Jo Goodman (22 page)

"You're acting as if there's some significance in that."

"Isn't there?"

It was difficult to swallow, even more difficult to work words past her throat. The pads of Decker's thumbs gently massaged her arms. The friction of her robe was pleasantly abrasive against her skin. "I told you I admired the gift when you gave it to me. Wearing it doesn't mean I admire the giver." He was smiling at her now. Not widely, not openly. His amusement was quieter than that. It was in the depths of his eyes and the faint lift of one corner of his mouth. "You didn't have to arrange my bath this evening," she said, striving for cool accents. "That's why you did it, didn't you? It was all in aid of seeing the necklace yourself. You could have asked me. I would have told you."

"Really?"

Jonna's eyes dropped away. She knew he was right to question her. She wouldn't have told him at all. "Of course," she said.

"Liar." There was nothing unforgiving in his tone. His voice was more of a caress. "Is it possible you like me just a little?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I can't... I won't."

Decker's quiet amusement deepened. "Because I'm aimless," he said. "And have a serious lack of principles."

"Because you don't care about anything," she said.

"Yes," he said, as if suddenly remembering. "There's that."

Jonna leaned into him suddenly. Her forehead rested on his shoulder. "And you're not rich," she whispered.

Decker's arms slipped around her waist. His mouth was near her ear when he spoke. "Possessions make it hard to move quickly," he told her. "I can carry everything I value."

She hardly heard him. He was lifting her, and she felt weightless in his arms. Jonna clutched the collar of his jacket until he set her on the window bench. He left her side only a moment, but when he returned he produced a brush from behind his back.

Decker sat in the corner of the bench and drew Jonna between his legs. She went without protest, her eyes closing as his fingers began to unwind her hair. Her sigh was nearly soundless.

Decker separated the thick strands as delicately as ropes of silk. Her dark hair crested in smooth waves like a calm sea at night, and the texture was almost liquid. He spread her tresses across her back; then he raised the brush and ran it through them.

Jonna hummed her pleasure. Her head felt too heavy to keep upright. She let it sag forward. The brush bristles lightly scraped the back of her neck and a frisson of heat spiraled down her spine. The brush followed the same path a moment later.

"I should tell you to leave," she said on a thread of sound. The words ran together as if she had been drinking.

"Yes," he said. He didn't pause a beat in brushing out her hair. "You should."

She didn't though. Jonna continued to sit nestled between Decker's thighs, her head bent and knees drawn toward her chest, and let him pull the brush through her hair. Energy the hot bath hadn't sapped was taken away by Decker's hypnotically smooth motions. "There's my reputation to consider," she whispered. "Those men on deck are my employees."

"Those men are my crew," Decker said. "I have a reputation, too."

She didn't think they were talking of quite the same thing. "Really?" she asked, interested. "Have you seduced a great many women?"

"You would have to define 'a great many.' "

Jonna was aware of the slowing of the movement of the brush. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting it to end just yet. "More than a hundred," she said.

He pulled part of her hair to one side and exposed the curve of her neck. His lips touched her there just once. "Then, no," he whispered against her skin. "I haven't seduced a great many women."

"Oh."

Decker smiled. Jonna sounded almost disappointed. "Will you have to revise your opinion of me?" he asked.

"A little."

"I'm sorry for that. I usually try to live down to your expectations."

That caught Jonna's attention, the words and the edge of cool irony in his tone. She twisted her head, trying to look at him. "Is that true?"

Decker gently turned her face forward again and continued brushing. "No," he lied without regret. "It's not true. Why would I care one way or the other about your expectations and have none of my own?"

Jonna didn't want to think it through. It made sense when he posed it like that. She sighed, closing her eyes again. "How many women
have
you seduced?"

"Is it so important?"

"Yes," she said flatly.

"Do you require an exact figure?" he asked, amused.

"An estimate will do."

Decker considered what number would ultimately satisfy her. He had no idea if it was close to the mark. "Fifty-eight."

"Oh my."

"It's just an estimate." He stopped brushing for a moment and reached around her so she could see his hand. Decker unfolded his palm. Jonna's ivory pendant lay in the heart of it. "Here," he said. "You haven't missed this yet."

She gasped softly. "When did you—" She stopped, remembering his mouth on her neck, his fingers lightly moving in her hair. She hadn't felt him open the clasp at all. "How did you—"

"Practice," he said simply. He helped Jonna refasten the necklace. Decker was tempted to tell her that profit rather than pleasure had guided his seductions, but he suspected she was arriving at that conclusion herself.

Jonna placed her hand over the ivory pendant. He wouldn't get it so easily from her again. "Did you always give back what you took?"

"I wasn't performing parlor tricks then, Jonna. I was a thief. I never returned anything willingly." Decker resumed brushing and let her think about that.

"You were a good thief," she said quietly.

"Yes, I was."

She was silent for a long time. Her thoughts gradually ceased to take on form or substance. "I could fall asleep here," she said at last. "Just... like... this."

Decker said nothing but each subsequent stroke of the brush was lighter than the one before it. Finally he felt her body give up the last line of tension. He put the brush down and adjusted them both so she was more completely cradled in his arms.

They both slept for a time, but when Jonna awakened, Decker was gone.

* * *

Huntress
reached London within hours of her scheduled arrival. Jonna had to shield her eyes as she was lifted topside. The early morning sun had burned off banks of river fog and now shone brightly over the city. Jonna took the bonnet Jeremy Dodd held out to her and put it on. She allowed him to escort her to the taffrail before she dismissed him. "I'll be fine," she said. "There's no need to watch my every move."

