The Spanish Outlaw (13 page)

Could
Anton give her that kind of commitment? Not now he couldn’t, but what about after this mess with his uncle was over? Could he commit to her then?

With a sinking heart, he realized he wasn’t certain. He enjoyed his freedom as a bachelor, pleased with doing as he w
ished and living the life of a performer in an operatic group, knowing he didn’t have a care in the world.

Vivian
folded her arms, her stare laced with sadness as her lips quivered. “You don’t have to answer. Your expression tells me all I need to know.”

She
pushed past him and rushed out the door. He cursed fate for messing up his life again, especially the bad timing it dealt. But then, she had given him a lot to think about. Unfortunately, she already knew his feelings.

Strange, but she had been right, after all. The only reason he wanted her was
to bed her, but the deep ache in his heart argued. He didn’t want to think about what the crushing pain meant. With so much danger in his life, the best thing for Vivian would be to go back to New York, far away from him. But could he release her when the time came?

Ch
apter Nine

For Raúl’s sake, Vivian pasted on a smile and forced herself to eat that evening. She tried to ignore Anton’s presence at the table, noting that he acted as if nothing earth-shattering had transpired between them earlier that day.

The way he relaxed in his chair, sipping his wine and conversing with
Raúl irked her. She tightened her fingers around the fork and seethed, fighting the growing urge to claw at Anton’s face and ruin his beautiful appearance. No use showing her temper now. It wouldn’t make him love her.

She held her breath and blinked back tears, wondering why emotion overcame her.
Why was she acting this way? She didn’t love him.

Or did she?

Mindlessly, she placed a forkful of food in her mouth, annoyed that Raúl continued to pour on his sweetness, even when she neglected him to stare at the elaborate lobster dish on her plate. His charm had no effect on her tonight. Then again, it never really had.

Bits and pieces of the conversation between the two men penetrated her senses, but for the most part, they spoke in Spanish. Her mind floated elsewhere so the sound of their exotic language
which was wasted on her.

Swallowing a mouthful of food with a dry throat, she came to terms with her emotions. Despite all the time she spent trying to convince herself to avoid Anton’s
advances, she’d somehow allowed herself to fall in love with him. Strange to think it happened so quickly. Too late to turn back now. She’d made a fool of herself and had no choice but to spend her remaining days on this voyage, probably longing for a man she could never have, hoping for a man Anton could never be.

Raúl’s
suggestion for a stroll on the upper deck interrupted her depressing thoughts. She blinked and met his gaze, accepting his offered arm. Anton trailed behind as the three walked out of the cabin. Vivian wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, trying hard to divert her eyes from him.

Letting her thoughts wander with her gaze, she looked across the dusk-shadowed sea. The ship she’d noticed earlier today moved closer than before. It still worried her that the other vessel had come upon them so quickly, yet if Captain
Bushwell wasn’t concerned, why should she be?

“
Señor
Contreras, tell me what part of Spain you are from,” Raúl asked.

“I am from all over, really. My family never settled in one place in particular.” He shrugged and chuckled. “I suppose it is the gypsy blood in me from
mí madre’s
side.”

“I have heard gossip from some of the other passengers,”
Raúl continued, “that you are an opera singer.”

“
Sí.
”

“How long have you been performing?”

“Considering I was always pretending in my youth, as
mí madre
says, and I have been singing since I turned eight, I suppose it is correct to say I have been performing most of my life.”

Vivian
held in a snicker. Anton was definitely an actor, trying to fool as many people as he could.

“I find that fascinating,”
Raúl replied. “I, myself, wanted to go into
mí padre’s
business, because he was the greatest matador of all, but I find my love lies in the trading business.”

“
Sí
. You must go where your heart leads.”

Too bad she hadn’t listened to hers.
Vivian’s chest ached. If she’d kept her mind in the right direction, Anton wouldn’t have been able to crush her so deeply. Why had she let her emotions get the better of her? When had she stopped thinking about being a Pinkerton agent and instead, wanting to be a desirable woman?

