The Seductive Impostor (16 page)

“It's not safe for Mikaela,” Duncan interjected, still staring over the cliff, then looking at Kee.

Kee nodded agreement, then gave Duncan a perverse grin. “Then you radio Ahab and tell him not to dock.”

Duncan held up his hands and snorted. “Not me. That lunatic's liable to turn his cannons on us. And Mikaela will be reloading for him.” He shook his head. “She'll swim to shore if she has to. She misses us.”

“It's more likely the other way around,” Kee muttered.

Hell, they all missed their little angel.

“She could stay with Rachel,” Jason suggested. “Since we'll be watching her anyway, we'll just keep an eye on both of them.”

Kee raised a brow at Jason. “That's assuming Rachel won't bring her back to us in a burlap sack. Mikaela doesn't have a very good track record when it comes to dealing with women.”

Duncan waved that away. “That's because the women you've been bringing around are like Joan. Rachel's different.” He hesitated, giving Kee a speculative look. “It might be good for both of them,” he said softly. “Mikaela's getting to the point where she needs some feminine input.”

“And Rachel?” Kee asked.

Duncan's grin was more diabolical than genial. “Rachel might as well get to know our little girl.” He hesitated only a heartbeat, then said, “After last night.”

Kee's eyes narrowed in warning. “And what happened last night?” he asked softly.

Duncan shrugged. “Ya turned up missing till noon. And as it happens, so did Rachel. Ya said she needs a keeper. Why not see if ya might keep her a bit longer than the others?”

Kee's heart stopped for the briefest of seconds, then started thumping with the force of a sledgehammer. He glanced at Jason and Luke, only to find them smiling like simpletons, nodding agreement with Duncan.

“My love life is not open to majority rule,” he snapped, turning to glare at Duncan. “And have you forgotten that Rachel Foster is in this mess all the way up to her lying little neck?”

Duncan waved that away as well. “Bah. She's obviously protecting someone.”

“Not another man,” Jason said.

“What makes you so sure of that?” Kee asked.

“How do you think Mickey got into your bedroom this morning?” Jason asked in answer.

Kee's growl of warning for his men to butt out of his love life would have done the wolf proud. He turned on his heel and headed back into the tunnel.

“Maybe it's her sister,” Duncan said as they walked single-file up the tunnel. “Willow, isn't it? She's a lawyer or something. Maybe Rachel's protecting her.”

Kee stopped and turned his flashlight on Duncan. “According to Rachel, her sister is more than capable of taking care of herself,” Kee told him. “I agree, she's protecting someone, and our first order of business is to find out who.”

“You want me to secure the end of the tunnel so we don't get any more visitors?” Jason asked.

Kee aimed his flashlight back toward the entrance to the tunnel and shook his head. “No. Rig some sort of warning device instead that will let us know when our visitors arrive.”

Jason rubbed his hands together. “Yeah,” he said. “I've got something that will work. How about a pager system for our belts? That way it'll be silent.”

Kee nodded. “Get Matthew to help you. And try and cover our own tracks in the tunnels. No need to warn them we've been here.”

“What about Mikaela?” Duncan asked. “Are ya going to let the
Six-to-One Odds
dock?”

Kee thought about that, torn between wanting to protect his daughter and wanting her with him. He blew out a frustrated breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “They're still two days out. She can dock, and I'll ask Rachel if she wants a little company for a few days.” He looked at Duncan for agreement. “But if things get dicey, both Rachel and Mikaela are getting packed aboard the
Six-to-One Odds
and shipped out to sea.”

“And if Rachel doesn't want to go?” Duncan asked.

Kee smiled. “It might take two or three of us, and a length of rope, but I think we can get her on board.”

Duncan made the sign of the cross over his chest. “Ahab's going to slit our throats in our sleep,” he muttered, walking deeper into the tunnel, Jason and Luke following him.

Kee stood where he was and broke into a cold sweat. Mikaela and Rachel together—now, there was a scary thought.

 

Rachel had stayed in the shower until every last drop of hot water was gone, using nearly a whole bottle of conditioner trying to get the snarls out of her hair. Then she'd spent twenty minutes looking for her lobster boat barrette, only to realize she'd lost it the night Kee had found her in his library.

He'd taken her moose barrette last night, too. The guy was amassing quite a collection of her hair clips.

Now she was flopped on the sofa of her living room, staring at the empty space over the fireplace where the picture of the castle used to hang and trying to assess her situation.

It didn't look good. By showing Kee the tunnels, she'd lost any hope of finding Thadd's room and her dad's blueprints for the smuggling boats. Kee also knew that she'd been in his vault and had exchanged the fake emeralds with the real ones.

What had possessed Frank Foster and Thaddeus Lakeman to give her mother a set of stolen emeralds? Hadn't they been afraid someone would recognize them?

Rachel snorted. In Puffin Harbor? Heck, her mother could have worn the crown jewels of England and nobody would have realized. The most prestigious place Marian had worn the emeralds was to a fund-raising supper in Ellsworth for the local hospital. Which only proved that the safest place to hide something was in plain sight.

Rachel looked at the grandfather clock in the corner. Three o'clock, and Willow still hadn't called. And Rachel had forgotten her appointment with Dr. Sprague. Betty Potter had left three messages on the answering machine.

She had to get her life back under control. And that meant she had to stop thinking about sexy blue eyes, a night of lovemaking that had left her insides in more knots than her hair, and this damnable urge to run back to Sub Rosa and do it again.

It wasn't just lust, she was finally beginning to realize, or even the satisfaction of ending a long sexual drought. Keenan Oakes intrigued her. What she saw is what she got. No pretense. No trying to charm her socks off. But especially no asking permission to kiss her.

