To Seduce a Rogue (46 page)

Scratch the tar and feather idea. Too easy to visualize the mob of women, plucking feathers and pinching Tanner’s tarred behind. She punched the pillow, clenched her fist tighter, and punched again.

And his face, still so handsome that when she’d gotten her first good look—light from the carriage window spilling over him, making him appear innocent and golden—a breath of air, thick as cotton, almost choked her.

Even the greenish cast to his skin could not alter such undiluted beauty.

Kate flung the pillow to the floor and drew her knees to her chest. Breathing in the scent of lemon verbena, she let her gaze rove the room. Faded doilies and somber furniture hemmed her in.

Oh, and the colorless prospect of marrying a man she did not love.

A debacle she’d fumbled once before, maladroitly, but with a sincere measure of naiveté. Why,
why
, did the same man seem to be once again standing in her way?

* * *

“Sweetheart, tell me you didn’t.” Charlotte Chase pressed her lips to her husband’s shoulder and snuggled against him. The teasing scent of leather drifted from his skin. He released an exasperated groan, but slid his hand from her knee to her waist, drawing her in. She smiled. Perhaps, this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. “You’ve been busy writing the feature on”—she kissed his chin— “Harriet Beecher Stowe and” —the corner of his mouth— “with the amount of work here, I figured—”

“You figured you’d stick you nose in Miss Peters’ business,” Adam said, disgust lacing his words.

She sighed. “If you must state your case so bluntly, I suppose, yes.”

“Oh, Charlie.”

“Oh, Charlie, nothing. This will keep Kate occupied while she’s here. The project interested her. Besides, September was the last time you tabulated our subscription accounts. Heavens, she’s a bookkeeper in Richmond, perfectly qualified to review our records. A bookkeeper when she can find work.”

“I hear the edge. Another crusade for the independent woman?”

“No, but” —she tapped her fingernail against his chest— “you should have seen her mother’s face when I suggested it. Mrs. Peters is as likely to approve as she is to sprout wings and fly to the moon. Plus, I like Kate. She has spirit.”
She shook my hand when she met me
.

“Wait until Mrs. Peters realizes Tanner is in town. They’ll hear her shrieking on her flight to the moon.”

Charlie popped up on her elbow. “Kate and Tanner? What is this?”

“I came across them clawing at each other by the stagecoach. Pretty obvious something was going on. No woman would be that angry unless emotions were bubbling beneath the surface.”

“Did you get any information out of him?”

“Christ, Charlie.”

“
Adam Jared Chase
.” She jabbed him in the chest.

“All right, all right, get that bony nub away from me.” He captured her hand. “Tanner said they knew each other before, something about a newspaper article. He lied to her, tried to explain things, I guess. Hell, the man seemed ready to pitch to the floor. I didn’t ask anything else.”

“And, you waited this long to tell me?”

“Yes, I waited. I wanted to avoid some harebrained scheme. Like this one. Tanner just happens to stop by the office to write an editorial and who is there but Kate Peters. Doing the subscription accounts for the newspaper, my ass.”

Mercy, he understands me well, Charlie thought, and plopped to her side, the bed ropes squeaking in protest. “She has quite a mathematical mind. Even Mrs. Peters said so, and she wasn’t giving praise. Intelligent
and
beautiful. What more could the woman want in a daughter?”

“Yeah, well, what do you expect from that old crow? I guess Kate told you about Tanner?”

Charlie grinned. “Not exactly. I mentioned we had a guest for the holidays she might enjoy meeting. Both unmarried, attractive. I thought I would give it a go.” She ignored her husband’s amused snort. “Anyway, Kate said she had no wish to associate with Tanner Barkley, thank you very much. And, I never even mentioned his name to her!”

Adam sighed. “Please, Charlie, no more projects.”

“I don’t think Kate Peters needs my help. She seems to have a mind of her own.” And, lovely eyes filled with anguish.

Adam stiffened. “You didn’t invite her to your damned tree-decorating party did you? I already told Tanner about—”

“Of course, I invited her. I hate these things, even my own. Hellfire. Kate may throw a few sparks in and brighten this one a little.”

“Charlotte Chase, are you trying to kill me before I make it to thirty-four?”

“What’s wrong with helping two lonely people find love?”

“Didn’t seem like love to me, seemed like a bad case of hate.” He laughed and pressed a kiss to her brow. “True love? Tanner Barkley and Katherine Peters? Sweetheart, I think you’ve lost what’s left of your mind.”

* * * * * *

Interested in the Seaswept Seduction Series? Read an excerpt from Zach’s story,
Tides of Passion
!

One

North Carolina, 1898

Savannah knew she was in trouble a split second before he reached her.

Perhaps she should have saved herself the embarrassment of a tussle with the town constable, a man determined to believe the worst of her.

However, running from a challenge wasn’t her way.

She laughed, appalled to realize it wasn’t fear that had her contemplating slipping off the rickety crate and into the budding crowd gathered outside the oyster factory.

