Read Online The Whiskey Tide by M. Ruth Myers - Free Book Online Page B

noticed her now. She toyed casually with her swaying beads.
          "If you're afraid to race, I'll drive," she announced, although Kitty hadn't said a word about cars. They were almost even with Felix's table. Aggie squeezed the strand of jet looped over her index finger. The silk string holding them snapped, sending them to the floor.
          They were well-strung beads, carefully knotted. Aggie hadn't expected them to scatter. But a few popped free, her foot came down on one, and she slid.
          Felix Garvey's hand caught her wrist, yanking her back to balance when she would have fallen. His grip was cruelly hard and crushed her when she was no longer in danger.
          "Be careful." Releasing her, he retrieved the strand of beads and let it sway on an outstretched finger.
          There was something insolent in his look. As if he'd peered inside her and seen terrible secrets. His thin lips gave the parody of a smile.
          Murmuring thanks, she fled with Kitty. Her wrist throbbed with pain and heat raged across every inch of her skin. Racing in Kitty's car and petting with Harry Peale had never tasted this sharply of excitement.
     
    ***
     
          "Hellsfire. A Gloucester schooner!" Joe Santayna dropped lightly from the plank jutting out from the small dock and stared in disbelief at the vessel beneath him. Mahogany. Brass. Elegant workmanship every direction he turned. A right enough change from his uncles' well-worn fishing boat. But a wind-powered ship for rum-running? For the second time since meeting Kate Hinshaw he wanted to laugh. True, ships like this had been used for exactly that purpose a century and more ago. The good ones drew only five feet of water. They could glide into shallow coves, land on beaches, whisper in and out with contraband. But that had been before diesel and gasoline motors.
          Billy McCarthy looked ready to split with pride. Kate Hinshaw had exchanged her pumps for a pair of the canvas and rubber things that were the new rage with the upper classes. She watched anxiously.
          "She's a beauty," Joe said walking the deck and staring up at the two varnished masts above him.
          The Hinshaw girl's fingers slid lovingly over manila rigging. She was not unaccustomed to unfurling a sail, it seemed. Joe touched the wheel and felt it tremble with life beneath his hand. There was no pilothouse to break the deck or protect someone at the helm from weather.
          "Can't outrun the Coast Guard in this," he said.
          Her serious gray eyes frowned at him.
          "Why would you want to outrun them?"
          This time he couldn't keep amusement from his voice.
          "Last time I heard, bringing alcohol into the States was illegal, Miss Hinshaw."
          She colored nicely.
          "Maybe... maybe they'll think we wouldn't be foolhardy enough to try such a thing then."
          He grinned at her logic. The scent of the boat embraced him. He itched to feel her ride the open seas. Her hull was sleek. She'd run like the devil before the wind. Becalmed she'd be almost helpless. She didn't even carry a yawlboat.
          Uninvited, he moved down a short set of aft stairs. There was no proper cargo hold. An aft saloon held shelves stuffed with books. Two forward sleeping cabins held bunks for eight. All three compartments were finely paneled and rich with brass lamps and upholstery. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Allowing his fingertips to brush smooth wood, he turned and went back on deck.
          "You can maybe carry a thousand cases," he said. "Old blankets might protect the furnishings some, but there'll still be scratches. Unloading has to be fast." He hesitated, telling himself he was crazy; knowing the fact of it wouldn't stop him. "Let's see how she handles."
          The smoothness with which Billy and the girl turned to hoisting sails surprised him. They seldom needed to speak. Billy set his young strength