September's Dream Read Online Free PDF Page B

pocket and placed it beside the money pouch. Terrance was right about the men on this boat. She would be a fool not to be prepared.
    Wearing only a chemise of ivory cotton, she climbed beneath the covers. Through the porthole she stared at the stars, charting their course through the heavens. While her lids grew heavy, then fluttered closed, the stern, dark features of the stranger drifted into her consciousness. He was a hard, angry man. She had sensed quiet strength flowing through his every pore. When he stood there, confronting her, she could feel the intense energy, which he had kept under rigid control. Dark eyes. Dark hair. There was nothing, not one thing, to soften that hard image.
    Deke Kenyon was his opposite. Light hair, laughing blue eyes. Quick to smile. The prince of light. She shivered. And the prince of darkness. Yet she couldn’t bring Deke’s image into clear focus. There was only the stranger. She could see his face clearly. Every harsh angle and plane. The contour of his strong jaw. Tight, angry lips. Eyes as hard as coal.
    With his image etched firmly in her mind, she slept.
     
    *  *  *
     
    An eerie, flickering light disturbed September’s slumber. Fighting a strange sense of disorientation, she sat up. As she did, the covers dropped, revealing creamy shoulders and the soft swell of firm breasts beneath the delicately embroidered chemise. Her hair, which she always brushed loose before bed, tumbled wildly about her back and shoulders and spilled over one breast.
    "Mr. Kenyon! Deke. What—what are you doing?" Realizing suddenly how she looked, she grasped the edge of the covers and pulled them up to her chin.
    He stood over the bunk, holding a swaying lantern aloft, staring down at her. His voice was low, nearly a whisper. "I’m admiring your beauty, September. I’m a connoisseur. Do you know what that is?"
    She shook her head, sending her hair drifting like a silken cloud about her face before settling once more around her shoulders.
    His eyes narrowed at the movement, then focused on her face. "A connoisseur is an expert, one who enjoys with discrimination all the subtleties of art, music, beauty. You are a rare beauty. And I mean to enjoy you."
    Her heart began racing. His words were foreign to her, but his meaning was clear enough.
    "You—you promised me I’d be safe here."
    "And you shall be," he said, setting the lantern down on the chest.
    As he turned, she realized he was removing his coat. "Aren’t you going out in the—bracing night air?"
    "I’ve had enough night air, September."
    She didn’t like hearing her name on his lips.
    "And the captain’s card game. Aren’t you going to join him?"
    "We’ve concluded the game. I won." His voice dropped even lower. "I always win."
    She felt a shiver along her spine at his prophetic words.
    He sat down in the chair and pulled off his shoes. As he removed his shirt and pants, September gaped, shocked beyond belief at seeing a man in this state of undress, but too afraid to look away.
    Her heart was drumming so painfully, she thought it would burst. She had to run, but if she ran out of the cabin now, everyone on board the boat would see her in her chemise. Where could she hide?
    "Please." Her voice rose to near hysteria. "Please, Deke. Let me leave before you finish undressing."
    He stood, naked, with his hands on his hips, and laughed at her. "Are you really this innocent, or is it a game you play?"
    Tears sprang to her eyes and spilled over, staining her cheeks. Mortified, she turned her head away. She felt the bunk sag as Deke sat on the edge. Gently catching her chin, he turned her face toward him.
    "No. This is no game with you, September. I can see that. That only adds to your charm." With exquisite tenderness, he wiped away her tears, then bent his lips to the corner of each eye. "Oh, September. I’m going to show you a world you’ve never seen before." His lips trailed her eyebrow, her cheek, the line of her jaw.
    She pulled