Katrina's Sight

by Marie Higgins

  “Mr. Knightly,” she interrupted. “I said I would be there.” Her grin widened, showing him her perfectly straight teeth. Even though he wouldn’t admit it aloud, she did have a nice smile.

  He nodded. “Fine.”

  “Mr. Knightly? I have one question.” She stepped closer, and he realized she was slightly taller than most women he knew, but he still towered over her. “How many of your men are planning on traveling with us?” she added.

  “It will take a good strong crew of ten to make it through the jungle.”

  Her smile softened and her eyes darkened to jade. He could read this woman well. She wanted something and intended to use feminine charms to get it. He wasn’t worried. He had been handling women like Miss Landon for quite some time. They couldn’t get the best of him.

  “Will you allow my mother to accompany us? She is very upset with the idea of her daughter being the only woman in a group of men.”

  He wanted to laugh in Miss Landon’s face. She was a good performer, he’d give her that, but he was also immune to fancy women who thought all they had to do was bat their eyes, pout, and he would give them their way. Many women had tried—and failed.

  It was hard to believe her mother wanted to accompany them. Although the older lady was still a strikingly handsome woman, it was obvious by her frail body and pale skin that she was very ill. There was no way this woman would last one day in the jungle. It was bad enough he had to play nanny to her daughter, but he refused to take a sick woman along.

  He stroked his chin and ran his gaze over Miss Landon. Those wide innocent eyes pleaded earnestly, and by the way she clasped her hands against her small waist until her knuckles turned white, he could tell she desperately waited for his answer. He decided to play with her a little before refusing her request.

  He sighed heavily. “Well, the payment I received was only for one person.”

  “I’ll pay you more,” she quickly countered.

  The older woman sitting in a chair gasped followed by a cough. This confirmed his belief that she was indeed ill.

  He shrugged. “My supplies are for you and my men. On such short notice, I don’t know where I’d find the items needed to accommodate another. There’s also the issue of food—”

  “I’ll share what I have.” A sly smile touched her heart-shaped mouth. “We are both very light eaters. We’ll make do.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t know, Miss Landon. Your mother looks unwell. I highly doubt she will have the strength.”

  Miss Landon stepped forward and reached her hand out to touch him, but only brushed her fingers along the front of his shirt. “I shall assist her. Besides, you won’t even notice her presence. She’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

  At that moment, the older woman coughed. Quiet? Unlikely. He grinned out of the corner of his mouth. “Have you ever heard a mouse scurry across a floor or inside a wall, Miss Landon? Mice aren’t exactly silent.”

  Her tempting mouth tightened and her hands balled into fists. Through her calm expression, she gave him a razor sharp smile. “Then please, Mr. Knightly, tell me what you want me to do. It’s not proper for a young woman to be alone with a man.”

  “You’ll not be alone. My men will protect you from me, if that is your concern.”

  The smile disappeared and her nostrils flared. Felix bit his cheek to hold back from laughing.

  She huffed and propped her hands on her slim waist. “Mr. Knightly? Do you or do you not intend on taking my mother?”

  He grinned. “Sorry, but I can’t.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Won’t.”

  Suddenly the gentleness vanished from her delicate features and a deep growl escaped her throat. Her nails were like claws as they flew through the air toward his face, but he quickly grasped her hands before she could slap his face. Her bosom rose and fell quickly; the material of her dress grazed the back of his hands. Her warm breath fanned his face and it smelled like a spearmint leaf.

  “Curse you, Mr. Knightly.” Her angry eyes watered. “If you had no intentions of allowing her to go along, then you should not have led me to believe—”

  “Miss Landon,” he hissed. “Would you calm yourself and listen to me?”

  “I’m appalled at you, Mr. Knightly,” she continued, ignoring his demand as her eyes flashed with fervor. “I’m a lady, and I shall not have my reputation ruined. I’m quite certain my father wouldn’t appreciate it, either.”

