The Wedding Ransom (9 page)

“Now wait a minute,” Rafe said, affronted. “I also said in that note that I put Rusty in charge of the Lone Star and that if you needed to contact me you could send word by way of Miss Alice’s Gentleman’s Club in Galveston.” He paused, then snapped his fingers. “Shoot. I forgot all about going by the whorehouse.”

Tess started squirming in earnest, and Luke bent over and set her on her feet. Luke did the same with Kimberly, and as the toddlers took off down the pier, the two men each grabbed a hand to keep the girls safely at their sides. Luke continued, “I decided right off you needed checking on, but Honor wouldn’t hear of my going alone.” For the first time, a note of accusation crept into his voice. “You worried her, Rafe.”

“I apologize, Luke, and I’ll apologize to Honor, too. I never intended for her to fret.”

Luke sighed. “She wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for Micah seeing a sword at your throat. What’s the story, Rafe? Who are those people?”

In brief, succinct sentences Rafe repeated the tale of the events that had brought him to the Galveston pier. When he finished, Luke slowly shook his head. “Hell, Rafe. Why doesn’t this surprise me? I knew you’d find horse ranching a little tame eventually, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. You must have been thinking of moving on anyway for you to have gone along with this.”

“I admit the West has been calling out to me some. Texas is getting downright civilized these days. But I didn’t go looking for this escapade, you know. They came to me.”

“You didn’t have to go with them. There’s a lot of work on a horse ranch this time of year.”

“Rusty’s a good man. He’ll see the work gets done. Besides, it’s to be a short trip, so I’ll be back soon. Look, Luke, I’ve never been to the Caribbean before. I thought this would be a good chance to see that part of the world.” He glanced back toward the
Buccaneer’s Bliss
and added wryly, “At least, that’s what I thought before I got a load of the
Leaky Teaky
. Now I’m not so sure.”

Luke’s laugh rumbled up from deep inside his chest. “Treasure to steal, a beautiful woman to enjoy, and a holiday from the Lone Star during the season of the year that means a lot of lost sleep—maybe I should go with you.”

“Did I say the lady was beautiful?”

“With your luck, would she be anything else?”

Rafe’s mouth tilted in a slow grin. “She’s as pretty as a west Texas sunset, and you can’t come because I’m not sharing. For one thing, Honor would kill us both.”

“Yeah, she would, wouldn’t she?” Luke duplicated Rafe’s smile. “Reckon I’ll just have to suffer and do without a little taste of your good fortune.”

Rafe glanced over his shoulder to where Luke’s exquisite wife was holding court to the four Lake Bliss pirates. “Some suffering,” he dryly drawled.

Luke laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. He lifted his daughter back into his arms and asked, “So, where is she? When do I get to meet Miss Mary Margaret St. John?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The elderly woman held the bottle of Lake Bliss water up in front of the mercantile window and frowned. “And you say this will cure my rheumatism?”

“Not cure it, I’m afraid,” Maggie replied. “But chances are it will ease your pain. The story I told you is true, Mrs. Best. Once I started taking daily doses of Lake Bliss water, my rheumatism disappeared for the most part.”

Luella Best smiled at Maggie. “You are a sweet girl, Miss St. John. I knew it the first moment I saw you. My Rafe wouldn’t have grinned at you the way he did if you weren’t sweet.”

Maggie fumbled the bolt of fabric she’d been considering for a new bathing sarong and it thudded to the floor. “Your Rafe? You know Mr. Malone? You saw us together?”

“Yes, earlier. We’ve been waiting for him for days. I tell you we were all happy to see him arrive on the ferry this afternoon.”

“We? Who is we?”

“The Prescotts, of course.”

“Luke Prescott?”

“And his wife and children. I’m Honor Prescott’s mother-in-law, her second husband’s mother. The boys, Micah and Jason, are my grandsons, although I consider the twins just as much my granddaughters even if we’re not blood related. We’re all family, you know.”

No, Maggie hadn’t known. She’d had no idea this woman was in any way connected to Rafe’s partner Luke Prescott. She’d introduced herself to Luella Best in the mercantile because she’d noticed the pained steps the woman took as she entered the mercantile. “Does Rafe know you’re in Galveston?”

“Likely by now he does. Luke and the others were headed to see him when they dropped me off here. I wanted to check you over.”

