Island after all.

  Despite the clouds that played cat and mouse with the midday sun, tourists swarmed the beach like bees around a hive. With their tanned, bathing-suit-clad bodies, they spilled out in all directions, obscuring a clear view of the docks. Stepping away from the annoying crowd, no longer able to use them as a shield, the watcher moved closer to the pier, scanning its length.

  One by one, the boats were returning to shore. But there was no sign of the Marianna. It had not yet docked. Curling fingers into fists of impatience, the figure stepped back, melding into the cover of the crowd once again.

  Yesterday too many risks were taken. First, the break-in. The timing needed to be perfect. The rage was unplanned, unfortunate. Valuable time was lost.

  Heat and anger was the driving force, not caution.

  But last night, the shots in the dark were the ultimate show of control. Cool, calculating control.

  The warning—the last of its kind—has been given.

  In the distance, the familiar blue and white colors of the Marianna came into view. Slowly the boat chugged into port. Samuel was at the helm in the pilothouse. Two figures moved on the deck. The first was Samuel’s right-hand man, Jacob Winters. The second was young Billy Bowen, a boy still learning his trade.

  No one else is aboard. The bitch may still be on the island, but she isn’t with Samuel, after all.

  An unexpected movement on the deck of the Marianna caught the watcher’s eye. Someone stepped out of the hold. Someone small and slender with dark hair.

  No, it can’t be…dammit. Jessie is aboard, after all.

  Nothing has changed. My carefully placed warning has been ignored.

  The two of them are still together.

  The Marianna bumped to a stop against the dock. Jacob and Billy jumped down to secure the lines. Cutting the engine, Samuel stepped out of the pilothouse and joined the laughing group on the deck. The clouds parted, and sunshine streamed down from the heavens. Samuel’s blond hair glistened like spun gold beneath its rays. His smile was slow in coming, but he joined the festivities nonetheless.

  With her dark eyes glittering, looking beautiful and innocent, Jessie smiled up at him; her expression, a reflection of undeniable tenderness and care.

  A silent scream of outrage bubbled up in the watcher’s throat. A group of tourists approached. They stopped, pausing to cast wary glances. Swallowing hard at the vile taste of bitterness, the watcher turned away, fighting for control once again.

  The warnings have not been heeded.

  There is nothing more to be done.

  Swiftly and surely, the ultimate punishment must be carried out. The bitch cannot be free to ruin any more lives. She must not be allowed to repeat the sins of the past.

  Jessie unsuccessfully hid a yawn behind her hand.

  “It’s been a long day,” Samuel said, startling her with his closeness. She hadn’t realized he’d been watching her.

  With a self-deprecating smile, she murmured, “I guess I’m not used to working this hard.”

  Samuel studied her, looking as though he would like to comment. Instead, he said, “I’m sure you’re anxious to get back to Gull’s Cottage.”

  Oddly enough, she wasn’t anxious at all. The thought of returning to the house that had been the scene of such turmoil left her feeling apprehensive. The only thing she craved was a hot bath to wash away the pungent scent of the sea from her skin. Shrugging, she said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

  He hesitated, glancing down at his stained work-clothes. “Would you mind if we stopped by my house first? I’d like to shower and change.”

  “No, I don’t mind,” she said, hoping she didn’t sound as eager as she felt. Going to Samuel’s house would serve a dual purpose. She would avoid spending time at Gull’s Cottage. And, perhaps even more important, it would give her a glimpse into his private life. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t anxious to learn more about Samuel.

  Samuel turned to Jacob, who was watching them from the stern of the boat. With a wave of his hand, he called out, “We’re off.”

  “I’ll see you on Monday, Samuel. Have a good weekend,” the older man said, giving him a mock salute. He gave Jessie a wide grin. “Anytime you want to help out, you’re welcome aboard, Miss Jessie. The Marianna can always use an extra hand. Especially one as pretty as you.”

  Blushing, she bade Jacob good-night. Then, with Samuel’s help she climbed onto the dock. Used to the constant undulation of the boat beneath her feet, the motionless dock caught her off balance. Swaying, she reached out, using Samuel’s solid strength to steady herself.

  Gripping her arms and holding her tight, he looked down at her, his concern obvious. “Are you all right?”

  It had been hours since he’d last touched her. Hours since he’d even acted as though he’d wanted her near. The unexpected contact sent a delicious shiver throughout her body.

  “I will be…as soon as I get my land legs,” she stammered, flustered by the sudden intimacy that held them. Sure that he could see the longing in her eyes, she reluctantly stepped out of the circle of his embrace. Taking a moment to regain her composure, she glanced up and saw Jacob disappear into the hold of the boat. “Isn’t Jacob leaving for the day?”

