Sweet Talkin' Scoundrel (4 page)

“My father and I traveled to Boston about five years ago to see her in the Charleston Navy Yard. She was, quite frankly, amazing. You could almost hear the voices of the sailors who fought on her decks centuries ago and taste the ancient remnant of salty air evaporating off her sails. She fought pirates and—” I stopped and silently chided myself. “Of course, you probably know all about her.”

He looked at me and for the first time, I saw a human soul behind the eyes. “I know a lot about her, but I’m always fascinated to hear from someone who has seen her in person.”

“So you’ve never been to Boston to visit her?”

I’d asked the question hastily, and his reaction, flat and cold, assured me I shouldn’t have asked it. I knew nothing about the man, really, except that he had an obvious fear of germs and he’d been living for some time on a remote island. Dax had given me an itinerary of his flights to the island, including transporting Katherine back and forth along with the house and groundskeepers, but he’d made no mention of Marcus. It was silly of me not to put together the pieces that were right in front of me. Marcus stayed on the island to avoid all the
plagues and maladies
on the mainland.

A quick topic change was needed to pull me out of the mire I’d created. I wasn’t quite ready to have my bags taken back to the runway with a thank you but no thank you send off. I took a deep breath. “Talking about ships and my dad always sparks a little homesickness in me. Not that I ever had a true home to be sick about, but for me home was wherever my parents were. They are archaeologists, and they travel all around the world.”

“Yes, you mentioned that on your cover letter,” Katherine piped up. “Marcus constructed that ship model on his own.”

“Oh wow, I can’t imagine the skill and patience it would take to build something so intricate.”

Marcus’s smile was almost awkward, unpracticed, but it was real. And it was obvious he was glad to have someone take notice of his talent. It seemed, for now, I’d washed away the mess of my first step in the mud. Not that I wasn’t convinced more would follow. I was very good at stepping in it.

I turned back to Katherine, who was wearing a satisfied grin, almost as if she’d just achieved a major accomplishment. They were both a little odd when it came to normal interactions but then they had been living on an island away from civilization. I wondered how long they’d been living on Wildthorne.

An awkward silence followed. It was apparent they were both still trying hard to assess me. I decided to start a new topic.

“I have to say, I’m very anxious to meet Rebecca. Do you think she’ll be down soon?” Just as I finished the question, quick light footsteps sounded in the hallway, footsteps that had to belong to a twelve-year-old.

Rebecca flounced into the room wearing a bright pink t-shirt with glittering letters that said Pink Punk and wearing two long braids that she’d apparently done on her own without a mirror. She was petite and she moved like a ballerina, barely touching the floor as she floated over it in fuzzy yellow socks.

An aggravated sigh ushered from her mother’s mouth. “Becky, I asked you to change out of that ridiculous shirt. And where are the shoes I left you to put on? Your new teacher will think you’re an out of control brat.”

“No need to cover up the truth, Mother. Kinley would find it out for herself soon enough,” Marcus said over the rim of his cup.

He spoke in a serious, wry tone but instead of looking admonished, Becky raced toward him. She stuck her finger in her mouth and then pulled it out. “Need me to stir your coffee?”

Marcus covered the cup but didn’t let even his pristine white palm touch it. “Leave me alone and at least try and make a good impression. We’d like this one to stick around for awhile.” I was almost sure I caught a glimmer of a second smile, but it was so fleeting, it was hard to know for sure.

“Yes, we do!” Katherine spoke up with so much enthusiasm it startled me. She winked at her son and turned back to her daughter. “Becky, this is Miss Kennedy and even if you don’t listen to me as much as you should, I expect you to listen to her one hundred percent of the time.”

“Yes, Mother.” Becky had a spray of freckles and her brown hair had streaks of blonde in it. Her skin was tanned. It seemed, unlike the rest of the household, she actually ventured outside. She was the only person in the house who looked as if she actually lived on an island. I planned to follow her lead and look the same once I settled in.

Becky’s little hand shot out. Her brown eyes sparkled as much as her smile. “Come, I’ll show you my room and the classroom. But I’ll warn you, my bedroom is way more interesting than that mausoleum of a classroom.”