“Oh.” She didn’t have the slightest clue of what else to say. That didn’t matter, because Luella had plenty of questions to ask. She appropriated a stool from behind the counter, settled herself down, and proceeded to conduct an interrogation worthy of any Texas Ranger on the hunt for facts. After fifteen minutes, Luella knew everything about Maggie that was of any interest and a number of things that weren’t interesting at all.

“Now where was it you first saw women wearing these bathing sarongs?” she asked, holding up a length of the bright floral cotton Maggie had chosen.

“Tahiti.”

Luella clicked her tongue as her gaze measured Maggie’s curves. “That Rafe sure does lead a charmed life. I know he will simply love this trip.”

“Tell me a little about him, Luella,” she asked, figuring the woman owed her some data in return.

“What would you like to know about my favorite rascal?”

The first question poured from her mouth like water from a dipper. “Does he have a lady friend back home?”

“No, not at the moment. I’m afraid he spent too long pining over his lost love, Elizabeth Perkins. They knew one another as children, and then once he settled in Bastrop he took up with her for a time.”

Luella wrinkled her nose. “He’s better off without her. Elizabeth is a silly twit. She chose Jasper Worrell over Rafe. She claimed she couldn’t abide being married to a man of his tainted reputation.”

“He still loves her?” Maggie asked, her throat surprisingly tight.

“No, and in truth, I don’t believe he ever did. Not true love, anyway. I think he’s still looking for it. Of course, he does enjoy the looking. You won’t find a more accomplished rogue in the republic. Yet at the same time, Rafe is a gentleman about it. He likes women, Miss St. John, but he doesn’t use them, which is more than one can say about many men. I think he wanted to love Elizabeth, and he convinced himself he did. He’s been slower to take up with the ladies since then.” She sent Maggie a sly look and added, “He’s probably about due. The woman who casts her net and lands him will be one lucky lady, that’s for certain.”

Heat stained Maggie’s cheeks and she looked away. “I’m not fishing, ma’am. My stringer is full at the moment. The four men in my life fill it up nicely. Between my papas and the spa, I have a very busy life.”

“Yes, I intended to ask more about these sailors.” Luella leaned forward, her eyes alight with interest. “I noticed them earlier. Quite manly specimens. Tell me, Maggie dear, the gentleman with the fascinating blue eyes is named Ben, you say?”

D
espite the early hour, the entire Prescott contingent stood at the end of the Galveston pier as the
Buccaneer’s Bliss
slipped her mooring and sailed out into the bay. Excitement thrummed in Rafe’s blood. He smelled the brine in the air, heard the creak of wood and lap of water against the hull, and grinned. Adventure. It heated his body like a drug.

He glanced at the woman standing at his side and saw from the sparkle in her brilliant blue eyes that she felt it, too. He didn’t analyze why he felt compelled to catch her hand in his as he tipped his hat in salute to Luke and his family.

“I liked them,” Maggie said softly, waving and blowing kisses back to the twins. “The boys are so sweet to their little sisters, and Honor couldn’t have been any more gracious. And Luella is a hoot.”

Rafe’s smile turned wry. “That’s a diplomatic way to put it. A time or two last night I thought she might pose a threat to our little adventure.”

“How’s that?”

“Gus acted ready to run off with her.”

Maggie gave a long-suffering sigh. “Lucky was just as bad. Did you see him when she asked him about the scar around his neck? I’ve heard him tell the story of how he came by his nickname—how he was hanged by a rival pirate captain for freeing a female captive and how the other papas saved him—but he’s never bragged about it before. Last night he puffed up so much I thought he’d burst his buttons.”

Rafe’s gaze fastened on Luella Best as she stood beneath a ruffled lime green parasol, waving a lacy handkerchief in farewell. “Luella has a way with men.”

So did Maggie, but Rafe didn’t think it prudent to mention it. Not under the present circumstances. Ever since yesterday afternoon, the woman had acted peculiar around him. Mighty peculiar.

Maggie St. John was flirting with him.

He hadn’t recognized it for what it was right off. He’d sensed something strange once Luella and Maggie met up with the others down by the boat, but it had taken Luke’s knowing look and an elbow in the ribs during dinner last night at the Tremont Hotel for him to put a name to Maggie’s behavior. Rafe’s excuse for being so slow was that this woman didn’t flirt like other women of his acquaintance, and Rafe had been acquainted with plenty of other women.

