Expedition of Love (10 page)

"What has put such a frown on your face, missy?” her father asked stepping up beside her at the railing. “I would think those creatures would make you smile."

Her father pointed to the sea lions basking in the sun along the edge of the tiny bays nestled between the cliffs. Their bellowing calls echoed across the water. The slow ramp of sands and rolling stone created beautiful and strange beaches along the coast of Argentina, one she enjoyed, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

"I do enjoy watching them, but I've been thinking about the expedition,” she said.

"And you're worried?"

"Just a little anxious.” She sighed. “I'm afraid I have a bit of a problem."

He slipped his arm over her shoulder, pulling her against his broad form. “I'm sure whatever it is, we can solve it together."

"It's Mr. Walters. He's being rather persistent and refuses to listen. He is determined to court me no matter what I say. I'm afraid if I try to get through to him again, I might lose my temper."

He chuckled. “That would be unfortunate."

"Most definitely. I don't think Doctor Baxter would appreciate it if I maimed one of his students. Could you speak with him?"

"Of course, my dear. But I'm not sure he'll listen to me either. Perhaps if—no, I don't suppose that would be appropriate.” He released her and stroked his beard thoughtfully as he looked out over the water.

"What wouldn't be appropriate?"

"What if you chose a different suitor for this trip?"

Her eyes widened at his suggestion. “But I don't want a beau!” She looked around quickly, regretting her momentary lapse of temper. This entire business with Mr. Walters and her bizarre chemical reaction toward the doctor, which is what she had finally convinced herself it had to be, set her nerves on edge. “I don't want a beau,” she repeated softly.

"I don't mean a real one."

"Papa, you're not making any sense."

"What if—and this is just a thought—what if you asked Stephen to act as your beau? That would stop the young man most effectively. If he thought that Stephen and you were engaged or close to it, he wouldn't dream of approaching you."

"You have been at sea too long,” she said with a shake of her head. “I told you I'm not interested in any man, so quit trying to push Doctor Baxter and me together. Really, Papa, you are quite transparent."

"It would still solve your problem with Mr. Walters."

"Just talk to him, Papa. Please?"

Chuckling, he patted her cheek. “Very well. I said it was just a thought."

"A crazy thought."

She watched him stroll across the deck toward the captain, hoping he would be able to succeed where she had failed.

Pretend Stephen Baxter was her beau? How ridiculous. And yet she couldn't help but wonder if her father knew about the unusual reactions she'd been having around the man lately. Her father seemed to have done as she asked, until now, and had stopped trying to drive her into the man's arms.

She moaned and rubbed her skin vigorously. Blast that dream! It had the most irritating tendency to sneak up on her when she least expected. This was absurd. She needed to get a hold of herself.

Stephen Baxter was a very nice man with some wonderful qualities, but he wasn't for her. No man was for her. She simply had to stop thinking about him and that rather awkward moment the day she found him sketching. It had taken every ounce of strength to look away from him while discussing his drawing. For the first time in her life, she wanted a man to kiss her. Really kiss her.

Edwin couldn't stop grinning. The look on his daughter's face at his suggestion pleased him to no end. Not only did she like Stephen, she was attracted to him, or else she wouldn't object to his suggestion so fervently. He'd also noticed how they managed to circumvent any physical contact. Their avoidance of one another was almost comical.

Stephen had done his best not to escort her to any of the meals, nor even take her hand in greeting. He always managed to have some large piece of furniture between them, while Kristina resolutely turned the other way during her morning constitutionals on deck when Stephen sat in one of the chairs and sketched.

Edwin had to admit that there were times when he thought he had imagined the attraction between the two, but once he noticed Stephen's jealousy over young Walters, the situation was quite clear.

The poor man hadn't realized how hard he gripped the back of his chair while Mr. Walters escorted his daughter to the table and kissed her hand. The way he followed the boy's every move, how he would draw him away from the game table into a conversation in order to remove him from Kristina's side. Then there were moments when his daughter would shiver and wrap her arms around herself with a faraway look in her eye as she watched his friend. A memory perhaps or just a woman's fantasy?