I hopped up and took her hand. She looked up at me. “Oh my gosh, you’re pretty. Maybe sometime, you can teach me how to put on mascara.”

“Dinner is at seven,” Katherine called to us. “After you show her the classroom, Becky, show Kinley to the guest room.”

Becky waved to acknowledge the request and then pulled me through the hallway to the staircase.

Chapter 4

Dax

Zoe slid into
the booth just as I finished my beer. The empty beer bottles clattered and fell like bowling pins as she bumped the table in her quest to climb up and straddle my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and settled down over me, making sure the crotch of her jeans rubbed against my cock. It might have been the eight beers or the fact that my head ached from the fist fight, but I didn’t react. My mood had been dark since I’d turned around and left Kinley standing on Wildthorne Island. I had planned on making a quick exit and reminding myself that none of it mattered to me. Whatever happened on that island was none of my business. But then something happened before I made good on my escape. Kinley had called to me and when I turned around it felt as if someone had knocked the wind from me. I had to curl my fingers into fists to keep from lunging back toward her to haul her back to the plane.

Zoe planted a trail of hot kisses on my neck and still nothing. Normally, it took no more than the brush of her hand on my face or her breast rubbing against my arm and I was hard as a rock. But not tonight.

Zoe sensed my lack of enthusiasm and leaned back to scowl at me.

“You’re about as fun as a bad toothache tonight, Dax.” She put on her best pout.

“Sorry. My head is pounding from that fight. Got my mind on other things too.”

Her pout only deepened.

I kissed her lips. “Rain check?”

She climbed off. “Whatever. Anyhow, Kyle’s having a party. He never needs a rain check.” Zoe hopped out of the booth and headed out of the bar. She leaned back past the open door before leaving. “Think you’re going to be sorry about this once you get back to that lonely beach house of yours.”

“I’m sure you’re right. Have fun, Zoe. Catch you later.”

Lottie headed over with a tray to collect the empty bottles. She smacked it down on the table and put her hands on her hips.

I groaned and shook my head. “No lectures tonight, Lottie. I’m not in any fucking mood to hear all the things I need to change in my life.”

“Fine.” She started putting the bottles on the tray. “If you want to waste your life sucking down my cheap beer, hanging out with women who don’t mean any more to you than a new pair of socks and talking to yourself in that rundown hovel of a beach house, then go right ahead. I just think you were born for more. Your dad thought so too.”

I lifted my eyes to her. “My dad has been dead since I was three. I can’t even remember what he looked like.”

One hand went to her hip again. “You know who I’m talking about. I don’t know why you’re punishing yourself like this.”

“It’s not a punishment, Lottie. It’s how I prefer to live. No relationships. No responsibilities. All I need is my plane, my surfboard—” I lifted a bottle and raised it in a toast. “And your cheap beer.”

“If you say so.” She finished clearing my table. “Another?”

“Nope, I’m heading home. Waves should be cranking in the morning.”

Lottie picked up the tray. “Did you get that woman to the island all right? She looked a little hesitant.”

“She loosened up once we were in the air.”

“She sure was pretty.”

I nodded. “That she was.”

“Can’t imagine she’ll last long out there on that cold, gloomy island.”

“Yep.” I slid out of the booth, wanting to put an end to the topic. I tossed my money on the tray and kissed her cheek. “See you later.”

Chapter 5

Kinley

Becky slammed the
book shut. “There. And I still don’t understand why anyone in the world would need to know how to solve for X. Who cares what X is when there are so many cool things in the world?”

I finished hanging the crayon resist artwork we’d created to add some color to the otherwise completely depressing room. I knew Katherine had chosen the room with its two small windows and no view because it would help Becky focus on her work. But four blank walls with only two desks and hard chairs made it look like a scene from a Dickens novel. It was hardly an environment to expand and cultivate a young mind.

