The Spanish Outlaw Read online

  She patted his hand. “Of course, I trust you, Anton. I wouldn’t have come with you otherwise.”

  “Even if I practically kidnapped you?”

  She forced a laugh. “I’m quite certain you didn’t. I would have been able to get away from you sooner or later if I really wanted.”

  “I still worry about you.” He stroked her cheek.

  “I shall be fine, as soon as I am used to the turbulent waves. Until that time, I will be extremely moody.” She pushed her hand through the air. “Please, Anton. If you don’t mind, I wish to be alone right now.”

  “You have been like this a lot lately.”

  “I know. It’s the seasickness.”

  “Then I will seek out some real company. I hope you find something to entertain yourself for the weeks ahead.” Grumbling, he turned and left her side.

  Her heart dropped with each step he took away from her. Why didn’t he understand? Her seasickness had nothing to do with him. Did all men think about themselves and no other? Apparently.

  As soon as her bout with this sickness passed, she promised to be the headstrong detective in training she started out to be. Hopefully, that time would arrive shortly. Even she couldn’t stand her own sour mood.

  Although anger burned in her chest for Anton’s refusal to understand, foolishness rooted her to the spot. She stood alone and was somewhat shocked at his threat of seeking other companionship. Loneliness crept over her, and she didn’t like it one bit. Perhaps she was too hasty in asking Anton to leave.

  Would he want to find a woman and spend time with her? The thought twisted her heart. If he did, she didn’t know how she would be able to handle seeing him charm another woman.

  Putting aside her raging emotions, she strolled across the deck to the other side of the ship. Her homeland was no longer visible, and she remained trapped in a world of churning water. A horrific thought of falling into the sea passed through her mind, making her stomach clench again. She’d never learned to swim, and drowning wasn’t her idea of the perfect way to die.

  When her mother was still alive, the family went on a boat ride, and Vivian fell overboard. Although her mother bravely jumped in the cold water to save her, the nightmare of not being able to breathe stayed with her for quite some time. Never again did she want to feel so helpless.

  A windy gust ruffled her hair and chilled her cheeks. Pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, she wondered which was icier, the breeze coming off the ocean or the look in Anton’s eyes when he walked away.

  Several couples strolled across the deck. A few stood out among the others with the same golden tanned skin that made Anton beautiful. A sudden doubt troubled her. What if these strangers worked for his uncle? Her gaze shifted to another man. Could he be employed by Juanito Ballí, too?

  Grumbling, she chastised herself for letting Anton’s paranoia consume her. He thought every olive-skinned man was after him. She straightened her stance and snickered at Anton’s wild imagination. Why then did she keep checking over her shoulder?

  If Anton were guilty as she had first suspected, would he sail halfway across the world to prove his innocence? Nothing made sense anymore, and she hated doubting her own mind.

  She needed Mr. Pinkerton’s advice now more than ever. Then again, he would have never approved of what she did, either.

  From the corner of her eyes, a hooded, cloaked figure caught her attention. An older woman stood across the deck, her gaze fixed directly on Vivian. Most of the woman’s face remained shadowed because of her hood. Chills of the unknown rushed through Vivian, which had nothing to do with the weather. A few awkward minutes passed as each woman stared at the other. Vivian didn’t think she knew her, yet she was too far away to tell for certain.

  Finally, the woman tightened her cloak under her chin, quickly turned, and hurried away.

  How very strange. Definitely something Vivian should check into, but not now. It was too chilly up on deck today. The older woman didn’t have the dark skin like Anton’s heritage, so perhaps Vivian shouldn’t be concerned about her at all.

  Another gust of cool air whipped off the sea, blowing her skirt around her ankles, freezing her legs. She turned to flee to her room, but bumped into another passenger. When the man’s hands steadied her shoulders, she glanced into his face. The stranger stood very tall and handsome and, like Anton, appeared to be of Spanish origin. The man’s maturity showed in the streaks of silver that lightly tinted his black hair. Wrinkles decorated his olive skin around his eyes and mouth, and the thick mustache above his upper lip was as dark as a moonless night.

