Alanna (When Hearts Dare Series Book 2) (8 page)

Mrs. Malone fanned herself with the handkerchief, not looking at anyone or anything in particular. “Strangest thing happened about that mother’s beautiful hair.”

Good God, what else? “Her hair?” Wolf’s voice would soon betray him if this conversation continued. But he had to know. He had to.

Her eyes rolled dramatically. “Someone chopped it all off some time after the murder, and before the funeral. They said she had it all when they found her, but after she was laid out in the parlor for the viewing, the servants got up the next morning, and there she was with her hair all hacked to within an inch of her head. Neat little piles of it placed all over the house. Even in the servants’ quarters. No one knew how anyone got in without waking the staff. Frightened the help half to death. They all ran off except for one couple who waited for the man of the house to return. Soon as he did, they left too.”

Wolf heaved a sigh and rubbed at his forehead.

“Oh, dear. I’ve upset you, haven’t I?” Mrs. Malone’s hand made a feeble gesture to reach across the table before she thought otherwise and snatched it back. “Men don’t usually get so upset. But . . . but then, you
were
orphaned, after all. Oh, my.”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Malone.” He managed a feeble smile. “I just don’t take well to any harm coming to women or children, that’s all. Never have been able to figure out what would go on inside a man’s head to cause him to do such terrible things.”

He stood, took in a deep breath, and spoke as he exhaled. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get the telescope for Mr. Malone.”

“Let me check the sky before you do that.” Thompson was at the door before he finished speaking and stuck his head out. “As I figured, not a star to be seen.” He returned to stand behind his chair. “It’s just as well. Ladies and gentlemen, this weary captain needs to be sharp as a penny nail tomorrow, so I beg to be excused.”

When the Malones departed, Thompson locked the door, and strode over to where Wolf sat in front of the fireplace, his feet on the grate, his arms resting on his lifted knees, and his head buried in the folds of his sleeves.

“Take your feet off the fireplace, son, so I can light a fire. We need to talk.”

When Wolf finally raised his head, Thompson’s brows furrowed even deeper. “That little boy with his hair like dandelions gone to seed?”

“Yeah?”

“That boy was you, wasn’t it?”

Wolf rolled out of his bunk and into his trousers in one fluid motion. After a night of too much whiskey, his tongue was coated, his mouth dry. A furious pounding in his head served him well—it kept thought at bay. He’d had enough of dealing with feelings and thinking to last a while.

The only thing on his mind this morning was that Julia had not returned after he’d been let out, and Thompson hadn’t come back from a meeting with the Malones. Wolf had propped the door open with a chair so he wouldn’t have to get up again, but still, no dog. Despite clear skies, the crisp air blowing through the open door sent a shiver down his bare arms. They must have sailed into cooler waters during the night.

“Damn, Julia. Who thought you’d be so much trouble?” He eased into his boots and shirt, and yanked on a sweater. Shoving his fingers through his tangled hair, he headed out the door.

When he didn’t find Julia at the back of the ship, and the helmsman said he hadn’t seen the dog in quite a while, his mood worsened. He made his way toward the stairs leading to the lower deck, where Thompson held his meetings with the Malones.

He spied the lady’s maid, Hsui Lin. She stood with one hand on her thin hip, the other protecting her eyes from the sun’s hard sparkle. She stared upward, at something in the rigging. Beside her, fast asleep, lay the scoundrel dog.

Wolf’s gaze tracked hers into the mass of billowing sails. “Holy mother of God.” Shielding his eyes, he moved forward, positioning himself for a better view.

There was Alanna, at least twenty feet up the mainmast, scampering up its one-hundred-forty-foot spire like a monkey on a vine. Barefoot and clad in sailor’s jeans, she also wore what appeared to be a man’s shirt, rolled at the sleeves. A single braid hugged the back of her head and trailed down the middle of her back to her waist.

Where the hell was the crew? Suddenly, it dawned on him.
Miss Malone’s exercise period.
He dropped his hand from his eyes and turned in a slow circle. The deck was as empty as a ghost ship.

He moved into the shade of the boatswain’s cabin to cut the sun’s harsh glare. He leaned into the wall, folded his arms over his chest, and watched, fascinated.

Here was an arena in which Alanna played with obvious familiarity. Long, lithe legs stretched through the air as she reached out, hooked her toes in the ropes, and deftly drew them to her. Up she went, at times using only the sheer strength of her arms. Gracefully, she lifted her body to hang in midair like a trapeze artist, timed the wind’s blustery forces against the ropes and white canvas sheeting, and made a leap. She paused, and stared off at the horizon, clearly lost in her own sensory world, a look of sheer bliss on her striking features. The sun created a dazzling nimbus around her. Arching her body, she set her face to the wind, and closed her eyes, as if she’d left the outer world behind.

