Three Redeemable Rogues

by Tanya Anne Crosby

  He had joked privately to himself that she had come to spy, but hearing it so boldly from her lips gave him reason for pause. Could she truly have come spying for Penn? He wouldn’t put it past Harlan, but would Sophia Vanderwahl lower herself to such a level?

  “So you miss your fiancé?” he asked her, his voice laden with sarcasm as he watched her changing expressions.

  “I do?” she replied, and blinked, drawn out of private thoughts by his question. And then with a great deal more enthusiasm, she declared, “Oh, yes, I do!”

  “In fact, you miss him so much that you are willing to piss away ten thousand dollars just to see him?”

  “Mr. MacAuley!”

  “Is that true, Mizz Vanderwahl?”

  Once again that flash of anger appeared, but then it was gone as quickly as it presented itself, and her tone was even when she spoke. “Yes.”

  “You miss him so much that you are willing to travel with an entourage of strange men in less than stately accommodations?”

  The fire in her eyes was back. “Yes.”

  “You miss him so much, actually, that you are willing to travel against your father’s wishes just to see him?”

  “I am not traveling against my father’s wishes!”

  “No?”

  “He doesn’t know, Mr. MacAuley. I didn’t tell him. He would have worried.”

  “I see... so you were so hungry for the sight of Harlan that you left without even bothering to tell your parents where you were going?”

  Her chin lifted a bit. “I left a letter, of course.”

  “Lucky fiancé.”

  Of course, what she was saying might be true, but he didn’t believe her. That wasn’t her reason for seeking Jack out. She was on this boat for a reason, and he intended to watch her closely to find out what it was. He’d be damned if he’d just hand over his hard work to Penn so easily.

  He stood, his gaze never leaving her.

  Her gaze locked with his, and her expression was wary as she watched him... as it should be. “What are you doing?”

  Certainly not what he’d like to be doing.

  Without a word, he came around his desk, physically forming a barrier between her and his research—not that he thought she would dare go after it in his presence, but he hoped it sent her a message. He knew what she was after, and he wanted her to know that he knew. He leaned casually against his desk, though he felt anything but casual in her presence.

  Every muscle in his body was tense with anticipation.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “Staring rudely!”

  His brows lifted. “Am I?” he asked coolly, shifting his weight to relieve the growing ache in his trousers.

  “Again!”

  He made no move toward her, resisting the urge. He wanted to go to her... wanted to teach her a lesson about entering strange men’s cabins without permission or protection. He wanted to show her what her presence did to him. He wanted her to see it, feel it. She had no idea what thin ice she was treading on. If he were a different man that bravado of hers wouldn’t keep her safe enough.

  She stood a little straighter. “Do you always stare at women that way?”

  “What way?”

  “That way.”

  “Enlighten me, Mizz Vanderwahl.”

  “As though you will swallow me up like some lion and spit out my bones!”

  He was, indeed, hungry—intuitive little vixen.

  “No,” he answered truthfully. It had been a long time since a woman had distracted him so completely. He’d like to slam that door at her back and pin her against it, kiss those soft- looking lips until her knees buckled and he swept her into his arms and put himself out of his misery.

  And he was in misery at the moment, aroused for no reason at all, except that she had dared walk into his bedroom ... into the lion’s den.

  It was going to be a long journey.

  He decided it was high time to set some ground rules. With purpose, he moved toward her. It’d be in her best interest to learn before, not after, what dangers lurked for a woman alone in a man’s bedroom. He had given her the cabin nearest his for her own protection, but he was beginning to realize that there was no one around to protect her from him. He wasn’t Harlan H. Penn III, and he wasn’t accustomed to tiptoeing around his desires.

  She didn’t retreat, merely watched him, and he told her, “You’re a brave woman, Mizz Vanderwahl.”

  She took a step backward then, but otherwise held her ground, and he knew she had no idea how close she was to finding herself thoroughly kissed.

