Her Secret Lover (Aphrodite's Club 2)

“What is it?”

She looked up at him, her brown eyes enormous in her wan face. “I’ve forgotten my handkerchief.”

Gabriel raised his eyebrows. “What’s one handkerchief? I’ll buy you a dozen.”

“My—my mother gave it to me,” she stammered, and suddenly her eyes were bright with tears. “She died when I was five. I treasure it.” She shook her head, putting on a brave face. “But yes, you’re right. You’ve no time to go back for a handkerchief. I’m being silly.”

Gabriel sighed, understanding that he had no choice but to fetch her handkerchief. Maybe she’d look more kindly on him. “Very well. I’ll only be a moment. Don’t rock the boat.”

She managed a smile in response, but he saw the way her knuckles were white as she clenched the sides of the dinghy.

He turned back down the companionway and into the cabin. A search among the tousled bedclothes failed to find the handkerchief, and he was about to give up when he saw a corner of lace poking out from under the mattress. With the handkerchief clutched triumphantly in his hand, Gabriel returned to the deck.

“Here you are—” he said as he moved toward the railing. And stopped, frozen with shock, hardly able to believe his eyes.

The dinghy was moving, making its way across the choppy water toward the shore. And Antoinette was rowing it, inexpertly but strongly, her pale face anxious. When she saw Gabriel she seemed to falter, one oar missing the water altogether, so that the dinghy swung to the side and she had to straighten it.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he roared furiously. “Come back here now!”

“No, I won’t,” she called back, her softer voice faint as it was caught by the wind.

“I can swim, you know,” he shouted, climbing up onto the railing to prepare to dive in.

The oars rattled as she set them down inside the boat, and she fumbled for something inside her cloak. His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw she was holding his pistol in her hands, aiming it at him.

“If you come near me I will shoot you!” she declared.

He almost laughed. He didn’t want to believe her. But there was a raw look in her wide eyes and her tense, white face that told him he shouldn’t take the chance. Antoinette meant what she said, and even if she didn’t, a pistol was a very dangerous weapon in the hands of a frightened woman.

“Sparrow…” he began, pleading.

“Don’t call me that.” Her voice shook as if she was crying.

He spread out his arms wide. “Perhaps you should shoot me now because I’ll come after you. You know I will.”

“Perhaps I should,” she retorted. “You deserve it.”

“Do you know how to?” he asked curiously.

Her smile was triumphant. “Oh yes. Don’t doubt it. Now I am going ashore and you will stay here. This is where we part company.”

“Antoinette—”

“There’s nothing more to be said.”

She picked up the oars again and began to row away. A particularly savage gust of wind bl

ew spray up into her face, and she blinked and shook her head. He watched her, angry and admiring at the same time. His Antoinette was a truly amazing woman.

“I won’t say good-bye,” he called. “I’ll find you.”

“This is good-bye!”

He watched her put distance between them. “Don’t wager on it,” he murmured with a grim smile, leaning over the railing, as if he could bring her back by sheer force of will. “I’ll find you, Antoinette, and when I do…”

His grin broadened as he imagined what he would do to her. He would find her, he had to. She’d thrown down a challenge, and Gabriel wasn’t the sort of man to ignore a challenge.

Antoinette climbed unsteadily out of the dinghy and onto the shore. Luckily there were some fishermen there to help her and to secure the dinghy. She explained she had urgent business ashore and thanked them when they offered to take her to the tavern where she could arrange for transport into the nearest larger town, where there was a railway station.