No Sweeter Ecstasy (The Hearts of California Series, Book 2)

No Sweeter Ecstasy

The Hearts of California Series

Book Two

by

Phoebe Conn

New York Times Bestselling Author

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ISBN: 978-1-61417-695-4

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Copyright © 2014 by Phoebe Conn. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

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Dedication

This book is dedicated to my mother, Ruby Stanton Conn, in grateful recognition of her unfailing enthusiasm for my creative endeavors.

Chapter 1

Spring, 1850

Marc Aragon turned down a side street to avoid the raucous crowd of miners milling around in Portsmouth Square. Like them, he was looking for a way to spend a night in San Francisco in an enjoyable fashion, but he had the money to buy the best of both whiskey and women without having to shove his way through an unruly mob of miners to do it.

Women were at a premium in California, and the wealth pouring from the gold fields had made them an increasingly expensive diversion, still Marc had a couple of favorites whose exorbitant price he considered money well spent. As captain of the Angelique, one of his family's fleet of clipper ships, he felt he owed himself the best of everything whenever he was in port.

He rounded the corner of Luke Everly's brothel, meaning to use the owner's private entrance, and came to an abrupt halt when he spotted a young woman climbing out of a second-story window. Clad only in a lacy silk nightgown, she presented a captivating sight. In the gathering dusk he could make out little else save the extraordinary length of her legs and a wild mop of blond curls, but the combination of those rare assets provided a powerful incentive to step into the shadows beneath her.

Raised to have the fine manners of a gentleman, although he frequently failed to display them, Marc observed the nimble lass with a rapt glance, meaning to grasp her waist and ease her to the ground when she came within reach. Unfortunately, before she arrived at that point she lost her hold on the sheets she had knotted to fashion a makeshift ladder and came tumbling down into his arms.

Which of them was the more startled, it was impossible to discern.

Let me go! she ordered, her voice low as she struggled to escape Marc's crushing embrace, but he continued to hold her imprisoned against his broad chest.

I'll be happy to do just that, Marc promised, his deep voice edged with humor, as soon as you tell me why you were leaving Luke's place by such an unusual route. His captive's curls were scented with a fragrance of gardenias so heavy it was nearly intoxicating, but by a valiant effort he managed to keep his mind on the task at hand. I can't help but feel that Luke wouldn't be pleased to find you gone.

The feisty blonde's efforts to break free intensified then, so Marc merely shifted his hold slightly, agilely doubling her in half and forcing her knees against her chin to silence her. If you don't keep still, he warned in a sterner tone, we'll attract a crowd whose primitive appetites will make you beg to go back to Luke. Now stop acting like a spoiled child and tell me what it is you're trying to do. When she responded with a series of unintelligible gasps, he relaxed his hold sufficiently to give her space enough to breathe deeply.

Frightened by the very real prospect of drawing a swarm of lust-crazed miners, the distraught young woman ceased to struggle, but her mood was no less hostile. I'll kill myself before I'll go back in there, she vowed through clenched teeth.

Oh, come now. Aren't you being overly dramatic? Everyone knows Luke has the prettiest girls in town, and the highest paid. I can't believe that you were mistreated.

There wasn't enough light for her to see Marc's face clearly, but she noticed the gold braid on his hat and sleeves and the glow of his brass buttons. Clearly the man was no miner, and thinking he must be the captain of one of the vessels whose masts she had glimpsed from her window, she prayed he possessed a higher regard for women than he had thus far shown.

Do you go to Luke's often? she asked in a rush.

Thinking that an odd question for a woman who had just threatened to kill herself, Marc chuckled before he replied. Not nearly often enough.

Please, this is important! she scolded. If you have been in Luke's, do you recognize me? Do you know my name?

I can't see your face well enough to say. Why don't we just step inside and—

No! Do you have a ship? Take me there instead.

Marc thought her suggestion absurd. Why don't we just go up to your room, using the back stairs rather than your rope, of course.

No! The agitated girl refused with a toss of her heavily perfumed curls. I won't go back upstairs. Not ever.

