9. Nine
Papa would say Camilla had steered herself right into dangerous waters. And he’d be right. He and Mr. Gray were both right. She had been the one to stand so close to the man. To brush her shoulder against him and ease her body into his broad chest. She’d also been the one to look up into those arrestingly intelligent eyes and let herself float away in them.
He continued to look down at her, his breathing shallow and his gaze intense.
What must he be thinking?
Her experience with men mostly centered on crewmen she treated like uncles, fellas in river towns she avoided on account of obvious lecherousness, and businessmen who saw her as either a threat or an oddity to be dismissed.
Daniel wasn’t looking at her in any of those ways now. True to his words, his eyes seemed to hold fascination. Those eyes darkened, seeming to drink her in. She’d been kissed by fellas when Papa hadn’t been paying particular attention, but she’d never longed to be kissed. It had just been one of those things that had happened.
Heat swirled through her as her gaze detached from pools of liquid emerald and dipped to the shape of his lips.
The smooth skin of Daniel’s jaw meant he’d recently shaven, and there was the tiniest little indent in the center of his chin she hadn’t noticed before. Her gaze crept over the sturdy line of his jaw and back to eyes that seemed to contain more mysteries than this records room could hold. What would it be like to explore?
Dangerous undercurrents. The possibility of getting swept away by what you couldn’t see coming.
And yet…
“I’d like to kiss you.” Daniel’s gaze anchored to hers. “Even though it’s entirely improper to do so and not within the nature of our agreement.”
His matter-of-fact statement delivered in a low whisper held as much contradiction as her churning thoughts. She wanted to see what would happen if they crossed over the line of professionalism too, but such impetuous decisions would tangle the nature of their relationship.
“Improper, yes.” Her chin tilted higher. “And I agree, there were no clauses about kissing in your contract.”
A ghost of a smile played with the edges of his mouth. “No, there were not.”
“It could make working together on this endeavor more complicated.” Her pulse quickened, pounding through her chest and nearing full steam. She shifted her shoulders, bringing herself to face him a little more.
He didn’t move back, and his arm from where he was still holding the book now wrapped around her side. Slowly, he lifted the other hand and brushed her braid over her shoulder. The movement opened the channel gate between them, and she grazed her fingers over the twill of his jacket.
His lips lowered to hers. She closed her eyes, and something she couldn’t identify zipped through her. Daniel’s kiss was sweet and gentle. Like velvet. And a bit like that strawberry ice cream Papa had gotten her at the Sugar Parlor that one time. Except warm and inviting, like a late-night mug of lemon balm tea.
Then it was over.
Emerald-green oceans stared down at her when her eyelids drifted open. Words dipped in subtle confusion drifted to her ears. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”
The statement hit like ice water on hot coals. Not again. Was that why he’d stopped kissing her? “Unladylike, you mean?”
A line formed between his brows. “No. Why would you ask that?”
Because that’s what people meant. A burn started in her chest as memories flooded in unbidden. Snickers behind gloved hands. Veiled insults about her outgoing manner that wasn’t properly tempered by a lady’s charm.
Can you believe he keeps that little girl on a boat with all those men?
Guess her father wanted a son instead.
She’d never had many female friends. They generally found her company unpleasant because she was too loud, too talkative, and too prone to say the wrong thing. Men were another matter. Try to be a lady, and they didn’t respect her. Be strong and do business like a man, and any romantic notions sank like a cannonball.
Papa had always wrapped an arm around her shoulder and told her to be proud of who God made her to be. Cleaver, kind, and resourceful. She tried to live up to the way he saw her, but sometimes that was hard to remember. Especially when folks looked at her funny. Perhaps never more so than now, when insecurity insisted Daniel had decided kissing such an unusual woman had been a mistake.
Not that she could get any of those words to exit her lips.
He still stood close, and her hand rested on his chest near his shoulder. Under her palm, she imagined she could feel his heartbeat. He pulled a long breath through his nose. The urge to press her lips against his before they could say anything more to ruin this moment permanently pushed up through her and lifted her onto her toes to close the space between them.
“Excuse me!”
The shrill words caused her to jump, and somehow, her forehead slammed into his nose. He grunted and stepped away, hand to his face. Camilla tried to scurry backward but hit against the table she’d forgotten stood behind her.
Shrouded in dim light and annoyance, a stout woman dressed in a black frock two decades out of fashion tapped a toe on the brick floor. Her posture looked as starched as the slim skirt hugging the top of her laced black boots.
