The woman would be the death of him yet.
~~~~~~~~~~
On the first day of the second week of the voyage, Maggie emerged from the cabin and lifted her face to the warm sunshine. She stretched like a cat as the tropical heat sank into her bones, and she realized she’d not felt a twinge of joint pain in a week. She’d been right to come along on this trip. Right in more ways than one.
She looked to the starboard bow where Rafe stood at the ship’s rail gazing out to sea. He wore the clothing she had presented him to mark the occasion of his first sail with pirates, and at the sight of him Maggie’s mouth went dry. The white silk shirt and black breeches were a uniform of sorts for her pirate papas. But her papas had never filled out the clothes in quite the same manner as Rafe Malone. Her gaze trailed over the breadth of his shoulders and down his torso to where the breeches hugged his muscled buttocks, thighs, and calves. He was barefoot, and Maggie found the sight terribly alluring.
She hadn’t spent as much time with him on this voyage as she would have liked. She had hoped for the opportunity to get to know him better. But between the sailing lessons Gus forced on Rafe and the fact Snake had assigned him to the watch opposite hers, she’d spent relatively little time with the man who so often occupied her thoughts. And fueled her fantasies.
Maggie’s conversation with Luella Best had confirmed some things she’d come to suspect about Rafe Malone, and while she was not entirely certain she should trust him with their treasure—his talk about the value of his word was as yet still unproven—she did think she could trust him to assist her in another aspect of her life. Assist her without hurting her, that is.
Unless she totally misread the signs, Rafe Malone offered the opportunity for something she’d wanted for quite some time. Maggie was a woman now, with a woman’s wishes and desires. She wanted to flirt and spark and spoon a little. She wanted to fall into infatuation. She wanted a beau.
She wanted that beau to be Rafe Malone.
Maggie liked the man who’d showed such kindness to Papa Gus and smiled so tenderly at a pair of baby girls. She enjoyed his terrible jokes and the outlandish stories he told about his highwayman days. She wasn’t put off by his past as a thief. After all, the men she loved most in the world had once been thieves themselves. Heaven knows, she found Rafe Malone attractive. And that was putting it mildly.
She’d known men who were more classically handsome than Rafe, but none as intensely, powerfully masculine. The sheer force of his aura drew her like shavings to a magnet. She admitted that lowering her defenses around the man might be courting danger, but Maggie had been raised on danger. In many ways, she thrived on it.
Besides, she wasn’t looking for anything serious. She didn’t want a suitor. She wasn’t looking for love, just a little romance.
At the girls’ school she’d attended, Maggie had been taught all she cared to learn about love. She’d been eighteen and in love with a classmate’s brother when her papas came to visit. Before they left a week later, she had learned firsthand the importance some people placed on family background and bloodlines. She had seen how shallow both love and a man’s character could be.
The lessons had been painful, but she’d been better for the learning. She knew now that only a strong, intelligent, and independent man could appreciate a family like hers. She’d all but given up ever meeting him.
Maybe you’ve already met him.
Her mouth went dry at the thought. No. She couldn’t, wouldn’t think that way. It was one thing to flirt with an adventurer like her grandfathers, but another thing entirely to marry such a man. She’d spent the better part of her life being dragged around the world by men who didn’t slow down until forced into it by age. While she enjoyed a little adventure herself, she didn’t want a steady diet of it. What she wanted was a permanent home at Lake Bliss, a home filled with love and laughter. The home she’d lost when her parents died.
Maggie didn’t remember her mother or her father. All she knew of them were the stories her papas had told in answer to her questions throughout the years, and a vague memory of a house that smelled of lemons. According to her grandfathers, Maggie’s father had been a West Indies sugar planter. William St. John and his wife Catherine had rejoiced upon the birth of their daughter, but tragically, four short years later, yellow jack had struck down first Catherine and then her grieving widower. From his deathbed, fearing for his daughter’s future, St. John had sent for his old and trusted friends, Captain Ben Scovall and his crew. With Maggie’s parents gone, the papas took the young girl into their hearts and into their home—a world filled with action and adventure and very little boredom.
Now boredom was exactly what Maggie craved. She wanted peace. She wanted tedium. And she couldn’t quite picture Rafe Malone embracing that kind of life.