No, her distress was due to nothing more than Constable Garrett’s lack of proper
clothing
.

In a manner typical of the coastal community she had temporarily settled in, his shirt lay open nearly to his
waist
. She couldn’t help but watch the ragged shirttail flick his lean stomach as he advanced on her. Tall, broad-shouldered and lean-hipped, his physique belied his composed expression. Yet Savannah detected a faint edge of anger pulsing beneath the calm façade, one she wanted to deny sent her heart racing.

Wanted
...but could not.

Flinging her fist into the air, she stared him down as she shouted, “Fight for your rights, women of Pilot Isle!”

The roar of the crowd, men in discord, women in glorious agreement, eclipsed her next call to action.
There
, she thought, pleased to see Zachariah Garrett’s long-lashed gray eyes narrow, his golden skin pulling tight in a frown. Again she shook her fist, and the crowd bellowed.

One man ripped the sign Savannah had hung from the warehouse wall to pieces and fed it to the flames shooting from a nearby barrel. Another began channeling the group of protesting women away from the entrance. Many looked at her with proud smiles on their faces or raised a hand as they passed. They felt the pulse thrumming through the air, the energy.

There was no power like the power of a crowd.

Standing on a wobbly crate on a dock alongside the ocean, Savannah let the madness rush over her, sure, completely sure to the depths of her soul, that
this
was worth her often forlorn existence. Change was good. Change was necessary. And while she was here, she would make sure Pilot Isle saw its fair share.

“That’s it for the show, Miss Connor,” Zachariah Garrett said, wrapping his arm around her waist and yanking her from the crate as people swarmed past. “You’ve done nothing but cause trouble since you got here, and personally, I’ve about had it.”

“I’m sorry, Constable, but that’s the purpose of my profession!”

He set her on her feet none too gently and whispered in her ear, “Not in my town it isn’t.”

As she prepared to argue—Savannah was
always
prepared to argue—a violent shove forced her to her knees. Sucking in a painful gasp, she scrambled between the constable’s long legs and behind a water cask. Dropping to a sit, she brushed a bead of perspiration from her brow and wondered what the inside of Pilot Isle’s jail was going to look like.

Fatigue returned, along with the first flicker of doubt she had experienced in many a month. Resting her cheek on her knee, she let the sound of waves slapping the wharf calm her, the fierce breeze rolling off the sea cool her skin. Her family had lived on the coast for a summer when she was a child. It was one of the last times she remembered being truly happy.

Or loved.

Blessed God, how long ago that seemed now.

That was how Zach found her. Crouched behind a stinking fish barrel, dark hair a sodden mess hanging down her back, her dress—one that cost a pretty penny, he would bet—ripped and stained. She looked young at that moment, younger than he knew her to be. And harmless.

Which was as far from the truth as it got.

He shoved aside the sympathetic twinge, determined not to let his role as a father cloud every damned judgment he made. Due to this woman’s meddling, his town folk pulsed like an angry wound behind him, the ringing of the ferry bell not doing a blessed thing to quiet a soul. All he could do was stare at the instigator huddling on a section of grimy planks and question how one uppity woman could stir people up like she’d taken a stick to their rear ends.

No wonder she was a successful social reformer up north. She was as good at causing trouble as any person he’d ever seen.

“Get up,” Zach said, nudging her ankle with his boot. A slim, delicate-looking ankle.

He didn’t like her, this sassy, liberating
rabble-rouser
, but he was a man, and he had to admit she was put together nicely.

She lifted her head, blinking, seeming to pull herself from a distant place. A halo of shiny curls brushed her jaw, and as she tilted her head up, he got his first close look at her. A fine-boned face, the expression on it soft, almost dreamy.

Boy, the softness didn’t last long.

Jamming her lips together, her cheeks plumped with a frown. Oh yeah, that was the look he’d been expecting.

“Good day, Constable,” she said. Just like that, as if he should be offering a cordial greeting with a small war going on behind them.

“Miss Connor, this way if you please.”

She rose with all the dignity of a queen, shook out her skirts, and brushed dirt from one sleeve. He counted to ten and back, unruffled, good at hiding his impatience. What being the lone parent of a rambunctious little boy would do for a man.

Just when he reached ten for the second time and opened his mouth to order her along, a misplaced swing caught him in the side and he stumbled forward, grasping Savannah’s shoulders to keep from crashing into her. Motion ceased when she thumped the wall of the warehouse, her head coming up fast, her eyes wide and alarmed.

And very, very green.

He felt the heat of her skin through the thin material of her dress; her muscles jumped beneath his palms. Her gaze dropped to his chest, and a soft glow lit her cheeks. Blushing... something he wouldn’t have expected from
this
woman.

Nevertheless, he stared, wondering why they both seemed frozen.

Zach was frozen because he’d forgotten what it felt like to touch a woman. How soft and round and warm they were. How they dabbed perfume in secret places and smiled teasing smiles and flicked those colorful little fans in your face, never
really
realizing what all that nonsense did to a man’s equilibrium.