Marc shifted her weight in his arms. She appeared to be quite tall, but she was so slender she was a slight burden to hold. She smelled delicious, and he knew if she had been at Luke's she had to be pretty. If she wanted to go to his ship rather than upstairs, what difference did it make? He would still have the pleasure of enjoying a woman's charms, and that was exactly what he had planned for the evening.

All right, he agreed, but I want your promise that you won't try to run away when I put you down.

I doubt I could outrun you.

That's no promise.

Oh, all right then, I promise, she whispered with an exasperated sigh.

That's better. Marc lowered her to her feet, removed his coat and draped it over her shoulders, but there was nothing he could do about her bare feet. You should have thought to wear shoes.

They didn't give me any.

Again Marc thought her comment peculiar. All the women he had met at Luke's had had fine clothes aplenty. Why didn't she? Taking a firm hold on her hand, he led her to the Angelique by a succession of deserted lanes. When they at last reached his ship, he made no effort to sneak her by the men on watch. He just marched her up the gangplank and to his cabin as though he entertained scantily clothed women there every night. He removed his hat, lit the lamp on his table, and turned to face her.

Her glance was intense as she took full advantage of her first opportunity to get a good look at Marc. He was slightly above six feet in height, a ruggedly handsome man with eyes of a startling blue and thick light brown hair that brushed his forehead in a deep wave. He looked as though he were in his early thirties, but it wasn't his appearance, though that was definitely pleasing, which concerned her; it was the disappointing fact that he was a complete stranger.

Well, she asked breathlessly, do you recognize me now?

Marc shook his head slowly. He was amazed to find she was not merely pretty but exquisitely beautiful. While her curls were windblown, her creamy skin was flawless, and her delicate features perfection: completely feminine and yet well defined. Her lashes were long and thick, partially veiling eyes more violet than blue. Although she had the confidence to order him about, she looked no more than nineteen. A long moment passed before he found his voice, for while he had known she would be attractive, he had never expected her appearance to provoke such a thrill.

No, I don't recognize you, and had we ever met, I'm certain I would recall your name.

Damn! She pulled off his coat and tossed it over one of the chairs at his table. When was the last time you were at Luke's? Do you remember?

About six weeks ago, why? How long have you been there? Her lace-trimmed gown displayed more of her slender figure than it hid, and Marc could find no faults there either. He knew she was not a woman he, or any other man, would ever forget. It took a great deal of effort to raise his gaze from the lush fullness of her breasts to her face.

I don't know. Do you have something to drink—whiskey, brandy, rum, whatever it is sailors like?

I have some very fine brandy, Marc replied in a far more gracious tone than she had used. She certainly was demanding, but he supposed her to be badly spoiled as beautiful women often are. He brought out the bottle, along with two silver snifters, and poured them each a generous amount. When he handed her hers, he noticed that while her nails were short, they had been neatly manicured. When she sat down upon his bunk rather than in a chair, he couldn't help but smile. Was she as anxious as he to remove her gown and make love? He certainly hoped so.

What's your name, Captain?

Marc Aragon, and yours? He grabbed a chair, and sat down so close he could rest his left boot on the side of his bunk.

I don't know. That's why I was hoping you'd recognize me.

Wondering if she was being coy, he studied his guest closely, but the expression gracing her sweet features was a wholly serious one. How can you not know your own name?

She leaned forward, so close the ends of her fair curls brushed his bent knee. There's a big lump at the back of my head. Can you feel it?

No fool, he readily accepted her unusual invitation. He set his brandy snifter on the table behind him and used both hands to trace the shape of her skull through her thick curls. He began at her nape and moved upward very slowly.

Yes, that's quite a bump. What happened? Did you fall the last time you tried to climb out your window?

I don't know what happened; that's the problem. Three days ago I woke up in Luke's with an excruciating headache. You obviously know what kind of place that is, she added with a grimace of disgust. Luke told me I'd fallen down the stairs. He said my name is Celeste, and that I'd been working there for several months, but I don't believe anything he says. He's kept my door locked for one thing.

Maybe that was just a precaution so you'd not be disturbed, he suggested, but he could not help but wonder why Luke had not introduced him to this treasure the last time he had been in San Francisco. It wasn't like Luke to keep any of his women hidden, and especially not a beauty like this.

That's exactly what he said, but why are there no clothes in my closet? Why aren't any of the other women friends who'd come to visit me?

