by Romancing the Crown Series (13-in-1 bundle) (v1. 0) (lit)
Kate shuddered in pleasure as his teeth grazed her earlobe. That was something else she loved about Sam. He never lied.
Dawn was already breaking when Kate awoke again. She couldn't have been asleep for long—her body still tingled from the attention Sam had lavished on her. She smiled and reached for him, only to grasp an empty blanket.
She raised herself on her elbow and glanced around the cabin. The clothes she'd worn the night before were gone, as were Sam's. Weak daylight streamed through the open hatch, but the companionway steps were missing.
Sam was squatting in front of the hole where the steps had been. An open toolbox lay beside him. A pair of gray jogging pants drooped low on his hips, and he wore nothing from the waist up. As she watched, he picked up a screwdriver and leaned forward, his head disappearing into the opening.
The light from the hatch fell over his shoulders and back, highlighting the shift of muscle and sinew as he moved. Kate swallowed a yawn and decided to indulge herself, propping her head on her hand as she observed the play of light on his body.
He was like a living sculpture, a study of the perfect male form. She knew now that it was love that made sex with Sam so satisfying, but she readily admitted that his magnificent body sure enhanced the experience. He twisted to reach into the opening under the steps, and the jogging pants he wore inched perilously lower.
Kate moistened her lips, tempted to give those pants a tug and end the suspense. But before she could throw back the blanket and act on her impulse, she heard a metallic clank. An engine sputtered, made a few halfhearted turns, then subsided to silence.
Sam muttered an oath and went to work with the screwdriver.
Kate sighed and rubbed her eyes. Of course. Sam had removed the stairs so he could access the auxiliary engine that was mounted aft of the cabin. Getting it operational would be his priority. He wouldn't have the time to come back to bed.
It would be so much simpler if he did, though. If only they could stay in bed forever. Then they wouldn't have to think about their mission... or about what would happen when the mission was over.
They'd only begun to resolve their past. One emotional night together didn't make a present, and neither of them had spoken about the future. Had anything really changed? He still craved freedom and adventure. They still hadn't made any promises. Would loving him make that much difference?
One step at a time, Kate told herself. She combed her hair with her fingers and rolled from the bunk. She donned an oversize T-shirt she found in the locker that held the spare clothes and went to offer Sam help.
The gleam in his eyes when he saw her bare legs warmed her better than any clothes would have. "Good morning, Kate," he said, without rising from his crouch over the engine. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine, thanks."
His gaze rose from her legs to her breasts. "You're sure?"
"Uh-huh."
"About what happened..."
"Sam, you don't need to apologize. I wanted it as much as you did."
He lifted his eyebrows. "Kate, I have plenty I'm sorry for, but I wasn't going to apologize about the sex."
"Oh."
"Like you said, we always did get that part right." He slipped his arm behind her knees and pulled her closer. He pressed his face to her legs.
Kate put her hands on his shoulders for balance, her knees oddly weak. "How's the engine?"
He turned his head, nosing the hem of her T-shirt upward. "Still working on it."
"Do you know where we are?"
"About twenty miles west of Tamir." He flicked his tongue over the skin at the top of her thigh. "I have to get the engine going to give us some maneuvering power and to charge the batteries so we can use the electronics. Kate, I love the way you taste in the morning."
"Sam..."
"I'm hoping that once we have some power, we might get the radio working again."
"Right. That's a..." She rubbed the ridge of his shoulders with her thumbs. "Good idea."
"Yeah." He rose to his knees and slid his hands up the backs of her thighs. "We need to contact the fleet."
"Mmm. See how they weathered the storm."
"We might need to adjust the search grid if more vessels are out of commission."
"Mmm."
He cupped her bottom and squeezed lightly. "I have another idea."
"What?"
"We could forget about the engine and just keep drifting."
"Drifting?"
"Forget the fleet, forget the mission. They can manage without us."
