Sophie's Heart: Sweet Historical Romances

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  “What is it you’re trying to tell me, Kell?”

  Kell stood again, took another look at the picture, and said, “If you’re too blind to see the truth then you don’t deserve to know.” And then he set the picture down facing Jack and walked away.

  Jack watched him go with narrowed eyes, thinking they had known each other far too long. He sighed deeply and his gaze returned to the portrait of Penn.

  His brows drew together as he focused on the picture, and he reached out to grasp it in his hand.

  “Well, I’ll be…,” he said, and chuckled.

  The artwork wasn’t his.

  Penn sported two horns on his head and a third on his chin, and his eyes were filled with dollar symbols. The look suited him. Jack shook his head and laughed outright. He glanced at the door and thought about calling Kell back to hound him for whatever information he’d gotten out of her, but he knew Kell well enough to know he wouldn’t give it—not if he’d made up his mind not to, and it seemed he had.

  “Well, I’ll be…,” he said again, and set the picture down facing him, so that he could enjoy it while he worked. His mood, as he sat again, was much lightened.

  Suddenly he heard the shouts, and he nearly knocked the desk over in his haste to discover the cause of the commotion.

  “I’m perfectly all right,” Sophie assured Randall who was shouting at her to come down, trying to calm him before he managed to rouse Jack. It wasn’t as though it were windy and the seas turbulent. The ocean and sky were both at peace after last night’s storm, and Sophie didn’t see the first reason why she couldn’t manage a simple repair. If a man could do it, she could do it. That much was certain.

  “Miss Vanderwahl,” Randall shouted up at her, “please come down from there!”

  Sophie ignored him, climbing higher up the makeshift ladder. Apparently, through the night, the winds had further rent a hole she had inadvertently put in the sails—enough that it was visible from the deck below and she didn’t want the rip to worsen. She would certainly take precautions, but she would not be deterred.

  She wanted to do something nice for Jack.

  They had awakened that morning arm in arm on the floor. He’d held her through the night while the storm had raged, and she’d pretended to sleep on while he’d risen with the bright morning sun, taking care to tuck her in before leaving. He’d brushed the hair from her face... so tenderly that it had made her heart twist with longing.

  “Miss Vanderwahl,” Randall protested, and then was joined by Kell, who thankfully remained quiet while staring up at her as though he thought her mad.

  And perhaps she was, because all she could think about was Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. What in the world was wrong with her?

  A crowd began to gather on deck, but Sophie ignored them, determined to be of some use. She had found needle and thread in storage, and by their enormous size she determined they were intended for just such an occasion. She might not know how to repair sailcloth precisely, but she was hardly beyond figuring such things out.

  Once she reached her destination, however, the size of the rip dampened her resolve. From below, it had seemed small enough, but up close, she began to wonder if she would do it any good. Even so, it didn’t hurt to try. She took the rope she had coiled on her arm and tied it first about the masthead, and then about her waist, securing her position, lest she slip and fall. That done, she braced herself to work and removed the needle from her dress. It was already threaded; she had done that before coming up. And if she should need more thread, she had that at the ready.

  All was well until Jack shouted up at her, startling her.

  “Sophia! Get down here!”

  She dropped the needle.

  Sophie peered down at Jack, glaring at him. “Look what you made me do!” she railed at him.

  “Get down here, Sophia!”

  His tone of voice grated on her nerves. “I will not!” Sophie countered. “How dare you use that tone with me!” If he were concerned about her, there were far better ways to show it! At any rate, she was just fine, except that now she had no needle to sew the sails. Irritation welled up inside her.

  “Do you have any idea what you are doing?” he asked her, with the emphasis on the word what. He set his hands on his hips as he glared up at her. “Or do you make it your duty to run around looking for trouble? In all my blasted days, Sophia Vanderwahl, I have never met a more undisciplined woman!”

  If there had been anyone aboard ship who hadn’t known she’d climbed the masthead, he certainly knew it now.

  Undisciplined, was she?

  Anger surged through her. Were she a man up here, Sophie doubted her efforts would have been viewed quite the same way. A man would have been considered conscientious and constructive.

  Undisciplined, bah!

  “I’m fixing the sails!” she informed him smartly, and tried to look as dignified as she possibly could under his tirade. Everyone was watching. “Not that someone like you would bother to appreciate that,” she railed at him. “Ungrateful man,” she muttered under her breath.

  “I see,” he said. “So that’s what you are doing up there.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you planned to just stitch it up with needle and thread?”

  “Of course,” Sophie responded. “Isn’t that how you fix torn cloth?”

  He was silent a moment in the face of her logic, though his fury was evident in his very stance. And then he said, “I don’t know how you fix that cloth, but any idiot would know not to try to fix it while the wind is ripping through!”

  “It’s not windy!” Sophie argued. Merely a gentle breeze. Nothing that should have hampered her repairs. “You are being ridiculous, Jack.”

  “Sophia,” he continued, sounding harassed now. “If you don’t come down from there, I’m coming up!”