He’d joined this journey for adventure’s sake, nothing else. He’d abandoned the responsibilities of his ranch and partnership with Luke Prescott without blinking an eye. That wasn’t exactly a trait she intended to look for in a husband.
No, Maggie wasn’t looking for a suitor. A beau, though, was another matter entirely. Rafe Malone would make a wickedly exciting beau.
Anticipation skidded up her spine as she approached him. Dressed in his breeches and silk shirt, Rafe Malone made a mouth-watering pirate. But something was wrong with the image he presented, and it made her smile. Maggie folded her arms and tsked. “You can take the man off the ranch, but you can’t take the cowboy out of the corsair.”
Rafe turned his head and looked at her, a wary light in his eyes. “What was that?”
“You wear your weapon like a gunslinger, Malone.” She eyed the Colt Texas Paterson five-shot revolver strapped low on his hip. “A cutlass is more in keeping with your costume.”
Shrugging, Rafe glanced down at himself, one side of his mouth tilting in a wry smile. “’Costume’ is the right word for it. Almost as comfortable as my buckskins, but still a costume. Out here like this, though, it’s not hard to imagine. Turn your ear just right and you’d swear to hear the cannon’s thunder.” His voice roughened as he added, “Turn your head just right and you can see treasure ripe for plunder.”
A slow grin spread across his face and Maggie’s heartbeat quickened. It was as piratical a gesture as she had ever seen. She eased away from him a half step. “The imagination is an incredible instrument.”
He arched a brow, the knowing glint in his eyes questioning the courage of her response, before turning back to the water. “The sea is different from what I imagined. I never expected it to change so from one day to the next. From one hour to the next. The ride today is so smooth that Snake MacKenzie’s hammock is barely swinging, while yesterday when the wind was blowing and the waves running high, this old tub reminded me of Brown Baggage.”
“A portmanteau?”
“My racehorse. The fastest quarter-miler in Texas, in fact.”
A horse. She should have known. “How is the
Buccaneer’s Bliss
like a horse?”
Malone used hand motions to demonstrate his meaning while he spoke. “Yesterday she’d ride to the top of a roll, then plunge forward like a sprinter at a starter’s shot. She’d hit the trough of the wave then rise again, tossing the water from her bows in a cloud of foam and spray. A high-mettled horse does the same thing, champing and shaking the froth from the bit.” He paused a moment, then added ruefully, “I admit to being wrong about this boat. I should have known. Great spirit goes a long way in overcoming physical limitations.”
Maggie’s entire body went still.
Great spirit can overcome physical limitations
. It was the motto she’d lived by following the very first attack of rheumatism. That Rafe Malone recognized the truth of the statement, too, and stated it to her here at this particular moment felt significant. “I agree,” she said slowly. “And I’m intrigued by the image you paint. The force of nature is awe inspiring.”
“So is the force of man.”
She gazed up at him, silently questioning his meaning.
“I hear timber straining and the wind whistling through the rigging, and I realize that man has taken the most unstable of elements—sea and sky—and bent them to his will. Man’s courage and skill has harnessed the horse, Miss Maggie. He used his brain to ease his way over the wild and lonely paths of this world we live in.”
“Not to be insulting, but that’s profound thinking for a thief, Mr. Malone.”
“It’s profound thinking for a lawyer, too, and I used to be one of those.”
“A lawyer!” From the deck behind them where Snake MacKenzie pretended to polish brass while he eavesdropped, the buccaneer’s voice rang with revulsion. “Maggie, get a rope. Treasure or no treasure, I’m stringing him up by the thumbs. Lawyers are the whole reason we’re in this mess.”
While the younger man pointed out that a good attorney might have saved them from their legal troubles, Maggie tried to make sense of Rafe Malone’s revelations. During a pause in the men’s debate, she wondered aloud. “When did you have time to be a lawyer?”
He looked at her and grinned. “I studied law back before the Texas revolution. I was young, but I was good. Luke is fond of saying that the step from lawyer to thief was a natural professional move for me.”
