Enticing Miss Eugenie Villaret (16 page)

He was brought out of his reverie by the sounds of a man and woman on the steps above him. Eugénie and a gentleman chatted as they descended the step street. Though the girl had probably never seen a picture of his brother, her father, whom he resembled greatly, Yves paused as if to examine a hibiscus, tilting his head so that he’d not be recognized.

He waited, but no maid or footman followed. So lax, these people on the island. In France an unmarried young woman would never be allowed alone with a gentleman. Unless, that was, they were betrothed.

What was the gentleman to her? Yves shrugged. It mattered not. Eugénie was spoken for. His brother had already signed the documents.

He turned, trailing after the couple, making sure not to come close enough for them to notice him. Soon they came to a small group of piers where pleasure boats and yachts were docked alongside. His niece led the way to a small sailboat. After tossing a coin to the boy who held the rope to the boat, the man followed. Soon the lines were cast off and Eugénie set the sails while the gentleman rowed them into the harbor. So, his niece enjoyed boating. He’d have to keep an eye on how often she went out.

Yves could already feel the freedom her property at home would give him. Unbeknownst to Hervé, Yves had bribed a judge in France to make him trustee of her property. Not that that would do him much good here on St. Thomas, but he’d convinced Hervé to allow Yves to take the contract to the
comte
. He’d rewritten part of the contract so that the only property the
comte
was aware of was the monies his dead brother had settled on Eugénie.

Hervé didn’t know that the house in Paris and estate in the Loire would remain with the family. In other words, with Yves. The property should have come to him and not Eugénie, in any event. It wasn’t fair that he had received nothing.

He scowled, causing a young woman to shy away. With some effort he assumed an expression of ennui
.
Finally there would be no more begging for money from his brother. All he had to do was deliver Eugénie to the
comte
; and he’d do so soon.

E
ugénie led Wivenly to her small sailing dory docked at the warehouse’s pier.

He caught her hand as she was about to descend the wooden ladder attached to the dock. “If you allow me to go first, then you can hand me the basket, and I can help you into the boat.”

His offer took her by surprise. Even when she was young, she’d never been assisted into her boat. Papa had always insisted she learn to do everything herself. Yet she had the feeling that even her
beau-papa
would have expected her to accept Wivenly’s offer. “Thank you, my lord.”

He grinned as if she’d given him a gift, and she smiled back.

Once the picnic basket was stowed in the bow and Eugénie had settled herself next to the mast, she began unfurling the sail as Wivenly rowed them away from the dock. He needn’t have done it. She was perfectly capable of maneuvering her way into the harbor under sail alone, and a brisk breeze already filled the linen sails.

Yet he
was
trying to be helpful, and having assistance was pleasant. Not to mention the way his broad chest looked as he pulled on the oars. If only he weren’t wearing a jacket she’d be able to see his muscles working as he rowed. Where had that thought come from? This was not the time to allow herself to be distracted by his body. It was too difficult to think when that occurred. “We are far enough out. You may put the oars up now.”

She was surprised when he did as she directed, without questioning her. She had not thought he would take orders from a lady. “Would you like to steer, or shall I?”

He gave a self-deprecating smile. “I may have overstated my abilities a bit. None of my family’s properties are near the sea, therefore my experience is limited.”

Eugénie stared at him for a moment. All men boasted, but not many would admit it to a woman. Would Wivenly allow her to teach him? Little by little she trimmed the sail until there was no luff. “There now.” Keeping the boom steady, she moved to the stern and took hold of the tiller. “If you can mind the sheets, I’ll steer.”

He smiled with a bit more confidence this time. “I’m sure I can manage that.”

Sitting on the middle bench, he turned to face her. “How long have you been sailing?”

“Since I was about ten.” It was the one time that she and Papa could spend time alone together. The boat was too small to take the rest of the children. He’d been good picking something each child enjoyed and taking the time to give them his undivided attention for at least a little while.

Eugénie ran her fingers over the starboard side rail, blinking back the tears threatening to fall. “Papa built this boat for me for my twelfth birthday.”

Wivenly checked the canvas. “Who usually accompanies you?”

“My maid.”

He jerked his head around to her. “She rows?”

So much for keeping the truth from him. He would either take it badly and feel like a fool or not. “No.”

“If she doesn’t”—he paused as if trying to understand—“do you row?”

Eugénie gave a little shake of her head. “I can, but I do not unless the wind is in the wrong quarter.”

His eyes widened, and his brows drew together slightly. “Then you didn’t require me to . . . ?”

Oh dear. What did Maman say? Always let a man think you need him? “No, but I was very appreciative of your efforts.”

“I’ll be dam . . . darned.” A boyish grin appeared on his face. “That takes a great deal of skill.”

