Happily Ever After (22 page)

“Of course,” Sophie responded. “Isn’t that how you
fix torn cloth?”

He was silent a moment in the face of her logic,
though his fury was evident in his very stance. And then he said, “I don’t know
how the hell you fix that cloth, but any idiot would know not to try to fix it
while the wind is ripping through!”

“It’s not windy!” Sophie argued. Merely a gentle
breeze. Nothing that should have hampered her repairs. “You are being
ridiculous, Jack.”

“Sophia,” he continued, sounding harassed now. “If
you don’t come down from there, I’m coming up!”

Sophie bristled at his threat. It made her feel
like a wayward child, and not even her mother had given her such abuse. Then
again, she’d hardly ever done a single thing for which to be reprimanded, so afraid
of her mother she had been.

She refused to be cowed. She was no five-year-old
with a muddy dress to be chastened. She was an adult, and a free-thinking one
at that!

She smiled down at him, a challenge in her tone.
“You just do that, Jack MacAuley—and why don’t you bring me the needle
you made me drop while you are at it?” All at once, the crew below began to
search the deck, as though looking for the needle.

“Sophia!” Jack shouted.

“I think it’s there... near Randall,” she
instructed him, ignoring his directive. If he wanted her down, he could very
well ask, politely. She had no reason to remain now without her needle, but she
wasn’t going to bow to his every command.

Randall dropped to his knees, searching. Sophie
doubted he would ever find the needle, and in truth, she had no idea where it
had fallen. Jack had startled her so.

Rude cantankerous man!

“That’s it!” Jack said, throwing up his hands in
obvious disgust of her and practically lunging at the masthead before taking
hold of the ladder and climbing it much too agilely. Sophie bit her lip,
frowning at him. He couldn’t very well drag her down against her will. It
wouldn’t be safe to simply pull her down after him. Instinctively she tightened
the knot at her waist, and then just to be certain she tied another and pulled
with all her might. She didn’t wish to fall victim to his rash anger.

“I was only trying to help!” she assured him when
he was halfway up. She tested the rope once more, growing more anxious the
closer he came.

“Please don’t help!”

“I don’t understand why you are so angry!”

Neither Jack.

He couldn’t explain the fear that had knotted in
his gut the instant he’d spied her up on the masthead.

The woman was insane!

No more was he merely concerned that she would sink
the boat. If she kept this up, she was going to end up six feet under. Jack was
going to have to lock her up to keep her safe from harm!

He climbed swiftly, thinking only of reaching her,
not questioning the inexplicable hysteria he felt inside at the thought of her
up there.

He almost had her, was within arm’s reach, when he
placed his foot a bit too heavily on the ladder rung. It gave way beneath him.

“Jack!”

He reached out for the masthead, embracing it as
he went sliding downward. In the same instant, he felt a sharp tug on his
scalp, only an instant and then it was gone. He landed heavily on the next rung
down, and he heard it snap, too. Down he went again, groaning in pain. For an
inscrutable moment, all he could think about were his jewels. There had been no
way to protect them in his slide down, and he went black now with the pain. The
next rung down held fast, and he stood there, hugging the masthead, coming
aware next of the burning in his hands.

When reason returned to him, he peered up into Sophie’s
horrified expression.

She held her hand outstretched and in it she held
a lock of his hair. Jack’s brows drew together in shock at seeing it. His first
instinct was to reach back and find the bald spot, but his arms were wrapped
tightly about the masthead, and he’d be damned if he’d let go.

She peered down at it, and then again at him, her
brows lifting in supplication. “I’m sorry, Jack. I... I tried to stop you.”

Words would not form.

In his mind, he imagined tying her to her hammock,
wrapping mile after mile of rope around her, cocooning her away from the world.
In his fantasy, she shouted pleas to be released, but he steadfastly ignored
her, silencing her with a brutal kiss before turning and walking away, then
locking the door.

He should have followed his instinct, and never
let her aboard this bloody ship.

CHAPTER 20

You’re lucky this isn’t worse,’ Sophia scolded
him.

Jack merely looked at her.

“I was only trying to help,” she defended herself.

“Dear God, please! No more helping!”

“But I want to!” she protested.

Stubborn
woman.

He admired her fortitude but the pain in his hands
made him resolute. It was his turn to sit grimacing while she removed splinters
from his hands—big fat ugly splinters. He leveled a stem look at her.

“No more, Sophia, do you understand? No more
bloody helping!”

She sat on his desk before him, digging out
splinters, wincing as she worked. “I’m sorry,” she said, and sighed. “This is
all my fault.”

Jack wasn’t about to disagree, but neither did he
say anything. It was clear by her expression that she was guilt-ridden enough
already.

“I suppose my education falls somewhat short of
instruction for the world at large.”

He smiled at her, softening his insult with a
wink. “You do pretty well for a spoiled little rich girl.”

Sophie laughed softly, but the self-deprecating
tone had pricked at his heart.

“You know…” He met her gaze and said, somewhat
more soberly. “The simple fact that you’ve rolled up your sleeves to help is a
good sight more than I expected from you.”

Sophie shrugged. “As you pointed out … I wouldn’t
quite call it help.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Sophia.”

Sophie couldn’t help it.

It seemed everything she attempted, she failed.
She’d thought herself so well-schooled because she’d managed her parents’
household so smoothly. In truth, she was almost afraid to attempt anything
more. Only sheer stubborn will made her keep trying. She refused to be defeated
by menial tasks. She was determined to be of some use to Jack, to be an
integral member of his crew... to make up for the damage she had caused. Much
of his research had been ruined. Somehow, she had to atone for that. Perhaps
she could try to redraw the pictures?

She was good at that.