  “Oh, pardon me, Señorita,” he said, his Spanish accent richer than Anton’s. “Did I harm you?”

  She gave a nervous laugh before stepping back. “No. Forgive me for not seeing you, but the sudden nippy air turned my thoughts to getting back to my cabin for warmth.”

  Despite his good looks, when he smiled, he still didn’t hold a candle to Anton’s incredible perfection. Why did these kinds of thoughts about him continually forsake her vow to remain disinterested?

  “Is this your first trip?” he asked.

  “This is my first trip sailing this far from home. I have been on a smaller boat, but only for an hour, and not far from shore.”

  “Then you had better get used to these uncontrolled gusts of wind. Out here on the sea, one minute the sun will shine like a mid-summer’s day, and the next moment, clouds will fill the sky as if it is the middle of winter.”

  “Your warning is very much appreciated. I certainly feel better now.”

  He chuckled. “You packed warmly, did you not?”

  “I certainly hope so. I’d hate to think I’d be in my cabin for most of the voyage bundled in blankets. My stuffy room makes me more nauseous than out here in the open.”

  He glanced around the deck. When he snapped his gaze back to her, he smiled. “Are you here with your husband?”

  Without meaning to, she snorted a laugh, and then quickly corrected herself. The idea of she and Anton posing as a married couple was still very humorous. “Oh, no. I’m not married.”

  “But you do have an escort, I presume?”

  She shrugged. “Yes. He is my uncle. He will be escorting me until we reach Spain.” She glanced across the deck, but she couldn’t see Anton. Strange, because he’d talked so much of protecting her, yet where was he now? “I suppose he decided to go below.”

  Like a true gentleman, the stranger stepped back, straightened, and offered his elbow. “Then permit me to guide you back to you room, Señorita.”

  She wanted to distrust him. Obviously, this was something Anton would do. Gut feelings didn’t lie, and hers told her to beware. Then again, if this man knew anything about Anton’s uncle and the story Anton continued to tell her, why couldn’t she ask questions on her own? After all, she wanted to be a detective.

  She grinned. This was the perfect way to pass her time.

  With the firm decision in mind to dig deeper in her new amigo’s life, Vivian nodded to the stranger. “You must tell me your name first. I cannot allow you to take me to my cabin otherwise.”

  “My name is Raúl Zamora.” He bowed slightly.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Señor Zamora. I’m Miss Vivian Wentworth.” She slipped her hand in the crook of his arm. They walked side by side toward the stairs, heading for her cabin.

  “I would prefer it if you called me Raúl.”

  She smiled. “Then you must call me Vivian.”

  He nodded.

  “Are you traveling alone?” she inquired.

  “Sí.”

  “For what purpose, if you don’t mind me asking. Business or pleasure?”

  “I travel back and forth from my homeland, Spain, to the United States. I am in the trading business.”

  “How fascinating.” And it truly was. He would possibly know about Anton’s uncle and have information for her.

  “It is, and yet it is not. Rarely do I have someone accompany
me on my trips.” He patted her hand. “So, I always appreciate the opportunity to meet new people. It keeps me from going insane.”

  “I would like to get to know you. I find the trade business fascinating, and I’d like to learn more.”

  “Then, will you permit me to be your companion for the duration of the trip?”

  She cocked her head and studied his profile with a grin. Anton would have a few words to say about that. But, what if Raúl knew something about Anton’s uncle? The only way she would know is by getting to know this man better.

  “I will certainly have to think about it.”

  After realizing her journey to Spain wouldn’t be as awful as she’d first thought, her spirits lifted. Hopefully, with Raúl as her new amigo, he’d keep her mind off her sinfully handsome and overpowering protector.

  Yet, in the late hours of the night when she lay awake in bed, memories of Anton’s kisses would disrupt her thoughts once again—just as they’ve done so far this trip.

