Free To Love a Scoundrel by Sharon Ihle Page A

the road. I'm simply not interested in having anyone love me right now. Good night and good luck."
    Harry laughed to himself as the young woman, hampered by a cast surrounding her broken arm, struggled with the lock, then disappeared behind her door. Sympathetic as well as tickled, he called to the frustrated man left standing in the hallway, "C'est la vie."
    Then Harry waltzed into his suite, calling out as he entered, "Oh, Duchess? Where are you hiding, my dear sweet girl?"
    From behind a lacquered Oriental screen came a giggle followed by a husky feminine voice. "Jack? Is that you?''
    Harry stopped to think a minute, then grinned and said, "I think so."
    "I'm bathing so I'll smell like springtime and roses for you—and by the way, please stop calling me 'Duchess.' Someone might hear you and we'll both be in trouble."
    "Whatever you say, Carlotta my love. I'll be waiting for you—in bed."
    Harry quickly checked the leftover dinner tray he'd insisted on keeping in the room, and breathed a sigh when he saw his mashed potatoes still occupied a corner of the plate. Making certain his guest was still in the tub, he cocked his head and listened. Tiny waterfalls spilled intermittently, signaling all was clear. Working fast, Harry helped himself to the house key Carlotta kept in her evening bag, and then pressed it into the center of the potatoes. After checking to make sure the impression was clear, he wiped the key clean and replaced it in its nest of black velvet.
    Whistling to himself, he shoved the plate under his bed, stripped, and climbed beneath the sheets. Casually skimming the handbill he'd picked up at the saloon downstairs, he reread the information as he waited for his companion: "Sebastian Steamship Line proudly presents the debut of the Delta Dawn, the biggest, most luxurious floating palace ever to grace the waters of the mighty Mississippi River. Accommodations range from the finest of luxury suites to perfectly comfortable staterooms for one. Maiden voyage to begin from St. Louis on June 18, 1876." Below was a list of gambling devices, entertainments, and specialty menus.
    Harry let the paper fall from his hand and took a deep relaxing breath. Maybe a few weeks aboard a ship was just what he needed, he told himself. A tonic of sorts for his unusually low spirits. Had he finally tired of the game—lost the special thrill of the hunt? What had happened to that delicious burst of adrenaline he always felt as he plotted a way to separate the haughty bitches of the world from part of their unearned fortunes?
    Harry shrugged. Maybe he'd finally managed to repay Elizabeth, queen bitch of them all. Betty, as she insisted he call her, the only woman he'd ever loved. Betty, the hard-hearted beauty who'd used him, then tossed him aside like tattered underwear. Perhaps he was finally ready to forget the hurt, the pain. Then again, he thought as he listened to Carlotta's off-key rendition of "When Irish Eyes Are Smiling"—maybe not.
    Harry picked up the handbill again. Perhaps he should book passage—for one. He could use a break. A little vacation might just put the light back in his eyes and the spring in his heels. Even if he felt ready to work before the trip was over, what better place to find a new love than aboard a floating luxury palace?
    "Oh, Jack?" Carlotta called out in a seductive voice. "What do you think of this?"
    After glancing her way, Harry smiled and folded the handbill. "My, my," he said, whistling appreciatively. "What a naughty little girl you are."
    Carlotta floated across the room wrapped only in a thin scarf of red gossamer and a cloud of rose-scented lotion. Her body still damp from the hot bath, she stood before him and pouted. "If you'd accept my offer and follow along on our trip to Southhampton, you'd see a lot more of this naughty little girl over the summer. We could be naughty together. Say yes, Jack—I'm begging you."
    Harry raised slender ebony eyebrows above his startling smoky green