Nicole Jordan (7 page)

The thrill of danger. The dread of defeat.

He held Caro’s gaze, relishing the lively sparks in her eyes. Yet he recognized the challenge ahead of him. And he had a strange suspicion that this battle would be more important than any he had ever fought—one it was imperative for him to win.

Chapter

Three

The ship voyage home proved every bit as unsettling as Caro expected. The enforced intimacy with Max Leighton made her vividly recall his former visit to her island: The three intense days they’d spent together fighting for a man’s life. Their ardent, enchanting night of passion. The bittersweet ache she’d felt for so long afterward, once Max was gone from her life.

To her dismay, her dreams of him returned in full force, sensual fantasies that left her breathless and hungering and more restless than ever. Worse, the voyage gave him too many opportunities to probe her secrets—and for her to unwittingly learn some of his.

Certainly he was impossible to ignore, in part because they were the only passengers on board the private schooner. They shared meals in the captain’s cabin with the crew’s officers, but although she was never alone with Max, Caro found his powerful presence disquieting in such tight quarters.

Initially she tried taking refuge in her small cabin, but by mid-afternoon of the second day, restlessness drove her above decks to brave a chill sea wind and the possibility of encountering Max. She spied him at once, standing at the port railing, braced against the rhythmic dip and sway of the ship as it sliced through the gray waves. The image had a deplorable effect on her heart, flooding her with memories of their night at the ruins, when Max had stared out at the moonlit sea. Then he turned and met her gaze across the deck, and she felt a thrill that was sharp and hot and intense.

Cursing her lamentable attraction, Caro sought out the captain and demanded employment of some kind, hoping that occupation would distract her from the striking, raven-haired man she would much rather forget, as well as keep her from despairing about Isabella’s fate.

The ruddy-cheeked elderly sea master, Captain Biddick, had been a Guardian for decades and had executed numerous missions with Caro. Thus, he not only put her to work on the never-ending tasks that faced a ship’s crew, he continued her instruction in sailing the ship and navigating by the stars.

That night when she was practicing using a sextant, Caro saw Max pacing the stern of the schooner. It surprised her that he seemed as restless as she herself was.

She managed to avoid any private conversation with him, however, until the third day. The afternoon was blustery and overcast, so Caro found a spot in the lee of a bulkhead, protected from the wind, and sat down to mend a sail.

In only a few moments she heard a strange, muted thud to her right. When it happened several more times, she abandoned her mending and went to investigate, wending her way across the deck, avoiding lines and cargo in her path.

She halted when she spied Max beyond the mizzenmast, her eyes narrowing in surprise at the glint of steel in his hand as he raised his arm.

The knife blade flashed as it hurtled through the air to land with a thud in the barrel lying some ten yards distant.

He was throwing the weapon at a target, she realized. The cask must have been empty, since no liquid spilled out, even though with each throw he buried the blade deeply enough to create a gash.

Riveted, Caro stood watching as Max strode over to the cask, withdrew the blade from the wood, returned to his post, and then hurled the knife again. He kept up the rhythmic cycle, never seeming to aim, but his deadly precision earned her unwilling admiration.

It was several moments more before he became aware of her presence. Arresting his next throw, he turned and gave her a piercing look.

“Is the captain aware you are putting holes in his brandy cask?” Caro asked as she came out of the shadows.

“This is my brandy cask, actually. I won it from Biddick at cards.”

“Quite a feat, since he is a veritable sharp.”

Max’s mouth twisted in a smile, making her heart give another painful flutter. “Ah, but I became quite a sharp myself during the endless Peninsula campaign.”

“As a way to stave off boredom?”

“In part.”

“You seem to be quite skilled with that blade.”

Max glanced down at his knife. “This is merely a…hobby.”

“You throw knives as a hobby?”

“It helps pass the time,” he said indifferently.

“I warned you that you would find the journey tedious.”

“As have you.” His gaze narrowed on her. “I’ve watched you these past few days, angel. You’ve been restless as a cat in a thunderstorm.”

“Because I am worried about my friend Isabella.”

His eyebrow lifted. “Is that the only reason? Is it my imagination, or have you been avoiding me ever since we left England?”

Forcing a smile, Caro prevaricated. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Leighton.”

“Max. And you have no cause to treat me as if I were a total stranger.”

“But you
are
a stranger.”

“We were lovers once. I think that puts us on a more intimate footing than mere acquaintances.”

The reminder made her pulse falter. Caro found herself staring at Max’s full, sensuous mouth, remembering the damp heat of it laving her breasts. A sharp, sweet sensation shot to her loins.

She drew a steadying breath. “That night was a mistake, obviously.”

“From my point of view it was nothing of the kind.” Casually Max slipped the knife into his coat pocket. Then upturning two barrels to make seats, he settled on one, leaning back against the stern bulkhead. “Tell me about Lady Isabella.”

Caro hesitated a long moment before joining him. Surprisingly, she found herself wanting to explain to Max why she was so determined to save her friend and how their relationship had come about in the first place.

“My mother died when I was eight, and Bella was our nearest neighbor. She took control of raising me, even though she claimed to be lacking in maternal instincts, because my father was away a great deal of the time. It was only after her second husband died that Isabella began to travel the world in search of adventure.”

“Have you always lived on Cyrene, then?” Max asked.

“Not always. My parents moved there when I was a child. My mother suffered an affliction of the lungs, and the doctors thought a warm climate would benefit her. It helped, but not enough.” Caro smiled sadly. “In fact, my mother’s debilitating illness was the main reason I became so interested in learning to heal.”

“And your father supported your interest?”

“Completely. He was thankful I had something to occupy me while he was gone.”

“What took him away so much?”