She'd already considered the idea and had rejected it. "Sam..."
"We could go back to bed and let the current carry us for a while. Who would know?" He laid his forehead against her stomach. "We have so much lost time to make up for."
At this moment, with Sam's arms around her legs and his breath on her skin, there was nothing she wanted more. Oh, yes. To drift where the sea took them. Just her and the man she loved. No obligations, no complications. It was so tempting.
His fingertips dug into her buttocks. "What would you say, Kate? If I asked you?"
She put her hands on his head, tunneling her fingers through his sun-streaked hair. She looked at the tensed muscles along his back, the shadowed dip at the base of his spine, and she was so close, so very, very close to giving him the answer they both knew was wrong....
"Kate?"
"I'd say nothing, Sam."
"Nothing?"
"Because I know you wouldn't ask me."
"Kate..."
She tipped his head so she could see his face. "You're a naval officer, Sam. So am I. We wouldn't be able to respect ourselves if we forgot that. As much as I'd like to make love with you for the rest of the day, we have to face reality sometime."
He looked at her, his golden brown gaze snapping. He surged to his feet and caught her arms. "Damn it, Kate!"
"I'm not using our duty to avoid what's going on between us this time, Sam. You helped me to see that running away doesn't solve anything."
"That may be, but life isn't only about duty. We let ourselves make that mistake five years ago. Hell, we both used it for an excuse. When this mission ends..." He paused. He whipped his head toward the open hatch.
She heard it then. Over the noise of her pulse and the sound of waves lapping against the hull came the distant throb of an engine.
Sam tightened his grip on her arms for a moment, then released her. He grabbed the sides of the companionway, vaulted over the hole where the steps had been and thudded to the deck.
Kate braced her hand on the galley counter as she tried to catch her breath. When this mission ends... What had he been about to say? When this mission ends, they would go their separate ways? They would get together sometimes on leave? They would have to talk?
Her questions would have to wait. She twitched her T-shirt into place to cover her thighs, then followed him above deck.
The breeze was cool. The storm had signaled a change in the weather. Kate shivered at her first clear sight of their ravaged boat. Only a ragged stump of the wooden mast remained. Tangled rigging littered the deck, and the brass fittings were dulled by a film of dried salt. Her pants and the blouse that Sam had ripped the night before— no, she couldn't think about that now—were spread out among the debris to dry, along with his shirt and jeans. He was standing at the bow, a pair of binoculars lifted to his eyes.
Kate followed his gaze and saw a boat approaching slowly from the west. It was riding low in the water, wallowing as it struggled with each wave.
Sam lowered the binoculars and turned to Kate. "It looks like the Penelope."
She took the binoculars from him and studied the vessel. It was a dark blue fishing boat, the same size and design as the one Petty Officer Thurlow had been using. "You're right. It does look like the Penelope."
"Yeah. Things just keep getting better. We've got no radio, we're dead in the water and Chambers is heading straight for us."
Chapter 14
"Oh, for pity's sake." Ursula propped her hands on her hips and scowled. "How can you have anything left to throw up?"
Edwardo Scarpa wiped his mouth on his sleeve and lifted his head from the railing. Beneath his beard, his face was the color of a blanched olive. "We should have gone back to port when I told you. The storm—"
"You should have told me you got seasick."
He glared. "Would that have made any difference?"
Of course not, Ursula thought. She wrinkled her nose at his futile attempts to clean himself up. Once she got home, she'd have to remind herself never to date a man with a beard. "We couldn't go back to the place where we took your cousin's boat," she said. "That would have been stupid."
"You didn't have to hit that sailor. We could have waited for him to leave."
The argument was getting stale. He'd been complaining about her actions ever since they left Montebello. But they'd gotten the boat, hadn't they? If she'd left things up to him, she'd still be stuck in that hillside hovel.
