Breaking the Rake's Rules

by Bronwyn Scott

  The idea was not one he trotted out often. It wasn’t something he’d even allowed himself to think of in the years he’d been here. This was a land of self-made men and he’d successfully fit that mould, setting aside his former life. Never once had he regretted that decision, never once had he looked back and missed what he’d left behind.

  Not even now, his conscience reprimanded forcefully. She changes nothing. Bryn Rutherford was a passing fancy. From a logical standpoint, he knew all the reasons she appealed. He could tick them off on one hand. He’d been celibate too long, his libido was on edge; she was new and different; she was beautiful and fine, intelligent and daring, and, to top it off, they’d been thrown together by business interests, forced to encounter one another. Fancies passed, storms passed. Like a storm, he simply had to ride her out.

  Kitt shifted in his chair, trying to subdue a growing sense of arousal. Perhaps riding her out was not the best comparison at the moment. He went back to the map, refocusing his thoughts on a less exciting topic. After five more minutes of working he sat back and rubbed his temples. He must be entirely distracted. Usually he was a very good mapper. He picked up Bryn’s paper and studied the co-ordinates again. Perhaps Selby had got them wrong? Perhaps Bryn had written them down wrong? Those thoughts did nothing to dislodge the sense of unease that had ridden him since the gala dinner. It couldn’t be happening again, but early signs suggested it was. He had to find that island and it had, absolutely had, to have a thriving plantation on it.

  Kitt was about to give it another go when a loud thump drew his attention to the wardrobe. Nothing. He scanned the room, looking for evidence something had fallen off a shelf. Perhaps it had come from outside. The thump came again and Kitt swore in frustration. Great, now he was hearing things. If this kept up, he’d never get anything done. To assuage his curiosity, he strode over to the wardrobe and flung open the door, only to be proven wrong.

  Out tumbled Bryn Rutherford with an ‘oomph’ and a most unladylike oath on her lips.

  Kitt stepped back in time to avoid being trampled. He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Well, at least you can swear like a sailor.’

  ‘Stuff it.’ Bryn glared and struggled to her feet. ‘Do you have any idea how long I’ve been in there?’

  Long enough to be deliciously rumpled. ‘You weren’t supposed to be in there at all.’ She’d probably have a bruise or two tomorrow on that sweet derrière of hers, but it served her right for all the trouble she was going to cause him. He strode to the door, already making calculations for what this delay would cost him.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Bryn tried to stagger after him. She hadn’t any sea legs to speak of at the moment. Kitt reached out to steady her.

  ‘Out on deck to tell Passemore to turn this ship around. I’m taking you back to Bridgetown, as much as the delay grieves me.’ The tide and the breeze would be wasted now, but he was not taking her with him.

  Bryn chose that moment to throw herself in front of the cabin door, effectively blocking his exit. ‘I’m going with you to find that island.’ She meant it, too. Her grey eyes stormed with stubbornness and Kitt knew he’d make no headway arguing with her. He’d let her have her moment. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and watched her. She was fascinating to watch, all those emotions rolling across her face at once. A lady without her ladylike mask of blandness on. Not for the first time, he thought what a trial London must have been for her and what a trial she must have been for London. Society wouldn’t have known what to do with her. Lucifer’s balls, he barely knew what to do with her. He’d have to try another tactic since reasoning was out of the question.

  ‘You do understand, Bryn, that I am bigger and stronger than you, even when you’re in a temper. I can simply throw you over my shoulder, remove you from the door and go about my business.’

  ‘The hell you will.’ Her eyes shot bolts of lightning and her hair hung forward over her shoulders. She looked like an avenging Fury. If she had a weapon, she’d be positively dangerous, lethal even.

  ‘What a lovely mouth you’ve acquired,’ Kitt drawled with a touch of indolence. It wouldn’t do to show any ounce of weakness. ‘Do you talk like that at home? Because I have to tell you that will not impress the likes of James Selby.’ She managed to blush, but she didn’t move from the door.