  Sophie bristled at his threat. It made her feel like a wayward child, and not even her mother had given her such abuse. Then again, she’d hardly ever done a single thing for which to be reprimanded, so afraid of her mother she had been.

  She refused to be cowed. She was no five-year-old with a muddy dress to be chastened. She was an adult, and a free-thinking one at that!

  She smiled down at him, a challenge in her tone. “You just do that, Jack MacAuley—and why don’t you bring me the needle you made me drop while you are at it?” All at once, the crew below began to search the deck, as though looking for the needle.

  “Sophia!” Jack shouted.

  “I think it’s there... near Randall,” she instructed him, ignoring his directive. If he wanted her down, he could very well ask, politely. She had no reason to remain now without her needle, but she wasn’t going to bow to his every command.

  Randall dropped to his knees, searching. Sophie doubted he would ever find the needle, and in truth, she had no idea where it had fallen. Jack had startled her so.

  Rude cantankerous man!

  “That’s it!” Jack said, throwing up his hands in obvious disgust of her and practically lunging at the masthead before taking hold of the ladder and climbing it much too agilely. Sophie bit her lip, frowning at him. He couldn’t very well drag her down against her will. It wouldn’t be safe to simply pull her down after him. Instinctively she tightened the knot at her waist, and then just to be certain she tied another and pulled with all her might. She didn’t wish to fall victim to his rash anger.

  “I was only trying to help!” she assured him when he was halfway up. She tested the rope once more, growing more anxious the closer he came.

  “Please don’t help!”

  “I don’t understand why you are so angry!”

  Neither did Jack.

  He couldn’t explain the fear that had knotted in his gut the instant he’d spied her up on the masthead.

  The woman was insane!

  No more was he merely concerned that she would sink the boat. If she kept this up, she was going to end up six feet under. Jack was going to have to lock her up
to keep her safe from harm!

  He climbed swiftly, thinking only of reaching her, not questioning the inexplicable hysteria he felt inside at the thought of her up there.

  He almost had her, was within arm’s reach, when he placed his foot a bit too heavily on the ladder rung. It gave way beneath him.

  “Jack!”

  He reached out for the masthead, embracing it as he went sliding downward. In the same instant, he felt a sharp tug on his scalp, only an instant and then it was gone. He landed heavily on the next rung down, and he heard it snap, too. Down he went again, groaning in pain. The next rung down held fast, and he stood there, hugging the masthead, coming aware next of the burning in his hands.

  When reason returned to him, he peered up into Sophie’s horrified expression.

  She held her hand outstretched and in it she held a lock of his hair. Jack’s brows drew together in shock at seeing it. His first instinct was to reach back and find the bald spot, but his arms were wrapped tightly about the masthead, and he wasn’t about to let go.

  She peered down at it, and then again at him, her brows lifting in supplication. “I’m sorry, Jack. I... I tried to stop you.”

  Words would not form.

  In his mind, he imagined tying her to her hammock, wrapping mile after mile of rope around her, cocooning her away from the world so she couldn’t cause any more destruction before they docked.

  He should have followed his instinct, and never let her aboard this ship.

  Chapter 20

  You’re lucky this isn’t worse,’ Sophia scolded him.

  Jack merely looked at her.

  “I was only trying to help,” she defended herself.

  “Dear girl, please! No more helping!”

  “But I want to!” she protested.

  Stubborn woman.

  He admired her fortitude but the pain in his hands made him resolute. It was his turn to sit grimacing while she removed splinters from his hands—big fat ugly splinters. He leveled a stern look at her.

  “No more, Sophia, do you understand? No more helping!”

  She sat on his desk before him, digging out splinters, wincing as she worked. “I’m sorry,” she said, and sighed. “This is all my fault.”

  Jack wasn’t about to disagree, but neither did he say anything. It was clear by her expression that she was guilt-ridden enough already.

  “I suppose my education falls somewhat short of instruction for the world at large.”

  He smiled at her, softening his insult with a wink. “You do pretty well for a spoiled little rich girl.”

  Sophie laughed softly, but the self-deprecating tone had pricked at his heart.

  “You know…” He met her gaze and said, somewhat more soberly. “The simple fact that you’ve rolled up your sleeves to help is a good sight more than I expected from you.”

  Sophie shrugged. “As you pointed out … I wouldn’t quite call it help.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sophia.”

  Sophie couldn’t help it.

  It seemed everything she attempted, she failed. She’d thought herself so well-schooled because she’d managed her parents’ household so smoothly. In truth, she was almost afraid to attempt anything more. Only sheer stubborn will made her keep trying. She refused to be defeated by menial tasks. She was determined to be of some use to Jack, to be an integral member of his crew... to make up for the damage she had caused. Much of his research had been ruined. Somehow, she had to atone for that. Perhaps she could try to redraw the pictures?

  She was good at that.

  She walked over to the washbasin, picked up the soap and a washcloth, tossed them into the basin, and then lifted the basin out of its table and brought it back to his desk, still thinking about his research. Many of the pages had survived, damaged though they were. She could redo them for him.

  She soaped up the rag and then lifted it to his hand, cleaning it gently.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked, her tone filled with concern.

