And perhaps she was, because all she could think about was Jack. Jack, Jack, Jack. What in damnation 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.
“Goddammit, 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 the hell you are doing?” he asked her, with the emphasis on the word hell. 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 the hell 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 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. For an inscrutable moment, all he could think about were his jewels. There had been no way to protect them in his slide down, and he went black now with the 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’d be damned if he’d 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. In his fantasy, she shouted pleas to be released, but he steadfastly ignored her, silencing her with a brutal kiss before turning and walking away, then locking the door.
He should have followed his instinct, and never let her aboard this bloody 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 God, 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 bloody 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 breast 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.
His mouth was wonderful and Sophie had never wanted anything more...
She opened to him, anticipating his tongue with bated breath. At the brush of it against her lips, soft
and warm and sweet, she offered her own without protest, without hesitation... with total abandon.
Jack had never tasted anything sweeter.
No lips had ever trembled so beautifully.
No tongue had ever felt so much like heaven.
No embrace had ever been so welcome.
He wanted something he knew he could never have, but he was willing to take whatever she would give him. She might not be in love with Penn, but she was still another man’s fiancée. Whatever piece of her she gifted to him would be gone soon enough. He didn’t feel guilty for taking his share. Jack wasn’t so honorable a man that he could walk away clean from the only woman who had ever made his heart beat so hard that it hurt to breathe... who could make him smile, make him feel like he’d never felt before.
He pulled away to look into her face, wanting to see her. Her cheeks were flushed with color, her eyes dark golden, dazed with passion. He could take whatever he wanted of her this moment and she would give it without protest; he knew that instinctively.
And he desperately wanted to taste her.
He could pleasure her, and satisfy himself ... and she would remain virtually untouched...
Or he could walk away and wonder for the rest of his life.
The choice was his, he knew.
He chose to stay.
“Sophia,’ he whispered, and bent to kiss her throat. Her head lolled to one side, and her scent tempted him beyond reason, aroused him. His body tightened, hardened. He opened his mouth over her throat and nipped her gently, and she moaned softly in delirious pleasure. He was filled with intense satisfaction at the beautiful sound of her passion. “I want you,” he told her, and meant it fiercely.
A slow burn seeped through him at his baser thoughts, and he met her gaze, wanting her to see every move he made... while he was making it. If she wanted him to stop, she would just need to say the word, and he would.
He kissed her throat once more, biting it softly, and then kissed her breast over her clothes. When she didn’t stop him, he closed a palm over one breast and molded his hand to the tantalizing softness, craving the feel of her bare skin on his lips.
She cried out, soft whimpers.
Sophie closed her eyes and let her head fall back, helpless, to let him do his will.
Three Redeemable Rogues Page 16