  ‘I want to go with you,’ Bryn repeated staunchly, ignoring his comment. ‘This concerns my father. I deserve the right to go and see his investment.’

  Kitt ran a hand through his hair. ‘Damn right this concerns your father. What do you think he’ll say—better yet, what do you think he’ll do if he discovers you’ve hidden away on my ship?’ Did she understand the implications of stowing away?

  ‘He won’t know. He’s out with Selby visiting the other parishes. He’ll be gone all week,’ Bryn answered with a tilt to her chin that said, Ha, take that.

  He sauntered towards her, crowding her a little with the bulk of his body. It was time to remind her that she’d stowed away on his boat and the two of them were explosive together. He would ensure she made good on that promise of a kiss she’d given him. ‘It’s not only that. Have you thought about us and the fact that we’ll be alone with no one to stop us?’

  She had no ready answer for that except for a blush that crept up her cheeks. He pressed his advantage. ‘Or is that the real reason you came aboard? Maybe you want an excuse to exercise those passions of yours.’

  Her cheeks flamed. Kitt smiled wickedly. So, she had thought of that, too. His hands rested at her waist, his thumbs pressing lightly on the low bones of her hips intimately, suggestively. ‘Make no mistake, princess, if you came here for a taste of me, I am up for it.’ More than up for it, actually. He wanted her the way a thirsty man wanted water. He hoped a sip or two would quench that thirst and he could move on.

  ‘All that within the span of a day?’ Bryn challenged, holding her own against the onslaught of his rather aggressive flirtation. Well, good for her. He’d see what she’d do with round two.

  ‘A day?’ he questioned.

  ‘Selby says the island is only a day away. We’ll be there and back before my father returns.’

  ‘That might be a problem, princess. According to Selby’s co-ordinates, there’s nothing there. But when I reverse them, there’s an island three days away. Either Selby wrote them down wrong, or he’s been had, and, by extension, so has your father.’

  ‘No, that can’t be.’ Bryn had paled. She moved away from the door to the table with rapid steps. Her finger drew lines on the map, retracing his trail. ‘The plantation managers have written. There was an actual letter. They needed more money for the new crops.’

  An absolutely classic move in a classic scheme. This was looking more like land fraud with each revelation.

  ‘That’s why you have to go back, Bryn. I don’t know what we’re going to find out there. It may be dangerous and it may not be a quick a trip.’ If the island was a fraud, he would want to hunt down the men behind it and there was still Devore to find. He could be gone indefinitely.

  ‘It’s every reason why I need to be there,’ Bryn protested. ‘Do you think James will believe you if you come back and tell him his island isn’t there? He’ll see it as another competitive ploy to outwit him. He’ll believe me, my father will believe me.’ She swayed suddenly on her feet.

  Kitt moved swiftly to steady her. This was more than not having sea legs. ‘How long has it been since you’ve eaten?’ He helped her to the edge of the bed.

  ‘This morning, but I’m fine.’ She insisted although the pallor of her face told a different story. Kitt, tell me what’s really going on?’ The earnestness in her eyes settled it. He would probably regret this but how could he ask her to stay at home and wait? If it was him, he knew he’d never tolerate such a decision. Why should she? Kitt drew a resigned breath.


  ‘I’m going to get you some food and when I come back I’m going to tell you the tale of a Scotsman named MacGregor.’

  She smiled at him, coy and alluring even in distress ‘I’ll be right here.’

  Yes, she would be, Kitt thought grimly, exiting the cabin. It wasn’t until he was in the galley gathering up food that it hit him. The minx had won. She was going to stay and it hadn’t even required his consent, it had just happened. One minute he’d been spelling out the concern for her virtue and the next she’d been bent over his map, tracing routes with her finger.

  For better or worse, she’d be in his cabin for the next six days. What had he been thinking? That was the problem. He knew what he’d been thinking and what he’d been thinking with. The organ of record wasn’t the brain in his head.

