Free The Wedding Ransom by Geralyn Dawson Page A

to dress. “Could you reach the bottom?”
    “Easily. The water wasn’t twelve feet deep. It took some doing, but I finally found the knife. Actually, I don’t think the dagger was the entire reason he wanted me to dive. I got the feeling it might be a test of sorts.”
    The man was perceptive, she’d give him that. Gus had told her the path to the treasure required some diving. Obviously her grandfather had thought to put Malone through his paces while taking advantage of the opportunity to hunt for Papa Lucky’s lost weapon. Its retrieval would make her papas happy, she knew. Especially on the eve of the trip. Not long ago, Maggie had heard Lucky blame the cave-in that blocked easy access to the treasure on a turn of bad luck that began with the loss of the knife. “I know my grandfather appreciated your help.”
    He watched her expectantly. Maggie remained silent.
    A rustling in the bushes nearby caused a blue heron to take flight and she observed its ungainly effort to gain the air. That was when she finally spied the rowboat secured to the bank some thirty yards up the lake. “I’ll take care of the bottles for Papa Gus if you want to head back to the hotel,” she said, offering Rafe an encouraging smile.
    He shook his head. “We’d best stick together. No telling what that rustle was a minute ago. Maybe a bear, you think?”
    “It sounded more like a squirrel to me.”
    But Rafe Malone was not to be dissuaded. He followed her along the path toward the boat and stood beside her as she knelt, favoring her bad knee, atop a dusty rock beside the crate of empty bottles. Removing one, she dipped it into the lake. Air bubbled to the surface as water rushed into the container. When it was full she set it carefully inside the crate and grabbed another bottle. She filled three more before she found the nerve to ask, “So whom did you lie to, me or my grandfather?”
    Rafe sprawled beside her and plucked a cork from a small box inside the crate. “You mean about my family?”
    “Yes.”
    Taking one of the filled bottles, he inserted the cork with a firm slam of his fist. “Look, Maggie, the man misjudged his step and took a plunge in the lake. It embarrassed him. His pride was hurting. All I did was ease it a bit.”
    “That’s the only reason?”
    “Yeah.” He cocked his head and inquired, “What other reason could I have?”
    Maggie couldn’t imagine.
    She filled four more bottles with Lake Bliss water and wondered if it could be true. Had he lied to Papa Gus solely to spare her grandfather’s ego? Handing him a bottle to be corked, she lifted her gaze to his. Malone’s eyes glittered like sunshine on water and she stared mesmerized into the light.
    And Maggie believed him. Darned if she didn’t believe him. One little lie made her wonder if she hadn’t been too hard on the man. What was the old saying?
A lie told in kindness doesn’t count against you.
What Rafe Malone had done, what he’d said to Papa Gus,
had
been an act of kindness. In fact, it sounded just like something her grandfathers would do.
    The similarities between Rafe Malone and her papas struck Maggie like a fist. All five of them were rascals, rogues capable of charming peas from their pods. They were dangerous, adventurous, appealing men. Honest in their dishonesty. Honorable.
    My word is my most valuable possession.
    Maggie inhaled a deep breath. And Rafe Malone was kind, just like her papas. Was that why she was drawn to him? Had her grandfathers brought home a younger version of themselves?
    Was Rafe Malone Maggie’s kind of pirate?
    ~~~~~~~~~~
    “What do you mean, you don’t have a ship?” Five days after leaving Lake Bliss, the question exploded from Rafe’s mouth as his gaze settled on the impossibly small sailing vessel docked at the end of a Galveston pier. The forty-five-foot sloop bobbed gently in the muddy bay waters, the name
Buccaneer’s Bliss
a golden arch across its bow.
Bliss, ha. Nightmare was more like