  The mother sprang from her chair and tried to peel her daughter away. He held the young woman tight as he met her piercing glare.

  “Miss Landon, would you cease your prattling for two minutes and listen to me? There is one rule you must learn before tomorrow.” His gaze swept over her face, across her tinted cheeks, down her perky nose to those full lips. He then shifted his attention back to her dark green eyes. “You will not disobey my orders. You’ll follow me like an obedient dog and do everything I say. I know the trail very well, and I know what to expect. Your spoiled behavior is dangerous to take with you, so I suggest you leave it home with your mother.”

  Her raspberry tongue darted out and swept across her lips. Her throat jumped in what appeared to be a hard swallow. Tears gathered in her eyes, but he could see her stubbornness kept them from falling.

  “Promise me you’ll follow my rules, Miss Landon.”

  Her body trembled. After a few moments of silence, she nodded stiffly.

  “Say it,” he demanded.

  Startled, she jumped. Her expression hardened. “Yes, Mr. Knightly. I’ll follow your rules. I will not disobey.”

  Smiling, he released her hands. She fell back against her mother whose protective arms wrapped around her shoulders. The old woman threw him a gaze as sharp as a dagger, even though her coughs had taken more color away from her face, if that were possible.

  Although the young woman had relented this time, he knew their journey would be filled with pitfalls along the way. Nothing he couldn’t handle, though.

  He nodded to the two women. “I’ll admit you are correct, Miss Landon. An unmarried woman should not travel without another woman present. I will have one of my men bring his wife along since she is familiar with the jungle.”

  Relief crossed Miss Landon’s face, but thankfully, she didn’t say a word.

  He continued, “I shall meet you at the docks first thing in the morning. I sincerely hope you will be ready.” He glanced over her fitted gown, enjoying the way it hugged her slender figure, before he turned and marched toward the door.

  “But Mr. Knightly?” Mrs. Landon’s voice squeaked. “What will I do while my daughter is gone? I don’t have the funds to pay for a room at the inn while I wait for your return.”

  The daughter gave Felix a pouty look and he wanted to growl in frustration. “Fine. I shall pay for your lodging.”

  The older woman gave him a nod. “I thank you, Sir.”

  Quickly, before the two women realized they needed something else, he hurried out of the office. Once outside, he breathed in the clean, crisp air. Not very often did he allow a woman to make him upset, but then again, he hadn’t run across one so uppity since he left England three years ago. For a moment, he wasn’t certain if it was her attitude, or her beauty that disturbed him more. This particular trek would certainly take years off his life.

  Felix grumbled and mounted his horse. He didn’t have the patience for someone so spoiled. Men followed commands better than a woman, and he wasn’t looking forward to arguing with her the entire time. Her father paid him well, but this wasn’t about money. Adventure was what he sought, and Felix thrived on danger.

  As he rode toward his home on the edge of town, he continued to question his decision to take Miss Landon through the jungle. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it—he just didn’t want to. He didn’t want to hear her whine every step of the way. He wasn’t that desperate for money.

  Thankfully, though, money wasn’t an i
ssue. He already owned a few homes—this place and a small house in England he’d been contemplating about selling. He loved to travel, so living in nice houses was not necessary. Instead, he’d accepted this journey into the jungle because it was what he loved to do.

  After stopping, he tied his horse to a fencepost near the makeshift barn and headed toward the front door of the house. From up the street, a boy called his name. Felix waited until the lad stopped in front of him.

  Breathless, the boy handed him a paper. “Sir, this letter just came for you.”

  “Thank you.” Felix flipped him a coin. The boy grinned, and clutching the coin in his hand, he ran off.

  Felix entered his home and shut the door. When he opened the letter, his grandmother’s name at the bottom of the missive grabbed his immediate attention. He hadn’t talked to her since he left London right after he’d been disinherited by his father. Anxious, he skimmed the message. The news slammed into him like a runaway team of horses. Shaking his head, he read it again.

