Happily Ever After (6 page)

What was she getting herself into?

“I
just didn’t expect it to be soooo...” She tried to find the right word to
express her uncertainty without hurting his feelings.

“Ancient?”
He laughed, and the sound somehow put her at ease.

Sophie
let out a breath. “Yes, that’s it!”

“She
is at that, but she’ll do.” He smiled at her, and Sophie decided she liked Mr.
Davenport well enough. He might not have the finest manners in the world, but
his presence was quite affable. “She’s a beaut if you consider her age. It’ll
feel almost nostalgic out there. Can’t wait to get the sails up.”

He
stared up the masthead, and Sophie took the opportunity to walk over and
inspect a baby cannon, one of two that adorned either side of the aft of the
ship. Her fingers brushed over the blackened hull, and she couldn’t help but
wonder ...

“Is
it real?”

“As
real as they come, but just for show these days. I doubt we’ll find ourselves
in a position to use it.”

Sophie
smiled. “I don’t suppose one makes a good impression by firing on the natives.”

“I
doubt these babies will do more than knock out a tooth, but no, I don’t suppose
they’d appreciate the gap in their smiles.”

Sophie
laughed, peering up when she heard a new male voice and gasped at the sight of
him.

“You
were right. We were missing a sail,” the newcomer said, tossing down a bundle
before Mr. Davenport.

“That
was quick.”

“He
had it set aside for us and was ready to bring it down himself.”

“Good
man!” Mr. Davenport said in praise.

“You!”
Sophie said, aghast, and his gaze sought and found her at once.

“You,”
he echoed, sounding surprised.

Looking
amused, Kell Davenport peered from one to the other and back, and then said,
grinning, “Apparently you’ve already met?”

Sophie
straightened her spine, hitching her chin just a little. “What are you doing
here?” She moved toward Mr. Davenport, unconsciously seeking his protection,
though she truly had no reason to expect harm to come to her. The man simply
disturbed her.

He
didn’t bother to respond to her question, but answered Mr. Davenport’s instead.
“Yes, I’ve had the pleasure.”

Sophia
bristled at his wink. “I’m not quite certain I would call it a pleasure,
precisely!” she demurred. “I see you haven’t yet bothered to dress as yet!”

“And
I see you’ve managed to hold on to your purse, if not your tongue,” he
countered.

She
was clutching it so hard that her fingers turned white.

“No
thanks to you!” Sophie replied smartly, and then turned to Mr. Davenport. “I
rather doubt you would appreciate a pickpocket in your employ!” Dressed as he
was, he couldn’t have been more than a dock hand, arrogant though he was. She
showed him her purse, as though introducing it as evidence.

Mr.
Davenport laughed as he asked the question, not of Sophie, but of the
exhibitionist. “You stole her purse?”

“What
do you think?” the man answered.

“I’d
watch those hands were I you!” Sophie warned Mr. Davenport.

Davenport
cast her an amused glance and shook his head, as though he found the prospect
quite humorous. “You’re definitely not the first with that complaint, miss.”
And then he began to chuckle, and Sophie didn’t see what was so wretchedly
funny.

Good
lord, she couldn’t even look at the man! He’d managed to button a few of his
lower buttons, but had neglected to finish the consideration, and her eyes
seemed unable to dismiss it. His smug expression set her teeth to grinding and
his smile was far too unnerving in its perfection. His eyes bore into her with
too much familiarity.

“I
do believe I will wait for Mr. MacAuley elsewhere!” she informed them both,
lifting her skirts, intending to disembark, when Kell Davenport burst into
peals of laughter.

Sophie
was quite certain these were two of the rudest men on the face of the earth!

“Damnation!”
she exclaimed in sheer frustration, and turned to face Kell Davenport, who
somehow suddenly seemed unable to control himself. “I really don’t see what is
so amusing, and you can be certain I will report this to Mr. MacAuley as soon
as I see him!”

Davenport’s
laughter brought him suddenly to his knees, and Sophie felt a renewed flush of
anger cloud her brain. “Sorry... sorry—Christ!” he sputtered, and
clutched at his side, pointing at the exhibitionist. She peered down at Mt.
Davenport, trying to comprehend the words that were spewing out of his mouth.
She glared down at him. “I don’t understand!”

He
continued to laugh.

“Mr.
Davenport?”

“What
the man is trying to tell you is that you should consider the matter reported,”
said the exhibitionist. “Jack MacAuley, miss. What can I do for you?”

CHAPTER 4

Sophie
froze at his introduction, and then turned slowly. “
You
are Jack MacAuley?”

Her
expression was clearly disbelieving and Jack knew it was more than their
scuffle on the docks that made her dismiss him so completely. It grated on his
nerves. She was a spoiled little rich girl, no doubt, judging by her manner and
dress, who was used to getting her way, no matter the consequences.

Apparently
he had something she wanted.

She wasn’t going to get it.

Even
if she did have the deuced most kissable lips he’d ever had the pleasure of
trading insults with.

“I
am,” he acknowledged, and watched the emotions that played across her face;
uncertainty, then horror, then wariness, and then as she lifted her purse to
her breast, a little smugness, he thought. Curiosity filled him, but he waited
for her to divulge herself in her own time.

