Beyond Sunrise Read Online Free PDF Page B

spreading his arms wide. It being first thing in the morning, and Jack being the kind of man he was, he didn't even need to check to know that a certain portion of his anatomy was already wide awake and ready for action. "I'm up. Satisfied?"
    He expected her to scream and run away. She didn't. Clasping her hands together, she let them fall to the front of her skirt— her split tartan skirt, Jack noticed, opening his eyes wider at the sight of it. He also noticed, for the first time, that Patu was standing behind her. Patu was not smiling.
    "Mr. Patu informs me that the Sea Hawk is ready to sail." She drew in a deep breath that lifted her full breasts, but she managed to keep her voice steady, even businesslike. And she didn't look away. "We will await your arrival at the dock." Then she turned slowly, her shoulders back, her head held high, her dignity and self-possession unshaken, and walked out the house.
    "Well, I'll be damned," said Jack.

    "Go ahead, say it." Jack turned his head to study the tight, serious profile of the boy beside him. They were some three miles out of Neu Brenen, running easily with a freshening wind, and Patu had yet to say a word to him that didn't deal with the rigging of the Sea Hawk's sails or some other detail involved in setting out to sea.
    Patu kept his gaze on the gentle swell of the foam-flecked, vivid blue waves that stretched back to the dark and jagged outline of Neu Brenen's high peaks, still visible in the hazy distance. "I have nothing to say."
    "Like hell you don't. The way it's all churning around inside you, you're liable to spew if you don't spit it out soon."
    Patu turned his head, his nostrils flaring. "All right, I'll say it. She's a lady. A European lady. And you... you did that to her."
    "Bloody hell." Jack threw a quick glance toward the prow of the yacht, where Miss India McKnight sat cross-legged on a chest, her head bowed as she scribbled furiously in a little black cloth notebook. He lowered his voice. "She upended a jug of water on me."
    "And you were supposed to pick her up from the Limerick. At dawn."
    A hot urge to defend the indefensible swelled within him. Jack swallowed it. "Here, take the tiller," he said, and sauntered toward the prow, swaying easily with the pitch and swell of the deck.
    He drew up some two feet from his pith-hat- and tartan-clad passenger. She continued writing, not even bothering to glance up, although his shadow fell across her page and she must have known he was there. Jack cleared his throat. "I was thinking maybe you might like a guide. On Takaku."
    She kept her head bowed over her notebook. "Are you offering your services, Mr. Ryder?"
    "Patu. I was offering Patu."
    The pencil paused, then resumed its journey across the page. "Thank you, but I always travel alone, and I prefer to explore the various sites I visit alone, as well."
    "Seems a lonely way of life," he said, surprising even himself with the words.
    She did look up then, but only enough so that, with the pith helmet hiding the upper part of her face, he still couldn't see her eyes. "For a woman, you mean?"
    He blinked down at her. "For anyone."
    "I have never been troubled by loneliness," she said, and went back to her writing. "It is only in solitude that one finds the peace necessary for reflection and composition. I find that women companions have a regrettable tendency to chatter incessantly, while men..."
    She paused, so that he had to prompt her. "Yes?"
    "Men invariably fall into the habit of attempting to boss any female in their company—even if the female in question is paying their wages."
    Jack stared down at the rounded top of that pith helmet, and knew an unexpected and totally inexplicable rush of rage so pure and sweet that it stole his breath. He started to turn away, but took only two steps before he spun back around to point his finger at her and say, "The way I figure it, we're even."
    Her head fell back, slowly, as she stared up at him, her eyes narrowing