“Why would you seek positions here?” he asked raising a brow.
“That’s a silly question.” Bridget stopped, her hands spreading out on either side of her. Searching his face, she momentarily forgot why she was irritated. Gads, the man was handsome. “There is little point in going to London without a dowry.”
He scratched at his head, giving her a long stare. “I told ye I would help ye.”
“I know,” she huffed. “That’s why I am asking you for a recommendation. I might as well seek employment here in Scotland.”
His hands rested on either of his hips as he leaned to one side. It was casual stance and yet, somehow, it conveyed power and prowess that she didn’t understand. “Yer boat went down in Heron’s Cove. While the boat is submerged during high tide, at low tide, we should be able to walk right in and fetch yer trunk.”
Her hands rested on her hips, matching his pose as desire and annoyance fought for control. “It would have really helped me if you mentioned that yesterday.”
“Ye’re welcome,” he answered. “My sister-in-law will get you something else to wear and then we are off to recover yer belongings and to deliver ye to London.”
“How can a man who is so helpful, be so annoying?” she asked his back as he retreated.
He flashed her a grin over his shoulder. It was the second time she’d seen him smile but it was no less devastating. It lightened his features, as his one side of his lips curved irresistibly toward his cheek. “It’s a mystery.” Then he turned. “Here’s another. How can a woman, down on her luck, be so sharp with the one man helping her?”
She lifted her nose into the air. “It’s a gift.”
That made him laugh. “Yer not boring, Bridget McDougal. I’ll give ye that.”
“And you’d be handsome if you smiled more.” She started to follow him. She was suddenly curious about what sort of man he was off this boat. Come to think of it, she knew almost nothing about him. One question immediately popped into her head. “Are you married, Captain?”
He stopped then, spinning about. “No, and don’t get any ideas.”
She stopped too, her chin drawing back. “Oh please, as if I would want to marry an ogre like you. You’re the last man in Scotland I’d want to be with. My husband will be gentle and kind. Considerate in his manner and willing to—”
She heard the laughter around her and she stopped, her hands pressing to her cheeks. She shouldn’t have said that bit about him being the last man she’d marry.
He turned away again and started back for the wheel. She couldn’t take the words back now. Would he still help her? And what was wrong with her? She never let her temper flare like this. There was only one thing left to do.
* * *
Matt stomped back toward the wheel wondering why he was even helping that troublesome little minx of a woman.
“Captain Sinclair,” she called after him. He ignored it, continuing toward the wheel. “Captain,” she yelled again. “I’m sorry.”
He turned then, only to realize she was just behind him. Bridget attempted to skid to a stop but the wet deck prevented her from doing so and she continued careening toward him, her arms flailing at her sides. Matt caught her about the waist and pulled her against him to steady her.
She gasped as their bodies came into contact. The sound, coupled with the feel of her pressed against him made him hard as the rocks along the shore and he clenched his teeth together attempting to gain control of his body.
Her arms grabbed at his shoulders as she turned her face up to him, her lips parted in surprise. He nearly came undone. The sudden urge to lift her, as he’d done the other night, made his arm tighten about her middle. He didn’t want to rescue her this time, he wanted to feel her in his arms with a great deal less clothing.
“Captain?” she asked as she stared at him.
The question hung between them. What did he say? What was she even asking? Did she want to know why he was holding her so close? How much effort it was taking to do the right thing and not carry her off like a beast? Did she want him to kiss her?
She swallowed then and that sweet little pink tongue darted out to lick at her upper lip. What would she taste like? “Yes?”
“I’m sorry I said those things. Please don’t be angry with me. Can you forgive me?” She squeezed his shoulders.
That was the question? His body was burning with desire and she wanted to apologize for a few flippant words? “Of course.”
She nodded. “I know that you are not bound to help me and you do so out of the goodness of your heart. Thank you.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I shudder to think of what would ha
ve happened to myself and Mary if our paths hadn’t crossed with yours.”
He drew his brows together, still holding her close. Her last statement should have made him happy. She was thanking him for his efforts rather than insulting them. Still, they unsettled his stomach. He wanted more from her than a bland declaration of gratitude. “You’re welcome.”