How much more of this whining would she be able to take? She'd put up with Scarpa until now because he'd been useful to her. Despite his disgusting seasickness, he knew how to handle his cousin's boat. He'd done a pretty good job steering it through the storm, even though it had been a rough ride. But she'd been watching how he worked the wheel and those levers that controlled the engine. She was certain she'd be able to get the rest of the way to Tamir on her own.
Ursula climbed down the stairs from the flying bridge and went across the deck to where Scarpa sagged against the railing. "How far are we from Tamir?" she asked.
"I'm not sure."
She breathed slowly through her nose to hold on to her patience. "Take a guess."
"The storm knocked us off course. I had to head into the wind."
"But to get to Tamir all we have to do is head east, right?"
"As long as we don't run out of fuel."
That was yet another old argument. He'd wanted to delay their departure from Montebello in order to take on more fuel, but she'd insisted on getting away immediately. "Well, are we pointed in the right direction now?"
"I have to check our heading."
"Why don't you show me how to do that, Edwardo?" she said, forcing a smile. If she knew where to point the boat, she was sure she wouldn't need him anymore. "That way you could go and rest for a while."
A wave slapped into the side, sending the boat into another pitching roll. Scarpa shuddered, his cheeks puffing with his effort to hold back his nausea. When the wave passed, he stumbled toward the bridge. "Rest would be good," he muttered. "All you need to remember with the compass is to..." He grabbed the edge of the cabin doorway, his words trailing off.
Ursula wanted to scream with impatience. "Remember to do what, Edwardo?"
"Someone's out there."
"What?"
He pointed into the rising sun. "There's a boat."
She lifted her hand to shield her eyes and looked for herself. It took her a moment to pick out the white hull amid the rolling swells. "It's only some old sailboat. It's nothing to worry about. Police don't go around in sailboats."
"There might have been a bulletin. They might report us. You have to get out of sight."
"I'm not going in the cabin. Thanks to you that place reeks."
"Then go on the flying bridge and stay low so that they can't see you."
"All right, all right. Quit worrying." She squinted, trying to get a better look at the boat. It was missing its mast. "I don't see anyone. Maybe they got washed overboard."
Scarpa paused. "It does look as if they were hit pretty hard by the storm."
Ursula was struck by a sudden idea. "Sailboats sometimes have engines, right?"
"One that size would."
"Then that means they'd have fuel, right?" He turned to face her. "What are you thinking?" "We need fuel. They have fuel. It's obvious, isn't it?"
"Even if they had diesel instead of gasoline, we can't take it. That would be piracy." Ursula laughed. "Edwardo, you're already an accessory to murder. It's a little late to get squeamish on me now."
"But—"
"Just get us close to that boat and leave the thinking to me."
He returned his gaze to the sailboat that bobbed on the waves, then groaned and doubled over.
Ursula hurriedly stepped out of range.
* * *
Kate took the ammunition clip out of the pistol, checked to make sure it contained its full complement of bullets, then shoved it back in place. Considering the swells the boat rode, she wouldn't be able to fire the weapon with much accuracy unless she was directly in front of her target. Nevertheless, it was better than nothing. She tucked the gun into the damp waistband of her pants at the small of her back and flipped her T-shirt down to cover it.
"How much time do you figure we have?" Sam called.
Kate leaned over the galley counter to peer out the porthole. The dark blue fishing boat was plowing through the swells. There was no doubt anymore that it was the Penelope. She'd thought she'd seen two figures moving around the deck at first, but now she only saw one. "Three minutes, maybe more," she replied. "They seem to be having problems making headway."
There was a metal-on-metal scraping sound. Something clanged dully from the engine compartment.
Kate moved to reposition the flashlight Sam had wedged in the opening under the steps. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
Without looking he thrust his hand behind him. "Give me a cup of water. Fresh water."
She filled a cup and put it in his hand. Instead of drinking it, he poured it over the battery.
"I need to clean the leads and dry them off," he said in explanation. "It looks as if seawater got into the battery box last night and shorted the connection. That's why the battery drained."
