The Seductive Impostor (25 page)

They were standing around Larry's truck, which was already loaded with the furniture Willow was taking to Augusta. Kee and Duncan and Luke and Willow were gathered near the front of the truck, staring at the bumper.

“I'm telling Larry you came tearing into the dooryard and skidded into his truck with your car,” Willow said, smiling sweetly up at Duncan.

“And I'm going to tell him ya need lessons in kissing,” Duncan returned, his smile sinister.

Luke ran his hand over the scratch on the bumper where Willow had smashed into the park bench. “We might be able to rub it out and he won't even notice.”

Mikaela was perched on Kee's shoulders, and having set her winged giraffe on her daddy's head, was whispering to it. Mickey was sitting at Kee's feet, staring up at Mikaela, his tail wagging in the gravel and his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

“Can Mickey and I go throw rocks in the water?” Mikaela asked, bending over to look Kee in the face.

Kee lifted her off his shoulders. Mickey immediately headed for the beach, and Mikaela shot after him just as soon as her feet touched the ground, clutching her stuffed toy to her chest.

“She should have a life vest on,” Rachel said, walking toward them as she watched Mikaela grab a rock and run to the edge of the water.

Kee and Duncan and Luke turned to her, their expressions nonplussed. “Why?” Luke asked.

“Why?” Rachel repeated. “It's the ocean. With
waves,”
she emphasized. “She could get swept into the water.”

“She won't stay in it long,” Duncan said, shuddering. “It's damn cold.”

“Mickey's with her,” Luke added. “He's better than a life vest. If she falls in, he'll just pull her out.”

“She's five years old!” Rachel growled, pivoting toward the beach. Dammit, if they weren't going to watch Mikaela, then she would.

Kee caught up with her just as she reached the edge of the lawn. He sat down on a driftwood log next to the giraffe his daughter had set there, pulling Rachel down beside him and putting his arm around her shoulders to hold her in place.

“She's grown up on the ocean,” he told her. “She's as safe playing on your beach as she is sitting in your house.”

Rachel watched the little girl run the length of the wide beach, Mickey trotting beside her and barking excitedly whenever Mikaela stopped to pick up a rock.

“She needs to run,” Kee continued, smiling at his daughter. “She's been cooped up on the
Six-to-One Odds
for over a week.”

“Does she wear a life vest on the boat?”

He looked down and hugged her against him reassuringly. “It's not a conventional vest because they're too cumbersome to live in all day,” he told her. “She wears a tube that sits around her neck and runs down to her waist, where it's strapped on tightly. It has a CO
₂
canister and a sensor, so that if she falls overboard, it pops open and inflates.”

“Oh, I've seen those,” Rachel said, relaxing against him. “Some of the fishermen wear them.”

He kissed the top of her head. “But thank you for caring enough to give us hell,” he said softly, lifting her chin to look at him. “How are you this morning?”

“I…I'm fine.”

“I'm sorry about Mary Alder. But more than I'm sorry, I'm worried. She was murdered, Rachel.”

He turned on the log to face her more squarely and cupped her face between his large hands, forcing her to look at him. “And that's why I'm giving you two choices this morning. You either give me your promise you'll stay completely out of this, or you and Mikaela go aboard the
Six-to-One Odds
for a nice little sail until this is over.”

Taken completely off-guard, she tried to pull back, but he only tightened his hold. “This is not negotiable, Rachel. You'll promise to stop asking questions, or you'll be out to sea before you can call good old Larry to come save you.”

His thumbs caressed the sides of her face. “You have five minutes to decide. And Rachel?”

“Y-yes?”

“Trust is no longer an option but a fact, for both of us. I trust you to keep your word, and you trust me to keep your secret safe.”

She did trust him. She trusted all the men.

It was the circumstances she didn't trust.

“I really don't know what's going on,” she told him. “But my father left me a letter,” she began, slowly telling Kee the whole story. But she stopped short of mentioning the room in her own house, because she and Willow had agreed they would find out what was inside it first.

She did tell him about Thadd's secret room, so he could be on guard. And she told him about Raoul Vegas—that she thought he was back here trying to find Thadd's treasure and that he might have been the one who shot Mary. She even told him about her father's role in designing the smuggling boats, that there were three of them that she knew of, and that two of them were now burned.

“You don't know the name of the third boat?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I think Dad was trying to tell me their names when he was shot. He named the
Norway Night
and the
Sea Dancer,
but he grew too weak. His last words to me were ‘Find her.' I didn't know what he was talking about until Wendell brought me the letter.”

“ ‘Find her' is what Mary said just before she died,” he whispered, more to himself than to her, staring off at the horizon, his face unreadable.

He finally looked back at her, taking hold of her face again and kissing her tenderly on the forehead. “Thank you,” he said softly. “A lot of it makes sense now. I can see why you were trying to get yourself out of this mess quietly. It very well could turn into a scandal that would ruin Willow's future.”

“I'm sorry I set you up to take the fall for the stolen items,” she told him. “But I didn't know what else to do.”

He smiled. “I probably would have done the same thing. If you just could have gotten in and out of Sub Rosa and replaced the emeralds and other items, you would have been home free.”

“That's what I thought. But then the boat burnings started, and that meant we could still get dragged into this, if the designs were found with Dad's name on them.”

“And you didn't find them in Mark's files?”

“No. But Mark said Mary had been at the boatyard last week, and I think she took them.”

Kee was silent again, watching Mikaela and Mickey before turning back to Rachel. “You really have no idea where that secret room is in Sub Rosa?”