  * * *

  He was going to let her stay! Elation surged. Bryn had not been sure her stowaway ploy would actually work. There’d been a moment when she’d thought he actually would toss her over his shoulder and personally row her ashore if that was what it took. He’d looked quite formidable standing there, legs apart, arms crossed and quite appealing, too, with his shirt open at the neck, sleeves rolled up, breeches tight, hair loose. Lord, he had glorious hair, glorious everything. And he’d wanted her. In spite of his anger, he’d wanted her. That had definitely worked to her advantage.

  Yes, you won, you get to stay for six days. Six days alone with the pirate captain himself. It’s what you wanted—an adventure. What will you do with it? What would she do with it indeed? Would she act on it or would she play the lady and resist? The reality of what she’d agreed to put a damper on the mental festivities. She’d not bargained on six days, just the one.

  One day would be tolerable, surely they could keep their...what...their lust...their desires...in check for that long? But six days? Kitt’s parting words rang strong in her head, the memory of his hands on her hips burned like a brand. He’d made it clear he was willing. The risk had doubled exponentially. But so had the reason for taking it: the island wasn’t there! She hoped it was just a case of Selby mixing up the co-ordinates. Foolishly, she’d let him write them down. But if Kitt was right? It didn’t bear thinking about. It would be a debacle before the bank even got under way, something her father’s reputation couldn’t afford.

  Her father’s reputation wasn’t the only one to consider. This voyage could ruin hers entirely. She could only hope they’d beat her father back and that Kitt’s crew could be sworn to secrecy. But, if the island truly didn’t exist and it was discovered she’d gone out with Kitt Sherard for nearly a week unchaperoned, there would be no more attentions from gentlemen like James Selby, even if nothing had happened in truth. Which, ironically, made the case for adventure all the stronger. If she wasn’t found out, then no one would know what had transpired. If she was found out, everyone would assume the worst regardless of the truth. If she was dammed either way, she might as well indulge.

  Would Kitt follow through or had he been bluffing in an attempt to scare her into returning? What were the odds of that? Even if that had been his intention, something would happen in truth. He was right about their rather explosive history. The smallness of the cabin would make the conclusion inescapable. The size of the quarters would demand a level of daily intimacy she’d not factored in, but she did now and a shiver of anticipation ran down her spine. This was the adventure she sought.

  The door to the cabin opened and her heart pounded at the sight of him. There was something undeniably sexy about a man with food. Kitt moved his maps to the side. He laid out the bread and cheese on the table. He gave her a wicked half-smile, catching her watching him as he poured red wine into a stoneware goblet. Her heart flipped a little when he said, ‘Come and eat, your table is laid.’

  Just like that, the decision was made. When he asked, she’d be his. It wasn’t a question of ‘if’ any longer, but a question of when and how, and where. All very titillating considerations.

  Kitt took the seat across from her and helped himself to some cheese. ‘Have you ever heard of a place called Poyais?’ When she shook her head, he went on. ‘Not surprising. The reason you’ve never heard of it is because it doesn’t exist.’ He nodded towards his bookshelf. ‘I have a book about it. though. That’s how far someone went to convince others Poyais existed. I bought the book because it seemed interesting, a cautionary tale about what people will believe.’

  ‘Authors invent places all the time, it’s part of fiction,’ Bryn said, not quite following.

  ‘This wasn’t an author. This was a self-fashioned adventurer, Gregor MacGregor, and this is no tale out of the past. He’s still alive, apparently. He called himself the cacique of Poyais, telling people he was the head of a new nation somewhere near Belize. He recruited people to go and settle.’

  ‘But no one did, surely,’ Bryn said, disbelieving. ‘No one sets off across an ocean to a place they’ve never seen. They had no proof it was even there.’

  Kitt raised an eyebrow, forcing her to consider her words. ‘How is Poyais any different than what Selby and your father have done?’

  ‘They have letters from the overseer,’ Bryn argued. ‘They have scientific reports about the crops Sunwood intends to grow and market projections for profit.’