  Dearest Felix,

  Your father hasn’t been well of late, and just last week, pneumonia claimed his life. Because your older brother died of a gunshot wound a year ago, you are now the Earl of Blackwood. Please return home and resume your responsibilities. If you fail to do so, or to contact us, you will be declared dead and the title will be given to your cousin, Stanley, who is, as you know, a spendthrift. The title is rightfully yours, and I wish you to weigh this decision carefully.

  Sincerely,

  Dowager Countess of Blackwood

  Groaning, Felix sank into a cushioned chair and closed his eyes. For years, he’d fought his father on the issue of him becoming a vicar, as second sons of peers often did. Felix had been stubborn in his decision of not becoming a man of the cloth and so was cut off.

  Regret swelled in his heart, and he wished he’d made amends with his father before he died. Truly, it was Felix’s responsibility now to take over as Earl, even though the prospect didn’t sound enticing. His grandmother’s worry over Stanley stepping into the role was not misplaced. Felix’s cousin had always been a reckless man as long as Felix had known him. He wasn’t too sure becoming an earl would straighten out his cousin. Indeed, Felix should step into the role.

  He rubbed his now throbbing head and glanced at the telegram. With a sinking heart, he knew what must be done. He’d been his grandmother’s favorite grandson as a child. Now she needed him, and he couldn’t let her down.

  Children’s laughter rang from outside the window, drawing his attention. They played a chase game, and it reminded him of when he was young and lived at home. Nostalgic memories engulfed him, bringing with them a bitter-sweet pang to his heart. If he took over the earldom, this would be his last time in Macapá.

  This would be his last adventure, so he might as well make it memorable.

  THE RICKETY OLD HACKNEY jerked to a stop in front of the docks a half hour before Katrina’s scheduled arrival time. She peeked out the window of the hired coach at the large white steamer with filigree and railings of shiny brass, wishing she would be sailing instead of traveling in a bumpy coach.

  The sun had already begun its climb into the early morning sky, creating a palette of purple, blue, and orange. As she scanned the area, a few men loaded several crates onto the boat, but she didn’t see her escort. If Mr. Felix Knightly came late, she’d never let him forget it. She’d show that all-too-arrogant man he couldn’t push her around. Although she had promised to obey, she’d do it on her own terms.

  With help from a Portuguese manservant, she stepped down from her conveyance. He then picked up her trunk and carried it onto the dock. A few men glanced her way in curiosity. Unease shot through her, causing strange chills to raise the small hairs on her arms. Thankfully, she’d taken her mother’s advice and hidden a dagger in her boot just in case any man got the wrong impression and wanted to treat her any less than she deserved.

  Acting her part as a well-bred lady, she daintily sat on her trunk, folded her hands on her lap, and kept her back ramrod straight while she waited patiently for Mr. Knightly to arrive. She stared up the street and watched for his carriage, but after ten minutes passed with other vehicles stopping to unload and no sign of her guide, panic welled inside of her.

  Had he changed his mind? Perhaps she shouldn’t have shown him her temper yesterday, but Mr. Knightly knew how to spark anger inside of her quickly. She shouldn’t have goaded him so much when they spoke in the lawyer’s office, but there was something about him that made her want to rebel. She definitely didn’t like the way he treated her when he thought she was a spoiled little rich girl. At the same time, she knew she wouldn’t tolerate his judgmental attitude when he finally discovered she had been poor all of her life.

  Several times during their conversation she wanted to shake him and make him see reason. The only reason she hadn’t followed her instincts was because she was afraid of touching his broad shoulders...and liking it. She’d never met a man quite as robust as this one. It frightened her that if she made contact with him, the sensation might be too enjoyable and she’d never want to pull away. Heavens, he was built very well. Thinking of him and his muscles wasn’t a good thing, either.

  More than anything, she wished she could hate him for judging her so harshly. She wished she could stop admiring his physical appearance and concentrate on his black heart, instead.