  Her chin lifted higher as she watched him approach. “Whatever do you mean?”

  He fully intended to show her.

  He stopped directly in front of her, entering her space, and waited to see what she would do.

  She must have read the desire in his eyes, because she said, “You wouldn’t dare!”

  But he would.

  “Dare what?” he taunted, knowing she wouldn’t say it.

  She didn’t answer, and he knew she was suddenly uncertain of his intentions. She looked so adorably confused that Jack only craved her more.

  He smiled. “Call me Jack, Sophia.”

  She lifted her chin higher yet, but didn’t retreat, and her response pleased him immensely. She wasn’t a coward, but she might just be naive. If she only realized what thoughts were going through his head at the moment, she would run, without question.

  His mouth went dry with desire.

  How would she respond to his kiss?

  Would she slap him indignantly and walk away?

  Or would she kiss him back, offering that sweet tongue for him to suckle?

  She was near enough that he could easily find out...

  Chapter 8

  Sophie lifted her chin. “What if I don’t want to call you Jack?”

  She knew she sounded petulant and childish but couldn’t help it. When he looked at her like that she couldn’t think at all. He came nearer, standing so close now that she could feel his body heat, and she held her breath as he spoke.

  “Then don’t. I am a great advocate of free will, Sophia.” Staring at her still, he reached out, lifting a strand of hair from her face, brushing it gently aside. The gesture was such an intimate one that Sophie swallowed any response she might have uttered. “Man must always follow his greatest impulse.”

  Sophie lifted a brow. “Man?” She tried to retain her coolness though her heart beat like native drums. “And what about woman, Mr. MacAuley?”

  “Of course, I’m an advocate of women, as well,” he answered softly, and Sophie quivered at the sultry timbre of his voice. He winked at her, but he hadn’t quite answered her question as yet, and she wasn’t so flustered she didn’t notice.

  He was standing too close, but she found she didn’t want to move.

  What was wrong with her that she didn’t just walk away? This was an entirely inappropriate position she was in, and yet...

  “That’s not precisely what I meant, Mr. MacAuley.”

  His voice was silky. “Tell me what you meant, Miss Vanderwahl.”

  He came closer, she thought, though it didn’t seem as though he’d moved at all, and his proximity dizzied her. His breath was warm against her face, teasing her. His scent drew her nearer... sunshine and sea... and something more.

  She tried to keep her train of thought. “Do you believe in free will for women too?”

  “Of course.”

  She tilted him a smart glance. “Even for your own?”

  He smiled slightly, bending closer, his eyes sparkling with mockery. “Personally I have never owned one,” he whispered, “but if I did, certainly.”

  “Owned one?”

  He grinned slowly, and Sophia realized he was toying with her. Her eyes narrowed.

  “What a bigoted thing to say!”

  She straightened indignantly, but the response merely brought her face nearer to his.

  “In de
fense I would argue that yours was a confrontational sort of question, Mizz Vanderwahl, including even its phrasing, and that I was merely answering as in kind.”

  Their lips were entirely too close now, their breaths intermingling as intimately as that of lovers, and his voice was seductively low. Sophie felt strangely exhilarated by his nearness. Harlan had never made her heart pound so fiercely. Nor had her skin felt so hungry for his touch. Jack’s simple gesture of removing her hair from her face had left her wanting somehow.

  Did he intend to kiss her now?

  Did he want to?

  Sophie held her breath, gazing up at him.

  “I wasn’t looking for an argument.” Her voice sounded strange even to her own ears.

  “No?”

  She lowered her eyes, lest he read her thoughts.

  “No.”

  “Then what were you looking for?”

  Sophie blinked at his question. Indeed, what was she looking for? And why was she still here?

  He reached out and touched her forehead with his thumb, a soft caress. “Definitely a bruise, but not too bad.”