She liked that. A lot.

For the first time in her life, Rachel felt she could simply be herself with a man. Comfortable. Safe. She didn't have to put on an act for fear of scaring the guy away.

She doubted anything scared Keenan Oakes.

The man could actually handle her passionate nature. Heck, he
had
handled it—over and over and over last night.

And afterward, in the tapestry room, when he'd found the fake emeralds, he had simply let her walk away. He hadn't pushed for answers, or gotten angry at her for not telling him where she got them, or resorted to threats.

Oh, she knew it wasn't the end of it, by any means. But Kee seemed to respect her enough to let
her
pick the time for the truth.

Which she would—eventually.

A car drove into the yard, but Rachel didn't move from her spot on the couch, recognizing Willow's always-in-a-hurry arrival. She smiled, not the least bit surprised. Willow hadn't called at noon because she'd decided to come home and lecture Rachel in person.

The screen door slammed, and Willow came storming in, shouting Rachel's name as she strode through the kitchen. She stopped in the doorway of the living room, her beautiful hazel eyes on fire, and waved a paper in the air.

“This is not a speeding ticket,” she snapped. “It's Larry Jenkins's home phone number. It seems I have a date with him tomorrow night.”

“I owe you.”

“You owe me?” Willow repeated, clearly surprised by Rachel's answer. “So Larry wasn't just making it up? You really did promise I'd go out with him?”

Rachel slowly rose from the couch, every muscle in her body protesting. Who would have known lovemaking was such strenuous work? She walked over to Willow, hugged her nonplussed sister, and gave her a crooked smile.

“Larry owns a pickup truck, Willy. And if you're real nice to him tomorrow night, you could probably borrow it.”

“Why do I want to borrow Larry's truck?”

“For Puffy. How else are we going to get him into town?”

Willow stepped back, incredulous. “You want me to borrow a deputy sheriff's truck to sneak an illegal statue into the town square?”

Rachel nodded.

Willow sighed and finally found a tentative smile. “It would serve him right if his truck is recognized leaving the scene of our crime. What's Larry got on you that he's stooping to blackmailing me for a date?”

Rachel headed into the kitchen, deciding she needed a cup of tea—no, something stronger—for the fireworks that were about to begin.

“Rae?” Willow questioned, following her.

“I offered to go out with him first,” Rachel thought to clarify, getting the rum down from the top cupboard. “But apparently I don't hold the appeal I used to,” she added with a snort, going to the fridge and opening the door, looking for some soda. “He said it had to be with you, or he was writing the ticket.”

“A ticket? You?” Willow gasped, her eyes rounded in mock horror.

“Not me,” Rachel said, popping her head out of the fridge long enough to roll her eyes at Willow. “It was Keenan Oakes he was threatening to ticket.”

“Keenan Oakes! I'm going out with Larry Jenkins so Keenan Oakes doesn't have to pay a ticket? Rae, the man's a billionaire! No, here, give me that,” she said, taking the soda from Rachel. “I have something better in the car. Get out the blender and some ice.”

Willow was out the door, the soda bottle still in her hand, before Rachel could even ask what she was talking about. So she got out the blender, set it on the counter, and plugged it in.

Willow used her foot to open the screen door and came back in carrying four boxes overflowing with plump, deep red strawberries. Rachel squeaked in delight and immediately grabbed one of the berries and popped it in her mouth.

“Oh, man. It's strawberry season,” she moaned, squishing the succulent fruit between the roof of her mouth and her tongue.

“No,” Willow said, popping a berry into her own mouth. “It's strawberry
daiquiri
season.”

Rachel went to the fridge and pulled out two trays of ice cubes, dumped one in the blender, and poured in a healthy amount of rum. “Quick. Get the hulls off those puppies,” she urged, getting a knife and starting on them herself.

More of the berries from the first quart went into their mouths than into the blender. “I have four more quarts in the car,” Willow said around a mouthful. “I couldn't resist when I saw Bickford's roadside stand. I think I ate a whole quart on the way home.”

Rachel hit the button on the blender, and the berries and rum and ice swirled into a tornado of bright red decadence. Willow got down two daiquiri glasses and stood watching the whirlwind with Rachel. “It's done,” she declared, holding out the glasses.

Rachel hit the switch and poured both drinks, then took one of the glasses and held it up for a toast. “To strawberry season,” she said, clinking her glass to Willow's.

“And to sisters,” Willow replied.

Each took a sip and both moaned in unison.

“Now,” Willow said, giving Rachel a threatening glare that was thoroughly ruined by her strawberry mustache. “I believe you were about to explain why I'm paying Keenan Oakes's ticket.”

“It's…complicated,” Rachel said, going to the table and sitting down. She waited until Willow was seated across from her before she continued. “It just sort of happened. Kee was driving Thadd's Ferrari, which is unregistered, and he parked in a handicapped zone on the pier.”

“And you were with him…why?”

“I was hungry. He offered to take me out for lobster.”

“Sounds chummy,” Willow muttered over the rim of her glass before taking a sip. “I thought we agreed you would stay away from him.”

“He was rather insistent,” Rachel whispered, quickly taking her own sip. “And that's when we made the deal that I'd help him reopen Sub Rosa. And Larry…Larry just showed up, and before I knew what I was doing, I promised him a date.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“Hey, we do need a truck for Puffy. It's a win–win deal. See if you can get it for tomorrow night.” Rachel suddenly frowned. “You are staying, aren't you? It is Friday, isn't it?”

“What in hell have you been doing all week?” Willow asked, eyeing her suspiciously.