Snake grumbled something mean beneath his breath, then stalked away in answer to a summons from Gus. Rafe chuckled softly before turning a curious gaze on Maggie. “So, Miss St. John, now that you know my deep, dark secrets, why don’t you share some of your own.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. I’m curious about you, lady. I wonder what is going on inside of that beautiful head of yours. Why don’t you tell me what you see when you look at the sea?”
He’d surprised her with that one. Maggie gazed at the gray waters of the Gulf of Mexico and spoke from her soul. “I’ve lived a good portion of my life aboard ship. When I look at the sea, I see a nice place to visit.”
“But not to live?”
“Not to live. I find adventure wearing.”
He propped a hip against the ship’s rail and folded his arms. Cocking his head, he asked, “Have you ever tasted a habanera pepper, Miss Maggie?”
She eyed him quizzically at the change of subject. “Yes. They’re very hot.”
Rafe nodded. “A little bit of habanera in a plate of beans turns something plain and ordinary into a delicacy worth savoring. Too much pepper makes it too hot to handle.”
“And your point is…oh, I see now. You are certainly in a metaphorical mood today, aren’t you?”
“Adventure is the spice of life.”
“Maybe so, Mr. Malone.” Maggie turned her gaze toward the west where Papa Ben and Papa Lucky worked and waited at Hotel Bliss. “But home is certainly the sugar.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Caribbean blue. On the deck of the
Buccaneer’s Bliss
, gazing through the spyglass, Rafe finally had a name for the color of Maggie St. John’s eyes. Caribbean blue, luring and alluring. A man could happily drown in such glittering depths.
The Yucatan coast lay before them like a jewel cache. Turquoise waters lapped against pearlescent beaches that disappeared into an emerald jungle. Excitement gushed like a drug through Rafe’s veins as he lowered the glass and returned it to Gus. “So, master plunderer, when does this treasure hunt fork the saddle?”
“Come again?”
“Begin. When do we get started? When do we dig for the gold?”
“Well, for one thing, you’re not digging nothing. The treasure isn’t buried, it’s hidden, and we’ve a few details to check before attempting to retrieve it. But if all goes well, I anticipate we will have accomplished our business here and be headed for home by day after tomorrow.”
Rafe frowned, his gaze once again seeking the shore. He didn’t like the idea of such a brief stay on land. After all, how much adventure could a man have in two short days? “That soon?”
“If all goes well. We will need to do some reconnoitering first. Don’t forget there’s a war going on down here. Snake and I will visit with some of our old acquaintances and find out what’s been happening since Lucky and I were down here last. Gotta make sure no one has set up a camp or something along our route. As much fun as fighting can be, I’d just as soon avoid a war of our own with a local who thinks to steal our treasure as we tote it back to the boat from the cenote.”
Rafe repeated the unfamiliar word. “Sin-oh-tay?”
“It’s like a pool inside a cave that serves as a natural well,” Gus explained. “The rivers in this country are all underground, and cenotes are the cracks in the surface that allow access to the fresh water. They are also good hiding places for treasure.”
Rafe grinned. “A freshwater bath sounds right fine about now. So, when do we meet with your old friends? I have to tell you, as much as I’ve enjoyed the sail, I’m ready to get off this boat.”
“If you feel that way after less than two full weeks, you’d better stick to raising horses, Malone,” Gus said, shaking his head. “You’d make a pitiful sailor. You’ll get your wish, though, because we’ll reach the island by noon.” He slid Rafe a sidelong look and added, “Just so you’re forewarned, this afternoon may well be the most dangerous hours you’ll face during the entire trip.”
“Why? Are these old friends of yours that nasty?”
Gus shrugged. “They are murderers, cutthroats, and thieves.”
“Sounds a lot like my old friends. I should fit in just fine.”
“You’re not going to have the opportunity to fit in, Malone, and that’s what makes this afternoon so dangerous for you.”
Rafe arched a brow. “Explain it to me, Gus.”
“No, don’t think I will. You are an intelligent man, Malone. You’ll figure it out.”
Rafe figured it out all right. He both figured it out and couldn’t believe it was happening at the same time.
Shortly after noon, Snake and Gus left Rafe all alone on a sun-drenched tropical island with their most-prized treasure, his for the plundering. As the
Buccaneer’s Bliss
sailed away and was lost to the horizon, Rafe turned to Maggie and choked back a groan.