She walked over to the washbasin, picked up the
soap and a washcloth, tossed them into the basin, and then lifted the basin out
of its table and brought it back to his desk, still thinking about his
research. Many of the pages had survived, damaged though they were. She could
redo them for him.

She soaped up the rag and then lifted it to his
hand, cleaning it gently.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, her tone filled with
concern.

“Yes!” he cried out.

“I’m sorry,” she offered genuinely, and gentled
her touch.

His own drawings had been good enough to give her
a vision of the objects he had tried to capture. She would begin as soon as
possible.

Anyway, this was really all Jack’s fault: Never
before had she been embroiled in so many disasters. He was a terrible
distraction. She had lived a very reserved life, never indulging in anything
that wasn’t entirely proper. She didn’t know anything about cooking or
cleaning, or any of the other domestic chores her parents had hired help for.
She’d never even had to lift a finger to turn out her own lights. The servants
had always taken care of everything. If she’d fallen asleep with the lights on,
reading, they were always there to put them out.

And now that she finally had the opportunity to do
things for herself, to prove she didn’t need anyone, she was stumbling all over
herself and endangering others with her puny efforts.

It made her feel very much a failure.

She couldn’t blame Jack for forbidding her to help
anymore. She really wouldn’t blame him if he locked her up in her cabin and
took away everything with which she could possibly cause more damage. She
couldn’t even read without putting everyone at risk. What made her think she
could do something so responsible as share in Jack’s career?

She only wished she could prove herself somehow.

She blinked suddenly, looking up at Jack, only
just realizing what she had been thinking.

What made
her think she could do something so responsible as share in Jack’s career?

She swallowed uneasily, quite certain she must be
mad to even entertain such a notion.

And yet she
had
thought it.

She brushed the cool, moist cloth over his hands,
but his eyes seemed to bore into her own, searching. He looked at her, as
though trying to read her thoughts, and Sophie fidgeted under his scrutiny.

Did he know what she was thinking?

Did he think her silly?

The intensity of his gaze set her heart to
pounding once again.

“I do know something for sure now,” he told her,
and Sophie caught her breath, afraid that her secrets had all been revealed in
the depth of her eyes.

What did he know?

It was said that the eyes were the mirrors to the
soul and if that were indeed true, then Sophie’s heart was an open book. Her
father had always told her that he could tell what she was thinking simply by
the look in her eyes.

Whether that was true or not, her father certainly
seemed to read all.

She was almost afraid to ask, and mentally braced
herself for whatever revelation Jack had had. “What?”

He smiled at her, and his green eyes glistened
like the clearest emeralds, full of good humor. “You don’t snore,” he said with
certainty.

For an instant, the unexpected acknowledgment
surprised her.

As far as Sophie was concerned it had never been
in question. But she realized he was trying to make her smile and she did
manage to appease him.

The cad.

“You are absolutely insufferable!” she told him,
trying to keep from laughing.

“You are not the first woman to tell me that,” he
assured her, quite obviously unrepentant. “And it’s not even the first time
you’ve accused me of it.”

“Yes, well I assure you, it is always true!”

“Yah?” His eyes fairly twinkled with mirth,
spoiling the effect of his complaint. “Well, you’re no party yourself, Mizz
Vanderwahl!”

Sophie tilted him a knowing glance. “If I didn’t
know better, Mr. MacAuley, I would say you were trying to pick a fight with
me.”

Like a child who had been caught with his hands in
the proverbial cookie jar, he grinned at her, looking in that instant far too
boyish and endearing. “Maybe you don’t know better?” he suggested, egging her
on. His brow arched.

Sophie had to laugh at his confrontational
expression. “I think you must have been a rotten little boy!” she told him, and
wished she’d known him then.

“To the core,” he allowed.

“I don’t doubt it!” Sophie agreed heartily. She
wondered at how Jack’s provocations made her find strength in herself and
bolstered her spirits.

They shared a moment’s ease together, and then he
glanced down at his hand. “Take it easy on that, will you?”

“Oh!” Sophie started, and let go of his hand.

“I’ll make you a deal...” he bargained with her.

She dropped the cloth into the basin and waited to
hear his suggestion.

“You make sure you keep out of trouble the rest of
the trip, and I promise you can make our first breakfast when we get off this
boat.”

Sophie smiled in answer, delighted that he was
willing to give her another chance. And then her breath caught. He was really
very handsome... especially when he wasn’t scowling at her. She could look into
his eyes forever.

“Deal?”

“Deal,” she agreed.

“You have only a week left. Think you can manage
it?”

He was playing with her, she realized. “Of
course!” she exclaimed, pretending offense.

“Starting now,” he apprised.

She threw her arms around his neck as much in
gratitude as to make him stop. “Hush,” she demanded of him, and looked up into
his smiling face. She kissed him quickly on the lips when he tried to speak
again, and whispered, “Thank you!”

He quieted at once, his smile vanishing, and she
realized suddenly what she had done.

Her heartbeat quickened.

She tried to disengage herself but his arm went
about her waist, preventing it.

“Don’t,” he whispered, beseeching her, and Sophie
could suddenly feel his heart beating against her breast as he pulled her
against him ... or maybe it was only her own heart beating. She couldn’t tell.

The breath left her as he tilted his head to kiss
her once more.

“Sophia,” he whispered hoarsely, as though she
should stop him.

She didn’t want to.

His eyes closed, and her heart leapt as his lips
fitted perfectly over hers.

His mouth was wonderful and Sophie had never
wanted anything more...

She opened to him, anticipating his tongue with
bated breath. At the brush of it against her lips, soft and warm and sweet, she
offered her own without protest, without hesitation... with total abandon.

Jack had never tasted anything sweeter.

No lips had ever trembled so beautifully.

No tongue had ever felt so much like heaven.

No embrace had ever been so welcome.