Mystic Memories by Gillian Doyle, Susan Leslie Liepitz Page A

Instinctively, his arms went around her, pulling her up against him. Despite the layers of garments covering her feminine curves, she elicited an instant response in the lower regions of his own body. He was attracted to her, of that there was no doubt.
    “I’m so sorry. My right foot went to sleep.” With her palms resting on his chest, she looked up with an apologetic shrug.
    A man could lose himself in the dark depths of her velvet-brown eyes. A weaker man than himself, he thought, determined to keep a level head while around her.
    “It should be okay in a minute.”
    “It is better to walk it off.” He shifted her to his side, supporting her weight with his left arm bracketed around her waist. When she hobbled unsteadily, he tightened his grip, damning the blood warming in his veins. This was not a wench who was teasing his body with her caresses.
    Little by little, she straightened her spine and her step grew surer. “I think I can go it alone now.”
    Must you? Surprised and relieved that he had not asked the question aloud, he lowered his hand to his side. “Yes, of course. How is that?”
    “Fine, thank you.” She gathered the wool blanket around her shoulders, pinning it together at her chest with one fist. “You said you wanted to talk? Your men didn’t find my bag, did they?’ ’
    “No, but that is not why I asked to speak to you. It is a matter of your company aboard the Valiant .” He felt obligated to see to her safety, perhaps now more than ever. Even his own men could not be trusted. Could he ? In the twenty-four months they had been away from their home port, the only females available to the sailors were Indian women whose husbands brought them down to the beaches and shared in their profits.
    His long pause drew a soft “Ahem” from the widow, reminding him he was not alone with his thoughts.
    Realizing she had been patiently waiting for him to continue, he grew uncomfortable in the awareness that this strange woman had caused all kinds of addled thinking in the brief time he had known her. What effect would she have on him as more time passed?
    “I must warn you,” he began again, “your presence on board may be awkward, at best. Some sailors believe it is bad luck to have a female on their ship. When they learn you were a stowaway on the Mystic , they may blame you for its disastrous end.”
    “Do you believe such nonsense?” she asked, locking his eyes in her straightforward gaze.
    “I believe,” he said gruffly, “there is no such thing as bad luck where a lady is concerned. However, my opinion hardly changes the fact that it would be better if you did not show yourself on deck during the voyage.”
    “Do you mean I must hide in the hull?”
    “No.” He smiled faintly at the idea of locking her away as if in a dungeon. “You will be given suitable accommodations, comfortable for the short duration of two days and nights.”
    “Before I am confined to my quarters, would it be asking too much if I could interview—that is, talk to—the two crewmen of the Mystic ?”
    “Regarding your son, I assume.”
    “Yes.”
    “I will talk to them.”
    “I’d rather do it myself, if you don’t mind.”
    “I do mind, Mrs. Edwards. Those men would not trust you enough to speak one word to you. It would be best if you leave the questions to me.”
    “It looks like I’m expected to leave everything to you,” she muttered.
    “Precisely. I’m glad you see my point.”
    “The only thing I see is that I’m pretty much at your mercy.”
    “Or the mercy of this beautiful but brutal foreign wasteland.” He gestured with a sweep of his arm at the desolate scenery. “The nearest civilized town—if it could be called civilized—is Pueblo de los Angeles , which is thirty miles distant. You may take your chances here, madam, or come with me and follow my orders. Which do you choose?”
    The woman narrowed her eyes as she gazed eastward from the hill on which they stood. The gentle