Eugénie had the sudden urge to kiss him. She certainly was not going to tell him that any competent sailor could do the same. “Thank you. Papa was a very good teacher.” She glanced around, calculating the distance from the nearest ship. “We need to tack.”

“Umm, yes, right.” He took up a line. “Tell me what to do.”

A burble of laughter escaped her. “You said you knew how to handle the sails.”

He grinned ruefully. “Only on large ships.”

“Well, it is not much different. We want the wind to fill the sail from the other side. I’ll turn the boat into the wind. When the sail luffs, slacken the line, and we’ll switch sides, then you trim the sail again.”

Wivenly’s lips pressed together as he concentrated on the task. When he had finished, he swallowed, causing the muscles in his tanned neck to move as if he’d just taken a drink. “I have it.”

She’d never seen him not completely in charge before. Dragging her gaze from his face, she minded the boat as the linen slackened, then the wind caught again. Wivenly moved with sure, quick motions until the sail was full on the new tack. “Well done indeed.”

When he looked at her, his eyes danced with joy. “Thank you.”

Heat rose up her neck to her face. If only he was like this all the time. This was a man she could fall in love with. She cleared her throat. “We’ll need to tack several more times before we reach the beach.”

Wivenly glanced at the basket. “Ah yes. Food.”

Unbidden, her lips curved in a smile. “Are men always hungry?”

He leaned closer to her. His voice was low. “Always. At least I am.”

He straightened, leaving her oddly bereft. Was he afraid to kiss her while she operated the tiller? Then it occurred to her he had not attempted to touch her last evening either. Had he lost interest in her? Eugénie glanced at Wivenly, catching him as he stared at her with a heated gaze. Clearly he was still attracted, but he seemed to have changed tactics.

“Ship to starboard,” Wivenly said sharply.

Drat
. This was not a good time to let her mind wander. “Tacking.”

It was early afternoon before she made the final push toward the beach where they’d rest and eat luncheon. He pulled his boots and socks off before climbing out of the craft into the water. Eugénie made to follow.

“No, you stay here.” He took the dock line, pulling the craft onto the shore. “There’s no reason for us both to get wet.”

The water.
Will had longed to get in the sea since he’d arrived. It was so clear and warm. Nothing at all like the rivers and lakes back home. He caught a grimace on Eugénie’s face, which she quickly changed to a polite smile. Had she wanted to feel the water as well? He cast his mind back to their conversation yesterday.
Damn
. Of course she did. He’d find a way to give her the treat she wanted.

After all, other than about twenty ships in the harbor, they were alone. Surely no one would mind if she took off her shoes and stockings. Oh Lord.
Her stockings
. What he wouldn’t give to roll them down inch by slow inch. Did her garters tie so that he could undo them with his teeth, or did she have the fastening? In this climate, they must tie. The metal on the others would rust. His groin twitched.

Keeping his face averted from Eugénie, he snarled to himself.
Haven’t you got us into enough trouble? Mind your manners or we’ll never get what we want.

The blasted thing had a mind of its own. This courting without touching her would be the death of him.

“Are you all right?” Eugénie stood as if to climb out of the dory.

He grasped her by the waist and lifted. “I’m fine.” His fingers burned as they came close to circling her small waist through the thin layers of muslin. It was all he could do to release her. Once she was on the ground Will grabbed the basket. “My stomach is complaining.”

“Ah, I see.” She reached in the boat, taking out a large cloth, then flicked it open.

Will helped her lay it on the ground.

She pointed to a corner. “Put the food here. We’ll have to anchor the other corners with our shoes.”

He hadn’t noticed before, but the wind pushed at the cloth. He put his boots in place and watched as she removed her sandals. Will could have held her whole foot in his hand. It arched as she wiggled her bare toes in the sand. Just as well she hadn’t worn stockings. The image of her removing them caused his chest to tighten, and he never would have been able to keep his promise to Andrew and Cicely.

Soon she had the dishes and plates arranged and was sitting cross-legged on the cloth. “There now. We may eat.”

Will stretched out on his side next to her. He’d expected cold chicken, cheeses and fruit. There was fruit, but instead of chicken what greeted him were bits of fried dough that resembled a circle folded in half. “What are they?”

“Pattés. They are filled with whatever Cook has.” She bit her lush lower lip as her brows lifted just enough to mar her brow. “I hope you like them.”

He’d eat anything if it would smooth out her wrinkled forehead. “I’m sure I’ll love them.” He took the one she handed him and bit into it. The crust was still firm. Exotic flavors he didn’t recognize burst both sweet and savory into his mouth. He swallowed and took another bite. It tasted like nothing he’d ever had before, but it was wonderful. “It’s very good.”

