Read The Spanish Outlaw Online

Authors: Marie Higgins

The Spanish Outlaw (10 page)

“I will certainly have to think about it.”

After realizing her journey to Spain wouldn’t be as awful as she’d first thought, her spirits lifted. Hopefully, with Raúl as her new
amigo
, he’d keep her mind off her sinfully handsome and overpowering protector.

Yet, in the late
hours of the night when she lay awake in bed, memories of Anton’s kisses would disrupt her thoughts once again—just as they’ve done so far this trip.

She stretched her smile. “Shall we meet back up on deck after dinner?” Had she been too brazen? Would
Raúl suspect she worked with Anton to get information?

“I thought of inviting you to have dinner with me, instead.”

Panic surged through her, and she breathed slowly to calm her fear. Strange, but she didn’t feel right being alone with him. So why hadn’t she felt this way with Anton?

“As much as the idea is
enticing, it would not be proper, and I need my uncle to be my guardian.”

“Then bring him along.”

She laughed. “You don’t know him as well as I. Moving a mountain might be easier than convincing him.”

He chuckled. “So, dinner is out of the question?”

“Yes, for now. Let me speak with him tonight. Perhaps he’ll be in better spirits this evening.”

“That sounds wonderful.” He leaned near her ear. “Until the time when I can get you alone, that is.”

She pulled back. “You shock me with your forwardness, sir.”

“You do not seem to mind it overmuch.” He grinned, almost too smugly.

Were all Spaniards arrogant or was that just their charm?

They stopped in front of her door. “Thank you,
Raúl, for your escort.”

“Perhaps I will see you after dinner, up on the deck?”

“Only if the weather permits.”

He bowed slightly.
“Then until later,
Señorita
.” He took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles before turning and walking away.

Her smile widened. Anton would probably hate
Raúl immediately, and not because he felt any kind of jealousy. No, Anton would be suspicious because Raúl was a Spaniard and wonder if the man worked for his uncle. She wouldn’t let Anton know that behind his back, she’d do a little detective work herself.

Opening her wrist purse, she withdrew her room key and unlocked the door. Before closing the hard oak, she lit the lamp on the desk and quickly searched every corner to make certain she was safe. Anton’s fears kept her worried, more so than she’d been before. But, being cautious was good. He’d taught her that.

She stepped inside and shut the door. After removing her shawl, she flung the black lace garment to the bottom of the bed and flopped on the mattress. Immediately, blankets on the floor where Anton slept drew her attention. He had insisted sharing a room. Now she realized it was a good thing to tell Raúl that Anton was her uncle. She could only imagine what the other passengers would think if they knew the truth.

So far this trip, he acted the part of a gentleman and slept on the floor, giving her the semi-comfort of the lumpy mattress. But, it worried her that he’d try to change that arrangement.

Keeping away from him had been easy thanks to her unsettled stomach. Each day she felt a little better, and soon there could be no excuses. She’d have to face her attraction for him, yet controlling her thoughts and actions were very important.

From the nightstand, she picked up the book that had kept her entertained thus far on her trip. Thankfully, Anton had been alert when he thought to pack several novels while he readied for this voyage.

With a sigh, she lowered the book to her lap and frowned. Anton’s distracting image crept onto each page. She had to admit some of his actions were thoughtful, and most of the time he looked out for her welfare and comfort. His charm and sweetness could not be overlooked.

But s
he couldn’t let him control her mind. She hated that her body still weakened under his sultry gaze. She snapped to awareness and pounded her fist against the mattress. Curse those Spanish eyes for mesmerizing her every time she thought of him.

When heavy footsteps sounded at her door, she jumped. The door flew open and hit the wall with a resounding crash. Anton stepped inside, his muscular frame filling the area perfectly. His eyes narrowed, his forehead creased.

Her heart hammered wildly. What had she done now?

 

Chapter Seven

 

Anton’s chest heaved with quick breaths. Scanning the area, he searched for the man who’d accompanied Vivian to their room. Really, there wasn’t any place to hide in their cramped quarters, but he still checked every spot he could find to ease his worry. She sat on the bed with her feet on the blankets, a book in her hand, looking at him with wide eyes.

No longer did she appear sick. Even the color had returned to her cheeks.

“What’s with the grand entrance?” she snapped.

She must have suspected his insecurities. He relaxed and calmly walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

He held her stare. “Vivian? Who was that man with you?” He kept his voice steady even while unwanted emotions jumped in his chest.

She cocked her head. “You saw me with a man?”

The corner of his mouth tugged as he tried not to grin. “Do not play coy with me.” He moved to the side of the bed and sat by her legs. “I saw him escorting you down the stairs a few minutes ago.”

“His name is
Raúl Zamora.” She paused, but only for a moment before she gave an irritated chuckle. “You saw me with another man, and you thought the worst, correct? Especially when we headed in the direction of the cabin.”