Marc shrugged slightly, Luke's girls aren't all that close, Celeste. There's too much competition between them to create a good climate for friendship.

She took a healthy sip of her brandy, then wiped her mouth on the back of her hand. But when you call me Celeste, the name doesn't even sound familiar. Nothing is familiar, not even my reflection in the mirror. It's as though I had been born three days ago.

A bad knock on the head can do that. You'll probably remember everything in a day or two.

Luke told me that too. The problem is, my headache is nearly gone and he told me I'd be well enough to work tomorrow. He claimed I was enormously popular and had been sorely missed.

That's easy to believe, he remarked with a ready grin.

His guest took another swallow of brandy and then leaned forward. But what if it's all a pack of lies? What if I remember who I am next week and I am not a whore named Celeste? If Luke has his way I would have slept with a hundred men by then.

Marc denied that prospect with an emphatic shake of his head. No, Luke would save you for the men who could pay to keep you all night. By next week, you'd not have slept with more than five or six.

Which is far more than any decent woman sleeps with in a lifetime!

She looked so sincerely outraged, Marc felt a sudden twinge of sympathy for her. He was not used to analyzing a woman's feelings, so that unexpected response startled him. The resulting guilt prompted him to show more concern.

Do you want me to talk with Luke? We're fairly good friends. I might be able to convince him to allow you to take the time off until you remember who, and what, you are.

Do I look like a whore to you?

How do you think they look?

I've no idea. I don't recall ever meeting one. She tossed down the last of her brandy and handed him her snifter for a refill.

Did Luke say you were drunk when you fell?

No. Do you think I was?

He rose briefly to pull the brandy bottle within easy reach, and replenished her snifter without touching his. It's a possibility. The first thing you asked for tonight was a drink.

No, it wasn't, she contradicted sharply. I asked if you knew me.

Marc handed her the gleaming silver snifter and smiled graciously. I'm sorry, you're right. Whoever you are, you're both beautiful and bright. Would it break your heart to learn you earn your living being kind to lonely men?

Kind! the distracted young woman muttered, before enjoying another hefty swallow of brandy. I know what whores do, Captain, and I'd call it far more generous than merely being kind.

When she had drained the last drop of brandy, Marc set her snifter on the table beside his, and joined her on the bunk. Why don't we try to bring back your memory? he asked in an inviting whisper.

How would we go about it? she asked. She was having trouble seeing him clearly, but she mistakenly believed it was merely because he was sitting too close.

Marc slid his hand into the curls at her temple and drew her closer still. Kiss me. Do you know how?

Who doesn't?

That's not the question. Just kiss me. He brushed his lips lightly across hers, and after only a second's hesitation, she raised her arms to encircle his neck. Opening her mouth, she slipped her tongue between his lips for a kiss that she deepened and savored until he had to pull away to catch his breath.

You definitely know how to kiss, angel. Let's see what else you can do. He tugged on the ribbon at her neckline to loosen it sufficiently to allow the gown to slip low on her breasts.

She looked down, watching him caress the delicate pink tips until they had become taut buds. The sensation was very pleasant, but she had no memory of another man's touch. I don't think this is working.

Give it time, angel, we've just started to get acquainted. Marc gave the ribbon another tug to loosen it completely, and the gown fell about her waist in soft folds. He leaned down then to draw an attractively puckered nipple into his mouth. He sucked at it quite tenderly as he prayed her memory would not return before dawn. When he felt her slim fingers moving through his hair, he turned his attention to her other breast to sample its flavor. Her skin held a delightful warmth, along with the near stupefying scent of gardenias, and he slipped his arm around her waist to pull her closer still.

Thinking him remarkably thoughtful, she rested her head upon his shoulder. When he lowered her to his bunk, she found that position ever so much more comfortable and rubbed against him with a languid purr.

He chuckled deep in his throat as his companion pulled his shirttail free of his belt. She slid her hands beneath the fine linen garment and began to caress his bare back with a slow, soft circling motion. She might be confused, but she certainly wasn't shy. He shrugged off his shirt to make things easier for her, and relished the feel of silken skin rubbing against his chest. He knew Luke would demand a healthy price for enjoying her favors, but he was beyond caring. Whatever her cost, he would gladly pay it.