  Kitt rose and strode to his bookshelf, taking down a slim volume. He tossed it on the table. ‘Those settlers had a book. Flip through it. They could read about the size of the country. It’s slightly larger than Wales, by the way. They could read about its climate, the natives. Anything you could want to know is right there.’

  Bryn reluctantly thumbed through pages full of maps and drawings, paragraphs of descriptions about fauna and wildlife, all of it very specific, very detailed. Most unfortunately, she saw Kitt’s point. Technically, there was no difference between this book and the reports that had been sent to Selby and her father. ‘It doesn’t mean the letters to my father are not real, just because Poyais wasn’t.’ The Poyais book had worked because it successfully mimicked reality after all.

  Kitt leaned across the table, his gaze serious. ‘You’re right. This might be a false alarm on my part. It might be nothing more than Selby’s incompetence with the co-ordinates. But, keep in mind it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to pass off the imaginary as real. New lands are full of opportunities, just not always the right kind.’

  Selby wouldn’t know opportunity if it bit him in the arse. It would be too much to hope he’d be able to separate the good ones from the bad. Now, he’d potentially dragged her father down with him.

  She eyed Kitt with speculation, a horrible thought occurring to her. ‘How is it that you know so much about land swindles?’

  The gaze he gave her was equally serious. ‘Because I’ve been involved in one.’

  ‘I see,’ she said quietly while her stomach churned over the bread and cheese. It was as bad as she thought. Kitt might be right about the island, but Selby was right, too. Kitt Sherard was not to be trusted. What fools they’d all been. What a fool she had been. She hated that realization the most. She’d been willing to trust him with more than money. She’d been willing to give him her body and quite possibly her heart.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bryn tried to muster a sophisticated tone that betrayed none of the hurt she felt. ‘You’re concerned now because you’re on the other end. Is that it? It’s your money being swindled instead of the other way around.’ Perhaps he’d used the Poyais book to run a swindle of his own.

  Kitt’s eyes darkened and he drew back as if she’d struck him with a physical blow. He pushed back from the table and rose, striding to the window. ‘No, it isn’t that way at all. Quite the opposite, in fact.’

  ‘Really?’ she prompted, her voice doubtful. But nothing more was forthcoming.

  ‘Really.’ Kitt’s tone carried a finality with it. ‘That’s all you need
to know, Bryn. You’ll have to trust me on this one.’

  She wanted to be disgusted with him, but the look on his face when she’d accused him had made her feel guilty instead. Maybe it was unfair to hold his past against him. Doing so made her no better than Martha Selby. Who was she to deny him a new start? Wasn’t that what she was after herself? Perhaps she had no business condemning him. Her tongue had run ahead of her thoughts.

  Now they were back in limbo, in the same place they’d been in the garden. Could she trust him? It all returned to that. In truth, he’d given her no reason not to even though he managed to always leave her with more questions than answers.

  Kitt turned from the window and held out a hand. ‘Come out on deck, I want to show you something.’ It was a peace offering. He was sorry for snapping, for being mysterious, and she was forgiven for her accusation.

  Bryn glanced outside the window. There wasn’t much to see. ‘In the dark?’

  Kitt gave an exaggerated nod. ‘Most definitely in the dark.’

  She followed him out on deck, but once they got there, he stepped behind her, covering her eyes with his hands. ‘You cannot look until I tell you. Do you trust me?’ He’d understood her dilemma in the cabin, his words echoed it. This was to be a trial of sorts. If there was to be anything between them, there had to first be this. Her pride left her no choice in the matter. It was quite the experience walking the short distance to the railing with Kitt behind her, her body entirely dependent on him. It was erotic, too, her other senses heightened by her blindness. She could smell him, could smell the salt of the sea, could feel the breeze against her face.

  He turned her around so that her back was against the rail and, she was facing the centre of the ship. At least she supposed that was the direction. His mouth was at her ear, low and pleasing. ‘All right, now...look!’ He took his hands away and she gasped.