  “Jacob lives on the boat,” Samuel said, still watching her.

  “On the boat?” She frowned. “Doesn’t he have a home?”

  “The Marianna is his home. It has been for years.” As though sensing her surprise, he explained, “In exchange for keeping an eye on the boat, his rent is free. He has a place to stay, and I know the boat is safe. It’s been a good arrangement for both of us.”

  “But it seems so…so lonely.”

  “Not when your first love is the sea.” He gave a rueful smile. “Unlike the people who try to t
ame it, the ocean doesn’t care about your past. It doesn’t care if you’ve made mistakes, only how you treat it now. The ocean can be a forgiving companion.”

  With that, he turned to leave. Jessie considered his explanation as she followed him to the truck. A handful of fishermen were still at work, storing their nets, checking on supplies and preparing for tomorrow’s day of rest. A few called out their goodbyes as they passed. Samuel raised a hand in response. And Jessie realized that not all the residents of Prudence Island had shunned him for his troubled past. There were still people in this town that accepted Samuel for who he was, a good and honest man. She wondered if he realized this for himself.

  The parking lot was nearly empty. Samuel’s truck stood alone on the far side. Despite the clouds that filled the sky, late-day heat radiated up from the ground. A brisk wind blew dust across the crushed-shell lot, chalking their clothes, making Jessie feel even more gritty beneath a day’s worth of grime.

  Samuel opened the door for her, and she slid into the front seat, conscious of his watchful gaze. Being alone with him had the power to set her stomach fluttering with uncertainty. Despite the intimacy they’d shared the night before, for most of the day Samuel had purposefully distanced himself from her. Instead of bringing them closer, becoming lovers had only complicated matters. She no longer knew what he expected from her, or how to behave around him.

  The short drive to Samuel’s home was made in strained silence, telling her she wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable. As soon as she spotted the house, however, an unexpected calm settled over her.

  The cedar shingles on the sides of the Cape Cod house were painted a creamy yellow. Dark green shutters flanked the windows. Brightly colored flowers spilled out from window boxes. A rustic brick walkway led to the front door, inviting a person to enter. Samuel’s house held none of the darkness that surrounded Gull’s Cottage. It felt cozy and warm, fitting her fantasy of the perfect family home.

  Samuel pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. Without a word, or a glance her way, he popped open the door and slung himself out of the truck.

  Following at a slower pace, Jessie opened her door and stepped outside to join him. The air felt fresh, scented with the saltiness of the ocean and the sweetness of tea roses and honeysuckles. In the distance, waves crashed against the beach. A cooling breeze streamed off the ocean. She breathed deeply, letting the soothing ambiance work its magic on her frazzled nerves.

  “This shouldn’t take long,” he said, as he moved toward the house. He bypassed the front pathway, opting instead to circle around to the back, where the view of the ocean beyond the dunes was almost as breathtaking as her own at Gull’s Cottage.

  Her tennis shoes slipped against the sand-and-gravel path as she stopped to look around. Nestled on the undeveloped side of town, Samuel’s nearest neighbor was almost a mile away. In the yard, a pair of whitewashed Adirondack chairs faced the ocean. Half barrels of flowers lined both sides of the wide porch. Here, unlike her own cottage, someone had made this home a haven of peace and solitude.

  The screen door at the rear of the house squeaked on its hinges as Samuel pulled it open. Unlocking a wood-framed glass door, he stepped back and waited for her to enter.

  Climbing the porch, she went inside. The door opened to a small utility room, where a washer and dryer had been installed. Just beyond was a large kitchen. With the sun setting on the opposite side of the house, the rooms were dark. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she liked what she saw.

  The walls of the kitchen were painted antique-white. Yellow gingham curtains lined the windows. Ladder-back chairs and a large pine table were centered in the middle of the room. The cabinets were dusty green. Despite the fading sunlight, the room appeared bright, cheerful.

  Samuel switched on an overhead light, casting the room in a soft glow. He stepped out of his boots, leaving them outside the door. In the utility room he pulled his T-shirt over his head and tossed it into the waiting washer. Jessie swallowed hard. She had the unnerving impression that if it weren’t for her presence the rest of his clothes might have found a similar fate. As it was, the sight of his bare chest sent erotic images flooding her mind. Touching him, making love to him, seemed like a lifetime ago. It took all of her willpower not to reach out and run her fingers over the rippling muscles of his chest.

  “There’s plenty of food in the pantry and drinks in the refrigerator,” he said, bringing her thoughts crashing back to reality. He closed the distance between them, setting her body humming with awareness. “I’m sure you must be starved. Help yourself to whatever you need.”

