Alanna (When Hearts Dare Series Book 2) by Kathleen Bittner Roth Page B

and checked the time. Too soon for Thompson to return from meeting with the Malones. “Door’s not locked. Come on in.” He went back to studying the beads.
    Another harsh knock and irritation bloomed. He set the magnifying glass aside and reached for the small bag, but the pounding continued. “Christ Almighty!” He threw the pouch aside and made for the door, still clutching the beads.
    “Mrs. Malone?” He stepped aside as the portly woman marched past him. She halted in the center of the room, her back to him, and leaned on the parasol she’d used to hammer on the door, her chin shoved so high, her back arched.
    “Do come in,” he remarked, unable to resist a bit of a bow. Closing the door with purposeful calm, he stepped over to the woman and made certain his manner was easy, nonthreatening. “Care for a chair, something to drink?”
    “I won’t be staying.” Her voice was shrill, her eyes hard as pebbles.
    He strolled back to the fireplace and leaned his shoulder into its high, carved mantel, forcing her to turn his way. He tilted his head and made certain his lashes shadowed the distrust in his eyes. “You have something you would like to say to me before you get back to the meeting with the captain and your husband?”
    The woman’s chest expanded with the intake of her mighty breath. “I want you to stay away from my daughter.”
    “Not a problem.” He waited. No change in stance, no change of expression.
    “You heard me, Mr. Wolf.” With the raising of her voice, she took an aggressive step forward, her knuckles white where she gripped her parasol.
    Could any woman appear more ridiculous? She reminded him of a giant bumblebee in her outlandish black and yellow sideways-striped frock and matching hat. The companion parasol—her stinger—she’d treated as a lance. In some strange way, compassion for the blustering woman rolled through him. While her every movement, every word, was intended to reject, bully and threaten, he saw her belligerence only as a great weakness.
    He spoke softly, in a slow, deliberate tone. “You are afraid of me, Mrs. Malone. How is that? I have been more than courteous to you and your family. I have barely spoken to your daughter. To be truthful, I doubt she would recognize me in the street should we meet after this sailing.” Now, wasn’t that a lie?
    He leaned forward, as if to step away from the fireplace.
    She jumped back.
    He returned to leaning his shoulder against the mantel and folded his arms over his chest to give her more space. “What’s gone on to cause you to feel so threatened by me?”
    The woman turned her back to him, crossed over to a porthole, and stared out. She stood as far from him as possible without leaving the room entirely.
    “My daughter is engaged to be married. To a wonderful family . . . er . . . man. We do not want your interference.”
    “You do not have my interference, madam.”
    What seemed an interminably long period of silence followed, but in fact, only seconds had passed, according to the mantel clock’s soft ticking. “What makes you think I am interfering with your daughter’s life?”
    She turned to face him. He caught the slight quivering of the hem of her garment. Once again, he could sense the onset of a maddening confusion within her. And he knew why. He’d made certain she could not pinpoint some one thing , anything to toss in his face.
    Her lips moved briefly before she sputtered. “Surely, if you hadn’t practically saved our lives with your treatment for seasickness, Mr. Malone would be on my side in a flash. He would see you for the man you truly are.”
    Wolf should have been amused, but shards of ice formed in his gut. “And what kind of man am I?”
    “You . . . you . . . you are not fit for my daughter.”
    Despite his growing disgust, he couldn’t help himself. “You do not know me, or my circumstances. By what measure have you come to judge me so harshly?”
    “By . . . by your very own words,