Lily returned the girl’s vacuous smile. “The Captain has some… something to check on his boat.” Lily waved her gloved hand as if annoyed. “I declare, sometimes I think he likes that little ol’ boat better than he likes me. He’ll be here later. He promised me that he would be.”
The men descended on Lily then, and she began the charade of dancing across the floor in their stiff arms, chatting about her Captain and smiling until she thought her face would crack. Cora had been right. She never should have come here. Not tonight. At least her partners looked at her, and not through her, the way Quintin Tyler would have, had he been dancing with her.
Quint stood in the open doorway that led to the balcony, watching her. He tapped his cane restlessly against the floor and leaned against the doorjamb. His evening clothes were black, all but the white linen shirt he wore. Some of the men were dressed almost as gaily as the women, but Quint was not in a festive spirit. His somber clothing reflected that mood.
Lily Radford had danced one waltz after another, moving effortlessly across the floor in the arms of a succession of men, none of them the infamous Captain Sherwood. As he watched Lily, his black mood festered. Why her? He couldn’t take his eyes from her, not from the moment he’d stepped into the room. The bodice of her sapphire dress clung to her seductively, free of the lace and ruffles so prominent in the room. Her gown was modestly cut, compared to some of the daring necklines that had danced past him during the evening, but he found hers the most enchanting. He found her the most enchanting.
He wasn’t cut out for this spy business. In the days since he’d met her, he hadn’t been able to get Lily Radford out of his mind. And he was supposed to use her to get to Captain Sherwood.
Lily was looking up into the face of some adoring sailor, a young man who leaned close to speak to his dance partner and was rewarded with a smile and a giggle. Her sapphire blue gloves came to her elbows, a perfect match to her gown, and Quint’s eyes were fixed on her fingers as they rested against her partner’s arm. As the sailor spun her around again, she saw him standing there. Lily’s bright smile faded, but only briefly, as their eyes met. Quint gave her a brief bow, a curt and silent greeting as he grinned crookedly. Their eye contact was broken only when her dance partner spun her away again.
Dancers passed between them, a blur of color, and with a grunt of displeasure Quint stepped onto the large balcony, grateful to find it deserted for once. Damn it all, he should have known that he would have to watch her dance with other men.
The music stopped, and a few dancers joined him to enjoy the fresh, cool air. They whispered, lovers’ whispers in the semi-dark seclusion. Quint looked away from them, over the railing to the sea that sparkled in the moonlight.
“Mr. Tyler.”
He would have known that voice anywhere, and he put his grin in place before he turned to face her.
“Miss Radford.” She stood alone in the doorway, her face shadowed and her stance hesitant. “You look splendid this evening.”
“How gracious of you to say so, Mr. Tyler.” She stepped toward him. “I do wish you would save me from these ever-vigilant and energetic young men. They seem determined to exhaust me before the evenin’ is done.” Lily stood next to him on the balcony and gripped the rail, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the sea air she’d claimed to love so much. Her lips parted slightly as she exhaled slowly, and Quint saw her visibly relax. The tension left her face and her stiff shoulders, and she looked remarkably content.
“I wish I were able to dance with you myself, Miss Radford,” Quint said truthfully.
“I’m ever so glad that you cannot,” Lily said, and she turned to face him just as he frowned at her statement. “Don’t take that the wrong way, Mr. Tyler. It’s just that I hate to dance, and I —”
“You hate to dance? How odd. And you dance so well. You’re not saying that just to make me feel better, are you?”
Lily shook her head. “No. All the while I’m dancing, in my head I’m thinking one, two, three, one, two, three, don’t step on toes, one, two, three.” Off guard, she gave him a genuine smile, and he saw the flicker of intrigue in her eyes. But she was still wary of him. It would not be easy to win her trust.
“How did you hurt your leg?” she asked, changing the subject. “In the war?”
“No,” he said adamantly. “I fell from a rather spirited horse several years ago and managed to break my leg in three places. It didn’t heal quite right.” He recited the story the surgeon had provided him with. If anyone were to see the scar on his thigh, they would know the story was false, but that was not likely to happen. “Rather embarrassing, for a Southern gentleman to fall from his own steed, though to be honest I had imbibed a bit too much just before deciding to take the beast out.”
