Alanna (When Hearts Dare Series Book 2) (6 page)

His sweet breath grazed her ear again. “Nonsense? Hardly. She curses such a man as me who influences her daughter. And since she stood in the very spot where you now stand, endured similar physical contact, she knows exactly why she curses me.”

What a delightful evening this had turned out to be. Oh, but wasn’t Wolf the wicked one to taunt her mother in such a devilish way. Well, Mother deserved even worse for her disgusting treatment of him. “And why is that,
Mr. Wolf
?”

His breath fanned her cheek now, his voice so softly intense she fought a desire to turn her head and touch her mouth to his. “Because your fiancé holds not a speck of the fire your mother glimpsed in me, and in her eyes, that makes me dangerous.”

With a subtle shift of his body, he drew even closer. If she turned her head a hair—only a hair—their lips would meet. Oh, God, she could barely stand, her knees were so weak. “And how could you possibly know of what you speak?”

His mouth brushed her cheek, his voice a husky rasp. “Because the kind of fire your mother sees in me, Alanna Malone? You’d best think twice before you decide to play with it.”

Looking about as forlorn as any dog could manage, Julia sat in front of the closed door of the captain’s quarters, his head turned toward Wolf in quiet desperation.

Wolf hustled to the door. “All right, all right, I’m coming. Say something when you need out, damn it. Don’t just sit there expecting a body to read your mind.”

The dog slid through the opening of the door, and hightailed it toward the back of the ship.

“Jeezus, if I had to piss that bad, I sure as hell wouldn’t sit in front of the door waiting for someone to open it.”

“Guess that’s the difference between a wild wolf and a civilized dog,” Thompson replied, still bent over his ship’s charts. “A wolf would lift its leg anywhere.”

“Clever.” Wolf ran his fingers through his tousled mop with one hand, and swiped the other over a plate beside the captain. He yawned, popped the filched roll into his mouth, and strode to his steamer trunk, where he pulled out a pair of black, knee-high boots.

“Hungry?” Thompson queried.

“Close enough to noon, may as well wait.” Wolf stuffed his shirt into his trousers. “Thought we could take a walk on deck, so you can show me around.”

“Can’t right now.”

“How long you going to sit stoop-shouldered over those damn maps, anyway? You’ve been at it since dawn.”

“Doesn’t have a thing to do with my charts. This is Miss Malone’s exercise period. And how would you have a clue as to how long I’ve been out of bed?”

“Miss Malone’s
what
?” Wolf hobbled over to the table with one boot on, the other in his hand. “We aren’t allowed on deck because she—are you playing me?”

Thompson dropped his pencil and sat upright, rubbing at the small of his back. “No males allowed on deck during Miss Malone’s scheduled time. Only enough crew to keep the ship moving.” He lifted the teacup to his mouth, took a swig, and checked the clock on the wall. “Should be clear in another fifteen minutes.”

Wolf leaned over the table until he was eye level with his roommate. “Tell me, Captain Thompson, of the oh-so-high-and-mighty Andrews Shipping Company Limited. Is this to be a daily event, or is this someone’s little whim today?”

“Oh, there are no whims when it comes to Miss Malone. Hers is a daily schedule you can count on—except during extremely foul weather. She is quite a disciplined young lady.”

Wolf cocked his head to one side. “Would you mind filling in a few minor details? Does this mean whenever one of the three women aboard decides to sun herself, we are all supposed to run for cover? Or is it only when Miss Malone decides to saunter about on her own?”

He hiked over to a porthole and caught a glimpse of the blue sky. Rebellion fired his blood. He’d be damned if anyone would pen him in. “Son of a bitch.” He struggled into his other boot.

Thompson’s chuckle sounded like little more than a grunt. “Back to your normal speech, I see. You’ll find the women about the deck fairly often. What I’m talking about is a certain private time for Miss Malone. She’s pretty energetic for a woman. Doesn’t like being cooped up in a cabin.”

“And I do?”

Thompson ignored him. “She’s been sailing aboard my ships going on thirteen years now. Started when she was ten. So did her exercise periods. Don’t see any reason to put a stop to them just because there’s a stubborn mule aboard.”

Wolf stomped his heel into his other boot. “Who is she to be taking over an entire ship anytime she damn well pleases?”

Thompson leaned forward. “Have you forgotten there is a thousand tons of cargo in the hold, and every bit of it belongs to her father?”

“So what?”