"Is there any power left in the battery at all?"
"I'm hoping there's enough to give the engine one more try."
"Good."
He fumbled behind him for a rag. "Once the engine's going and we have time to recharge, we'll be able to fire up the radio and call in the fleet."
"But if the electronics were damaged by the lightning and it's not the battery that's the problem..."
"Then we're on our own." He backed out of the opening and wiped his hands on the rag. He was still bare from the waist up, but he'd exchanged the loose jogging pants he'd worn earlier for his damp jeans. "Okay. Here goes."
The engine turned over sluggishly. Kate held her breath and leaned forward, as if she could will it to work, but it went silent.
"Damn," Sam muttered. "It needs more time to dry off."
Kate went to the porthole. "She's still heading directly for us."
"That's good. We're in no shape to chase her."
"I'd think Chambers would try to avoid contact with another vessel. Why wouldn't she have changed course?"
"Good question. We're almost within hailing distance. How do you want to play it?"
"Maintain our cover as vacationing tourists. Stall for time until we can start the engine and try the radio."
"Sounds like a plan." He stood up and grabbed the top of the companionway, his arms bent as he prepared to haul himself out of the cabin. He paused, then looked at her over his shoulder. "Kate?"
"Yes?"
"I don't suppose it would do any good if I ordered you to stay belowdecks."
"Why? Do you think I won't be able to do my job?"
"There isn't another officer I'd rather have at my back at a time like this. It's the woman I want to keep safe."
How could she have chaffed at his protectiveness in the past? She understood his urge to keep her safe—she wanted to do the same for him. "You'd better not try and order me, Coburn. We never did decide who's captaining this sloop, so you don't outrank me."
"Kate..."
"Besides, we're still partners, remember?"
He continued to regard her. He wasn't smiling. "I'll keep that in mind."
She f
ollowed Sam onto the deck. The Penelope was close enough for her to see a figure standing on the flying bridge above the fishing boat's cabin. It was a bearded man. He was a stranger to her, and yet... "Sam, he looks familiar."
"Thurlow said the man who took the boat with Chambers had a beard."
"I think I've seen this man before, but I can't place him."
"Whoever he is, he looks sick," Sam muttered.
The man lifted a hand in greeting.
Sam waved back. "Ahoy!" he shouted.
"Do you need assistance?" the man yelled.
Kate pressed close to Sam's side. "This has to be a ploy," she said quickly. "Chambers wouldn't want to help anyone."
"Yeah." He slid his arm around her. "What do you want to do?"
"Let's play along, keep stalling."
"Right." He cupped one hand around his mouth. "We're all right except we lost our mast," he called.
"I saw that." The man slowed the boat as he brought it closer. He reversed the engine, then held it steady twenty yards off the port bow. "Is your engine working?"
"The engine's fine," Sam replied.
"Good, good." He paused. He glanced down for a moment, then coughed and called, "What about fuel? Do you have enough?"
"Sure."
"Diesel?"
Why would it matter what kind of fuel they carried? Kate wondered. Unless... "Sam, that's what they're after," she said quietly.
He tightened his arm around her to indicate he'd heard. "Yes, diesel," he called.
The man glanced down again before he spoke, as if he were looking for advice. "Can you spare us a few gallons so we can make it to port? I'll pay whatever you ask."
Had he realized he'd said us? Kate wondered. Or didn't he care whether they knew there was someone else on board? "She's there with him," Kate whispered. "She has to be."
"Looks like you need a pump, too," Sam called.
"Yes."
"The sea's too rough to come alongside. I don't want to risk a collision. I'll lower the dinghy."
The man started to nod when his shoulders heaved suddenly as the boat rolled over the top of a swell. He spun, clamping his hand to his mouth.
"Poor bastard's seasick," Sam said, dipping his head toward Kate. "He wouldn't be hard to overpower."
