Free Savannah Heat by Kat Martin Page B

deck, she started a conversation. As a gentlemen—no matter how questionable that might be—he was duty-bound to reply with at least some measure of civility. Once he asked about her mother. Apparently he had heard rumors of her death years after it had happened. Silver only confirmed the news, unwilling to discuss her family more than she had to.
    She worked hard to be open and friendly, smiled a lot—although that wasn’t something that came easy for her—and watched him through her thick dark lashes in a manner that she hoped might at the very least stir his interest.
    “Did you order this beautiful weather just for me, Major?” She walked up to where he stood at the rail, a booted foot propped on a ratline, his shirtsleeves billowing in the wind. Wavy dark blond hair curled loosely above his collar.
    Morgan clenched his jaw. Where the hell had shecome from? It seemed every time he looked up, Silver Jones was standing there beside him, smiling and looking at him with a pair of warm brown eyes that looked decidedly doelike, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders and so pale it did indeed look like silver. “If we’re lucky,” he replied with a sour note, “we’ll get fair weather all the way to Katonga.”
    That wiped her smile away—and good riddance, Morgan thought. If she’d been beautiful before, sullen and angry, shouting and throwing things, she looked incredible when she smiled like that or gazed at him so sweetly.
    “Katonga,” she repeated, her tone a little flatter than before. “Have you ever been there, Major?”
    “No. But I can hardly wait to get there.” He was being surly, and he knew it, but he was tired of her not so subtle attempts to manipulate him and even more tired of fighting his attraction to her. Silver Jones was no more docile than she’d ever been, no meeker, no milder, no sweeter. She was just more desperate.
    “Well, you haven’t much longer to wait,” she said.
    “Sometime next week, if we don’t hit the doldrums, which isn’t likely this time of year.” When Morgan turned to face her, she was standing so close he could feel the heat of her body through the fabric of her flimsy cotton blouse. He started to speak and had to clear his throat. “When we get there, I’ll speak to William, if you like. Maybe he’s changed his mind about the man you want to marry. If not, and you’re still that determined, I might be able to convince him.”
    “There is no man, Major. I’ve tried to tell you that, but you refuse to listen.”
    “Then why have you run away?”
    Silver glanced off in the distance. Her fingers tightened on the tarred hemp stay she held to steady herself. Her breathing seemed a bit more shallow than before. “My father is a very strong man,” she said. “He wants to run my life. I, on the other hand, wish to be independent, to live life as I see fit.”
    She was lying, and he knew it. Silver was good at hiding her emotions—but her eyes gave her away.
    “As I said before, I’ll speak to him. Maybe it will do some good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll take a turn at the wheel.”
    Silver laid a hand on his arm, forcing him to stop. “It was kind of you to offer, Major.”
    Morgan didn’t answer, just turned and walked away. Damnable vixen! The touch of her slim fingers still burned like a poker on his arm. The sun had pinkened her nose and her cheeks, making her look radiant and oh so tempting. If she knew what was good for her, she’d damned well keep her distance. Morgan shook his head. As a seductress she’d obviously had litde experience. Still, it was those exact amateurish efforts, her obvious inexperience that made her all the more attractive.
    “As God is my witness, William,” he muttered beneath his breath, “this bloody well cancels my debt.” But he couldn’t resist a last glance over his shoulder to where Silver still stood by the rail.
    She stared down at the frothy blue water, Morgan’s words still ringing