“A drunkard as well as a gambler?” Lily asked, more than a small hint of humor in her voice. “What a reprobate you are, Mr. Tyler.”
The two couples who shared the balcony with Lily and Quint left to return to the dance floor, and they found themselves suddenly alone.
“I still wish I could dance with you, though I must admit I feel better knowing that while you were out there on the ballroom floor you were looking at those men and thinking one, two, three, one, two, three… ” A balmy breeze gusted and then died, and there was a moment of awkward silence.
“And how did you break your nose?” Lily reached out and touched the bump, her gloved fingers brushing lightly against his flesh.
“You’ve noticed all my imperfections,” Quint said, taking her gloved hand as she lowered it away from his face.
“It’s not exactly an imperfection, Mr. Tyler. Aren’t you going to answer my question?”
Quint pulled her gently into a shadow, where no light from the ballroom fell. “I cornered a beautiful woman at a ball, and I kissed her. It was most disgraceful. I barely knew her.”
“And she broke your nose? What a silly girl,” Lily whispered, and a bit of her Southern accent fell away.
“Actually, it was her husband who broke my nose.” Quint lowered his face closer to Lily’s, drawn there by her tempting mouth and soft, inviting voice. He was going to kiss her. He couldn’t have helped it even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to.
Lily didn’t want him to stop either. She didn’t pull away, didn’t giggle like a simpleton.
“Is that true?” Lily asked, her voice no more than a breath that passed between rose-colored lips. “Is that really how you broke your nose?”
“No,” Quint answered.
“So, you’re a liar as well?” There was no censure in her hushed voice.
“Sometimes,” Quint said truthfully. It felt comforting to tell even a portion of the truth for a change, especially to Lily.
Their lips came together as they had before, softly, with a tentative tenderness that surprised Quint. Lily’s eyes drifted shut, and she moved her mouth against his, testing, soft.
Quint’s back was to the rail that encircled the balcony, and he wrapped one arm around Lily’s back, pulling her closer. She didn’t falter, didn’t pull away or seem to think twice about falling into his arms.
It was not enough. Quint thrust his tongue between Lily’s parted lips, and she parried with her own, probing, answering him.
Lily wrapped her arms around his neck and brushed her silk-gloved fingers against the back of his neck. Gone was the coy flirt he had seen dancing with other men. God, he felt like he was falling… falling into the deepest, darkest part of the ocean… drowning in its depths, but liking it. Loving it. Needing it. He could almost feel the currents washing over his body.
It was Lily who finally pulled away. Slowly, reluctantly, confusion in her wide eyes.
“Lily.” Quint reached out his hand and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Things like this aren’t supposed to happen.”
“Things like what?” she asked breathlessly.
Quint frowned. He couldn’t tell her anything. She was the Captain’s wom
an. She was the enemy. What he felt for her shouldn’t be, couldn’t be more important than the lives that were endangered every time Captain Sherwood ran the blockade. With a resigned sigh, he leaned forward and kissed her nose lightly, and he was rewarded with a low laugh, real and artless.
“What was that for?”
“I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I saw you… kiss your freckles.”
“You like freckles?”
“On you, I do,” he admitted.
His back remained at the rail, and Lily backed away a half step. She seemed reluctant to move too far away, as if distance would break the spell that bound them. “This is most improper, Mr. Tyler,” she said as if she didn’t have a care for their impropriety. Her gloved fingers danced across his chest, then straightened his crumpled jacket.
Lily lifted her face to his, a bold invitation, and Quint leaned forward to kiss her again. At the moment, there was no time for pretending, no time for hesitation ….
“Miss Lily.” Captain Dennison’s booming voice startled them both, and Lily jumped back.
“Why, Captain Dennison.” She stepped toward the Englishman, instantly in control once again. “How handsome you look this evenin’.”
Dennison gave her a deep bow. “And where is Captain Sherwood tonight?”
