Renegade (16 page)

Soon. Because she couldn’t wait much longer.

CHAPTER TEN

Thank the Lord the tide was going out, because Mac couldn’t think straight, much less row. The boat floated downriver slowly, without any help or direction from him, while he lost himself completely in her arms. In fact, they actually bumped into the dock at Beckett… which was good, because in the state he was in, he would’ve happily let them drift on down to the Sound if it meant holding Becks on his lap a while longer.

Good God Almighty
, she tasted good. He’d been wanting to kiss her since… well, since that first kiss. That one had been for Creel’s benefit, though.
This
kiss, now… this kiss he could lose himself in. Did lose himself in. He had to twice stop himself from inching his fingers under her skirt, but nothing could’ve stopped him from brushing his palms against the wet cotton of her shirt. The sexy little moan she gave off when he passed over her nipples damn near broke his control.

If the rain hadn’t strengthened right when they bumped into the dock, Mac wasn’t sure what he would’ve done. As it was, they broke apart, breathless, and she smiled at him. That smile wrenched at his heart, and he almost pulled her into his arms again. Instead, they gathered up the fish and tackle and raced laughing up to the main house. Mac had to run hunched over awkwardly, because his cock had a mind of its own, and he didn’t want to embarrass her… or anyone else they met.

As it was, he left her in the kitchens. She turned to him, raindrops glistening on her eyelashes and lips, braid plastered to her see-through shirt, laughing. There was no way he could get any closer and not take her, right there in front of Lola. And Becks wasn’t the taking kind.

Instead, he plopped the fish down on the wooden table, nodded curtly to the rotund black woman, and backed out of the kitchen. He couldn’t even look at Becks. If he did, his restraint would fail.

What the hell was wrong with him? He’d never let a woman affect him the way Becks affected him. He lived his life on his own terms, and he wasn’t about to let someone else control him or tell him what to do. Allowing a woman to have so much influence on him was damned close to giving her power over him. To letting her rule him. To admitting that he didn’t have the discipline to keep his own urges in check around her.

Had it been anyone else, it might not have mattered so much. He could take her—hell, he could make her his mistress—and enjoy the way he apparently lost his head when she smiled at him. He could spend as long as he wanted worshipping her body, and then they could part ways on good terms.

But not Becks, and he knew it. Becks was the kind of woman that he’d have to marry. And if he thought that his body’s reaction to her stripped him of his discipline, then
marrying
her would definitely give her control over him.

Wouldn’t it?

He’d lived his life knowing that he’d never marry. That’s what he’d told Eugenia: he wasn’t the marrying kind. He couldn’t give a woman that sort of power—that much say—over his life. And from the marriages he’d seen in Charleston society, there was no benefit to the woman either. It wasn’t like he could bring her anything; he had no house, just a room at his childhood home and a rented portion of a warehouse by the harbor. His home, the only thing he truly cared for, was a boat he shared with three other men. He’d never wanted to marry, but had always known that no woman would particularly want to marry
him
.

But Becks wanted him. Oh yes, she wanted him. He’d had enough experience to know when a woman was aroused, and Becks had wanted him long before today’s kiss. He hadn’t seen the harm in flirting with her, in teasing and smiles and interesting conversation. He’d been intrigued; she obviously disapproved of his trade, but had approved of him.

And the approval went both ways; the more he knew of her, the more he liked her. He liked her sense of adventure and her desire to follow her own path, rather than what others in her position thought she should do. He admired her passion and her lack of restrictions. He admired her quiet beauty, which was easy to miss until he saw her in her element. She wrapped herself in her land, and it was the most stunning combination he could imagine.

But she was the kind of woman that a man married, the kind dedicated to her home. She was the kind of woman who deserved more than he could give.

It wasn’t like this was a grand realization; Mac had known it since he’d seen her again in the parlor. But after that kiss they’d shared, it seemed more painful somehow. Mac stood in the rain for what seemed like hours, trying to rid himself of his almost-painful erection and his raging lust. Over and over again he told himself that she wasn’t worth it, that she was just like any other woman, and that he
would
get over this obsession.

It didn’t work.

He needed to get away from here, from her, for a while. He needed to go back to his element, to remind himself of who he was, and why no woman was worth giving up his freedom.

Her rowboat was still at the dock, but the dinghy was gone, which meant that Robert was already at the
Polaris
. Good. Robert and Ironto and Jeff could talk some sense into him.

If he’d hoped that the exertion required from rowing would tamp down his lust, then he was mistaken. He’d never be able to look at a rowboat—much less this one—without remembering her lounging across the stern thwart. Without remembering the look of joy and freedom when she tilted her head back and bared her face to the sky. Without remembering the way that spot on her neck—where it met her shoulder—looked in the rain. Without remembering she tasted of sunshine and honeysuckle.

Only by concentrating on rowing and what he and Robert would have to do to make up for their lost smuggling revenue was he able to finally control his cock. He got to the
Polaris
faster than he’d expected, aided no doubt by the tide. The little rowboat rounded the last bend in the river and there she was.