“He fills a ship a month, that’s ‘so what.’ If it weren’t for people like him, there might not be an oh-so-high-and-mighty Andrews Shipping Company Limited. Guess I can afford to acquiesce to someone else’s forty-five-minute schedule every now and again.”

Wolf grabbed his jacket. “And during the day’s prime hours, while the rest of us all sit around with our thumbs up our—”

Thompson raised his hand. “Come now, Wolf. You have twenty-three and one-quarter hours of every day when you don’t have to be concerned about who is, or who is not, on deck. Of course”—he shrugged his shoulders—“I could move the time period to an hour earlier, when you’re sure to be asleep—”

“Kiss my you know what, and whose stupid idea was this anyway? Hers or her
genteel
papa’s?” He shoved his arms into his jacket, and headed out the door.

Five minutes later, he shot back into the room. Julia scooted in behind him. “No one’s out there.”

Thompson smirked as he toasted him with his tea. “I know. I figured you’d pull the stunt you just did, so I lied about the time by a good twenty minutes.”

 

 

Alanna stood at the fore of the ship and marveled at its sleekness—all gleaming brass and polished wood. A rush of power coursed through her veins as the ship fairly flew across the surface of the smooth water. What a perfect day for sailing. No matter how many times she traveled by sea, the sight of yards of white canvas billowing against a blue sky still left her in awe.

Leaning over the rail, she watched the figurehead dance at the ship’s bow—a white and gilt goddess, her carved gossamer robes flowing about her sylphlike body, her outstretched arms pointing the way. Legend had it that the figureheads adorning ships knew every dolphin. And when they swam alongside the ship, the figureheads called each of them by name. A wave arced in the sunlight, casting a shimmering rainbow upon the waters.

“Alanna, you get back here before you fall overboard!” Her mother’s screech swooped through the air like a squawking seagull.

Humph.
If Mother only knew what the exercise period entailed, she’d faint dead away. Thank heavens Father had seen to that situation years ago. Straightening, Alanna made her way to where her mother and the tiny Asian maid sat with lounge chairs pulled together, sewing colorful glass beads onto a length of fabric. Busy work. Certainly nothing Alanna was interested in. Separating her chair from theirs, she stretched out in the shade of the cabins with an open book in her lap and feigned a nap to avoid her mother’s nattering.

Movement caught her peripheral vision. Wolf and Thompson strolled from the opposite side of the ship into full view, their backs to the women. A sharp thrill rushed through her. Wolf appeared relaxed as he walked alongside the captain. Each step he took was fluid and graceful, and when the two halted at the bow, he planted his booted feet apart to steady himself. She smiled. He’d gained his sea legs. He stood tall and straight, like a towering spruce, his finely tailored clothing accenting his broad shoulders. His hair was tied at his nape, revealing the clean, chiseled cut of his profile.

Judging by a few words floating in the breeze, the captain was giving Wolf a detailed tour of the ship. She studied him through eyes hidden by lashes she closed discreetly whenever her mother turned her way. The men headed toward them.

Her mother grunted her disapproval.

Acting as detached and aloof as she could manage, Alanna drank in Wolf’s every movement, burned his image into her memory. Even from such a distance, she could feel the power that coiled within him. As he and the captain conversed, the sound of Wolf’s voice reached her, sending one delightful tremor after another through her.

“Well, would you look who’s on deck?” Thompson left Wolf’s side and stepped over to the women.

Alanna raised her head. Wolf stood directly in front of her. He just stood there, devilishly handsome with those compelling blue eyes and a vague smile as intimate as a soft kiss.

Her cheeks flushed at being thrown off guard. The heat in them heightened when he bent at the waist, gently lifted her hand from her lap, and let his warm mouth touch her bent knuckles. Only she could have heard the soft chuckle in his throat as his mouth opened a sliver and he nipped her skin. An electrifying shudder shot up her arm. Her lungs froze.

Heedless flirt!

She inclined her head and desperately searched for some form of balance while she pretended not to have been cognizant of his bold gesture. Heat emanated from his body, and a current moved out of his fingertips and into hers before he released her hand. She managed a slow, imperceptible exhale, centering herself. She thought she had regained control, but when she looked up once again, the smoldering flame in his eyes startled her. Why, he was taunting everyone, not just her, by getting away with what he just did. Damn his boldness!

Her mother strained to peer around the captain who had—could it be?—planted himself most strategically between the two women. He leaned over her mother in animated conversation until finally, she grew so perplexed in her straining to try to catch a glimpse of what might be going on between
that
man and her daughter, she lost her balance. Beads and crystals scattered across the deck, shimmering in the sun as they rolled about.

