THE STRICT BRITISH BARRISTER: ACT ONE (14 page)

As much as he’d wanted the jog to settle him, the image of the man and his concern for Brittany prevented the long run around the ship’s track from being any benefit at all.

After he’d left her, Brittany had splashed water on her face, fighting back more tears. Duncan’s reasoning had made total sense; if she was so crazy about him after such a short time, there was no question she’d be in even deeper when the ship docked.

I got what I wanted, a scandalous shipboard romance, and I even found some answers. Now I understand why I don’t want to leave home. Maybe I can do it now…well…maybe. I do feel stronger, but dammit, why did I have to meet Mr. Perfect? Couldn’t I have met someone less perfect, someone easier to say goodbye to? Did it have to be James Fucking Bond?

Walking out on to her private deck, she’d dropped down on her deck chair and grimaced.

Duncan was right about something else as well. You’re used to getting what you want, and he may have convinced you separating at this point was right, but you’re not buying it, are you, Brittany?

She’d sighed a heavy sigh as her imp’s voice had spoken in her ear. Yes, she had bought it…momentarily. She’d listened and nodded and cried her understanding, and it had all been well and good, but her imp was right. She hadn’t bought it, not really, not one-hundred-percent.

I need to regroup. I need to catch my breath and see how I feel tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll have a different perspective, but right now two more days with him is better than no days with him, I don’t care what he says.

Closing her eyes she’d let the sun bake her body for a while, then realizing she’d been wearing no sunscreen she’d moved back inside. Too tired and pouty to change and socialize anywhere, she’d relaxed in a warm foamy bath, wrapped herself up in a robe, and began to flip through the television channels the ship provided.

Kate And William - The Untold Story.

The title flashed on the screen, and deciding a real-life romantic fairy tale would help her mood she settled in to watch.

It was interesting enough, with the narrator in a clipped British accent telling he story of how the couple had met at St. Andrews University in Scotland. William was tall and dashing, and Kate was almost as tall, and very attractive.

Deciding she wanted some wine, turning up the sound she ambled to the bar and found an unopened bottle of Cabernet, and continuing to listen to the narrative she searched out a corkscrew.

“Kate did not let the grass grow under her feet after the breakup, embarking on a social whirlwind of hi-profile parties, and clubbing around London. Kate and her sister were constantly photographed enjoying London’s nightlife, and Kate even dated some of William’s friends. It was this that apparently brought William to his senses, and it was only a matter of weeks before they were back together.”

Having splashed some wine in her glass, Brittany hurried back to the television set just in time to see photographs of the glamorous young woman in a miniskirt and boots exiting a club.

Hitting the pause button on the remote control she took a drink of her wine and began to ponder. If stepping out and strutting her stuff had won Kate Middleton the heir to the English throne, then surely it would work for her. She just didn’t have much time, and she needed to think fast.

Turning off the set she leaned back on the couch, and sipping the rich cabernet an idea began to take form.

“Of course, it’s so simple, that’s exactly what I’ll do,” she smiled, and jumping from the couch she hurried into her bedroom.

Sweating and panting from his jog, and sporting a heavy frown, Duncan turned down the corridor towards his cabin.

“I need a hot shower and a stiff drink,” he muttered, “then I’ll figure out a way to deliver a preemptive strike. I will not allow that man to harm a hair on her head. We may be keeping our distance, but that’s not going to stop me watching out for her until we dock.”

He been staring at the floor, digging into his pocket to retrieve his key, and as he lifted his gaze to put it into the lock, something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

He turned his head, and what he saw made him catch his breath, stand stock still, and stare in disbelief.

It was Brittany, dressed in a very short maroon skirt, an exceedingly low cut, pink shirt, and glossy white, high-heeled sandals. Her hair was hanging loosely around her shoulders, and she was wearing far more makeup than usual.

Good heavens, what is she playing at? She looks like a strumpet about to stand under a streetlamp.

“Brittany,” he called, striding forward.

“Duncan,” she smiled, turning to face him. “Wow, that must have been some jog.”