“Various diplomatic duties for the Foreign Office,” she replied, offering the same tale that the world knew. “He grieved so keenly at my mother’s death that he threw himself into his work. And then he was killed when I was sixteen—”

Caro broke off suddenly. Her father had been killed in France during a mission for the Guardians, which had led to her taking his place in the order. But she shouldn’t be skirting the truth this closely, for Max was too clever for her to blithely share such confidences.

When she remained silent, he asked another probing question. “Yet you lived with Thorne’s aunt for your Season. How did that come about?”

He had chosen a safe subject, at least. And she could look back on those days now without the misery she’d felt then; she could even laugh at herself now for entertaining such naive desires of fitting into that haughty, disdainful society. Their acceptance seemed so insignificant to her now, doubtless because she had far more meaningful ways to occupy her time.

“Oddly enough, Lady Hennessy and I became friends when she visited Thorne on the island. Her own daughters were grown by then, and I think perhaps she was appalled to find me so…provincial and lacking in social graces.” Caro couldn’t suppress a wry smile. “You’re aware that Lady Hennessy is one of the leaders of the ton?”

“Yes,” Max said.

“Well, she firmly believes that every young lady should have a Season. She took me on as her special project and offered to sponsor me. But it was Isabella who convinced me to go to England. Bella never cared a fig for British society, but she persuaded me that I needed to broaden my horizons before deciding on my future. To see more of the world before burying myself on the island. She contended that if I was exposed to more of life, I would make better choices.”
Such as not becoming a Guardian,
Caro thought. “It
is
common for all the island’s young ladies to have a Season. So five years ago I set out for London, along with two other debutantes and their families. To put it succinctly, I didn’t ‘take.’”

“Because of your unconventional interest in medicine.”

Caro wrinkled her nose while giving him a pert glance. “Precisely. And as you may have observed, I am not sedate or proper or missish.”

She could see a glimmer of amusement in Max’s eyes even before he responded. “No, sedate and proper are not qualities I would attribute to you.”

“Nor was I willing to master the feminine arts to ensnare a husband. So to spare Lady Hennessy any further embarrassment, I cut short my London stay. But I didn’t mind in the least having to return home to Cyrene to work with Dr. Allenby.” Her smile took on a hint of defiance. “I happily settled down to live out my days as a spinster. And I’ve made a very fulfilling life for myself.”

She had indeed, Caro added silently. Going on missions for the Guardians whenever a woman or a medic was needed. Assisting the aging island doctor…although at first she’d had to fight the prejudice of the male islanders especially.

Yet once more Max was looking at her with that odd expression in his eyes, as if he couldn’t quite make up his mind what to believe about her.

“And you have willingly remained unwed all this time?” he asked.

“Yes.” There were numerous reasons she had refused to wed. Her strongest was her concern that a husband would demand she give up both her unusual vocations.

She gazed up at Max, her mouth curving with dry humor. “In my experience, few respectable gentlemen want a wife who deals daily with blood and gore and naked bodies.”

“You have a point,” Max acknowledged, his eyes glinting in response. “But surely not all men would object to your medical pursuits.”

Perhaps not, Caro thought, but they would hardly countenance her dangerous career as a Guardian. Nor would she risk exposing the order to an outsider by indulging in a normal courtship. She had long ago accepted that she would never lead an ordinary life.

“Most of the eligible bachelors on our island are not quite so open-minded,” she said, striving for a light tone. “And I would never want to leave Cyrene to live in England.”

There were other reasons as well for her remaining single, beyond the fact that most gentlemen wanted a proper wife. The men themselves.

Rising restlessly to her feet, Caro looked out over the railing at the gray waters of the Atlantic. All the men she admired and respected enough to marry were other Guardians: men she thought of as brothers rather than prospective bridegrooms. And idealistically, she had always envied the deep, abiding love her parents had known. If she couldn’t have love, then she had no desire to marry.

Furthermore, she was now no longer a virgin, and gentlemen usually preferred innocence in their brides.

Feeling herself flush, Caro focused her gaze on the choppy sea below. In the past few days, she’d been reminded of yet another reason she intended to remain single. Max himself.

He’d given her an incredible night of enchantment, and more…a tantalizing, compelling glimpse of something profound and powerful between a man and a woman.

The truth was that ever since she had experienced this man’s passion, she hadn’t wanted to settle for anything less.

She stole a glance at him, her gaze lingering on the beautiful, sculpted features of his face. The fierce tenderness of his lovemaking had changed her. Since their night together, she’d found it much harder to feel content with her life. Max had awakened instincts in her that had lain dormant. Intensified feminine desires she had striven to deny. She’d even found herself wondering what it would be like to have a husband, perhaps a family…children.

Her solution had been to throw herself into her duties, but sometimes she wasn’t entirely successful.

Nor was she able to dismiss Max now. When he rose to stand beside her at the rail, she could feel the heat of his powerful magnetism. His very nearness brought all her senses alive, made her blood sing. Filled her with need, with a wild yearning she had known only once before…

She fought the sudden rush of feeling that assailed her, yet his next casual comment still caught her off guard.

“I find it hard to believe no man ever tried to claim you as his lover. Are all the men on Cyrene blind?”

Somehow Caro managed a calm reply. “Not in the least. They simply find me intimidating. Moreover, most men prefer a certain kind of beauty in a woman. I hardly fill their ideal. I’m not pale or fragile or helpless, nor am I statuesque or voluptuous. Many gentlemen prefer ample bosoms, I’ve found.”

“I think your sun-kissed skin lovely. And I can attest that you have an exquisite body.”

Caro sent him an arch glance. “There is no need to shower me with empty flattery, Mr. Leighton.”