“Oh, I reckon he’s around here somewhere,” Lily drawled. “You know how the Captain is. He’s so restless, he just comes and goes as he pleases, taking off on that silly little ol’ boat…. ”
“Ship, Miss Lily,” Dennison corrected.
“Ship, boat…. ” Lily waved her hand, dismissing the light-hearted censure. “Same thing.”
Quint watched the scene with a deepening frown. This was not the woman he had kissed, the woman who had kissed him with such passion.
“Might I have this dance, Miss Lily?” Dennison offered Lily his hand.
“I’d just love to dance with you, Captain. You know how I love to waltz.”
She didn’t look back at Quint as she took Dennison’s arm, but the captain did. How much he had seen, Quint didn’t know, but it had been enough. Dennison glared at Quint, and his mouth formed silent words.
I warned you, Tyler.
Quint turned back to the ocean. Damn it all, he’d gladly allow Captain Sherwood to eat his heart for breakfast in exchange for another kiss like that.
Five
Eleanor Slocum always wore black. Quint had never seen her anywhere but in the gloomy half-light of her study, her black silk dresses as fashionable as was proper for a grieving widow, her dark hair invariably restrained in a severe bun. Still, she was a beautiful woman, and black was becoming on her, with her dark hair and eyes. The gowns she wore emphasized her tiny waist and full bosom, and her movements were slow and sensual—the swish of a skirt, the narrowing of her eyes.
She darted her eyes to Quint as she crossed the room and closed the heavy drapes, shutting out much of the afternoon light. The silk of her wide sleeves and full skirt rustled softly, the only sound to be heard as Quint took a seat and extended his bad leg gingerly.
“You’re making wonderful progress, Quintin,” Eleanor said as she resumed her seat behind the desk. “Did she tell you anything we can use?”
“What?”
“Lily Radford,” she prompted. “The ball on Saturday?” Eleanor relaxed and gave him a tender smile. “The balcony?”
Quint almost jumped from his chair, bad leg or no, but he didn’t. He managed to remain remarkably still.
“What is this? Do you have spies spying on your spies?” His anger was restrained, but barely beneath the surface. He’d been able to gather small tidbits of information about the blockade runners—slips they made about their cargo, their schedules, their occasional passengers. It hadn’t taken him long to separate the cautious, close-mouthed captains from the ones who tended to chatter when they drank too much.
Captains Dennison and Wright were the most gregarious, and they had introduced Quint to their fellow profiteers. When they were away, Quint joined in other card games and lost there as well. He played the part of an expatriated gambler to the hilt, caressing the cards, drinking, listening much more closely than he appeared to. And to think that someone had been watching him all the while he had been on the island.
“Occasionally,” Eleanor admitted. “You’re not the only operative in Nassau. Not by a long shot. But no one has ever been able to get close to Captain Sherwood or his lady, Lily. Wonderful plan, Quintin. When are you going to see her again?”
“I’m not.”
Eleanor laughed lightly at his feigned indifference. “My God. I never would have pegged her as your type, Quintin. She’s pretty, but a tad… empty-headed. Really, I’ll never understand why men are so invariably attracted to stupid women, to addle-brained females who can’t manage to think for themselves.” Her smile faded.
“If Lily Radford is so empty-headed, then there’s not much I can do.” Quint had his doubts about Lily’s apparent lack of intelligence. “I can’t harvest an empty field.”
“You must see her again,” Eleanor insisted, a sparkle in her dark eyes.
“She doesn’t know anything,” Quint insisted, leaning back in his chair and trying to appear relaxed. “I imagine the Captain keeps her around for decoration, for amusement.” An unwanted knot formed in his chest, but he ignored it and continued to smile. “I doubt that he keeps her informed of the workings of his business. I’ll concentrate on Dennison and Wright.”
“No,” Eleanor argued. “Keep working on the Radford woman. I have a good feeling about this.” She nodded and smiled at his scowling face. “And let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t get involved. It can only complicate matters.”