Ah, yes it would be a most fascinating expedition.

Edwin met with the captain and discussed their time of arrival at Viedma, knowing it to be less than a day away. The sea lions were testimony to that. They agreed that once they arrived, the team would stay overnight aboard ship while their supplies were loaded onto the steamer. Then with a few more days of travel, they would be miles from civilization, and his eccentric daughter would let down her hair.

He chuckled beneath his breath. Stephen couldn't possibly be prepared for what lay ahead, and as for that young pup who was chasing her skirts, he'd best watch himself.

Normally Edwin worried what Kristina might do when provoked, but he wondered more about how much longer Stephen could maintain his calm before jerking the young man up by the scruff of his neck.

Hmm, but he had promised his daughter he would chat with the boy. Well, a few meager words would serve. But Mr. Walters’ presence in this scheme would be most useful.

Edwin stroked his beard with a sly grin. He as good as had those grandchildren.

Stephen watched Kristina chatting in Spanish with the little round woman selling fresh fruit. If not for her dress and the way she carried herself, one would think she'd been born in Argentina.

"Amazing,” he whispered.

"She is, isn't she?” Edwin said proudly, clasping his shoulder. “Fluent Spanish, French, and a good base in Latin. She also knows a tad of German."

He grinned. “You've a great deal to be proud of, my friend."

"No truer words were ever spoken. Now if she would only—” He stopped suddenly and cleared his throat. “Are we all set to depart?"

Stephen wondered what his friend had been about to say. Lately, he seemed distracted, but good manners kept him from asking. “The supplies and our luggage have all been loaded. The steamer will be leaving within the hour."

"Then I suggest you collect Kris, while I find those young pups."

Before he could insist on exchanging tasks, Edwin had disappeared into the milling crowd surrounding the docks.

As he approached the fruit stand, it occurred to him that Mr. Walters wasn't by her side. Surprising, seeing as how the young man seemed to find every spare moment to spend in her company.

Stephen reluctantly admitted to himself that his jealousy had prompted him to pull his assistant away from her on more than one occasion over the course of the last two weeks. But he couldn't help it. As illogical as his attraction for her was, he couldn't stop thinking about her or wanting her.

A regretful sigh slipped from his lips as he stepped up beside her. “Miss Peterson, it's time to board."

She smiled and thanked the woman, then paid for her selection of fruit.

Without taking her arm, he guided her along the dock. He didn't dare touch her, fearing it would bring to life the disquieting, wonderful moment he cradled her in his arms, causing him to make a complete fool of himself. The memory of her soft skin would be with him forever. He wouldn't be able to banish it if he could, but he did need to control when those memories wished to surface, and this was not the time.

"Did you enjoy your morning in Viedma?” she asked.

"Hmm? Yes. And you?"

"Wonderful. Especially after I lost Mr. Walters.” She promptly covered her mouth. “Oh, dear. That didn't come out quite the way I intended."

He grasped her arms and pulled her to the side before she could walk down the boarding ramp. “Am I to understand you don't want Mr. Walters’ company?"

She sighed. “No. I don't."

He felt an angry heat race up his neck as he focused on her face. “Has he been forward again? Has he tried to—to—"

Her gloved hand covered one of his where he continued to hold her. “No! No, he hasn't. I hadn't meant to say anything."

His lids slid closed as his heart slowed to a normal rhythm.

"Doctor Baxter, are you all right?"

He pulled away, slipping his hand from beneath hers. Rubbing the back of his neck, his head down, he prayed she wouldn't see how she affected him. How much he desperately wanted to protect her.

"Stephen?” she asked softly.

He swallowed hard at the sound of his name on her lips. “I'm fine,” he said, his voice somewhat choked.

She placed her hand against his chest and leaned closer, looking up into his face, her skirts brushing the tops of his shoes. “No, I can see I've upset you. I'm terribly sorry. I truly hadn't meant to say a thing. He's been the perfect gentleman. He just doesn't seem to take me seriously, when I've explained to him time and again, that I'm not interested in him as anything other than a friend."