  Her knees felt suddenly weak. She lifted her hand, brushing his in search of her bruised forehead. “It doesn’t hurt,” she said softly.

  He smiled, and the smile gleamed wickedly in his eyes. “Need someone to kiss it and make it better?”

  The very suggestion took her breath away.

  She took a step backward, and he followed. Did she appear as wide-eyed as she felt? Suddenly she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Why did you book passage on this ship, Sophia?”

  “I... I wanted to see Harlan,” she stammered, but it seemed suddenly the most ridiculous notion.

  He leaned against the doorframe at her side. “Did he put you up to it?”

  Sophie swallowed, uncomfortable with the look in his eyes. She shook her head, and took another step backward. “He doesn’t know.”

  “What doesn’t he know?”

  “That I’m coming... to see him. I didn’t tell him.”

  His expression changed suddenly and something flickered in the depths of his eyes... concern perhaps. For her? Her heart squeezed just a little. Did everyone know about Harlan’s dalliances but her? Anger welled once more within her.

  She didn’t need Jack MacAuley’s pity.

  But he was looking at her suddenly as though she were some wretched little girl whose heart had been broken by her favorite beau. Well, her heart was not broken! Harlan was not the one calling the shots here!

  She was not a victim!

  Sophie didn’t know what came over her in that instant—anger perhaps, but not anger alone.

  By God, she was not to be pitied!

  She flung herself at Jack, wrapping her arms about his neck, and kissed him smartly. He was so startled by the embrace that he scarcely had the good sense to hold her. Sophie pushed away as comprehension seemed to reach him, and spun on her heels, leaving him open-mouthed and staring after her.

  It was only as she fled the scene that she even realized what she’d done.

  “What the hell was that all about?”

  Jack was still fingering his lips and staring at the door when Kell poked his head inside.

  “Damned if I know,” he answered, dazed.

  “She ran straight into me on the way out. Don’t think she even noticed.”

  Jack, too, was having a tough time focusing.

  He’d fully intended to kiss the bloody wench, teach her a lesson, and what did she do? She kissed him first! And not tenderly at all. She’d done it in anger, and he hadn’t the first clue what had gotten her prickles up. One instant he’d had her under a spell, and the next she was angry and in a tizzy.

  Why the devil had she kissed him?

  It didn’t make sense.

  “Bit of a she-wolf, isn’t she?”

  Jack shook himself out of his stupor. “Aye… can’t quite figure her out.”

  Kell gave him an amused look and then sauntered in as though he knew something Jack didn’t. It infuriated Jack when he seemed to think he knew everything.

  “She’s up to something,” Jack disclosed. “I want to know what.”

  Kell smiled and turned to him. It was only then Jack noticed the papers in his hand.

  “I have something to show you that might shed some light.”

  Curiosity outweighed Jack’s annoyance.

  “Then again, it might not.”

  Jack nodded. “What are those?”

  Kell tossed the papers down on Jack’s desk and said, “See for yourself.”

  Chapter 9

  Sophie had kissed a complete stranger—worse, she had thrown herself into his arms!

  What in God’s name had come over her?

  There was no excuse for it, except that she’d been blinded by her pride. Inevitably, Jack would discover the reason for her journey, and when he did, she couldn’t bear it if he were to pity her. She didn’t want him to see her as a victim, didn’t want him to think her a fool.

  Even if she was one.

  Harlan had used her from the first. He’d never loved her, that much was evident, but she’d wanted so desperately to believe he did.

  The night air was cool at sea, and the sounds of the ocean waves comforted her. She stood at the bow of the ship, staring out over the midnight-blue horizon at the diminishing skyline that was Boston. All that remained now was a barely indiscernible glow that was, at best, poor competition for the bright half moon.

  If she dared forget everything but the place in which she stood, time seemed to suspend itself.

