overseas. Moira took a deep breath, smelling the brine of the wash beneath them and a hint of … pipe smoke. She turned and looked over her shoulder.
“You might have announced your presence, Mr. Adams,” she said with a haughty sniff. The enigmatic man she’d been introduced to that morning was sitting under the small roof of the cabins, atop a crate.
“I might’ve,” he allowed. His eyes steadily met hers. “But you seemed as intent as I for a moment alone. Figured you’d move on soon enough.”
She lifted her chin and resumed her moody stare out to sea. He wouldn’t chase her away, despite his rude behavior. She had as much right to be here as he.
“Beg your pardon, Miss St. Clair,” he said, suddenly beside her at the rail. He looked down at her out of sad, dark brown eyes and she noticed for the first time how frightfully handsome he was. Not with the dapper, smooth looks of Gavin Knapp—a businessman who had caught her eye and flirted with her mercilessly—but with the rugged strength of a man used to hard work. There was something of him that reminded her of Bryce, her brother-in-law, but he was taller, broader. Wide at the shoulder, narrow at the waist. His black hair had a wide curl to it, so it framed his handsome face with waves. Strong chin, nice nose. But it was his eyes … they had an intensity to them she hadn’t encountered before. Dark pools that seemed to capture and hold a woman.
“Miss St. Clair?”
Moira started and focused more clearly on his eyes, embarrassed to be caught in reverie. Had he said something else? She felt the slow burn of embarrassment crawl up her neck. He pulled his head to the right, nodding toward the crate. “Please. Take your ease there. You’ll be shielded from the wind.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” she protested. “You were first to stake your claim,” she said, shooting him a flirtatious smile. “And I’m no claim jumper.”
He didn’t smile back. “Please,” he said, gesturing toward the crate with his head.
“Well, then, if you insist,” she said. She moved forward to the crate, then once there, hesitated. “It’s most kind.”
“Here,” he said softly, reaching out to take hold of her small waist and easily lifting her to a seated position atop it. He was right; here the wind was practically nonexistent. She shifted to the right a few inches and after a second’s hesitation gestured to the spot beside her in weak invitation.
He stared at her, his big brown eyes searching hers. “You do me an honor with your invitation, Miss, but I’m about to head in.” Again, he gestured with a wave of his head behind him. He hesitated. “You’ll be all right, on your own?”
“Well of course, Mr. Adams,” she sniffed, feeling the burn of irritation now. “I am no young twit.” No man had ever turned down an offer from her! Who was he to do such a thing?
“Good,” he said softly, and moved away, out of sight within a few long, easy strides.
Moira only sat there for a few minutes longer, her mind embroiled in unraveling the mysterious Mr. Adams. Who was he? He wore no wedding ring; perhaps he had a girl waiting for him back in the States. That was it. That explained him turning away from her; he was simply honorable. She lifted a hand to her forehead and chastised herself for her idle imaginings. What did she care, really? The last thing she needed at this moment was another man in her life. She needed to concentrate on her career, her future. Men had brought her nothing but heartache and trouble.
But her eyes lingered on the empty area that Mr. Adams had so recently occupied. Something told her that his reasoning wasn’t as simple was a girl at home. And why did she keep thinking about his big sad eyes? She much preferred to think of Gavin Knapp and his bright, blue eyes, glinting with mischief. She smiled. Yes, that man was far more exciting …
Moira arrived at the captain’s table that night dressed in one of her finest
“You might have announced your presence, Mr. Adams,” she said with a haughty sniff. The enigmatic man she’d been introduced to that morning was sitting under the small roof of the cabins, atop a crate.
“I might’ve,” he allowed. His eyes steadily met hers. “But you seemed as intent as I for a moment alone. Figured you’d move on soon enough.”
She lifted her chin and resumed her moody stare out to sea. He wouldn’t chase her away, despite his rude behavior. She had as much right to be here as he.
“Beg your pardon, Miss St. Clair,” he said, suddenly beside her at the rail. He looked down at her out of sad, dark brown eyes and she noticed for the first time how frightfully handsome he was. Not with the dapper, smooth looks of Gavin Knapp—a businessman who had caught her eye and flirted with her mercilessly—but with the rugged strength of a man used to hard work. There was something of him that reminded her of Bryce, her brother-in-law, but he was taller, broader. Wide at the shoulder, narrow at the waist. His black hair had a wide curl to it, so it framed his handsome face with waves. Strong chin, nice nose. But it was his eyes … they had an intensity to them she hadn’t encountered before. Dark pools that seemed to capture and hold a woman.
“Miss St. Clair?”
Moira started and focused more clearly on his eyes, embarrassed to be caught in reverie. Had he said something else? She felt the slow burn of embarrassment crawl up her neck. He pulled his head to the right, nodding toward the crate. “Please. Take your ease there. You’ll be shielded from the wind.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” she protested. “You were first to stake your claim,” she said, shooting him a flirtatious smile. “And I’m no claim jumper.”
He didn’t smile back. “Please,” he said, gesturing toward the crate with his head.
“Well, then, if you insist,” she said. She moved forward to the crate, then once there, hesitated. “It’s most kind.”
“Here,” he said softly, reaching out to take hold of her small waist and easily lifting her to a seated position atop it. He was right; here the wind was practically nonexistent. She shifted to the right a few inches and after a second’s hesitation gestured to the spot beside her in weak invitation.
He stared at her, his big brown eyes searching hers. “You do me an honor with your invitation, Miss, but I’m about to head in.” Again, he gestured with a wave of his head behind him. He hesitated. “You’ll be all right, on your own?”
“Well of course, Mr. Adams,” she sniffed, feeling the burn of irritation now. “I am no young twit.” No man had ever turned down an offer from her! Who was he to do such a thing?
“Good,” he said softly, and moved away, out of sight within a few long, easy strides.
Moira only sat there for a few minutes longer, her mind embroiled in unraveling the mysterious Mr. Adams. Who was he? He wore no wedding ring; perhaps he had a girl waiting for him back in the States. That was it. That explained him turning away from her; he was simply honorable. She lifted a hand to her forehead and chastised herself for her idle imaginings. What did she care, really? The last thing she needed at this moment was another man in her life. She needed to concentrate on her career, her future. Men had brought her nothing but heartache and trouble.
But her eyes lingered on the empty area that Mr. Adams had so recently occupied. Something told her that his reasoning wasn’t as simple was a girl at home. And why did she keep thinking about his big sad eyes? She much preferred to think of Gavin Knapp and his bright, blue eyes, glinting with mischief. She smiled. Yes, that man was far more exciting …
Moira arrived at the captain’s table that night dressed in one of her finest
Similar Books