“Where are you off to?” he asked, ignoring her comment as his heavy frown grew heavier.

“I need some cheering up, so I thought I’d go into the Seven Seas for a drink,” she replied, her eyes shining up at him. “You’d think they’d come up with a more creative name for a ship’s bar than that, don’t you?”

“You look like you’ve already had a drink,” he remarked.

“Yeah, I guess I have, a drink or two,” she giggled. “Opened up a bottle of cab that’s been sitting around since I boarded. It wasn’t too bad. Helped take the edge off.”

“Are you sure this is wise? I mean, the way you’re dressed…”

“I’m being brave,” she giggled again. “Besides, I’m wearing a bra.”

“But if that chap happens to be around, I’m not sure-”

“You mean the surfer dude? Even if he is you don’t need to worry about it, I’m sure there’ll be a ton of other people there, but Duncan, I don’t want to hold you up. You go take your shower. I’ll see you later.”

Duncan stood helplessly by as she moved past him, and as he watched her walk away, her bottom pushing against the tight skirt, he felt his blood pressure rise; helpless was not something he did well.

Bloody hell, I’m sweating and totally disheveled, I can’t follow her like this?

Staring at her as she was about to turn the corner towards the elevator, it was more than he could stand.

“Brittany, wait, I’ll come with you.”

She paused, and slowly turned.

“I don’t understand,” she frowned. “I thought we were going to avoid each other.”

“Just give me five minutes, you can wait inside my cabin if you want, or-”

“No, it’s okay,” she called back, cutting him off. “You were right, it’s better this way,” and in a flash she was gone.

Grabbing his key he raced back to his door and slid it in the lock.

Brittany, you are asking for trouble, and I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.

As Brittany entered the elevator and pushed the button for the top floor, she broke into a very happy smile.

“That was easy. Thanks, Kate. I owe you one.”

D
uncan hurriedly jumped into the shower, and as he soaped himself his mind was racing.

Talk about timing, I can’t believe I ran into her, but thank goodness I did. What is she thinking, dressing up like that? Talk about a knee-jerk reaction. I know what she wants, she wants attention, she wants men to fawn over her and make her feel better. I understand that part, but why does she want to look like a tart while she’s doing it. She doesn’t need to advertise, she’s gorgeous with no makeup at all, and simple clothes.

Toweling off and dressing quickly, he ran a comb through his hair and headed out the door. Having no patience to wait for the elevator he took the stairs, striding them two at a time, but as he reached the upper deck and moved towards the bar he paused.

Slow down, you can’t just barge in there. You need to be cool, hang back, just watch over her. If she gets herself in trouble you can step in.

If? If? Dressed like that she’s bound to end up fighting off some lout.

She might not want to fight, the way she’s feeling.

Don’t even think about that.

The idea that Brittany would have a drunken dance between the sheets with some slobbering idiot made him shudder. Moving purposefully forward he reached the door, and opening it just a hair he peered inside.

He spotted her right away; she was perched on a bar stool, her skirt so far up her thighs she could have been wearing shorts.

Silly, silly girl. I’m so glad I ran into you when I did. What lucky timing that was.

He was about to push open the door when suddenly an odd feeling, almost a sense of déjà vu, made him stop and step back, and he frowned as a memory began to wash over him.

“I was watching through a crack in my door, I guess you could say I was staking you out.”

The realization came to him a flash.

“That wasn’t lucky timing, it was you. You’ve set me up again!” he muttered under his breath. “You were watching for me, you knew I’d come after you.”

Taking a deep breath he walked to the side of the deck and stared out at the infinite blackness.

“So, exactly what do I do about this?” he mumbled. “You really are a naughty, manipulative, Scarlet O’Hara, and unfortunately I give a damn.”

He sighed heavily, thinking about her sitting on the bar stool, inviting the attention of any man brave enough to approach her, and as he did another realization settled into him

“Yes, I do give a damn, more than a damn. I didn’t realize quite how much I care about you until right this minute.”

Leaning his elbows on the railing he pondered his choices.