She shook her head. “I've gone over all the blueprints, including the ones I have here. Daddy built it the summer I went to Paris with Mom and Willow. It could be anywhere.”

“What would it take for you to find it?”

That question surprised her. “I would have to spend time at Sub Rosa, measuring rooms against the blueprints and checking out every one of the tunnels.”

He shook his head. “That's out of the question, at least for now.” He took hold of her chin, his deep, dark Atlantic-blue eyes looking directly into hers. “Do I have your promise to let me handle things from here on out?”

“You don't think we should call the police now?” Rachel asked. “Because of Mary?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. Let me find out what's really going on, so I can figure out how to keep you and Willow out of it before we call them.”

Rachel nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

His smile made her insides melt. He wrapped both his arms around her and lifted her onto his lap, squeezing her so tightly she squeaked. Mikaela came running up, slid to a stop in front of them, and put her hands on her hips and stared.

“What?” Kee asked her.

“Is Rachel your girlfriend now? What happened to Joan?”

“Joan decided Europe was more interesting than I am,” Kee told her. “And yes, Rachel's my girlfriend.”

Rachel quit breathing.

“So I gotta be nice to her and not scare her off?” Mikaela wanted to know, her expression fierce.

Rachel finally found her breath and her voice. “I don't scare easy,” she told the five-year-old, reaching out and tugging on the hem of her shirt. “I survived growing up with Willow. I think I can survive anything you dish out.”

Mikaela's eyes narrowed. “I like Willow,” she said, her stance defensive. “She reads good, and makes faces and voices that match the story.”

“I like Willow, too,” Rachel quickly assured her. “And just so you know, I'm the one who taught her to read like that.”

Mikaela's posture relaxed slightly as she looked from Rachel to her father. “Luke said Ahab's waiting for me on the
Six-to-One Odds
and that he's got a whole mess of polishing rags,” she said, her lower lip sticking out far enough to hang a hat on. “Can Rachel help me polish the brass?”

“Rachel didn't break the compass,” Kee told her.

Mikaela turned her calculated look on Rachel. “Can you bake? Cookies and cakes and stuff?”

“Nope. I can't even boil water.”

Rachel didn't know who was more surprised, Kee or Mikaela.

“You can't cook?” he asked, leaning to the side to look her in the eye.

“But I can run a skill saw,” she told him, turning her smile on Mikaela. “And I can show you how to build beautiful birdhouses.”

“That's not women's stuff,” Kee said, drawing her attention again. “You're supposed to show her women's stuff.”

“I'm a pretty good shopper,” Rachel offered, turning back to Mikaela. “We can go to Ellsworth and buy you some pretty new clothes.”

Mikaela scrunched up her face. “I don't like ruffles.”

“No ruffles,” Rachel agreed. “How about barrettes?” she asked, touching one of Mikaela's perfectly braided braids. “I know an artist in Blue Hill who crafts beautiful hair clips.”

The little girl eyed Rachel's own long braid hanging over her shoulder. She reached out and touched the clip on the end of it. “I like barrettes,” she whispered, looking up at Rachel. “Does the guy make earrings? I would like some earrings.”

“You would?” Kee asked, lifting a brow in surprise. “You've never mentioned wanting earrings before.”

Mikaela lifted her chin. “Dangly ones,” she said. “With pretty stones in them.”

Kee rolled his eyes. “What is it with females and jewelry? Is it genetic or something?”

Rachel nodded, trying very hard not to smile. Kee was looking at Mikaela again, his expression confounded, as if seeing her for the first time—or just realizing that he'd fathered a female.

Rachel looked at Mikaela's tiny earlobes. “You would need to get your ears pierced,” she warned her.

Kee answered for Mikaela, quickly and with quiet finality. “No,” he said, setting Rachel back on the log and then standing up. “No one is poking holes in my daughter.”

Rachel fingered her own earlobe. “I'll get my ears pierced, too,” she told Mikaela, ignoring the warning growl that came from Kee's chest. “I'd like some dangly earrings, too.”

“No,” he repeated, this time with more desperation than authority.

Mikaela grabbed her giraffe off the log and looked up at her father with a smug smile. “I want a vote,” she told him.

Confused, Rachel watched as Kee suddenly relaxed. “Okay, we'll vote. But it's going to be six-to-one for ‘No.' ”

And she knew then where Kee's schooner had gotten its name. For the last five years it had been six men constantly finding themselves at odds with one little girl.

“Do I get a vote?” Rachel asked, standing up.

“No.”

“She can vote, Daddy. She's your girlfriend. And I want Willow to vote, too.”

“What am I voting for?” Willow asked, walking up to them, Duncan one step behind her.

“I'm getting my ears pierced,” Mikaela said, running up and throwing herself against Duncan.

He lifted her up until her face was even with his. “No,” he said succinctly.

Mikaela nodded. “We're going to vote.”

Duncan sighed hard enough to move wisps of her hair. “Now, why would ya want someone to poke holes in your head?” he asked.

“So I can wear dangly earrings.” She tucked her giraffe between herself and Duncan's chest, then grabbed hold of Duncan's face with her two little hands, making him look her straight in the eye. “I want earrings and a dress and girl shoes.”

She leaned in closer, her nose almost touching his. “ 'Cause I'm a girl, Dunky,” she whispered softly.

Duncan looked as if he was going to burst into tears.

Mikaela Oakes wasn't a tyrant, or a hellion, or any more a manipulator than any other five-year-old child. She was a little girl with six daddies who were scared to death. They knew—they just knew—she was going to grow up into a beautiful woman and fall in love with a man, and break their collective hearts.