The befuddled girl knew they had been trying to do something important, but now she couldn't remember exactly what. All she knew was how pleasant it was to lie sprawled across his bunk as he covered her with kisses. When he pulled her gown down over her hips and hastily threw it aside, she wasn't embarrassed in the least to have him gaze at her nude body. Luke's lecherous glance had made her skin crawl, but the admiration in Marc's eyes was too sincere to cause objection.

He kissed her slightly swollen lips before leaving the bunk to yank off the rest of his clothing. You've got to remember being with men, angel. You're far too relaxed to be a stranger to love. He stripped hurriedly, then stretched out beside her and kissed her again. She did not pull away as he began to explore the smooth, warm flesh of her silken thighs, nor did she object as his caresses grew even bolder. Gently, he traced a path over her abdomen to the triangle of fair curls, eager to know all her secrets.

The brandy-dazed blonde gripped Marc's shoulders tightly as he caressed her. She strained against him, wanting more of the delicious sensation that was almost painfully sweet. She bent her left knee to rub it against his hip, then ran the side of her foot along the length of his leg, finally entwining their limbs in a lovers' clasp. While her mind refused to provide a flood of memories, her senses were drowning in the incredible pleasure he was bestowing so generously. When he started to draw away, she protested immediately.

No, don't stop.

That's the last thing I'd ever do, angel. After a quick change of position, he wasted no time before thrusting deep within her, his quest now to make her remember him even if she had forgotten all the others. Although her body had accepted his without strain, instantly enveloping him in the flames of passion's heat, she was gloriously tight. As he moved within her, plunging ever deeper, he strove each time to make the tender recesses of her body accept still more of his hardened shaft.

When the first tremors of an impending climax began to flutter within her, he quickened his pace. Wild with desire, he raced the rising tide of ecstasy as though he were terrified of being stranded in its wake. When his release came in tumultuous waves of rapture that echoed hers with joyous throbs, he grew tense with that ageless thrill, then lay awash in pleasure, content to sleep in her arms until dawn. The lazy rhythm of her breathing convinced him her dreams would be equally sweet.

* * *

Marc awakened to the sounds of gentle sobbing. He was not used to sharing his cabin and looked up, searching for the unhappy intruder. When he found the fetching blonde, who had provided such a splendid night, weeping as though her heart were broken he could not believe his eyes. She was seated on the floor on the far side of the cabin, again dressed in her nightgown, her knees drawn up to her chest to provide a resting place for her cheek. He didn't recall ever seeing anyone look so thoroughly miserable. He rolled off the bunk, and hastily donned his underwear and dark blue pants before approaching her.

What's wrong? he asked as he knelt down and patted her tangled curls. Her hair still reeked of gardenias, and he knew he would never see the delicate white flower again without thinking of her. I'll have to help you brush your hair. We should have done it last night so it wouldn't be such a mess this morning.

The bedraggled young woman peeked up at him with one tear-filled eye. My hair isn't the problem. I had to get away from Luke. I just had to, but I never meant to spend the night in your bed. That's only made everything worse.

Not pleased with this sorry opinion that conflicted so violently with his own, he sighed impatiently. He had been so lost in her many charms the previous evening he had not given any thought to what he would do with her today. Taking her back to Luke, so he could visit her when he was in port, was the most obvious choice, but he didn't know how to go about convincing her of that.

I wasn't the first, Celeste.

What's that got to do with anything?

Well, I just don't want you to think I took something I shouldn't have.

She wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. It's my memory that's gone, not my mind. I'm not blaming you for my troubles. I was frightened and drank more than I should have and behaved foolishly, worse than foolishly, stupidly. But that still doesn't make me a whore.

Marc sat down beside her and laced his fingers in hers. I'll bet there's not a prostitute alive who doesn't have regrets, angel. I think that's all this is. Maybe you're ashamed, but denying your past won't change it.

She regarded him with a fierce frown and yanked her hand from his. Don't you dare talk to me like that, or I'll cut out your tongue with my own hand.

She looked determined enough to carry out that gruesome threat too. He was at a loss for a moment, then flashed a charming smile. You mustn't get so insulted. Hell, most of the women I know are prostitutes so what does that make me?