Stephen couldn't stop himself from clasping her hand and holding it over his heart. Her big brown eyes full of concern, her red lips glistening in the sun as she rambled on about Mr. Walters, trying to explain everything in one breath. She was so charming, so alive. Viedma with its brightly painted buildings and colorful street vendors paled in comparison to her vibrancy.

"I've tried every argument I can think of to convince him,” she continued. “I've even touted the suffrage movement, which I know he abides, but he still doesn't believe me."

The sounds of the peddlers faded. All he could hear was his pounding heart and her rapid words. The smell of her tantalizing aroma mixing with the rich smells of the market flowed through his brain, drugging his commonsense.

His head dipped closer to hers, determined to silence her with a kiss. Not a mere brushing of lips, but a breath-stealing foray of passion he would remember for the rest of his life. There was no doubt she would taste as sweet as summer rain and set fire to every nerve ending in his body.

Her ramblings slowed to silence as his lips neared hers. Anticipation of her exquisite lips meeting his engulfed his thoughts. He nearly groaned as her dainty tongue darted out, moistening the edge.

Just one kiss. One amazing kiss.

"There you are!” Mr. Walters trotted up beside them.

Stephen jerked away, as did Kristina, barely saving him from making an absolute ass of himself.

"I thought I'd lost you for good. Are you ready to board?” his assistant asked.

Kristina turned to Mr. Walters. “Would you do me a favor and take my basket aboard, Mr. Walters? I need to discuss something with Doctor Baxter."

The young man looked at him with a strange sort of glint in his eye. He did as she asked with a wary glance over his shoulder.

Closing his eyes, Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his spectacles. How much worse could things get? He had obviously seen what was about to happen. And on a blasted boat dock in front of the entire town! What a hypocrite he'd become! How on earth was he going to keep himself from following through with that kiss when they were no longer in public, when they would inevitably find themselves alone?

"I hope you understand about Mr. Walters."

The sound of her unsteady voice pulled him from the disquieting thoughts of the future. She must be completely beside herself with anger at his behavior.

Re-adjusting his spectacles, he looked down into her flushed face. Her gaze darted away then back again. Angry, embarrassed, nervous. Had he totally destroyed the growing friendship they had developed?

"Miss Peterson, I'm sorry I misunderstood the situation. And—and I apologize for making a scene in public. It shan't happen again. If you'd be so kind as to forget the matter completely, I would be forever in your debt."

Meeting his gaze, she cocked her head to the side in that adoringly puzzled way she had, but said nothing.

With a steadying breath, he gestured for her to precede him down the ramp. “I believe we should board."

She hesitated a moment then walked ahead of him. He watched her float along the planks onto the steamer without a word. He had, without a doubt, succeeded in ruining what was an engaging, albeit often frustrating relationship with the woman. There would be no way he could salvage things now.

After depositing her in front of her compartment door and receiving a murmured thank you, he went in search of some peace and quiet. A few good shots of whiskey would feel just about right. Shame he wasn't a drinking man.

Chapter Six

Kristina flopped down on the berth, stunned by what had almost happened on the dock.

"He was going to kiss me,” she said softly. “He was actually going to kiss me."

One corner of her mouth turned up in a crooked grin then slowly faded with the realization of how badly she wanted him to kiss her. And despising beards as she did that would mean her attraction to the man was growing, overpowering the things she disliked about him.

Her mind calculated and theorized until she felt the steamer begin to tug up the Rio Negro. At the rate in which her attraction had increased over the course of two weeks, how would she fare in the following two months?

"Oh bother,” she huffed. She hadn't wanted this, but there didn't seem to be any way to prevent it. She had tried to stop it, avoiding moments where they would be alone, keeping her distance whenever possible so he wouldn't feel it necessary to take her hand, but it was no use.

She hadn't been alone with him for more than five minutes, and she practically threw herself at the man. And in public, no less! If it hadn't been for Mr. Walters’ timely arrival, she would have let him kiss her in front of God and everyone.