  “What I need is a shower,” she blurted out. Grimacing, she tugged at her sticky shirt. “I’ve been doused with fish water and who knows what else all day long. I must look a fright.”

  “You’re anything but,” he said, scanning her from head to toe. His silent gaze of appreciation sent slivers of desire racing through her body.

  Jessie’s mouth went dry. She swallowed hard, yet couldn’t find the words to answer, too afraid of ruining the moment. Instead, she stared at him mutely, yearning for his touch.

  As though he’d read her mind, he lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. Slowly he ran his fingers over the curve of her cheekbone, resting them on the tip of her chin. Tenderly he lifted her head to look at him. As he held her gaze, she saw a battle for control brewing behind his blue eyes.

  Then, to her disappointment, he drew in a quick breath and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry, Jessie. I shouldn’t have—”

  “No, I’m the one who should be sorry,” she interrupted, not wanting to hear any more. Rejecting her was bad enough. Apologizing for his actions was more than she could bear. Her face burned with embarrassment. “Goodness knows, I’ve disrupted your life enough already. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have been dragged into this whole mess. If you hadn’t felt obligated to watch over me, I wouldn’t have been under your feet all day.”

  “Is that what you think? That I’m here with you out of some sense of honor?” He shook his head, giving a short, mirthless laugh. “You give me too much credit, Jessie. If I were truly an honorable man, I’d stay the hell away from you.”

  His words left her reeling. She blinked in confusion. “I…I don’t understand.”

  “Don’t you?” He stared at her, a vein pulsing at his temple. His voice strained, he said, “You must know what you do to me, Jessie. Today, all day, you were so close…I could barely keep my hands to myself. If it weren’t for Jacob and Billy, I would have made love to you right on the deck of the Marianna.”

  “And would that have been so wrong?” she asked, unable to keep the hurt from her tone, feeling the tears of frustration sting her eyes.

  “It’s wrong because there’s no future for us.”

  The bluntness of his words hit like a blow, stealing her breath away. “H-how can you say that?”

  “I can say it, because it’s true,” he said, his tone heavy with resignation. “What happens after we solve the mystery behind your mother’s death? Are you telling me that you plan to stay on Prudence Island? That you’ll make Gull’s Cottage your home?”

  She wanted to say yes, that anything was possible. But she couldn’t lie to him. Gull’s Cottage stood for everything that had gone wrong in her life. She knew in her heart she couldn’t live with its haunting memories indefinitely.

  Her silence speaking volumes, he continued, “Prudence Island is where I live. It’s where I work. I could never leave here, any more than you could stay.”

  Knowing better than to argue with the truth, she quietly said, “I never asked for a commitment, Samuel.”

  “No, but you deserve more than just a casual affair.”

  Raising her chin, she met his fiery gaze with a steely defiance. “I only want what you can give me.”

  He shook his head, looking unconvinced.

  Frustration churned inside her. Trying o
ne last time, she said, “Don’t you understand, Samuel? I’d rather have a handful of minutes with you, than a lifetime of regrets. I want to be with you now…no matter how long it might last.”

  Clenching his jaw, he released his breath. He looked so angry—angry with her or angry with himself, she wasn’t sure which—she thought he would turn away. Instead, with a quickness that took her by surprise, he snagged a hand around her waist and pulled her roughly toward him.

  Jessie gasped as he took her mouth in a kiss so explosive, so intimate, she nearly melted beneath its heat. Her hands were sandwiched between them, pressing against the warm, bare skin of his chest. She could feel each erratic beat of his heart, each ragged inhalation of his breath. He smelled of the sun and sea, of sweat and hard work. She longed to run her hands over his body, to touch him, to have her fill of him.

  He shifted, giving himself room to maneuver. Slipping a hand beneath her shirt, he sought the soft warmth of her hidden flesh. In a rush of self-consciousness, she remembered the day’s worth of perspiration and grime she’d accumulated.

  “Samuel, no…” she murmured halfheartedly, dragging her mouth from his. Her heart pounded in her ears. She felt breathless, as though she’d just run five miles. “I’m such a mess. I need a bath.”

  “A bath? Do you think that matters to me?” he asked, looking amused. “Jessie, we’ve both been out on the Marianna today. I don’t expect either of us to be as fresh as a rose garden.”

  “It might not matter to you, but it does to me,” she said, averting her gaze, feeling her face warm.

  Thoughtfully, he said, “Then I guess we’d better find a way to take care of this problem…fast.”

  Before she could protest, he lifted her in his arms as if she was weightless and carried her through the kitchen. Kicking open the swinging door, he strode down a narrow hall. She caught brief glimpses of family pictures lining the walls. Her heart fluttering in her chest, she asked, “Samuel, where in the world—”