I can march in there, throw you over my shoulder and carry you out. That would teach you a lesson. Not sure how much trouble I’d get into, but if I did it with a huge grin on my face I’d probably get away with it.

The idea appealed to him immensely, and he filed it away as a definite possibility.

I could stay out here, leave you in there to stew, and wait until you leave with someone. I’ll keep a safe distance and if they become too obnoxious, then I could march up and throw you over my shoulder. Hmmm, throwing you over my shoulder is increasingly appealing.

He began to chuckle at the thought of it, his immediate anger subsiding.

I could simply walk away. Let you handle your own pickle.

No, you can’t do that, and you know it.

I’m tempted.

But you can’t.

I know I can’t.

Strolling back to the door he took another quick peek. She was scanning the room, as if searching for someone.

Looking for me? No, I’m not there, not yet, and no sign of Mr. Surfer Dude either, that’s something at least.

As he closed the door and moved back to the railing he had another thought.

Two can play the same game, Brittany. I could wander in there, sit at the bar, and start chatting up another woman. Hmmm, maybe that’s the plan.

Still not satisfied he continued to stare out at the dark ocean, not willing to take any action until he was completely sure of it.

You’re perfectly safe where you are, and I can keep watch on the door in case you decide to leave. You can just sit at that bar and stew until I decide what to do. That in itself will teach you a lesson.

Duncan was right. Brittany was becoming increasingly agitated.

Where the hell are you? I was sure you’d come after me. Oh, no, it’s the creepy guy with the too short trousers coming back.

The young man had approached her when she’d first sat down, and though she’d refused his drink he’d remained next to her, attempting conversation. She’d finally been rude and he’d left, but she’d felt his eyes on her as she’d continued to wait for Duncan, sure her Knight In Shining Armor would appear at any moment. He’d scold her for wearing dreadful clothes, then he’d scold her for sitting at a bar by herself, then he’d whisk her back to his cabin for a sound spanking, but so far there’d been no sign of him.

Did I get this all wrong? Maybe I did, maybe I totally misread him, misread us. Maybe he doesn’t care for me after all.

“Hi, your date still hasn’t shown up,” the young man said, perching himself on the stool next to her.

“No, but he will, and when he does you don’t want to be sitting there. He can be very jealous.”

“Oooh,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m so scared.”

“Please just go away,” she snapped.

“Sure, but when you get bored and realize he’s not going to show, you’re welcome to join me. I’m not so bad once you get to know me.”

“I doubt that,” she muttered.

He sighed, stared at the back of the bar for a moment, then turning his head he leaned close, looking directly at her.

“You know something, you may be gorgeous, and you may be out of my league, but you don’t have to be so rude. Someone should spank some manners into you.”

Brittany was so shocked she couldn’t find her tongue, but she could feel the telltale blush crawling up her neck towards her face. He’d slid off his barstool and was walking away, but he paused, and moving back to her he added,

“And whoever that someone is, he should also tell you not to dress like a tramp. You’re beautiful, you don’t need to do that.”

“How dare you,” she spat, having had a few seconds to regroup.

“He’s right!”

Duncan’s voice growled over her right shoulder, and spinning around she stared up into his puzzled eyes.

“I know I am,” the young man declared, happy to have received backup from such a debonaire stranger, “but thanks for saying so. Hi, I’m Edgar Burns. I guess, uh, you’re her date…uh… so…”

“Duncan Rhys-Davies,” Duncan said quickly, his manners dictating he return the introduction, “and no, I’m not her date, but I would like a private word with her, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, yes,” Edgar replied, suddenly feeling awkward. “I’ll just…uh…go away.”

“Duncan,” she breathed, “why are you so upset?”

“As I just told him, I’m not your date, I’m just someone you like to play games with.”

“That’s not true,” she replied urgently, “it’s not.”

“I didn’t know what to do about your little act, Brittany, but I-”

“Act?” she interrupted.

“I have to admit,” he continued, ignoring her interruption, “you did succeed in making me realize two very important things, and if you want to hear about them you can come back to my cabin,” he finished, and turning on his heel he moved quickly away.