The buccaneer’s granddaughter didn’t bat her eyelashes. She didn’t simper or sweet-talk. She didn’t swish her fanny. No, what Mary Margaret St. John had done starting yesterday afternoon and continuing on to this morning was touch him. Often. Too often.

But not often enough.

The sails flapped overhead as Rafe dropped her hand and put some distance between them.

“And what did you think of my good friend Luke? Do you still wish he was the one making this trip instead of me?”

She folded her arms, cocked her head to one side, and gave her lips a considering purse. “Well…”

It bothered Rafe that she didn’t automatically say no. He shot her a sharp look, then relaxed as she met his gaze with a teasing twinkle in her eyes.

“I’ve decided you’re the right man for the job, Mr. Malone.”

Damned if something about that didn’t sit well, either.

Rafe turned his attention to the fishing skiff hauling in its nets off the starboard bow. He would have gone to Gus and Snake with an offer of help, but they had made a point of ordering the “landlubber” to stay out of their way until the
Buccaneer’s Bliss
had safely navigated the sandbars spitting across Galveston Bay.

As the boat moved out into the bay, Rafe absently watched the large flocks of diving white gulls feeding on wide areas of jumping shrimp. Something was pushing the shrimp to the surface, and the occasional splash and roll confirmed the feast was being shared by predators both above and below the waters.

The boil in the water mirrored his own thoughts as his mind returned to Maggie and her confounded flirting. Her behavior had him tied in knots. Since showing up with Luella yesterday, she’d taken every opportunity to bestow friendly brushes of the hand and teasing nudges with her shoulder. If he said something that made her laugh, she’d reached over and squeezed his hand.

It was the damndest thing. Rafe had always been a toucher, but he was accustomed to being the one who reached out, not the other way around. He found it disconcerting and distracting.

Arousing.

His gaze drifted over the woman who’d now joined her papas, adding an educated-sounding opinion to their argument over perceived inadequacies in the current map of Galveston Bay. While they debated facts, sandbars, and tides, Rafe considered Maggie.

She’d turned the tables on him. Flirting was his forte. She wasn’t supposed to do it back at him. Not when it marked such a change in her behavior. Rafe wanted to know why. He had the sneaking suspicion the woman was laying a trap for him, and he was too distracted by lust to figure out how.

She knew she got to him, too, the little witch. He could see it in her eyes. Maggie St. John’s sea blue eyes had wicked twinkles down pat, and since Rafe was the champion of wicked twinkles, he knew exactly how they looked.

Shoot, in a contest she might even beat him.

The question of why bristly Miss Maggie had turned into a flirt had nagged him like a gnat half the night. The other half he’d spent dreaming of a fall of hair the color of old gold stroking his bare chest as her mouth made good on the promise in her eyes.

Rafe didn’t think she’d fallen for his manly charms as Gus had predicted that first day in the meadow at the Lone Star. If that were the case she’d have started flirting sooner. After all, the first time they met she’d seen a helluva lot more than the breadth of his shoulders; she’d gotten a gander at the whole damned package. That hadn’t done the trick. It hadn’t done much for Rafe’s pride, either, come to think of it.

The
Buccaneer’s Bliss
rounded Galveston Island and headed out into open sea. As Rafe watched the Texas coast fade into the horizon, he tried to regain his earlier sense of excitement and adventure. Here he was on the ocean for the first time in his life, with water all around him, the blue sky above as big as that over west Texas. He joined the pirates for a lesson in critical aspects of sail trim and listened to stories of the king of the pirates, Jean Laffite, and how he’d ruled the island back in the twenties.

But all the while, thoughts of Maggie St. John haunted his mind. The woman had a method to her madness. Rafe was an intelligent man; he’d figure out what it was in time.

The lady in question emerged onto the deck and Rafe damned near swallowed his tongue. She’d changed her clothes. She now wore men’s breeches. Form-fitting men’s breeches. And a flowing shirt that plastered against her chest as she faced the wind.

Rafe cut his gaze to the wheel and Snake MacKenzie. The warning in the old salt’s eyes made Rafe want to check his neck to make sure his head was still attached. Instead he slowly removed his hat and casually shielded the evidence of his reaction to Miss Mary Margaret St. John’s provocative attire from angry eyes.