Quint showed no visible reaction to her warning, but his gut tightened. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Slocum. I have no intention of getting involved.”
“Good.” She placed her elbows on the desk and cupped her chin in her hands. “And you’d better call me Eleanor. We’re supposed to be lovers, remember?”
He smiled at her, a slow half-grin that was forced. If he wasn’t mistaken, their cover story could easily become real. She was an attractive woman, and in any other time, any other place, he would have pursued her.
But he found that he wasn’t interested.
“We’re also supposed to be discreet,” he countered.
Eleanor opened the top drawer of her desk and reached inside. “You need money?”
Quint shook his head. “I won big last night.”
“Don’t win too big. Dennison and Wright will quit playing with you.”
“If I never win, they’ll wonder why I continued to let them take my money.”
Eleanor remained seated as Quint rose impatiently. “Don’t give up on the Radford woman just yet,” she said, obviously distracted as she slammed the drawer shut. “Pay her a call now and again. Maybe you’ll get to meet the Captain.”
Quint left more agitated then he’d entered, and he’d been in a state of disquiet for three days… since that damned ball… since Lily Radford had kissed him. Witless and frivolous one minute. Sparring with him and dazzling him with that fire in her eyes the next. If Captain Dennison hadn’t interrupted them, he would have kissed her again, and maybe again, and in the end he would have forgotten why he was in Nassau in the first place. With Lily in his arms, he could forget anything… everything. He didn’t like it. He’d realized, as Lily walked away from him without a backward glance, that he didn’t want to use her. He liked her too much, too damned much, and she stirred feelings in him that he’d thought were long dead.
He didn’t want to lose the control he’d gained by locking those feelings away, and deep down he didn’t want to betray Lily by using her the way Eleanor suggested. Ordered.
He couldn’t stop the deep frown that crossed his face. The Captain’s woman. Did she love Sherwood? Did she kiss her Captain the way she’d kissed him on the balcony? Of course she did. That and more. He didn’t want to think about
it, but visions entered his mind, unwanted but persistent. She’d said herself that it was scandalous… and it was. Lily and Captain Sherwood should be married, but Quint was glad they were not. At the same time, he was furious with the Captain for disgracing Lily that way.
The war, the Captain’s precarious profession, perhaps the island itself, made their situation more palatable, easier for the residents of Nassau to accept. Lily had certainly not been scorned or ostracized, as she would have been back home. In the Old South, there would have been no invitations for Lily, no friendly greetings like the ones she’d received at the ball. Mrs. Greene and that vapid blonde he’d seen her talking to would have lifted their noses into the air and turned their backs on Lily. But the Old South was dead. They wouldn’t admit it. Maybe they didn’t even know it yet, but it was over.
Quint looked up and found that he’d wandered to the path that led to Lily’s house, that peaceful place with the flowering plants and lace curtains. He couldn’t see the house from where he stood; for that he would have to follow the winding path through the trees. Damned if that place wasn’t calling him.
He tapped his cane absently, then suddenly turned on his heel and stalked back toward the hotel. Not today. He wasn’t prepared to face her today.
“What’s the matter with you, Lily?” Cora sat on the loveseat in the parlor, sewing on a bright green gown that Lily detested already. “I’ve never seen you pace about so much before.”
“I’m nervous about the next run,” Lily lied. The next run was more than a week away, and she was never nervous about the Chameleon.
Cora laughed. “Not likely. Is it that bloke you were kissing on the lawn last week?” Cora’s eyes remained on her work as her fingers flew gracefully. “’E’s a right good-looking fella, at least from a distance.”
“From up close, too,” Lily said under her breath. “But you know as well as I do that I can’t allow myself to get involved…. ”
“The ’eart ’as a mind o’ its own,” Cora said cryptically. “The first time I saw Tommy, I knew ’e was the one for me. ’E wasn’t much to look at, neither, all dirty and just in from the sea. But ’e gave me the most wonderful smile.” Cora set her sewing aside. “’E stole my ’eart with that smile o’ his. Made it plumb stop.” She said the words as if she were still amazed.
In Enemy Hands Page 5