I don't use that type of language.

He laughed out loud at the arrogance of that boast. We don't really know if you do or not, but I think I've got the beginnings of an idea.

Instantly apprehensive, she shook her head. Oh no, I'm not getting back into that bed with you.

No, that wasn't it. Although he had to admit he thought it was a very good suggestion. Why don't I pay a friendly call on Luke Everly this morning? Just sort of tell him I'm back in town and see what he says in return. He's bound to complain if he's lost one of his best girls.

You won't tell him I'm here?

No, I won't admit anything to him. I'll just go and listen to his complaints and then I'll come back and repeat them to you.

Will you tell me the truth?

Now you're insulting me. Of course, I'll tell you the truth. There would be no point in my going over there if I were going to lie to you. He understood how she felt then, because he could not abide people making snide remarks about his character either. He rose, went up on deck, and returned with a copper bathtub it took him several trips to fill with hot water.

I don't usually wait on women, but I didn't want anyone else to see you. I'll speak to the men on watch last night and make certain they don't spread the news you're here.

The bath is for me?

Sure. I'll just use the last bucketful to clean up and shave, and I'll be on my way. Here's a brush. Get the tangles out of your hair before you shampoo it.

She watched as she worked on her hair. She had not really expected him to be so nice, but she took the precaution of waiting until he had left before removing her nightgown and stepping into the tub.

* * *

As part of his cargo, Marc had several cases of liquor for Luke. Delivering them provided the perfect excuse for a visit. Luke took a quick inventory of what he had ordered, then asked Marc to double the amount on his next voyage.

Business must be very good, Marc exclaimed as soon as they were seated in Luke's office and had begun sampling the latest shipment of bourbon.

While close in age, physically the two men provided a study in contrasts. Marc was tall, well built, and fair while Luke was no more than five feet eight, wiry, and dark. His brown eyes flashed with a feral gleam, a sparkling complement to his coal black hair and the closely cropped beard he wore to mask the sharpness of his features.

"Better than good. The gold supplies are dwindling, but that hasn't stopped anyone from coming to California in the hope of getting his share of what's left. How many men arrived on the Angelique yesterday?"

Two hundred, give or take a few. I'm almost embarrassed to take their money, Marc admitted with a sly grin.

I can see that, Luke remarked with a rumbling burst of deep chuckles. Both of us are going to end up exceedingly wealthy men without ever setting foot in the gold fields.

Wealth is where you find it, Marc advised philosophically.

That it is, Luke agreed, but his smile faded quickly. I'm glad you're here. I've an unusual problem, and I can use your help.

What's in it for me? Marc asked, suddenly chagrined to realize that was his usual response to any request for assistance.

Luke's dark eyes narrowed slightly as he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial level. This will interest you. It concerns a beautiful woman.

Striving to appear nonchalant, Marc did no more than lift a brow. One that I know?

"No. Earlier this week a Mexican, probably one of the bandits who busy themselves relieving the miners of their gold, brought her to me. She was unconscious and filthy, but a beauty all the same. He wanted a thousand dollars for her. I told him I'd be happy to pay it but only if she proved useful, and half-dead she was of no use to me.

The man can't have been too clever, or he would have known she was worth far more than that. What happened?

I had the maids clean her up, and put her in bed. When she awakened she was so confused she didn't seem to know who she was, so I told her she worked for me.

Luke looked very pleased with himself for concocting such a clever ruse, but Marc was growing increasingly uneasy. She's a Mexican girl?

No, white as they come. I've no idea what she was doing in California, but I intend to make her the most popular woman in San Francisco.

When can I meet her?

I can't say. The silly chit ran off last night. She can't have gone far without being seen. I've got my men out looking for her now, and they'll find her too. I don't want a beauty like that working for any of the competition.

How can I be of any help? I've got better things to do than conduct a door-to-door search for some girl I've never seen.

"Just keep an eye out for her. She's as tall as I am—and very blond. She might try to book passage on the Angelique. If she does, send someone over here, and I'll come and get her."

Marc's vivid blue eyes took on an accusing gleam. That sounds suspiciously like kidnapping to me, Luke.