  She stretched her smile. “Shall we meet back up on deck after dinner?” Had she been too brazen? Would Raúl suspect she worked with Anton to get information?

  “I thought of inviting you to have dinner with me, instead.”

  Panic surged through her, and she breathed slowly to calm her fear. Strange, but she didn’t feel right being alone with him. So why hadn’t she felt this way with Anton?

  “As much as the idea is enticing, it would not be proper, and I need my uncle to be my guardian.”

  “Then bring him along.”

  She laughed. “You don’t know him as well as I. Moving a mountain might be easier than convincing him.”

  He chuckled. “So, dinner is out of the question?”

  “Yes, for now. Let me speak with him tonight. Perhaps he’ll be in better spirits this evening.”

  “That sounds wonderful.” He leaned near her ear. “Until the time when I can get you alone, that is.”

  She pulled back. “You shock me with your forwardness, sir.”

  “You do not seem to mind it overmuch.” He grinned, almost too smugly.

  Were all Spaniards arrogant or was that just their charm?

  They stopped in front of her door. “Thank you, Raúl, for your escort.”

  “Perhaps I will see you after dinner, up on the deck?”

  “Only if the weather permits.”

  He bowed slightly. “Then until later, Señorita.” He took her hand and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles before turning and walking away.

  Her smile widened. Anton would probably hate Raúl immediately, and not because he felt any kind of jealousy. No, Anton would be suspicious because Raúl was a Spaniard and wonder if the man worked for his uncle. She wouldn’t let Anton know that behind his back, she’d do a little detective work herself.

  Opening her wrist purse, she withdrew her room key and unlocked the door. Before closing the hard oak, she lit the lamp on the desk and quickly searched every corner to make certain she was safe. Anton’s fears kept her worried, more so than she’d been before. But, being cautious was good. He’d taught her that.

  She stepped inside and shut the door. After removing her shawl, she flung the black lace garment to the bottom of the bed and flopped on the mattress. Immediately, blankets on the floor where Anton slept drew her attention. He had insisted sharing a room. Now she realized it was a good thing to tell Raúl that Anton was her uncle. She could only imagine what the other passengers would think if they knew the truth.

  So far this trip, he acted the part of a gentleman and slept on the floor, giving her the semi-comfort of the lumpy mattress. But, it worried her that he’d try to change that arrangement.

  Keeping away from him had been easy thanks to her unsettled stomach. Each day she felt a little better, and soon there could be no excuses. She’d have to face her attraction for him, yet controlling her thoughts and actions were very important.

  From the nightstand, she picked up the book that had kept her entertained thus far on her trip. Thankfully, Anton had been alert when he thought to pack several novels while he readied for this voyage.

  With a sigh, she lowered the book to her lap and frowned. Anton’s distracting image crept onto each page. She had to admit some of his actions were thoughtful, and most of the time he looked out for her welfare and comfort. His charm and sweetness could not be overlooked.

  But she couldn’t let him control her mind. She hated that her body still weakened under his sultry gaze. She snapped to awareness and pounded her fist against the mattress. Curse those Spanish eyes for mesmerizing her every time she thought of him.

  When heavy footsteps sounded at her door, she jumped. The door flew open and hit the wall with a resounding crash. Anton stepped inside, his muscular frame filling the area perfectly. His eyes narrowed, his forehead creased.

  Her heart hammered wildly. What had she done now?

  Chapter Seven

  Anton’s chest heaved with quick breaths. Scanning the area, he searched for the man who’d accompanied Vivian to their room. Really, there wasn’t any place to hide in their cramped quarters, but he still checked every spot he could find to ease his worry. She sat on the bed with her feet on the blankets, a book in her hand, looking at him with wide eyes.

  No longer did she appear sick. Even the color had returned to her cheeks.

  “What’s with the grand entrance?” she snapped.

  She must have suspected his insecurities. He relaxed and calmly walked into the room, closing the door behind him.