It was only our third day together, but Becky and I had become fast friends. She was lively and fun. Just as Dax had described, she was the constant ray of sunshine on an otherwise foggy and gray island. Katherine, while mostly serious and businesslike, seemed to be working hard at making me feel comfortable in her home. I had a cozy room, with a lot of quilts and a fireplace that was filled with wood and lit every night, just like a bedroom from an earlier century. It was perfectly wonderful and comfortable and far more posh than I was used to. I’d grown up in so many different places and I’d slept in hammocks, igloos and tents. One night, we’d even slept in a pyramid after our scatter-brained guide led us in circles. After hours of traversing the many chambers, we’d grown too tired to look for a way out. I figured then that if I could fall asleep in the cold musty tomb haunted with the ancient spirits of the pharaohs, then I could sleep anywhere. Even the austere and somewhat drafty Underwood Manor.

While I was quickly getting to know Becky and her mother, the one person I hadn’t figured out yet was Marcus. His moods changed from minute to minute, friendly and talkative one moment. Silent and grim, the next.

“You promised you’d come see my collection.” Becky popped me out of my musings.

“You’ve already shown me your glass animal collection and your hair band collection
and
your music CDs.”

She hopped up from the desk, and her hand jutted out. “I have one more collection that I think you’ll really like. And then you promised to tell me the story about when the mummy cursed you in Egypt.”

“I’ll tell you about the mummy’s curse after I get back from King’s Beach. Your mom is writing a shopping list for me.” I took her hand. For the hundredth time that morning I had to tamp down the rush of nerves that threatened to overwhelm me at the thought of flying back to King’s Beach. Only this time, the small, rattling plane wasn’t the reason for the jitters. This time, it was all about the pilot.

Becky pushed open her bedroom door and waved me quickly inside. Aside from the early century four post bed and expensive looking rug, the room was very much ‘pre-adolescent’ girl. I was surprised but pleased to find that while the rest of the house looked rather pompous and sterile, Katherine had allowed Becky some freedom of expression and individuality in her bedroom.

We walked past the doll collection, a group of porcelain beauties that were worth too much to play with, which Becky had confessed she was happy about because she ‘hated dolls’. She walked to her closet, a room that was larger and more spacious than an average apartment. The door to the closet was covered in two conflicting posters, the iconic Ramones poster and an equally iconic Spongebob Squarepants poster, proof positive that my new pupil still had one foot stuck in childhood, while the other was making its way over the fence to the teen years.

I followed Becky past the hanging clothes to a set of drawers. She knelt down and reached for the brass knob, but stopped before opening it. A proud grin was etched on her face but then she looked up at me with a straight mouth and serious brows. “You can’t tell anyone about this. The only other person who knows about the stuff inside this drawer is James.”

It wasn’t a name I’d heard mentioned yet. “James? Is that one of the groundskeepers?”

She laughed. “No, silly. James is my brother.” Being a kid, she hadn’t noticed my surprise, and she was far too excited about the contents in the drawer to elaborate. I easily concluded that James must be a family member who’d decided remote island living wasn’t for him.

Becky’s face scrunched with concentration as she carefully lifted a bundle of something wrapped in an old pillowcase. She carefully unwrapped the items. Even though they appeared solid and sturdy, she treated them as if they were as fragile as eggshells.

After years of traveling the world with two archaeologists, I knew instantly I was looking at old artifacts and significant ones at that. I dropped onto my knees next to her as she handed me a two inch shard of cedar wood. Weather worn as it was, the traces of red and blue paint circling a carved eye were still visible. I turned it over in my palm as Becky handed me a second shard, smaller but still vivid with blue paint and the outline of a carved beak. “Where on earth did you find these?”

“On the island. That’s why you can’t tell my mom. She doesn’t like me to explore too far away from the house.” She tossed a tiny bone on my palm. “I’ve done some research in my dad’s library. He has this huge anatomy book that weighs more than me. Occasionally, I drag it from its shelf and stretch out on the floor with it. I think this is the bone of a deer. But can you see the pointed end?”

“Yes. It’s been carved into some kind of sharp tool,” I noted.

“You know your bones,” she said with smile.