Another gust of wind whipped around her, teasing the tendrils by her ears and cooling the skin at her neck exposed by her fancy upswept hairstyle. This would be a good opportunity to leave. She couldn’t stand to be in either man’s presence any longer. A shiver passed through her, and she gathered her shawl tighter.

Raúl turned his head toward her first. “Miss Wentworth? Are you warm enough?”

She chuckled.
“Actually, no. I haven’t been feeling well all evening, and the breeze is chilling me to the point of distraction. If you don’t mind, could we continue this stroll at another time? I’d really like to retire to my cabin.”

“Why, certainly.”
Raúl patted her hand, then draped it over his elbow. “Will you permit me to escort you back?”

“Don’t be silly. That’s not necessary.” She withdrew her hand. “You and my uncle are having such a lovely conversation, and I’d hate to ruin it. So please excuse me.” She quickly
backed away and nodded to Raúl, ignoring Anton. “Have a pleasant evening, and I’ll see you on the morrow.”

“
Vivian?” The concern in Anton’s soft voice nearly shattered her defenses. “I think I should take you back to the cabin.”

“Nonsense,” she answered
without meeting his stare. “I’m perfectly capable of making it by myself.”

Without waiting for his reply, she hurried across the deck and down the stairs, only breathing a sigh of relief when she reached her cabin and was safely behind the closed door. She shivered again, but this time, Anton’s manly scent lingering thick in the air was the cause. It stirred memories of weak moments she had hoped to forget.

After lighting the lamp, she flung her shawl on the chair and marched to her trunk to pull out her nightgown. Angrily, she removed each article of clothing, taking her frustrations out on the material instead of the man who deserved her temper.

Finally, she left her clothes in a heap and crawled into bed.
Anger still surged through her, hotter now than before. Why had she allowed him to charm her so? And to think because of this confused emotion, she had pushed aside her main goal—to prove Anton’s innocence…or his guilt.

Her gaze fell on one of his trunks in the corner of the room. This one had always been locked.
Hmm… If she could unlock one of Raúl’s trunks, she could certainly open Anton’s!

Without any further hesitation, she dashed out of bed and knel
t in front of his trunk. Since she had yet to take out the coil from her hair, she fished through her locks to find a hairpin. Concentrating, she slipped the pin into the lock and moved it around until it clicked.

She paused, listening for any signs that Anton was returning. Thankfully, she didn’t hear the rhythm of his boots booming on the floor outside their room in the hall.

Cautiously, she lifted the lid to the trunk and peered inside. Books and even a few newspapers lay scattered on top. Then from beneath a book, something sparkled against the lamplight.

Her heart stilled as she moved the book. A gasp caught in her throat
and her eyes fixed on the item. A woman’s broach encased with rubies and diamonds winked at her.
No! This can’t be right…

S
he moved a few more books around only to discover a pearl necklace and a man’s silver cufflinks with a ruby centered in the middle. Lying next to that was a gold pocket watch.

She slapped a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Were these the jewels Anton’s uncle had reported missing? With a sinking heart, she figured she knew the answer. Indeed, her first instincts were correct.

Anton was the outlaw.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she
quickly closed the trunk and locked it. As the tears streamed down her face, she hurried to her bed and buried her face in her pillow, silently crying out her anguish. Pain like no other stabbed through her heart and caused it to crumble even more.

She prayed for a release from her agony. Never again would she allow Anton’s intimate
kisses or his charm to woo her in
any
way. Her emotions just couldn’t handle it. Rather than go through this much heartache again, she should toss him overboard. Although this would be the best course of action, she still needed to get word to Mr. Pinkerton that she had found their thief.

Curling in a ball, she gave her sorrow a voice, not caring that her c
ries echoed in the small cabin.

* * * *

Anton stood by the railing and stared across the sea. Although relieved to be free from that Spaniard Vivian thought so highly of, Anton still wished for some company to settle his thoughts. Since things had ended so badly with Vivian, his mind continued to toss on turbulent waves.

