Patricia Potter by Rainbow Page A

her artist’s eyes appreciating the designs it created in the wake. Tomorrow, she would be home. There was some safety there, but little pleasure. Her brother would start nagging her again about marriage, and she and her tight-lipped sister-in-law would exchange insincere pleasantries.
    “Your aunt said you were ill! I came to offer my assistance, to see whether my cook could prepare some broth, perhaps.”
    The voice, which had all the warm allure of soft running honey, immediately made her insides churn as fiercely as the water.
    Drat her aunt. She had told Opal to merely say she was tired. “I needed some air,” she said guardedly, not turning to face the man.
    “I thought you might be avoiding me.”
    “Ah Captain, such arrogance. Why on earth should I bother doing that?”
    “I’ll be damned if I know,” he said, mischief in his words.
    Meredith didn’t dare look at him, knowing that deviltry twisted those lips as well as raised one dark brow.
    But she couldn’t hide for long. Gloved fingers, strong persistent fingers, caught her chin and turned it upward until she was forced to look straight into bottomless indigo eyes.
    Meredith twisted away. “You forget yourself, Captain,” she said furiously.
    “I felt it my duty, my gentlemanly duty, to see that you were all right.” The emphasis on the word, gentlemanly, rendered her speechless. So he had caught her meaning the other night. She licked her lips nervously. The drawl in his voice was exaggerated, as if he were baiting her. But, dear God, it would lure a wild thing to eat from his hand.
    “Consider your duty done then,” she finally snapped, trying to prick the spell he was weaving.
    “I had another purpose,” he said softly.
    Meredith turned and looked at him. “And what might that be?”
    “I want to purchase your girl.”
    Nothing he said could have surprised her more. As if she would sell anyone, much less to him. She had seen his own servant’s mistreatment. And why would he want someone as pretty as Daphne? There could only be one reason. Distaste, deep and repugnant, swamped her. Distaste and a bitter disappointment that was like a kick to her stomach.
    “No,” she said flatly.
    “I’ll pay a good price.”
    A lump settled in Meredith’s throat, one she hated to acknowledge. She had discovered that he had become a rascal, an immoral gambler and scoundrel, but even then she had not expected this. Outrage, however, would not fit the Meredith Seaton he knew.
    “Oh la, Captain, Daphne’s the only maid who’s ever been able to dress my hair correctly.” She giggled, touched one of the abominable curls and coquettishly batted her eyelashes. “I just couldn’t sell her.”
    She saw Devereux’s eyes run over the mass of sausage curls and wince, and she felt a confusing mixture of satisfaction and regret. As she wondered at the contradiction, he moved closer, and she could smell the rich scent of sandalwood and bay.
    She backed up.
    Devereux considered her retreat. The last pink glow of the sunset caught the cream of her cheeks. She had not bothered with the layers of paint he had seen her wear at dinner the first night and in subsequent days, and her skin had the luster of pearls. Her eyes, dark brown with golden lights, now looked speculative, even angry, instead of vacant. He regarded her hair, and wondered how the mess could be the same flowing mane he had glimpsed at dawn several days earlier. Without thinking, he reached out for a tightly wound curl and extracted one of the pins, letting a long silky strand of gold fall around her face.
    “She does you a severe injustice,” he said slowly. “You should definitely sell.”
    Devereux’s gloved hand touched her cheek and even through the fine leather, Meredith felt the spot burn as if branded. She couldn’t move, mesmerized by his voice, by his closeness, by his touch.
    By his wickedness.
    Meredith summoned every bit of control she had learned over the past years, straightening