“Oooh, nooo!” her mother squealed.

Both the captain and Wolf dove in hot pursuit of the baubles while the little maid scurried behind the men.

Alanna bit her tongue to keep from laughing outright. She remained seated while her mother heaved herself off the chair and stood ramrod straight, her cheeks flaming. Sailors joined in, shouting at one another and chasing the beads and glittering crystals, more for sport than out of courtesy. Wolf and the captain were making a game of the melee as well.

And what could her mother do about it? Alanna sat back in her chair, her hands folded calmly in her lap, glowing with pure amusement. She’d needed a little spice added to her day.

Her mother openly seethed, her mouth a white slit. Wolf was the first to return to where she stood. With one hand cupped under hers, he rained a measure of beads into her plump palm, and then bent his head to examine them, poking gently about in the small mound with one finger. Alanna remembered the clean scent of his hair, the firmness of his fingers, and she moved to stand. Her mother’s lips retracted even further and she shot Alanna a glowering warning not to become involved.

Alanna sat back down, amused by the spectacle.

“These are very pretty, Mrs. Malone.” Wolf gave her mother a devastating grin. “I promise we’ll not let a one slip overboard. May I ask what you intend them for?”

Her mother sputtered. No matter what Wolf did to offend, she had yet to find reason to object without appearing the fool. Alanna knew her mother well enough to know that as far as she was concerned, this brash man would be faulted for the entire incident—although by now Alanna was pretty certain her mother was becoming mightily confused as to what actually
had
transpired.

The others—the captain, crew, and servant—hovered around her mother with what they’d managed to retrieve. Alanna gathered the bead bag from the chair and stood, held it in midair, and waited for her mother to notice.

Her mother snatched the pouch from Alanna, and after dropping her supply into it, she held it open for everyone to make their deposits. Wolf returned to the hunt while most of the crew dispersed.

By the time he returned, her mother had gathered her things in a great huff and made motions to leave. He stretched his closed fist out to her, but she turned her back to him, and with a flip of her head, said to Alanna, “Come. Enough of this folly.”

Wolf ignored her mother’s rude gesture, and turned to Alanna, his face filled with a sudden—and secret—expression.

Her heart thudded. She stood to leave.

Wolf appraised her from head to toe. “You look . . . ah . . . invigorated. Your exercise period must do wonders for you.”

The lusty mischief in his eyes compounded the quickening in her belly. When she’d spied him back in San Francisco, something had shot right through her, but it hadn’t been a sexual thing at the time. It had been a kind of power in him that mesmerized her. When had things changed?

She still saw him as perfect for what she needed, but now something else tugged at her. She wanted him in a far different way. She’d like to reach over and lick the side of his face and taste him. She fought an urge to set her mouth to his and draw from him—she didn’t know what.

In silence, she turned on her heel and left him before he realized what he did to her insides.

 

 

Wolf sat alone in the stateroom, his legs stretched out, his booted feet parked on the upper edge of the darkened fireplace’s coal scuttle. A beveled glass half filled with whiskey rested on a table beside him, along with a small bag that had once held ginger tea. He amused himself with the contents—a cache of beads and sequins he’d inherited from the rollicking sport on deck. He pored over them with the captain’s magnifying glass, lost amid the fascinating optical illusions, rich textures, brilliant colors, and amplified surfaces, when a sharp rap sounded on the stateroom door.

“Do they have woodpeckers this far out to sea?” he hollered, and checked the time. Too soon for Thompson to return from meeting with the Malones. “Door’s not locked. Come on in.” He went back to studying the beads.

Another harsh knock and irritation bloomed. He set the magnifying glass aside and reached for the small bag, but the pounding continued. “Christ Almighty!” He threw the pouch aside and made for the door, still clutching the beads.

“Mrs. Malone?” He stepped aside as the portly woman marched past him. She halted in the center of the room, her back to him, and leaned on the parasol she’d used to hammer on the door, her chin shoved so high, her back arched.

“Do come in,” he remarked, unable to resist a bit of a bow. Closing the door with purposeful calm, he stepped over to the woman and made certain his manner was easy, nonthreatening. “Care for a chair, something to drink?”

“I won’t be staying.” Her voice was shrill, her eyes hard as pebbles.

He strolled back to the fireplace and leaned his shoulder into its high, carved mantel, forcing her to turn his way. He tilted his head and made certain his lashes shadowed the distrust in his eyes. “You have something you would like to say to me before you get back to the meeting with the captain and your husband?”