Daniel faced the intruder after blinking moisture from his eyes, and Camilla poked her head around his shoulder.
The woman pointed a finger at them. “The records room is not a place for…for…” She waved a hand at them. “Leave. Now.”
Heat crept up Camilla’s neck, and she grabbed the book they’d been looking at to hand to the woman. She seemed like a librarian, and those were known for strict rules about reshelving books.
“Leave it. Out. Now.” The angry librarian waved toward the door.
Daniel ducked his head and took Camilla’s hand, leading her past the woman who’d puffed up like a disgruntled hen. They traipsed into the main chamber, and still, his warm palm rested against hers. It wasn’t until they’d exited the front door and both stood blinking against the bright afternoon sun that he released his grip.
She instantly missed his touch. And then chided herself for silliness.
So much for not complicating the nature of their relationship. How did she go back to being an aloof professional captain? Daniel stuffed his hands in his pockets and watched the traffic jostle for position along the road.
She wanted to ask what he’d meant when he’d said he hadn’t ever met anyone like her. But awkwardness fogged the air between them, and the words stuck in her throat.
He cleared his throat as though discomfort had stuck there too. “Now we know the name of the vessel, what type it is, and that we believe the treasure was once on board.”
“Uh-huh.” Maybe a direct dive back into the job he’d hired her for would help. “Add to that your grandfather’s secret room and the possibility our fathers were working together.”
Information they both already knew, but talking helped her focus on something other than the way his lips had felt on hers and the way her heart had responded.
“Yes.” Daniel cleared his throat once again, clearly relieved to steer back to familiar waters. “What about records your father kept? Do you know if he had anything that could help?”
“He might.” The weight now settled in her stomach pushed out any lingering flutters.
“Might?” He tipped his hat back. “You haven’t looked?”
Her jaw tightened. “What I was looking for after his death was the man who’d killed him over a phantom box of gold.”
The words may as well have slapped him. He rocked back on his heels. “You mean my father? You think he murdered yours?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I did. At least until you said he disappeared.” An unnerving thought dropped a pound of ice into her chest. “Unless, of course, he disappeared because he was a murderer and didn’t want to get caught.”
She put a step between them. “What if they did find the treasure and Mr. Dixon murdered Papa so he didn’t have to share? Then he disappeared with his money and his guilt. That’s what I’d thought before. ’Least until you showed up and said Mr. Dixon went missing first. But what if that’s not the case? What if he did meet with Papa?”
How could she have let herself be so empty-headed? Didn’t she know treasure hunting turned good men into obsessed madmen? Would Daniel’s desperation do the same?
He seemed the trustworthy sort, but what did she know?
Daniel rubbed the back of his head before answering. “I don’t think my father would have done that. But I can see why you would be suspicious, and you have every right to be. The facts of this case are murky at best, and there’s logic in the pieces of the puzzle you’re examining.”
Huh.
A motorcar passed, sputtering black smoke from the tail end.
“We should always examine every fact as it is.” His gaze followed the dissipating smoke. “We can’t let our thoughts and opinions color the evidence presented. I assure you, I want to know the truth as much as you do. Regardless of what it turns out to be.”
The calm assertion settled some of the walleyes thrashing around in her chest. His relaxed posture and thoughtful tone both displayed sincerity. Maybe he did want to know the truth. Him agreeing to consider all evidence, rather than hammering her with assurances her fears were unfounded, suggested he was a man who valued truth and justice.
A fitting quality for a lawyer.
Hot air stirred as people parted around them on the sidewalk, and he didn’t pressure her. After two buggies, a woman with a basket slung over one arm, and a father with a wailing toddler passed, she’d gathered her scattered thoughts to form a reply.
“He kept a private journal in his desk. I went through it after he died, but I haven’t looked since.” She turned toward the river. “Maybe I missed something.”
He strolled an easy pace at her side. After two blocks, he broke the silence. “Thank you.”
Two simple words, layered with complicated meaning. From the moment she’d met him, she’d known this man could be trouble. Meddling with her senses and whatnot. He’d done that. But he also somehow served as a calming presence with his directness and steadfast hold on logic.
How could one person cause both calm and storm?