No it doesn't. I'm merely protecting an investment. I'd keep her for myself, but when I can get four hundred dollars a night for her, maybe even five if she proves to be imaginative, that wouldn't be a smart way to do business. Besides, she can make time for me during the day.

Is she worth that much? Marc held his breath. Celeste had not mentioned sleeping with Luke, but he now feared that she must have. He wiped his perspiring palms on his thighs and wondered why such a possibility sickened him. He was used to sharing the women he knew with others. Why should Celeste be any different?

All women are the same, Luke insisted. You must know that. Some are more pleasing to the eye, and fools are eager to spend their money on them. But inside, they're all the same—heartless bitches every last one. This girl has a million-dollar face and figure, and I have every intention of making that much off her.

Marc found his chair growing uncomfortably hard, and shifted his pose restlessly. You didn't answer me. Did you sleep with her yourself or not?

Luke sneered in disgust. I intended to spend last night with her. That's when I discovered she was gone.

Enormously relieved, Marc relaxed somewhat. Has the Mexican come back for his money?

Yesterday, so I'm out the thousand dollars until I find her.

That's nothing to you.

I know it isn't, but it's the principle of the thing. I expect to get what I pay for.

Disappointed because he was no closer to the truth about Celeste's identity, Marc frowned slightly. Is there a chance the girl was working in cahoots with the Mexican? Could they be selling her over and over?

Not having suspected that, Luke swore under his breath, If the bastard was stupid enough to try something like that on me, I'll slit his lying throat.

Marc had heard a story or two that made him suspect Luke had already slit his share of throats, or at his behest, Luke's henchman, Clyde Larsen, certainly had. He had always admired Luke's shrewd business sense, but now he realized he ought to choose his friends more carefully in the future. You know where to find him?

Never saw him before, but he's not easy to forget. He was a tall, skinny man with hunched shoulders and a big, beaklike nose. Reminded me of a vulture.

Doesn't sound like anyone I know.

Forget about him; it's the girl I want. Just keep a lookout for her and tell your men to watch out for her too. I'll pay a reward to the man who finds her.

How much?

Luke flashed an evil grin. I'll let him sleep with her a time or two.

And if she's not willing?

She'll be more than willing once I get through with her.

Marc tried not to cringe visibly as Luke cracked his knuckles. Easily imagining what the dark-eyed man intended to do, he wanted no more of his company and rose to his feet. Good luck. If you find the girl, let me know. Oh, by the way, what's her name?

Luke left his desk to walk Marc to the door. I've no idea. The first girl I ever had was a little French tart named Celeste so being the sentimental type, I called her that.

Knowing that was Luke's idea of humor, Marc feigned a hearty laugh, but he was so eager to leave he nearly ran into Clyde, whose bulk blocked the hallway outside the office door. The big man moved aside with an awkward lurch to permit Marc to slip by him.

Mornin', Clyde. Marc greeted him warmly. He had never given the man a second thought until that day, but the prospect of soon becoming one of Luke's enemies, and therefore Clyde's, wasn't at all pleasant.

Mornin', Captain, Clyde responded in a low mumble as he entered his boss's office.

Marc waited until he was out on the street before taking a deep breath, but he still did not feel clean. He had had no preconceived notions of what Luke's story might be, but now that he had heard it, he was shaken by how closely it paralleled Celeste's fears. She was not even named Celeste apparently. Not ready to face her, he went for a long walk in an attempt to sort out his thoughts. Last night he had gone looking for casual pleasure, but it now appeared that he had gotten himself into a heap of trouble instead.

How could one woman get herself into so damned much mischief? he asked himself. He was a man with responsibilities. He had a ship that he took great pride in sailing on schedule, despite the constant challenge of keeping his crew out of the gold fields. He had no time to rescue damsels in distress, like some blasted medieval knight who went clanking around in shining armor!

After an hour spent traversing San Francisco's hilly and dust-filled streets, he could still see only two alternatives. Clearly the mysterious blonde was no innocent virgin, so it was possible to justify the argument for marching her straight back to Luke and letting him worry about her.

The other option was to offer her his protection, to find the vulture-like Mexican, to beat the truth out of him, and then to return her to wherever she had been before the bandit had had the audacity to sell her. That was a far more complicated scheme, and it sounded to him like one hell of a lot of work for a woman he had met by chance. When stated that way, the choice looked like an easy one.