Vivian, I did not think such a thing.”

“Yes, you did.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “
Which is why you made such a grand entrance. You thought to catch us doing something improper.”

“No,
mí dulce
.” He tried to keep his expression blank, hoping not to give away his true thoughts. “I worried you had taken up with a man you hardly knew.” He caressed her shoulder. “Because of our situation, we cannot trust anyone.”

She swatted away his hand. “No, because of
your
situation,
you
cannot trust anyone. I, on the other hand, am free to trust who I may.”

“But, if by chance, someone on the ship is watching me, they will know you are with me.”

“Stop, Anton, please.” She closed her eyes as she kneaded her forehead. “Do you really think someone that evil is on the ship? You sneaked us out of my house without being spotted. We even left your townhouse in disguises.” She met his stare. “I don’t think anyone followed us, and I definitely don’t think anyone on this ship is watching you.”

An invisible knife of distrust sliced through Anton’s heart once again, and he cursed the feeling. Although her words tried to convince him otherwise, the tone of her voice led him to believe she still questioned his innocence.

Ever since meeting the very exciting Vivian Wentworth, he’d been experiencing a wounded ache in the middle of his chest, and he knew he had to control it before it engulfed his whole soul. It saddened him to think she would not believe—that he couldn’t make her understand about his dangerous uncle.

He caressed a lock of her hair that had fallen across her brow. Silky, just as he remembered.

“It hurts that you do not believe me, Vivian, but I will not stop trying to protect you. I know the truth, although you refuse to believe, so I will not relent. Only I know what despicable things my uncle will do, which is why I cannot turn my back on you, nor him.”

Scowling, she shook her head. “I don’t know why you think such things. I believe you, Anton. Why else would I be here with you now?”

She wasn’t a good performer, but for some reason she wanted him to think otherwise. He’d continue to let her believe she had the upper hand.

“Because I practically forced you to come.”

“Please, Anton, no more.” She tried to move past him off the bed, but he circled his arms around her, holding her tight against him. Pain thickened in his chest, and he wished he could make the agony of caring for her disappear.

“Oh,
Vivian.” He kissed her forehead. “What can I do to make you trust me?”

She didn’t answer. He didn’t expect her to. But, experiencing
her softness pressed against him after seven very long days was his undoing. Fervor ignited in him and he didn’t want the powerful, exhilarating feeling to end.

He trailed his lips from her brow down the side of her face, just content to feel her soft skin. His breathing grew heavy, and even through her stiffness, her quick breaths rose and fell against his
neck.

Threading his fingers through her hair, he loosened the tie holding it together and let it drop behind her on the bed. With her head tilted back, her gaze rested on him, but no longer was it hard with anger. Heated desire fi
lled her bluish-gray eyes now.


Vivian,” he whispered. “You are so beautiful.” He placed a kiss on the tip of her perfectly shaped nose. “I do not know what would become of me if my uncle were to hurt you.” He pecked at her lips briefly. “If Juanito ever got hold of you, I would search the ends of the earth to tear you away from him. I would never give up until I had you in my arms, protected.”

“Anton, please.” She gazed at him with so much tenderness.

“Please what?” he asked.

He waited for her to stop him, to halt this passionate moment as she’d done before. She lowered her gaze to his mouth and sighed. As if wanting him to kiss her, she closed her eyes. He would not refuse her silent request.

When he covered her mouth, his sigh blended with hers. Timidly, she slid her hands around his waist, running her fingers along his muscles, which drove him mad.

Urgency consumed him, and he slanted his mouth, deepening the kiss. She gasped, but responded the way he’d wanted; the way he’d been dreaming about for a week.

He pushed her back on the bed. Tingling sensations danced over him. Her fingers moved to his chest, then climbed to his neck as she held his face to hers.

He never wanted this moment to end…
But a knock came on the door and jerked him to awareness.

Still holding her in his arms, he cursed, hoping the intruder would pass. Her bosom rose and fell in a fast rhythm that matched his breathing. He inhaled her sweet jasmine scent. Closing his eyes, he rested his
forehead against hers, enjoying their closeness for just a little longer.

The knock came upon the door again. “
Señor
Contreras? I have your meals,” said the unknown voice.

Vivian
pushed Anton up until he met her eyes. “Does he have the wrong room?”

“No.

“Then why did he call you Contreras?”

“Do you not remember? While I am on this ship, my name is Anton Contreras.”

“Oh, yes,” she answered, still breathless.

Grudgingly, he pulled away and stood. She picked up her hair ribbon and began to fix her hair.

He answered the door, and then took the trays of food from the porter.

Gracias
.” Turning, he kicked the door closed with his boot. He placed them on the small table at the far wall, before glancing at Vivian. She sat on the bed with her eyes downcast as she fixed her hair. He sighed in frustration. It seemed impossible that once again something had thwarted his plans for holding Vivian, and enjoying her closeness to his heart’s delight.