  “Yes!” he cried out.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered genuinely, and gentled her touch.

  His own drawings had been good enough to give her a vision of the objects he had tried to capture. She would begin as soon as possible.

  Anyway, this was really all Jack’s fault: Never before had she been embroiled in so many disasters. He was a terrible distraction. She had lived a very reserved life, never indulging in anything that wasn’t entirely proper. She didn’t know anything about cooking or cleaning, or any of the other domestic chores her parents had hired help for. She’d never even had to lift a finger to turn out her own lights. The servants had always taken care of everything. If she’d fallen asleep with the lights on, reading, they were always there to put them out.

  And now that she finally had the opportunity to do things for herself, to prove she didn’t need anyone, she was stumbling all over herself and endangering others with her puny efforts.

  It made her feel very much a failure.

  She couldn’t blame Jack for forbidding her to help anymore. She really wouldn’t blame him if he locked her up in her cabin and took away everything with which she could possibly cause more damage. She couldn’t even read without putting everyone at risk. What made her think she could do something so responsible as share in Jack’s career?

  She only wished she could prove herself somehow.

  She blinked suddenly, looking up at Jack, only just realizing what she had been thinking.

  What made her think she could do something so responsible as share in Jack’s career?

  She swallowed uneasily, quite certain she must be mad to even entertain such a notion.

  And yet she had thought it.

  She brushed the cool, moist cloth over his hands, but his eyes seemed to bore into her own, searching. He looked at her, as though trying to read her thoughts, and Sophie fidgeted under his scrutiny.

  Did he know what she was thinking?

  Did he think her silly?

  The intensity of his gaze set her heart to pounding once again.

  “I do know something for sure now,” he told her, and Sophie caught her breath, afraid that her secrets had all been revealed in the depth of her eyes.

  What did he know?

  It was said that the eyes were the mirrors to the soul and if that were indeed true, then Sophie’s heart was an open book. Her father had always told her that he could tell what she was thinking simply by the look in her eyes.

  Whether that was true or not, her father certainly seemed to read all.

  She was almost afraid to ask, and mentally braced herself for whatever revelation Jack had had. “What?”

  He smiled at her, and his green eyes glistened like the clearest emeralds, full of good humor. “You don’t snore,” he said with certainty.

  For an instant, the unexpected acknowledgment surprised her.

  As far as Sophie was concerned it had never been in question. But she realized he was trying to make her smile and she did manage to appease him.

  The cad.

  “You are absolutely insufferable!” she told him, trying to keep from laughing.

  “You are not the first woman to tell me that,” he assured her, quite obviously unrepentant. “And it’s not even the first time you’ve accused me of it.”

  “Yes, well I assure you, it is always true!”

  “Yah?” His eyes fairly twinkled with mirth, spoiling the effect of his complaint. “Well, you’re no party yourself, Mizz Vanderwahl!”

  Sophie tilted him a knowing glance. “If I didn’t know better, Mr. MacAuley, I would say you were trying to pick a fight with me.”

  Like a child who had been caught with his hands in the proverbial cookie jar, he grinned at her, looking in that instant far too boyish and endearing. “Maybe you don’t know better?” he suggested, egging her on. His brow arched.

  Sophie had to laugh at his confrontational expression. “I think you must have been a rotten little boy!”
she told him, and wished she’d known him then.

  “To the core,” he allowed.

  “I don’t doubt it!” Sophie agreed heartily. She wondered at how Jack’s provocations made her find strength in herself and bolstered her spirits.

  They shared a moment’s ease together, and then he glanced down at his hand. “Take it easy on that, will you?”

  “Oh!” Sophie started, and let go of his hand.

  “I’ll make you a deal...” he bargained with her.

  She dropped the cloth into the basin and waited to hear his suggestion.

  “You make sure you keep out of trouble the rest of the trip, and I promise you can make our first breakfast when we get off this boat.”

  Sophie smiled in answer, delighted that he was willing to give her another chance. And then her breath caught. He was really very handsome... especially when he wasn’t scowling at her. She could look into his eyes forever.

  “Deal?”

  “Deal,” she agreed.

  “You have only a week left. Think you can manage it?”

  He was playing with her, she realized. “Of course!” she exclaimed, pretending offense.

  “Starting now,” he apprised.

  She threw her arms around his neck as much in gratitude as to make him stop. “Hush,” she demanded of him, and looked up into his smiling face. She kissed him quickly on the lips when he tried to speak again, and whispered, “Thank you!”

  He quieted at once, his smile vanishing, and she realized suddenly what she had done.

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  She tried to disengage herself but his arm went about her waist, preventing it.

  “Don’t,” he whispered, beseeching her, and Sophie could suddenly feel his heart beating against her chest as he pulled her against him ... or maybe it was only her own heart beating. She couldn’t tell.

  The breath left her as he tilted his head to kiss her once more.

  “Sophia,” he whispered hoarsely, as though she should stop him.

  She didn’t want to.

  His eyes closed, and her heart leapt as his lips fitted perfectly over hers.