This was no common whore whose fate he was deciding, however, for the haunting beauty who had fallen into his arms was an extraordinary woman in all respects.

Wearing a preoccupied frown, he turned around and headed back toward the Angelique, but he kept hoping an inventive solution to his dilemma would occur to him before he set foot on board.

Chapter 2

As Marc came through the door of his cabin, his troublesome guest leapt from his bunk and ran to meet him. Freshly scrubbed, clad in her lace-trimmed nightgown, and with her curls brushed to a radiant sheen, she had an aura of angelic innocence that took his breath away. That her expression was one of unabashed delight unnerved him too.

Thank God you're all right, the lovely girl enthused. I've been so worried about you.

It was such a sincere, but totally unexpected, greeting, Marc was quite taken aback. He tossed his hat aside, and although he fumbled with the buttons, he removed his coat without appearing too clumsy. He had been on his own since his teens, and was not used to having women fuss over him. That this particular woman would carry on so embarrassed him. That her attention had given him a sudden rush of pleasure made him feel all the worse.

Why would you have been worried about me? he asked almost shyly.

I don't trust Luke. There's something about him that just isn't right. Frowning, she paused as she searched for a better word. No, it's worse than that. The man's downright sinister.

At the mention of Luke, Marc quickly regained his composure. He rested his hands on his hips as he pointed out what ought to have been obvious. Sinister or not, I'm nearly twice his size. Did you really think he could do me any harm?

Both repelled and confused by his sarcasm, she took a step backward, then raised her chin to a defiant tilt. No, I didn't, but he didn't strike me as being above paying someone else to put a knife in your back. If he didn't cause you any trouble, so much the better. Now tell me what you learned.

Grateful for the bright sunlight that filled his cabin, Marc pursed his lips thoughtfully and took the time to study the brash young woman's face. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her eyes, which now glowed with a fiery intelligence rather than tears, truly were as violet in hue as he had first believed. Despite her fair hair, there was nothing pale about her, and her vibrant beauty was a perfect match for her vivacious personality.

She continually spoke to him as though she were used to ordering servants about, and none too politely either. Had they met under better circumstances, he would have instantly recognized her as some wealthy man's overly indulged daughter. That she was now so far removed from what had to have been a proper upbringing was an unsettling thought.

I'll fetch us some food first, and we'll talk while we eat. He left before she could argue, told Enrique, the cook, that he was ravenously hungry, and carried twice the amount of his usual midday meal back to his cabin.

She was about to complain about the way he had run off, when the enticing aroma of baked chicken made such a discourteous outburst inadvisable. She quickly went to the table, but hesitated before pulling out two chairs.

Where would you like to sit?

Marc nodded toward his usual place, then divided the chicken evenly between them. He had brought along a pitcher of ale, and filled two of the tankards he kept in his cabin. There was some bread that had been baked fresh that morning in San Francisco, so he thought it an adequate meal.

Most of my crew has shore leave, but the cook is a shy soul who prefers to remain on board.

Bless him for that, she said, and eagerly raised the first forkful of tender chicken breast to her mouth.

Marc had been too anxious to speak with Luke to take the time to eat breakfast, and he had thoughtlessly failed to ascertain if his guest was hungry. He was not usually so inconsiderate, and this oversight pained his conscience badly. How such a sharp-tongued creature should inspire guilt in him so often, he did not understand, but he pushed the uncomfortable emotion aside in an attempt to be practical.

You can't stay here, he began brusquely.

I certainly don't want to. Being cooped up in here for the morning wasn't at all pleasant, so I'll be happy to leave just as soon as I've found somewhere to go.

He paused in mid-bite. He had not wanted her to weep and plead to stay with him, but that she was so anxious to leave was not at all flattering after the night they had shared. Didn't last night mean anything to you?

His attractive companion looked up slowly, her expression perplexed as their glances met. What was it supposed to mean? she asked, clearly confused. I haven't asked you for money. Surely that doesn't disappoint you.

She had badly misinterpreted his question, but he gave up rather than pursue it for he feared it would require a lengthy explanation. "You were right about Luke feeding you a pack of lies. He