“Not so much, but I do know something about primitive tools and this is definitely a fine example of one. Given the island’s position in the north Pacific, and given the style of art, on cedar, no less, I’d say Tlingit or some similar tribe.”

Her smiled broadened. “You know your ancient civilizations too. Which reminds me, what about the mummy’s curse?”

“Later.” I placed the wood shards and bone back on the pillow case. “I was going to wait to tell you until
after
you finished writing your personal narrative”—I pointed at her as she opened her mouth to protest—“five paragraphs,” I added.

She blew out a resolved sigh. It sent a ripple beneath her bangs.

“Anyhow, your mom has given us permission to have that slumber party in the television room this weekend.”

“Yippee!” She shot up to her knees and threw her arms around my neck.

“I’ll tell you the mummy’s curse story then, if you think you’re brave enough to hear it.”

“Oh, I’m brave enough. In fact, I might just tell a good ghost story too.
If
you’re brave enough to hear it.”

“Guess we’ll both have to bring our brave faces to the slumber party.” I helped her fold the items into the case and pushed to my feet. My gaze passed by a small school uniform. I pulled it out to look at it. “Was this yours, Becky?”

She glanced up as she closed the drawer. “Yes, when I was just a little tot, as you can see by the size of it. Not sure why but Mother didn’t want me to get rid of it. Sentimental, she said. Whatever the heck that means.”

“Maybe we need to beef up your vocabulary lessons.” I put the uniform back, and we headed out of the closet. “How long were you at the private school?”

“Just until second grade. Three years after Daddy died. I kept getting sick with asthma and bronchitis. That’s when Mother decided I would live a healthier life on the island. Wildthorne was our family vacation spot when Daddy was alive, but now it’s our home. I do miss my friends, but there’s a lot to do here.” She pointed back to her closet. “Like finding incredible artifacts. I’ve decided I want to be just like your parents some day. How come you aren’t with them right now?”

“Just got tired of moving around so much.”

“I don’t think I’d ever get tired of it.” Becky stopped to look at her hair in the mirror over her vanity. She had been working hard at making something that looked like a braid but she just didn’t have it down yet. “I look like that crazy book character with the twisty red braids—Pippi Longsocks or something like that.”

I picked up the brush from her vanity. “Here, let me show you how.” I started undoing her tangled braid. “It’s Pippi Longstocking, and if you haven’t read the books, you should. She’s very adventurous, like you. And she’s strong like a superhero. I loved reading about her because she always had a lot of pets.”

Becky looked at me in the mirror reflection. “Do you like animals?”

“Very much.”

“Do you have any pets back home?”

I pulled the brush through her shiny hair, and my throat tightened as I thought about the question. “I used to.” I went for a quick topic change. “So, is your asthma better, now that you’re on the island?”

“I think so. I definitely don’t get many colds anymore. That’s why Marcus stays with us, even though he’s old enough to live on his own like James. Marcus hates germs. Always has.”

“I noticed. I guess he’s lucky to have an island to live on.” I finished the braid.

Becky took a moment to admire it in the mirror. “Well done. You’re hired.”

“Thank you. Now, while I’m gone, you need to write five paragraphs about a personal story from your past. It’s just the rough draft. Then I’ll show you how to go back through and edit it for a final copy.”

“But what if I—” she began what was already her sixth attempt at avoiding the writing assignment.

“Five paragraphs or no slumber party and no mummy story.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll see you when I get back.”

I headed to my room for a sweatshirt. The shopping list was pinned to my door along with a note from Katherine to ask Marcus to walk me to the landing strip. She added that I could find him in the library, which was to the right at the bottom of the stairs.

I glanced in my own mirror and wasn’t impressed. I grabbed a lipstick and brushed it over my lips and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to groom for a ride in a bumpy four seat plane. I dismissed the moment as the fault of overactive self-consciousness. I felt as if my appearance had been heavily scrutinized since I’d landed in King’s Beach, and it was messing with my confidence. That was it, I insisted. I just wanted to look presentable as I passed through the manor. I assured myself it had nothing to do with the fact that I’d be sitting in an airplane just two feet away from the pilot, a man who was stunning even with a fat lip and cut chin.