  In that instant, she understood exactly why Kell had looked forward to this experience. It was, indeed, nostalgic in a way nothing else had ever been. This wasn’t a luxurious private yacht, nor was it some elegant ocean liner, laden with newfangled gadgets, but it held a simple charm all its own.

  The crewmen who remained on deck had drifted from their chores by now and lounged about the helm, trading quips with the helmsman. Sophie heard bits of their ribaldry and found herself smiling despite her mood.

  “Damn I’m hungry!” one man declared.

  Come to think of it, so was Sophie.

  She frowned, wondering why no one had bothered to call her to dinner. Surely Jack didn’t intend to starve her to death?

  “What the hell happened to Shorty?” she heard someone ask.

  “Who the hell knows,” she heard another reply. “Probably smothered himself between her tits. Did you see those gems?”

  Sophie’s brows lifted, and she put a hand to her mouth, stifling a horrified giggle. She wondered if they realized she was listening.

  “Who could miss them!” she heard the first man exclaim. “Though he’d better be dead as a doornail, else I’ll kill that horny bastard myself for leaving us high and dry!”

  Sophie sat down so as not to be seen, feeling terribly guilty for eavesdropping. Her cheeks burned fiercely, and she wondered over the wisdom in traveling alone with a ship full of men—not that it hadn’t crossed her thoughts before. She just hadn’t expected it to be quite so intimate a journey. In truth, it was as though they were all under the same roof, very little privacy to be had for anyone at all—except of course Jack.

  “Stubby little bastard!” someone grumbled.

  The others chortled.

  “Blimey! It’s gonna be a long two weeks if we have to eat bread and cheese the entire time!”

  Shorty must have been the cook, Sophie gathered, and from their conversation she surmised he’d been left behind ... or had abandoned them ? Either way, it seemed they’d been left to fend for themselves when it came to supping. Maybe she could offer her assistance somehow? Maybe that would earn a little good will.

  Of course, Sophie hadn’t the least knowledge about cooking, but it couldn’t possibly be so difficult to learn. Could it? All she would need was a little direction. She was sure she could do it. And anyway, if she was to be stuck on this ship for the next few weeks, she w
as bound to make the best of it.

  In the morning, she decided, she would surprise them all with breakfast, but this instant, she thought a trip to the kitchen would be fitting because she had never even used a stove. It would be in her best interest to acquaint herself with the tools of the trade. Certainly Jack should appreciate her effort, and she hoped it would serve as an olive branch between them. They’d gotten off to a terrible beginning, and Sophie needed allies just now, not enemies.

  Besides, Jack didn’t know it yet, but someone was going to have to bring her home, and she didn’t intend to wait about for Harlan to do it. And if Jack couldn’t do it straightaway ... well then ...

  She smiled to herself. She would simply have to hang around the dig site, now wouldn’t she? It wouldn’t be the most terrible fate. In fact, she rather hoped Jack would let her remain in his company as there was no better time to begin learning than the present. As far as her reputation was concerned, what did it matter? If she didn’t wish to marry, then what did she care what people thought of her? Life was far too short, and she intended to live it to the fullest. Her entire life she’d wanted to do this, and now the opportunity was there and she fully intended to seize it.

  But right now it was time to make herself indispensable. She didn’t want Jack to have any reason to regret her presence.

  The first telegram read simply: Find out his agenda And the second directed: Make certain he doesn’t arrive before the board reconvenes.

  Not one contained a name, or even much clarity of direction—merely simple instructions that would be apparent only to the recipient. Both had been delivered to an address that could have been anything—an office, a warehouse or a legal office. There was no way to check until they returned. What was clear was that there was foul play at hand.

  “You found these where?”

  Kell made himself comfortable on the desktop. “In the kitchen.”

  “All of them?”

  Kell nodded. “Stuffed in the stove, ready to be burned ... except that whoever put them there hasn’t had a chance to get rid of the evidence yet.”

  “I can’t believe that dirty S.O.B.,” Jack exploded, slamming his fist down on his desk.