Free Scent of Triumph by Jan Moran Page B

brass railing, his black dinner jacket flapping in the breeze, his starched white shirt open at the collar. “An’ a fine night ‘tis, too. Fit for the saints in heaven, it ‘tis. All the world should be at peace.”
    Max raised his eyebrows.
    Jon jerked his head toward a whiskey bottle in Cameron’s hand. “There’s your answer.” He knew Cameron sometimes got out of hand with the booze, but usually he managed to cut him off early. Unfortunately, he hadn’t realized Cameron had brought his own bottle tonight. “Let’s get him inside.”
    Max placed his hand on Cameron’s shoulder. “Cameron, we should join the ladies downstairs. I know Danielle would love to say hello.”
    Cameron glared at Max’s hand, then gave him a sarcastic grin. “The fair Danielle, the beauty with the cinnamon hair. What a lucky man y’are, Max. Far too lucky fer y’own good, I’d say.” As he spoke, he refilled his tumbler, pouring Irish whiskey to the brim.
    Jon’s hair on his neck stood at the mention of Danielle. Sensing trouble, Jon started toward him. “Cam, old boy, don’t you think you’ve had enough?”
    Cameron shot him a wicked grin, then turned back to Max. “Jon and I been talkin’ about Danielle. Sure an’ she’s just the type o’ woman I’d like to know better.”
    Jon stared at him in shocked silence.
How dare him!
He shot a look at Max, who seemed unruffled.
His gut tightened with anger, but Max remained composed.
    Cameron held his drink high and the night wind whipped his black hair from his flushed face. “Here’s to the fair Danielle, let’s drink to her. To the most gorgeous woman, and the damned luckiest man aroun’.” He saluted Max and drank his entire whiskey, then crashed the glass against the brass railing. “I christen this ship
The Danielle
.”
    Max lifted his glass. “To Danielle.”
    Now there’s a gentleman
, Jon thought, though a pained expression spread across Max’s aristocratic face. Shame blazed on the back of Jon’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to Max. “Cam’s smashed. I didn’t realize he’d gotten so bloody sodded. He was fine an hour ago.”
    “Jon, I heard that,” Cameron said. “C’mon, be a sport. The good Max doesn’t mind, d’you Max? Why, I bet he might even be willing to share the lil’ lady with a few good friends, for the right sort o’ trade, I mean.” He waved the whiskey bottle toward Max. “Marriage can get mighty dull, I can tell you that. One woman, day in, day out. Bor-rrr-ing.” He winked at Max. “I could introduce you to some starlets, then we could—”
    “That’s quite enough,” Jon sputtered, incensed.
If she were mine, I would not stand idly while Cam sullied her reputation.
“You’re insulting Max.”
    Cameron gave a snort. “C’mon, Max, you goin’ to keep her to yerself?”
    Max stared straight ahead, obviously trying to ignore Cameron.
    “That’s it.” Jon set his mouth in a grim line, his gut tightening another notch. He would not allow Cam to talk about Danielle like that. He stood a half a head taller than Cameron, and was well-built from years of sailing. He took advantage of his position, grabbing Cameron by the left arm. “Time to go, Cam. Max, take the bottle.”
    Cameron lashed out at Jon with his right fist, but Jon ducked his punch with ease. Whiskey sloshed across Jon’s face from the open bottle before Max snatched it from Cameron.
    “Come on, sailor.” Jon wiped alcohol from his stinging eyes, then deftly wrapped Cameron’s arms behind him and dragged him from the balcony. Though Cameron tried to give fight, Jon easily overcame his objections. He’d had plenty of experience quelling drunken sailors.
    Downstairs, Abigail and Danielle could hear the scuffle. Minutes later, Max appeared at the living room entry, his face a deep crimson red.
    Danielle glanced up. “Hello, darling. I hope everything is all right up there. Where are the others?”
    “Cameron is just leaving. Under the weather,