was modest. The ripped bodice opened to show the swell of her breasts, and she clutched her arms over them.
Reaction settled in, and she felt herself tremble. “Thank you,” she whispered miserably, realizing that for the second time in one day she’d made an idiot out of herself in front of Captain Adrian Cabot.
“What in bloody hell are you doing out here alone?” he asked roughly. “Nassau’s no place for a woman alone.”
“I … I needed a walk.” Why, oh why, did she get so tongue-tied with him? Her legs trembled even more, and her body swayed ever so slightly. She wondered if she was going to fall.
But then he was next to her, strong, sure hands steadying her once again, just as they had hours earlier. “I’ll see you back,” he said.
Lauren wanted to say no. At least the sensible part of her wanted to say no. But the fear was still with her. She could still hear the obscenities of her attackers, still feel the rough hand over her mouth and nose.
“Are you all right?” His tone was softer now, more concerned than angry, and she looked up at his battered face.
She tried to smile. “Better than you, I believe.”
He frowned slightly. “It’s nothing.” He looked around and found Socrates, who was sitting on his haunches, patting his head as if congratulating himself. He, at least, certainly looked none the worse for the confrontation.
“He was a hero,” Lauren offered tentatively to break the uneasy silence.
“But I wasn’t?” The question was offered with wry humor. She seemed singularly unimpressed with his own assistance. “I believe you need a keeper, Miss Bradley.”
She flushed. “I know you probably don’t believe it, but I’m usually quite able to take care of myself.”
His stern mouth quirked upward at the corners. “I saw you trip that man. You didn’t do so badly.” But then his lips firmed again. “Except for coming out here in the first place. Didn’t Jeremy warn you never to walk alone at night?”
“He thought … I was in the garden. I didn’t realize … everything seemed so peaceful …” Her voice trailed off. Nothing was going according to Mr. Phillips’s plan.
She looked up. Her gaze found the piercing blue eyes of her rescuer, and she struggled against the startling magnetism between them, the comforting sense of safety she felt around him, the unexpected pleasure that flooded her. Excitement that sent her blood racing.
Don’t, she told herself. Don’t. Remember, he’s a blockade runner. Remember, he’s the man who caused Laurence’s death. Remember … remember … remember.
His hand was warm as it clasped her arm and steered her toward Jeremy Case’s store. When they reached it, she turned and gave him a small, solemn smile. “I would appreciate it if you said nothing to Uncle Jeremy about this. I don’t want him to worry.”
“Your testimony will be needed against those men.”
“I … I’d rather just let it go.”
His eyes fastened on hers for several seconds. “If you wish.”
He turned to leave.
“Captain!” At her word, he turned back, one of his eyebrows arched in question. “You are a hero.”
He grinned, a look that made the hard features look endearingly youthful. “Good night, Miss Bradley.”
“Good night, Captain.” But he was gone, and the words were so soft, only she heard them. She didn’t understand why they made her so infinitely sad.
CHAPTER 4
Lauren lay awake all night long. She had been able to reach her room without seeing either Jeremy or Corinne, and she’d silently mumbled her thanks. She didn’t want them to know how careless she had been.
She’d closed her eyes, but then she felt the dirty fist over her face again. Even worse, she kept seeing concerned blue eyes in a battered face. Battered because of her foolishness.
She thought about Jeremy’s words when she first met Captain Cabot: “Stroke of luck,” he’d said.
It wasn’t a stroke of luck at all; it was more a
Reaction settled in, and she felt herself tremble. “Thank you,” she whispered miserably, realizing that for the second time in one day she’d made an idiot out of herself in front of Captain Adrian Cabot.
“What in bloody hell are you doing out here alone?” he asked roughly. “Nassau’s no place for a woman alone.”
“I … I needed a walk.” Why, oh why, did she get so tongue-tied with him? Her legs trembled even more, and her body swayed ever so slightly. She wondered if she was going to fall.
But then he was next to her, strong, sure hands steadying her once again, just as they had hours earlier. “I’ll see you back,” he said.
Lauren wanted to say no. At least the sensible part of her wanted to say no. But the fear was still with her. She could still hear the obscenities of her attackers, still feel the rough hand over her mouth and nose.
“Are you all right?” His tone was softer now, more concerned than angry, and she looked up at his battered face.
She tried to smile. “Better than you, I believe.”
He frowned slightly. “It’s nothing.” He looked around and found Socrates, who was sitting on his haunches, patting his head as if congratulating himself. He, at least, certainly looked none the worse for the confrontation.
“He was a hero,” Lauren offered tentatively to break the uneasy silence.
“But I wasn’t?” The question was offered with wry humor. She seemed singularly unimpressed with his own assistance. “I believe you need a keeper, Miss Bradley.”
She flushed. “I know you probably don’t believe it, but I’m usually quite able to take care of myself.”
His stern mouth quirked upward at the corners. “I saw you trip that man. You didn’t do so badly.” But then his lips firmed again. “Except for coming out here in the first place. Didn’t Jeremy warn you never to walk alone at night?”
“He thought … I was in the garden. I didn’t realize … everything seemed so peaceful …” Her voice trailed off. Nothing was going according to Mr. Phillips’s plan.
She looked up. Her gaze found the piercing blue eyes of her rescuer, and she struggled against the startling magnetism between them, the comforting sense of safety she felt around him, the unexpected pleasure that flooded her. Excitement that sent her blood racing.
Don’t, she told herself. Don’t. Remember, he’s a blockade runner. Remember, he’s the man who caused Laurence’s death. Remember … remember … remember.
His hand was warm as it clasped her arm and steered her toward Jeremy Case’s store. When they reached it, she turned and gave him a small, solemn smile. “I would appreciate it if you said nothing to Uncle Jeremy about this. I don’t want him to worry.”
“Your testimony will be needed against those men.”
“I … I’d rather just let it go.”
His eyes fastened on hers for several seconds. “If you wish.”
He turned to leave.
“Captain!” At her word, he turned back, one of his eyebrows arched in question. “You are a hero.”
He grinned, a look that made the hard features look endearingly youthful. “Good night, Miss Bradley.”
“Good night, Captain.” But he was gone, and the words were so soft, only she heard them. She didn’t understand why they made her so infinitely sad.
CHAPTER 4
Lauren lay awake all night long. She had been able to reach her room without seeing either Jeremy or Corinne, and she’d silently mumbled her thanks. She didn’t want them to know how careless she had been.
She’d closed her eyes, but then she felt the dirty fist over her face again. Even worse, she kept seeing concerned blue eyes in a battered face. Battered because of her foolishness.
She thought about Jeremy’s words when she first met Captain Cabot: “Stroke of luck,” he’d said.
It wasn’t a stroke of luck at all; it was more a
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