He’d made the right decision, though. He wasn’t ready for commitment and didn’t want to lead
Vivian into believing something that wasn’t true. He had hurt her, but it would have been worse had he taken her virginity and then broken her heart.

The ship’s gentle sway lured him into relaxation, and he seriously considered retiring to his room for some sleep. He didn’t want to speak to
Vivian about what happened earlier. If he waited a couple more hours before going downstairs, she would probably be asleep. He lurked at the railing, praying for time to pass.

The quarter moon cast spooky shadows on the water, and when he thought the ship jarred a different way, his cautious nature perked up a notch. The water
even splashed in a different rhythm. Peering through the night, he tried to focus on the sea, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

Shrugging off the prickly sensations jumping over his skin, he turned away from the railing and walked toward the other side of the ship. He nodded greetings to a few female passengers with whom he’d become acquainted on the trip, and considered himself lucky their husbands accompanied them. He didn’t need them trying to steal his attention right now.

He stopped, leaned his back against the railing, and looked at the dwindling group remaining on deck. The brisk sea air had no doubt sent the rest of the passengers scurrying to their cabins. At the far end, he spied Raúl standing with eight strange men. Anton didn’t recognize them.

Since sailing, Anton cautiously made note of each face, wary of everything and everyone. What were the odds so many men had kept to their cabins since the first day?

When Raúl’s gaze skimmed across the semi-crowded deck and rested on Anton, the heads of the other eight men whipped around to look at him, too. Anton’s doubt as to the men’s identity pulled his mouth into a thin line. Tightness consumed his chest. This was not some coincidental meeting. Somehow, some way, his uncle Juanito was behind this.

Panic gripped Anton, making it painful to breathe. He was unarmed. It had been quite a while since he used his fists. He’d have to retrieve t
he revolver from his room, yet he didn’t want to lure the men to Vivian.

“Good evening,
Señor
Contreras.” A feminine voice pulled his attention to his left as Mr. and Mrs. Summers stopped beside him.

He bowed slightly. “And it is a good evening, is it not?” He glanced over the water. “I have not seen a more calming sight in my life.” Despite his words, his mind spun, trying to find a way to
retrieve his weapon.

Mr. Summers, probably in his fiftieth year, chuckled, his double chin shaking in the same rhythm as his overlarge belly. “Yes, it’s a perfect evening for romance.” He squeezed his wife’s arm.

Mrs. Summers, who looked to be younger than her husband by at least twenty years, blushed. “
Señor
Contreras, why are you not sharing the evening with someone?” She glanced around the deck. “Where is Miss Wentworth?”

“She has taken to her room. The weather has made her irritable.”

She shook her head. “I hope she has overcome her bout with seasickness.”

“She has, thankfully.”

Mr. Summers turned away to leave, but Anton touched his arm. “Mr. Summers? Could I have a private word with you?” Anton looked at the man’s beautiful wife. “It will only take a moment, I assure you.”

Pink stained her cheeks again, and she nodded.

After they had taken a few steps away from the woman, Anton said in a low voice, “I need your help.”

The older man’s eyes widened.
“For what?”

“I need you to go to my cabin and get my
revolver from Miss Wentworth, then bring it to me as quickly as possible.”

Mr. Summer’s forehead creased.
“Whatever for?”

“I think I am about t
o be attacked.”

The other man’s fast intake of breath made him choke slightly.

Anton continued. “Please be discreet. I do not want these men to know that I am onto them.”

“Who—” Mr. Summers started to look around, but Anton tugged on his arm again.

“Please do not look now.” He waited for Mr. Summers’ attention before continuing. “A group of nine Spaniards are gathered over on your right. I do not think they will make a scene with this many people on deck, which is why I will remain up here for as long as I can. I need you to go to my room and get my revolver. Will you do this for me?”

Mr. Summers nodded.

“Take your wife back to your cabin first. She should not be involved.”