She had given him confusing, mixed signals. Did she indeed want his touch, his kiss? Did she enjoy them? Or, was she like the women back in New York who enjoyed teasing a man to insanity?

“What smells so tasty?” Vivian asked without looking at him.

He lifted the cover to one of the plates. “Looks like fish and some elegant potato dish.”

She climbed off the bed and came toward him. Her lips held the swollen proof of his ardent kisses. He’d like nothing better than to pull her back into his arms and finish what he’d started. Unfortunately, the moment had passed, and he knew Vivian would never allow it to continue.

Without meeting his eyes, she moved to the chair and sat. Poking the fork in the tender meat of the fish, she licked her lips.
She brought the fork to her mouth and slipped the food inside, her lips closing around it.

“Are you going to eat?” she asked, nodding toward the empty chair.

“No,
querida
. I have suddenly lost my appetite.” He walked to the door and rested his hand on the doorknob.

“Anton?”

He glanced at her, his heart hammering in hopes she’d invite him back to partake of her passion once again.

“Promise me you won’t
kiss me in that manner again.”

His dreams plummeted, dissolving in front of him.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” She dabbed her napkin to her mouth. “I shouldn’t have let you, and I’ll try really hard to resist you. I’m here to help you prove your innocence, and when you get too close to me, it’s very distracting. If I am to develop my detective skills more thoroughly, I’ll need to have my wits about me. So please, Anton, promise you’ll not touch or kiss me like that again.”

He folded his arms and casually leaned against the door. “Will you believe me? If I recall, you have doubted my word lately.”

She lowered her attention to her plate. “If you promise as a gentleman, I’ll trust your word.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, clenching his fists. If he made that promise, he’d stick to it. But,
blast it all, he wanted to hold her again and kiss those sweet lips. She nearly admitted her fascination for him, but her stubborn streak wouldn’t let him win.

“Anton? Will you promise?”

He looked her way, but she still remained focused on her food. “No, Vivian, I will not.”

Her gaze clashed with his and she gasped. “You won’t?”

“I cannot deny my attraction for you. I hunger each day for your smile, your touch, and especially your kind words. If one day you decide to allow my caresses, I will hold you always, and enjoy doing so.” He shook his head. “And because of my weakness, I cannot make that promise. If I cannot touch you, steal a kiss from you, and feel you in my arms, I would rather someone kill me and put me out of my misery.”

He walked out the door, slamming it
behind him.

* * * *

With her heart beating in an uneven rhythm, Vivian strolled on stiff legs beside Anton across the deck. The evening’s cool wind teased the tendrils near her ears and nipped at her nose. She bundled the cloak tighter around her neck as she glanced across the sea. The sun had made its departure beyond the horizon, leaving shadows to dance across the water in a soothing motion.

Her bout with seasickness earlier must have disappeared, because it hadn’t disrupted her day since this morning. Then again, a lot had happened to keep her mind off her stomach.

Anton must be her cure.

Frowning, she silently scolded herself.
She mustn’t think that way about him, or she’d become weaker.

Vivian
kept herself from accidentally bumping into his arm, mainly because she didn’t want him to accuse her of teasing him. And he would. He knew how she felt, and she certainly would never forget his words.

Why was he so attracted to her? Could it be because he wanted to bed her and she wouldn’t allow it? Men were fickle when it came to women, and so far, Anton proved to be just like every other man she knew.

Poor pathetic creatures!

First things first, she needed to introduce him to
Raúl Zamora. Once she had time to think about her new friend, she wondered if their meeting earlier today wasn’t planned. Her detective training had her piecing his words and actions together, and something did not add up.

For now, she would continue to act friendly toward him, and in Anton’s eyes, make him think she
would ask Raúl questions about the location of Juanito. But inwardly, she would study the new Spaniard and see if perhaps he told the truth or lied.

She couldn’t tell with men anymore. She’d been
lied to most of her life, which resulted in her distrustful nature. Her father had not told the truth about her mother—the worst lie of all.

For several years after her mother left her husband and children behind,
Vivian’s father led his children to believe their mother would return one day. Vivian waited day after day, week after week, until months turned into years. Each day, she’d get her hopes up that her mother would open the front door and announce she had come home. And as each sunset darkened the sky, Vivian’s heart shattered.

On her father’s deathbed, he finally confessed the truth. Her mother would not be returning since she married another man and had a new family. Her father had even referred to her mother as a whore.

After that point, Vivian became distrustful of men, and although they seemed sincere on the outside, on the inside they kept secrets.

Anton proved her theory.
Just as she would prove his guilt.


Vivian?”

Her name coming from Anton’s sensual voice, jerked her out of her thoughts. “Yes?”

“You have been quiet this evening. Would you share with me what is on your mind?”

Oh, if he only knew.

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