There had to be music flowing through her head, judging by the way she glided upward with the elegance of someone who followed a captivating rhythm. Watching this wild beauty nearly undid Wolf. At first, the simple rush of adrenaline at her intrepid risk had been strangely intoxicating. But then her suppleness when she wrapped only a leg and arm around a rope or sheet, the rest of her stretched out to the wind, sparked unholy images in his head—visions of playful, sensuous tussling amid sheets of an entirely different kind.

The breeze whipped around her, pasted her shirt and trousers against her slender body like a second skin. She closed her eyes again, and let the wind kiss her face. Wouldn’t he like to do that?

An erotic tremor shot through him that would have knocked him over if he hadn’t been leaning against the cabin wall. He blew out a hot breath. A buzzing in his ears replaced the headache. The tightness in his groin grew painful. Too damn long without a woman.

Already, she was so high up the mainmast that soon she would be visible as little more than a small, doll-like figure. Surely she didn’t intend to make her way to the top? Sailors fell to their deaths on ropes like these. Yet she seemed to be completely at home on them. Her father allowed this?

So caught up was he in the magic of it all, he failed to sense the approach of another until Malone’s hand whistled past his ear and slammed hard against the wall. The
thunk
reverberated in Wolf’s ear, snapping him to his senses.

Still leaning his head against the wall, his arms still crossed at the chest, he turned and stared into Malone’s menacing eyes.

“I meant to miss, boy!” The man’s sour breath passed over Wolf. Rage filled every line and crease of Malone’s face. Veins bulged purple at his neck and temples. He nodded furiously as he spoke in low, menacing tones. “With that look on your face, I’m surprised you don’t have your hands down your drawers right now, yanking on your tallywhacker.”

Wolf never so much as blinked. Slowly, he turned his head toward the man’s meaty hand, which was still firmly planted on the wall next to Wolf’s face. Then, just as slowly, he eased one knee up until his fingers touched the knife in his boot, while he let his head drift back to face Malone.

Not a muscle flickered in Wolf, but the fury boiling beneath the surface begged for release. “Now that would be a waste of time, wouldn’t it? What with all that saltpeter Thompson dumps in our food.” Despite his anger, Wolf’s voice sounded easy, without tension. He paused, let his message sink in. “Or have you been married too long, or grown too old to notice?”

Malone kept his hard eyes leveled on him. So, he wasn’t giving in, either.

“Not everybody’s out to bed your daughter, Malone. Not unless this is a game your independent little Alanna plays. Is she used to making her own rules in that department, as well? Acting the aggressor, like she does on the ropes up there?” He nodded upward, his eyes still on the other man, narrowed now, and hardened. “Come the wedding night, she just might disappoint that highfalutin fiancé of hers.”

Malone reached for Wolf’s throat. Wolf yanked the knife from his boot and flashed the flat side of the blade between them, stopping Malone’s hand in midair. Surprise flickered in the man’s eyes.

“It was the growl in your throat that gave you away.” Wolf tapped the point of his knife on the man’s chin. “You shouldn’t make noise before you strike. It’ll give you away every time.”

Wolf’s knife disappeared back inside his boot as quickly as it had surfaced. Malone’s stunned gaze followed the action. He pointed to where his daughter still scrambled about the rigging. “That little girl of mine has been guarded and protected from the likes of you since she was two days old. She’s been raised and schooled to fit in with the best.”

A vein pumped in Malone’s temple, then disappeared into gray hair beginning to curl from the film of perspiration covering his face. “If you think I’m going to start letting her near someone like you at this point in her life, you’ve got a lot to learn.”

Wolf lifted his hand to his chin, rubbed the stubble. “Guess I neglected to shave.”

“Don’t mock me, boy!”

Wolf cocked his head toward the galley. “See that twelve-year-old peeking out the galley window? Now, there’s a boy. A
galley
boy, to be exact, Mr. Malone. To you, I am
Mr. Wolf,
no matter where you attempt to place me in society’s ranks.”

Malone opened his mouth to speak, but Wolf shook his head. “Hear me out and you might rest a little easier with regard to your
precious
daughter.”

Malone stepped back and eyed Wolf warily.

“She wouldn’t interest me. Oh, it has nothing to do with her, or her outrageous behavior. I find both quite appealing, as a matter of fact. You see, it’s this way—anyone wanting to court your
little
Alanna will have to deal with her entire family. With you in the picture, Malone, you can rest easy that not only am I not interested in your daughter’s hand, I wouldn’t begin to be interested in compromising her position, or her honor, while she and her
upstanding
family are aboard this ship.”

Malone’s face took on the hue of cooked beets. “Why, you . . .”

Wolf raised his hand. “With your tedious self in the picture, you’d have a helluva time marrying her off to some European nobleman, like the wealthy tend to do here in America. But then, you probably already figured that out.” He went back to resting his head against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m pretty sure I understand why you’re so eager to marry your daughter into an upstanding family in Boston. Must be they need their coffers refilled in exchange for assuring you a place among them.”