  He held her stare. “Vivian? Who was that man with you?” He kept his voice steady even while unwanted emotions jumped in his chest.

  She cocked her head. “You saw me with a man?”

  The corner of his mouth tugged as he tried not to grin. “Do not play coy with me.” He moved to the side of the bed and sat by her legs. “I saw him escorting you down the stairs a few minutes ago.”

  “His name is Raúl Zamora.” She paused, but only for a moment before she gave an irritated chuckle. “You saw me with another man, and you thought the worst, correct? Especially when we headed in the direction of the cabin.”

  “Vivian, I did not think such a thing.”

  “Yes, you did.” She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Which is why you made such a grand entrance. You thought to catch us doing something improper.”

  “No, mí dulce.” He tried to keep his expression blank, hoping not to give away his true thoughts. “I worried you had taken up with a man you hardly knew.” He caressed her shoulder. “Because of our situation, we cannot trust anyone.”

  She swatted away his hand. “No, because of your situation, you cannot trust anyone. I, on the other hand, am free to trust who I may.”

  “But, if by chance, someone on the ship is watching me, they will know you are with me.”

  “Stop, Anton, please.” She closed her eyes as she kneaded her forehead. “Do you really think someone that evil is on the ship? You sneaked us out of my house without being spotted. We even left your townhouse in disguises.” She met his stare. “I don’t think anyone followed us, and I definitely don’t think anyone on this ship is watching you.”

  An invisible knife of distrust sliced through Anton’s heart once again, and he cursed the feeling. Although her words tried to convince him otherwise, the tone of her voice led him to believe she still questioned his innocence.

  Ever since meeting the very exciting Vivian Wentworth, he’d been experiencing a wounded ache in the middle of his chest, and he knew he had to control it before it engulfed his whole soul. It saddened him to think she would not believe—that he couldn’t make her understand about his dangerous uncle.

  He caressed a lock of her hair that had fallen across her brow. Silky, just as he remembered.

  “It hurts that you do not believe me, Vivian, but I will not stop trying to protect you. I know the truth, although you refuse to believe, so I will not relent. Only I know what despicable things my uncle will
do, which is why I cannot turn my back on you, nor him.”

  Scowling, she shook her head. “I don’t know why you think such things. I believe you, Anton. Why else would I be here with you now?”

  She wasn’t a good performer, but for some reason she wanted him to think otherwise. He’d continue to let her believe she had the upper hand.

  “Because I practically forced you to come.”

  “Please, Anton, no more.” She tried to move past him off the bed, but he circled his arms around her, holding her tight against him. Pain thickened in his chest, and he wished he could make the agony of caring for her disappear.

  “Oh, Vivian.” He kissed her forehead. “What can I do to make you trust me?”

  She didn’t answer. He didn’t expect her to. But, experiencing her softness pressed against him after seven very long days was his undoing. Fervor ignited in him and he didn’t want the powerful, exhilarating feeling to end.

  He trailed his lips from her brow down the side of her face, just content to feel her soft skin. His breathing grew heavy, and even through her stiffness, her quick breaths rose and fell against his neck.

  Threading his fingers through her hair, he loosened the tie holding it together and let it drop behind her on the bed. With her head tilted back, her gaze rested on him, but no longer was it hard with anger. Heated desire filled her bluish-gray eyes now.

  “Vivian,” he whispered. “You are so beautiful.” He placed a kiss on the tip of her perfectly shaped nose. “I do not know what would become of me if my uncle were to hurt you.” He pecked at her lips briefly. “If Juanito ever got hold of you, I would search the ends of the earth to tear you away from him. I would never give up until I had you in my arms, protected.”

  “Anton, please.” She gazed at him with so much tenderness.

  “Please what?” he asked.

  He waited for her to stop him, to halt this passionate moment as she’d done before. She lowered her gaze to his mouth and sighed. As if wanting him to kiss her, she closed her eyes. He would not refuse her silent request.