She didn’t have an answer. After a few more blocks, they began the steep decline toward the water. The Alma May had docked south of the bustling area under the hill, like Papa always preferred. He’d not cared for the rough reputation of Natchez Under the Hill and had kept her as far from it as he could. What would he think of her taking meals there and sharing a kiss with a man in a dark room?
Some of the tension eased from her shoulders as she scaled the familiar planks home. The sway of the deck underneath her, the comforting scents of the river, and the greetings of the only family remaining to her slathered a balm over her heart. In a day of slippery situations, the familiar anchored her.
The strain returned a second later, however, when Solomon stepped into her path, eyes stormy and fingers jabbing out words.
What happened?
Two quick gestures and a simple question. Too bad the answer wasn’t as easy.
“Mr. Gray and I are looking for clues in order to begin the job he’s hired us for.” At Solomon’s frown, she added, “He’s offered a contract to legally secure our payment. We’ll take him to a location of his choosing on the river.”
Do you trust him?
This time, she answered with her hands. Not sure yet, but so far, he seems honorable.
Solomon grunted. He listed off repairs they needed to make and asked if she’d gotten any more money yet.
She shook her head.
Won’t get far if we sink.
She glowered at him. “I know that.”
His eyebrows hiked at her snapped words, and she released a long breath before signing again.
Sorry. I’m doing the best I can. Should have more money tomorrow after he sells a motorcar to pay us.
She swiveled to Daniel. “You are still doing that, right?”
“Doing what?” He settled on his heels, gaze darting between her and Solomon.
Oh. Right. Sometimes she forgot others couldn’t understand their silent language even though she often purposely used it to keep them unapprised. “Are you still selling the motorcar and honoring our contract? If not, I need to know now before this goes any further. Also, it’s only fair you know I’ve already spent the fifty dollars you provided for supplies and the ten you gave us for docking. If you wish to break the contract, then I’m going to have to insist that money is forfeited as recompense.”
Solomon gave an approving nod.
Daniel rested his palm on the railing and regarded her. “A fair request. However, it’s unnecessary. I don’t sign a contract I don’t intend to keep. I will uphold my end of the agreement.”
Relief and disappointment melded like brackish water. Impossible to separate the fresh from the salt. On the one hand, it would be easier to forget Mr. Gray and his foolish quest, even if she’d be out a good paying job. On the other, she had to admit, even if only to herself, she wanted to see this through.
She spoke to Solomon. “We’ll have payment tomorrow. Then you can—”
“Partial payment,” Daniel interjected. “If you remember, the contract stated you would receive half at the start and the other half once we discover the treasure or the time limit expires. Whichever comes first.”
No, she didn’t remember reading that particular statement. The terms were logical and fair, however, and she could respect his forethought. She could easily take all his money and leave him on the riverbank empty-handed. Not that she would ever do such a thing, of course.
She inclined her head in acquiescence. “We will have half of our payment tomorrow, and then you can get the supplies we need.”
Solomon raked an assessing gaze over Daniel, then made another series of gestures.
You sure you are all right? Something smells fishy. Anything I need to know about this man?
Nothing he needed to know. Her muddled feelings and their kiss was not knowledge she wanted floating around. Being a female captain, even one with a devoted crew, could be a thin line to walk. She didn’t need them gossiping about private matters.
She shook her head.
After making her promise she’d holler if she needed him, Solomon disappeared into the engine room and left her and Daniel alone on the empty cargo deck. The crew had done a fine job cleaning and prepping them for a new haul.
Hmm. She lifted her chin, thinking aloud. “The contract states I am to take you somewhere along the river, correct?”
“Or to the passages, depending on the need, yes.” His tone turned cautious. “Why?”
“It says nothing about us hauling other cargo while we do so.” Triumph warmed its way through her veins. Looked like she could hit two birds with one rock, no matter what Solomon always quipped.
He chuckled. “I suppose it didn’t. You are a clever one, Captain Lockhart. Very well, I concede your argument. So long as this cargo doesn’t interfere with our arrangement. That is to take priority.”
“Agreed.” She thrust out her hand.
As soon as his fingers slid against hers, her fickle heart lurched. Not that she let it show.
She pumped his hand and released him. “Good. Now, let’s see what we can find in my father’s books.”
His smile spoke almost as loudly as his eyes. Her clever resourcefulness had earned his respect. That meant a great deal to men, she’d learned. The earning of an equal’s respect.
So of course—her being female and all—the surge of pleasure at having done so herself caught her quite by surprise.