The worried expression left her countenance and her lips curved up.

“What is in them?”

Eugénie sniffed the piece he’d handed her before taking a taste. “Sweet potato, garlic, hot pepper, and conch. There are some other spices as well, such as curry.”

Will finished and picked up another one. “Chicken, I think.”

“Probably.” She chewed and swallowed. “I take it you are used to something quite different. What were you expecting?”

“Cold chicken, ham, fruit, cheeses and bread, perhaps a bottle or two of wine.” He told her of the picnics he’d had in England. “But the weather is much cooler.”

She picked up one of the small jugs and took a sip. “Ginger beer. Have you had it yet?”

“Beer?”

“It is not the same as a small beer. It has no alcohol.” Her face scrunched up, and he almost laughed.

“I take it you don’t like regular beer?”

“Non.”
Eugénie held out a jug. “Try it.”

He’d had gingerbread, but the taste of the drink was much stronger. “Not bad.”

“I like it.” She took a drink of hers. “Then again, I’ve had it most of my life.”

Suddenly the breeze kicked up, and her hat, which she’d untied, flew off her head. Eugénie lunged to the side trying to catch it, but landed sprawled on top of him. Before he knew it, his arms were around her.

“Oh!” She gazed down at him, her sherry-colored eyes widening.

Her heart pounded against his chest, causing his breath to quicken. It would be so easy to close the few short inches and brush his lips across hers. His muscles tightened, wanting to taste and caress.
Lord.
This was torture of the worst kind. He had to get her off him before he made the worst mistake of his life.

“My bonnet,” she said in a low, breathy tone.

“I’ll get it.” He practically barked the words.

Eugénie scrambled off him as he jumped up.

Spotting the hat near a rock a few feet away, Will dashed after it. A puff of wind picked the bonnet up again, causing it to skip along the sand. Eugénie laughed, clapping her hands as he dived to rescue the thing just before it landed in the water. “I have it!”

“I see that you do. Thank you. It is my favorite bonnet.”

Well, at least the plain, wide-brimmed hat served a purpose rather than being solely decorative. Yet he wondered what she’d look like in one of the confections so popular in England. Better than most ladies, he’d wager.

His jacket and pantaloons were covered in sand, and he suspected he had it under his shirt as well. “Not that I minded going after it, but perhaps you’d better tie it this time . . .”

She gazed up at him, her eyes full of mirth. “You were very brave to ruin your clothes for my hat.”

Will plopped down next to her, dropping the bonnet on the cloth. “I haven’t ruined a suit in ages. My valet is probably beside himself longing for something to occur.”

She took the hat, placed it on her head, and tied the ribbon off to the side. “My maid always complains I destroy my gowns. Yet she enjoys the new ones I buy.”

“Ah, I think our servants would get along well.” At least Will hoped they’d have an opportunity to find out.

The air cooled and Eugénie glanced off to the east. “We must start back.”

“Rain?”

“I think so.”

They quickly gathered up the remains of their luncheon, stowing them in the boat. Without stopping, she hiked up her skirts and started to push the craft into the water. The sight of her strong, well-shaped calves almost undid him again. What would he have to do to get her to agree to marry him? “You get in, I’ll do that.”

Eugénie nodded and hopped into the boat as nimbly as any seaman Will had ever seen. They might get wet before arriving back at the dock, but he’d count the day as a success. This was the most relaxed she’d ever been with him.

The air was warm, and although he kept track of the sail, he neglected to watch for obstructions as wind from the mouth of the harbor sped them on their way.

Suddenly, Eugénie barked an order. “Ready to jibe.”

He scrambled to remember what she’d told him that meant when the boat turned away from the wind.

“Ware the boom.”

He ducked but not soon enough to avoid the solid wooden pole. “Damn, that hurt.”

“Are you all right?”

As they passed one of the ships at anchor, a sailor shouted out, “Better get yerself a real seaman, sweetheart.”

“Aye,” another called. “I’ll be happy to oblige ye.”

Will seethed, but Eugénie appeared to ignore the ribald comments coming from the ship.

“Stay still.” Her fingers moved through his hair over the tender spot at the back of his head. “Not too bad, but you’ll have a lump.”

She leaned into him, her soft breasts pressing against his arm. His nose filled with the scent of lemons and warm woman. He stifled a groan. She’d probably think it was from pain and worry even more. God, he liked her touch.

Moving to his front, she tilted his head and gazed into his eyes. “Does it hurt much?”

Not as much as the jeers from the sailors.
He could so easily reach out and kiss her. “No. Let’s be on our way.”

“I don’t know what you were thinking.” She released the tiller handle, moving it with one hand while the other tightened the sail. “But when you’re crewing a vessel, there is no time for wool-gathering.”