She
took a deep breath and nodded. “I see.”

Kell
grew quiet, though his grin remained to taunt Jack. They’d been friends too
damned long.

“I
suppose since we have not gotten off to the best start,’ she reasoned, “I
should be direct.’

A
refreshing notion.

“My
name is Sophie Vanderwahl,” she stated, coming forward, extending her hand as
any gentleman would. Jack met Kell’s gaze over her shoulder. His friend’s brow
lifted, partly in amusement, partly in curiosity.

The
name for an instant stunned him.

“Vanderwahl?”
he said after a moment.

She
held her hand outstretched, waiting for him to take it. “Yes, my father is
Maxwell Vanderwahl.” Her amber eyes sparkled with challenge.

She
said it with such self-importance that Jack wanted nothing more than to toss
her off his ship on her delightful little rear. On the docks, when he’d watched
her saunter away, those delicious hips had swung with unmistakable feminine
allure—not to mention a cockiness that surpassed the egotism of most men.
He had nearly laughed when she’d realized she’d abandoned her purse. The
expression on her face when she’d spun to face him had been worth the wait.

Lovely little vixen.

Reluctantly
Jack accepted her handshake, though he couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm from his
voice. “To what do I owe this dubious pleasure, Miss Vanderwahl?”

His
body stirred, an unwelcome reaction to the warmth of her hand in his own. It
was the same response he’d had when faced with her on the docks, despite that
she’d looked at him with utter revulsion. He didn’t particularly enjoy his lack
of control. He preferred to choose the women to whom he was attracted.

Arrogant little brat.

“I
would like to buy passage aboard your...” She glanced about, wrinkling her
nose. “... ship.”

Her
obvious lack of appreciation for the historical vessel Jack had procured and
then spent long hours laboring to repair, provoked him. “Would you now?”

He
didn’t need the distraction of a woman aboard his ship. Particularly when she
was the first to attract him in far, far too long.

She
nodded, resolute. “Yes, indeed, I would! And I am prepared to offer you a
substantial sum for it.” She cradled the conspicuous purse, rocking it in her
arms.

“Are
you?” Jack asked, and then without ceremony went on, “What the hell for? We’re
not on a pleasure cruise, Miss Vanderwahl, and neither are we some poor little
rich girl’s private yacht to be paraded into the harbor of her choosing!”

“Mr.
MacAuley!” she protested. “There is absolutely no need for such rudeness! I
would hardly have mistaken this ship for either, I can assure you!”

“The
answer is no,” Jack said, dismissing the proposal without discussion. He turned
and walked away, leaving Kell to deal with her.

He
didn’t want her around.

Period.

He
could tell right off she was trouble. She’d turn his ship upside down faster
than a monsoon. He turned to climb down the ladder to the lower deck to find
her standing there, hands on her hips, her purse swinging from her hand.

“You
can’t say no yet!” she informed him rather indignantly. “I haven’t even given
you my offer!”

“I
can, and have,” he said resolutely, and dropped down to the lower deck so he
couldn’t see her.

He
heard Kell’s chuckle and stifled an expletive when he glanced up to find she
was peering down at him. “Three thousand dollars!” she exclaimed. “I’ll give
you three thousand, Mr. MacAuley!”

“No.”

He
wasn’t going to waver.

She
had a lot of nerve asking him for help when her fiancé was the bane of his
existence and her father was Penn’s deuced ally.

Jack
didn’t want any part of any of them.

“Five
thousand!”

Jack
stooped to enter the mess hall, ignoring her.

The
ship had been refurbished so that its two previous levels had been made into
three. The lower deck housed the kitchen, the cook’s office and chamber, the
mess hall, two officers’ quarters, the captain’s dining area and cabin. The
bottommost level was used predominantly for storage, and also housed four
smaller cabins, in which Jack wondered how any grown man could sleep much less
stand or piss. Everyone else would sleep in the mess hall, in hammocks that
hung from the ceiling and would be put away each morning. It was a primitive
arrangement but it would do just fine.

Still,
it was cramped quarters below, and Jack foresaw a permanent backache
maneuvering the lower decks. Only the kitchen and captain’s dining area and
cabin had any real comfort to them—comfort meaning a man could actually
stand upright.

He
heard her feet drop on the polished wood, and then her dainty footsteps
followed behind him. He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll
give you five thousand dollars!”

“I
heard you the first time and I don’t need your money, Miss Vanderwahl.”

He
heard a thump, and presumed it was her head as she entered the mess hall. It
was a low ceiling.

“Ouch!”

“Watch
your head,” he warned too late, and kept walking. He couldn’t suppress a grin
as she cursed softly in his wake—a very unladylike gesture that for all
its vulgarity sounded absolutely adorable.

“It
looks to me as though you
do
need my
money!” she countered, sounding quite determined.

Jack
clutched the rung of the ladder that led to the captain’s dining room, ready to
hoist himself up.

“Wait,
please!”

She
sounded almost frantic now.

“Please
listen to me, Mr. MacAuley!”

Why
the hell should he?

He
climbed halfway up, then stopped. Neither her father nor his committee had ever
listened to a word he’d spoken in their presence. He didn’t have to listen to a
damned thing his daughter had to say. Still, curiosity made him linger.