Malone eased away. “Her name is
Miss Malone
to you, Mr. Wolf. Don’t you ever let me catch you calling her Alanna. And if I find you so much as ogling my daughter again, let alone even thinking of pointing your tallywhacker her way, you’ll find yourself overboard, using your cock to troll for sharks.” With that, he trudged toward the door leading below deck.

Wolf waited until Malone reached for the door’s handle and then slid the knife out of his boot again. In one swift and powerful movement, he let go. It whizzed past Malone’s ear and pierced the doorjamb, the sharp point plunging into the wood, the hilt quivering. Julia lifted his head, ears pricked.

Malone jumped back. “You goddamn fool! You could’ve missed and hit me.”

Wolf strode to the door. “You’re right.” He pulled the hunting knife from its mooring. “I did miss my target, didn’t I?” He rubbed his thumb across the notch the knife made in the wood, directly beneath the head of a brass screw. “Must be the wind, or else I don’t have the sea legs I thought I had.” He sliced another new line into the wood, directly above the screw’s head. “I meant to hit there.”

He turned, and whistled for the dog. “Come on, Julia. Better get you back to the stateroom before Malone here cuts your little tallywhacker off and uses it for fish bait.”

 

 

Wolf was curled up on the bunk, his hands shoved between his knees, still fighting a hangover and replaying scenes in his head of Alanna in the rigging, when Thompson entered the stateroom for lunch.

“Malone wants you flogged for disobeying orders,” the captain said dryly.

Wolf snuggled his head deeper into the pillow, his eyes closed. “Yeah? Well, I want him flogged, too. He wants to cut my tallywhacker off. Julia’s as well.” When he got no response, he winged an eye open.

Thompson stood in front of him, a smirk on his face. “Hungry?”

“Unh-uh. I might consider a bath though. Would that be too much to ask?”

“Under the circumstances, I think we can manage.”

Wolf blew out an exaggerated sigh, and rose on one elbow. He pitched the hair out of his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Now, that might be worth getting up for. I decided after that go-around with Malone, and chasing Julia to hell and back with this splitting skull of mine, that today’s probably a good day to lie low. Nothing’s about to fix me up but time.”

He groaned as he swung himself into an upright position. “Jeezus. What the hell kind of shit do you pass off as whiskey, anyway?”

“With the quantity you consumed, I doubt quality matters. Got some soup coming in. When the boy gets here, I’ll order up a bath. It’d be best if you put about as much water inside of you today as you soak in. That much liquor in a body dries out the veins.”

“You sound like it’s the first time I had too much to drink. Next thing, you’ll be calling me boy, like someone else I know.” He slid off the bed, rubbed the sharp pain at his temple, and eyed Thompson’s serious expression. “What? You look like I filleted the man.”

“Guess we should discuss the knife. Only reason for anyone to carry one aboard my ship is if they use it for work-related tasks.”

“Been meaning to discuss that very subject with you. I need something to do.” Wolf gave up, flopped back on the bunk, and stared at the blue sky through the porthole. “I can’t sit around on my butt the rest of the trip. I’ll be ready for Bedlam when we dock if I don’t have something to keep me busy.”

“Been wondering when you’d ask.” At the muffled noise outside the door, Thompson opened it. The galley boy trudged through, carrying a heavy iron pot filled with an aromatic broth.

Despite his headache, Wolf’s stomach growled. “God, that smells good. I changed my mind about being hungry.” He blew a hank of hair off his forehead. “Hey, Charlie.”

Charlie mimicked Wolf’s action and grinned back with teeth still too large for his face. “Hullo, sir.”

“Did you go and kill a chicken on account of my little whiskey headache?” Wolf teased.

Charlie giggled. “The captain here ordered the soup early on, sir. Said like as not you’d need a bucket of it, so Cook obliged. Got enough for the whole crew, so they’s sittin’ in a right good mood.”

The galley probably ran rife with juicy gossip about what had transpired between Wolf and Malone. Since the boy had been the only crew member who’d caught the confrontation, he was no doubt the center of attention, and eager to take back anything he could to maintain his status.

“Got a deal to make with you, Charlie,” Wolf said.

The boy scurried to the side of the bed. “Sir?”

“Got some spare wood?”

“Wood, sir? Ain’t none to spare. I uses it to start Cook’s coals in the morning.”

“Just a small piece, maybe eight, ten inches at the most, and yea around?” Wolf formed a circle by touching his thumb and forefinger together. “There’s some whittling I want to do.”

Charlie’s face fell, and his shoulders slumped. “I’d be in a heap of trouble, sir.” His nervous gaze flicked to Thompson, who stood at the stove with his back turned.

Wolf heaved himself off the bed and strolled over beside Thompson. He ladled soup into a bowl, and padded back to the table. “If you can find me a little wood to whittle on, son, when the captain’s gone, I’ll let you in on what
really
happened on deck.” He winked.