  This morning, her mother had diligently assisted Katrina with her packing and readying for this journey. Her mother’s hesitation in allowing Katrina to go alone was obvious, but really, there was nothing to be done about the stubborn Mr. Knightly.

  Her mother kept reassuring her how much she loved her. She reminded Katrina that because her father was dying, he would probably say things he didn’t mean. He’d more than likely tell her that he’d thought of her often through the years and wished he had gotten to know her.

  She rolled her eyes. Katrina would always resent her father for his abandonment in the same way her mother had. No matter how sweet and loving he tried to be when they finally met, she would know what had truly been in his heart for all these years. His absence had proven it.

  A bead of moisture ran down her neck, and she reached up to brush it away. This weather was so searing, she wondered if this town sat in the middle of a volcano. Where was Mr. Knightly who had wanted her here promptly? She grumbled under her breath. Couldn’t he follow his own rules?

  Her temperament had been spurred already by her absentee father’s request, and Mr. Knightly’s attitude wasn’t making things any easier.

  From up the street, a man sauntered toward the docks. Even from where Katrina sat, she recognized the wave of the man’s raven hair and the shape of his body.

  It was Knightly.

  As he passed a run-down inn, a brown skinned woman called his name and darted over to him. He laughed at what the woman said, and the baritone ring sent shivers down Katrina’s spine. As he stood with the other woman in the street, Katrina assessed his appearance. His beige shirt hung open at his chest and draped loosely from his shoulders to his narrow hips.

  A small gasp sprung from her throat. Glory, he did have muscles. Lots of them. She’d never known a man so ruggedly built, and so blindly handsome. She shook away the thought. Thinking of him in this manner was out of the question.

  The woman next to Felix rose on the tips of her toes and flung her arms around his broad shoulders. In return, Felix slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. The bold woman was the first to kiss him, but it appeared Felix didn’t have any problem drinking in her passion.

  Katrina sucked in a quick breath. Working most of her life in a tavern, she hadn’t been sheltered from the mating rituals of men and women, but witnessing Felix openly kiss this woman stirred something deep inside Katrina, awakening her curiosity. What would it feel like if she was the woman in his embrace? The newfound feelings frightened her in an odd way, turning her mouth dry.

  Felix kissed the woman o
ne last time and then pushed her away. He stared after her as she sashayed back toward the inn, swinging her rounded hips as if trying to entice him. Thankfully, Felix didn’t take the hint, but instead, continued walking toward Katrina. A smile of satisfaction lit up his handsome face...until he saw her.

  Blinking, he shook his head. He glanced up at the hints of orange streaking against the morning sky, then back to her as if not believing what he saw. He walked right up to her and met her stare.

  “What are you doing here?” he snapped.

  Her gaze dropped to his lips, still swollen from kissing. She moistened her throat with a hard swallow. “I’m waiting for you, and by the looks of your laboring crew,” she stood and glanced at the steamer, “I’d say not only are you late, but you’re a poor excuse for a leader since you’re not working alongside them in preparing for our journey.”

  He folded his arms across his chest, slightly tilting his head as he studied her. “If you knew anything about leaders, you’d know they delegate responsibility. And for your information, I’m not late. We’ll leave on time, my lady, so don’t get your pantalettes in an uproar.”

  Despite the feelings that had begun to stir moments ago, her palms itched to slap his all-too-handsome face. She tried to calm herself, but realized what a mistake it was to stand so closely to him. The scent of his provocative musky cologne surrounded her, and she wished a strong wind would kick up and blow it away.

  She lifted her chin a little higher. “The only reason you delegate to your crew is to cover up that you overslept this morning, probably because you were up late last night drinking tequila and...carousing with a female companion.”

  His eyes widened and then a relaxed expression came over his face and he grinned. “Actually, the drink here in Brazil is not tequila...but is called cachaça. And although it’s really none of your business, I wasn’t drinking nor was I with a woman.”

  Embarrassment washed through her, but she tried not to show it. Instead, she arched an eyebrow. “Nevertheless...uh, you are late.”