The ship was tied between two pilings driven into the marsh opposite a thick patch of pines. The land probably belonged to Peter’s Point Plantation, but in the times that they’d put ashore on Edisto, they’d never seen anyone. Of course, prior to this visit, the
Polaris
was only in this spot long enough for Robert and Mac to row up to Beckett, drop off the barrels, and row back. Not even a full tide, and always at night. The ship had been moored here for the last four days, and Mac had gone back and forth between her and Beckett quite a few times.

He and the men had done some of the repairs and upkeep that needed doing and relaxed and taken turns standing watch and heading into Beckett to enjoy Lola’s cooking. Truthfully, Mac could have left—
should
have left—two days ago. But he didn’t have a tight deadline with his distributor in Charleston, and Eugenia had asked him to stay.

“Rebecca Beckett is just getting things straight in her mind, McKee. She’ll come around soon,” she’d said to him. And to his surprise, he
wanted
to stick around until Becks decided about him. He
wanted
to have the time to convince her that he was a decent man. He wondered if it’d worked. What did she think of him now that he’d attacked her in this rowboat?

Her reaction to him told him that she wasn’t entirely offended… but he couldn’t afford to think of her eagerness. Mac licked the rain drops from his lips and concentrated on plans for sail-mending in order to keep his own arousal in check.

The rain had slackened to a drizzle when he came alongside the
Polaris
. His pride-and-joy was sixty feet long with a beam of twelve feet, and her two proud masts reached up towards the lingering clouds. She was an older lady, but he loved her the way he’d never loved anything before; she represented everything he’d worked towards in his life, and knew true happiness when they were skimming across the waves together. Sails might be a thing of the past, now that steam ruled the oceans, but nothing would replace the primal freedom of manipulating wind and canvas to propel a wooden ship.

The
Polaris
was an aging schooner that he’d purchased when she was named the
Nancy Marie
. Her new name reflected her place in his life—as his guiding star, what he worked towards.

“Ahoy the
Polaris
!” He came alongside, and when Jeff stuck his head over the gunwale, Mac tossed him up the painter. He scrambled aboard to find his friends just emerging into the intermittent sun.

“You miss us?” Jeff wasn’t even twenty yet and had a cocky grin and a way of making his friends laugh. “Just couldn’t stay away?”

“Yeah.” Mac shoved the younger man’s shoulder, and Jeff grinned as he slammed into Robert’s chest. The black man carefully lifted him by his upper arms and moved him out of the way. He even went so far as to pat the kid’s head when he put him down, like a pet. The other three chuckled at his exaggerated care.

Mac nodded to Ironto, who was stumping up the ladder. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Working!” The older man’s scowl was all for show. “At least, the negro and I have worked our fingers to the bone.” The long fingers that remained on his left hand pointed accusingly towards Jeff. “That
layabout
, however, has spent his days reading.
Reading
! As if candles were free!”

In all the years he’d known Ironto, Mac had never been able to get a straight answer as to the older man’s home country. English wasn’t his first language—in fact, he spoke several—but he could be more eloquent than all of the rest of them put together.

Jeff knew his mentor’s harsh words were a pretense. “You told me my stiches weren’t fine enough to help you. And you seemed content to argue the finer points of Darwin’s theories with me.” The kid’s New England accent grated on Mac’s ears, as always, but he was one of the few Southern captains who could stand a Yankee on board.

“Finer points, my arse! The man is clearly an idiot.”

Robert folded his arms across his wide chest. “Ironto’s not telling you that he’s obviously read the book, to be able to argue so well.”

“Of course I have read the damn book!” The older man waved his arms in frustration as he stamped aft. “It was all the rage! Everyone has read it!”

“I haven’t.” Mac hadn’t even heard of this Darwin.

“Me neither.” Robert was loyal in his agreement.

But Ironto was quick to clarify: “…everyone with half a brain, at least.”

Mac chuckled at the insult, and even Robert cracked a smile. “Why should’ve I bothered to read it? Sooner or later Jeff tells me everything I need to know.”

“Him? Bah!” Ironto pretended great interest in the view from the stern.

“…and you’ll tell him when he’s wrong.” Mac grinned.

“So we get to hear both sides without having to read it.” Robert
could
read—Mac had made sure of that when they were both boys hiding from his father and the overseer—but he picked up books about as infrequently as Mac himself did.

Jeff grinned. “Well, now that you’ve returned to help, you can hear all about Darwin’s theories.” Robert groaned and rolled his eyes. If he’d been stuck below with the other two during the rain, then he was probably sick of listening. Jeff didn’t take offense, though. “All right then. Just get me something else to read.”

After Mac had seen Pearl’s collection in the library at Beckett, he’d known that Jeff would’ve been thrilled by it. Since the ship couldn’t be left unmanned, and since no one wanted to be left alone on it, they were taking the watch by twos. Ironto didn’t see much benefit in staying on land, and Jeff didn’t see any need for it, as long as he had his books on the boat. So the two of them—and Robert, since Pearl made it very clear that he wasn’t wanted on Beckett—were spending most of their time on the
Polaris
. The only hitch was that Mac had to keep Jeff well-supplied with books to keep them all occupied.

Mac grinned. “You’re through with those three from yesterday?”

“No,
The Origin of the Species
and Ironto’s daft assertions—”

“
Daft
?” The older man’s bellow proved that he was listening.

“—have been diverting thus far—”

“You sound like a foppish Englishman.”