The young man hesitated. "The captain says—"

"I'm not going anywhere," she said. Then she turned away. Although Jonna's attention was on the teeming harbor, she was aware that Jeremy hovered uncertainly. "Leave me, Mr. Dodd." Her voice caught the perfect, imperious inflection to send him scurrying.

Jonna smiled to herself, pleased with this small victory. Decker Thorne had had his way far too long. It was rare when she could get one of the crew to do as she wanted.

Jonna huddled in her cape and leaned against the taffrail. In spite of the sunshine there was little warmth in the air. She could see her breath mist with each exhalation. Similar clouds rose from the men as they exerted themselves moving cargo down the gangboard and hauling in sail overhead. On the wharf horses snorted their displeasure at having to stand idly while their wagons were being loaded. The drivers clapped themselves on the arms or stamped their feet to keep warm.

Huntress
rocked gently in her berth, but Jonna had no difficulty keeping her balance. She had found her sea legs long ago.

London was not so different from Boston, she thought. Certainly the scale was far grander. There was more of everything here: ships, men, wagons, and warehouses. The accents were changed, but the activity was not. All in all, she was glad they wouldn't be in the city long. Everything she saw made her want to be in Boston Harbor again.

Turning away, Jonna searched out Decker. She had no difficulty finding him. His voice caught her attention first. It wasn't raised in the least, but it carried the quiet certainty of authority and registered at a different pitch than the other strained voices. Jonna had never really seen him with the crew before, and now she recognized the respect they had for his command. He was in charge of the rhythm of this ship, the sequence of furling sails and hoisting cargo. He was not the one shouting orders, but there was nothing accomplished that wasn't under his control.

She had wondered about the hours he spent away from her on the voyage. She read what he logged, but the accounts had not satisfied her curiosity, and pride had kept her from asking him. Even without prompting Jonna heard things from the crew. She learned he slept very little, that he lent a hand when needed, and that there was no task on the ship that he hadn't done himself at one time or another. She accepted these things as true because they were offered offhandedly and she had heard them first from Jack Quincy.

If that weren't enough, there was always the fact that Decker had no reason to ingratiate himself to her. He'd made it clear he didn't care at all for her good opinion.

Watching him, Jonna tilted her head to one side. The brim of her bonnet threw a shadow across her eyes. He seemed oblivious to her presence at the taffrail, and Jonna found she liked it that way. Decker had never treated her with the solicitousness that Grant Sheridan had shown her, but neither had he patronized or coddled her, two things that Grant had been apt to do. Decker respected her as someone who knew her own mind even when she didn't. Grant most often expected to change her mind.

Still observing him, Jonna walked along the taffrail. He stood a head taller than all but a few men, yet he didn't use his height to achieve a commanding presence. His manner was confident, not arrogant. He held himself loosely and walked lightly on his feet, his trim, athletic frame completely synchronous with the ship under him.

The collar of his woolen navy jacket was turned up against the cold, but he was hatless. The wind whipped strands of coffee-colored hair past his forehead. He raked it back carelessly.

Jonna's shiver was not because of the icy Thames air. She was remembering Decker's fingers in
her
hair, separating the strands, testing the weight of it. She wished she had not fallen asleep in his arms, and she wished he had been there when she woke.

Jonna turned away and closed her eyes briefly. Even if he were a man she could admire, there would always be the matter of his fortune. Or the lack of it. Hadn't that been what he was trying to tell her the other night? He seduced women for what they could give him. It was of little consequence that he had returned her necklace when she had a shipping empire he could raid.

Decker joined Jonna at the taffrail. "I'll be done here in half an hour," he said. "Mr. Jeffries has my instructions and will carry them out. The cargo we contracted for from the Manchester mills won't be here until Thursday."

Jonna's head jerked up. "Thursday. But that's six days from now."

"That's right," he said calmly. "And if we leave without it there will be no profit in the run."

"There must be something else we can carry. I thought we were taking on Indian tea."

"Another delay. Again, not our fault. But if we sail without the tea
or
the material... well, you know the problems better than I."

She certainly did. Whether Decker was any less familiar was open to debate. Jonna did some calculating in her head. "Send Mr. Jeffries to Manchester and tell him to push for the product to be in London by Tuesday. Unless there's been an accident at sea the tea shipment should arrive by then. The loss in time and money will not be as damaging if that can be accomplished. And we'll accept passengers for the return."

Decker shook his head. "No passengers."

"Why ever not?"

"Because there's your reputation to think of. You may be the owner of Remington Shipping, but you're still a young woman traveling alone. The crew will always be discreet. I can't say the same for anyone we bring aboard."

"You should have thought of this before you abducted me," she said, annoyed. "And why would there be anything to tell? Unless you mean to interrupt my bath again and announce it to one and all." Her words would have carried more weight if she had been able to look him squarely in the eye. As it was, her flushed cheeks warded off the cold.

Decker leaned back against the taffrail and crossed his arms in front of him. "I'll take on passengers under one condition," he said.

"You're in no position to make conditions, but I'll listen to this one."

"Marry me."

Jonna's mouth flattened. "You really have the most abysmal sense of humor," she said. "I'm going below."

Decker caught her elbow. He was grinning. "And you have none."

She looked pointedly at the hand that was on her arm.

He didn't release her, but he tempered his smile. "Don't leave. The carriage I hired will be here soon, and your trunk has already been brought up."

Jonna stared at him. "Carriage?" she asked. "My trunk? What are you doing now?"