I pushed the shopping list into my purse along with the money Katherine had given me for the supplies. I headed downstairs and turned right. I was fairly certain I could find my way back to the airstrip on my own. My unorthodox childhood left me with far better navigational skills than most, but if Marcus was expecting to lead me there, I didn’t want to change the plans. And it might have been a way for Katherine to get him outside into fresh air, something, it seemed, he avoided. So far, I’d only run into Marcus at the breakfast table.

I’d never ventured right from the stairs and I had no idea there was a library. Of course, it made perfect sense in a stately old house like the manor. The library answered the mystery of where Marcus hid for most of the day. It seemed a lonely, overly quiet existence for a man in his twenties, but from the snippets of emotion he showed, it seemed he was satisfied with his life. 

The smell of old books carried me to the correct door. It was slightly ajar. I pushed it open and poked my head inside not wanting to disturb him. Marcus’s usual ramrod straight posture had lost its steely integrity some as he hunched over a large mahogany table that was covered with tiny ship model parts. The pungent smell of glue filled the room, but he hadn’t thought to open any of the windows.

Marcus heard my first footfall and turned quickly around. He was wearing a white surgical mask. He yanked it down at the sight of me. It dropped around his neck. “It’s so that I don’t get high on glue fumes,” he explained hastily.

“Yes, of course. I don’t blame you. I’m feeling a little lightheaded just standing here.”

He pulled the mask off and dropped it onto the table as he stood from the chair. I walked closer but not too close or too fast. I sometimes worried that if I moved too abruptly or accidentally crossed into his personal space, he’d run like a frightened animal. There were so many complicated layers to Marcus’s personality. At times, he acted nervous and timid, and at other times, he seemed arrogant, almost severe and without an ounce of humor. It was a strange contradiction.

I stared down at the miniature tools and parts. “So intricate and confusing. It’s like the world’s most complicated jigsaw puzzle.”

He nodded. It always took him a few seconds to find words. “It is and yet, I find it relaxing.”

I smiled. “Relaxing? I’m tense just looking at all those teeny tiny parts. You must have nerves of steel and a steady hand. What ship is this?”

“The HMS Victory. Mother mentioned you needed me to show you the way to the runway.” It seemed as much as he wanted to talk about the ship model, he didn’t care much for me standing in front of his work table. He was anxious for us to leave.

“If you don’t mind showing me the way. I’m afraid I might get lost in the dense foliage.”

“It does need to be thinned out.”

I followed him to the door. He curled his foot around the edge to open it before ushering me through. I sensed his uneasiness as we passed through the entryway to the front door. The edge of a plastic glove was sticking out of his pocket, but it seemed he didn’t want to pull it out in front of me.

I moved past him and reached for the door handle. “These polished brass handles are so beautiful,” I said cheerily as I opened the door. He released the breath he’d been holding. My smile seemed to catch him off guard. “I firmly believe in returning the favor every once in awhile.” I waved my arm with a flourish. “After you, sir.”

He brushed past making sure that no part of his clothes touched me.

I’d already discovered a weather pattern on the island. Morning was clammy and cold with a gloom that could dampen anyone’s spirits, but by midday, a sharp turquoise sky threw its jubilant brilliance over the island, washing away the morning blues. Then, an hour or two before dinner, the sky grumbled and churned until, once again, the entire landscape was cast into gray shadows. The finale was a bone chilling fog that rolled in just before candles and fireplaces were lit. A new day would start the routine all over again.

“How are the lessons going? Becky can be a trial. She’s not big on academics.”

My laugh caught him as off guard as my earlier smile. “You show me a twelve-year-old who enjoys academics, and I’ll show you an elephant with wings.”

My comment made his mouth turn up in what I decided was a smile.

It seemed that once we’d left the clearing where the house and lawn sat, Marcus grew less and less comfortable with the surroundings. He grimaced as a rude fern slapped him in the face. I was sure he would throw up from the experience.