The Wedding Ransom Read Online Free PDF Page B

in the wrong here. You walked in on me. You took your clothes off in front of me. You can’t blame a man for his natural reaction.”
    Wariness flashed in those stunning eyes. Bravado filled her voice as she replied, “Maybe not, but I can blame a man for being in the ladies’ bathhouse.”
    “This is the ladies’?”
    Maggie nodded.
    “Well, how was I suppose to know that?” Rafe flung his arm toward the wall, slinging drops of mud. “It’s not painted pink, is it? I didn’t see a sign in the dark.”
    By now he’d worked up a good mad, a natural reaction when affronted male pride is combined with sexual frustration—a state from which he’d suffered to one degree or another ever since Miss Maggie hung her robe on the wall peg. “All I know is I had trouble sleeping and I thought I’d avail myself of the amenities those four senior sea dogs yammered on about since they interrupted my siesta days ago. They invited me to use the facilities any time I liked. And I
did
like. The mud proved as pleasant as they promised. I was happily relaxed—just about to drift off, in fact—when you showed up.”
    “Drift off to the Gulf of Mexico, I wish,” she muttered beneath her breath.
    Rafe heard her. “Drift off to
sleep
. I’m a guest here, you know. You should be concerned that the lack of lumber in the hotel walls makes it damned near impossible to rest when someone is sawing down a forest of logs in the room next to you.”
    “That’s Barlow Hill,” Maggie said with a grimace.
    She was, Rafe realized, unafraid of his outburst. She probably reacted to him just like she did to those harmless old marauders. That pissed him off even more.
    “Believe me,” Maggie continued, “I’d give anything if he weren’t upstairs snoring.” She turned her stare toward the lake. “Everything has gotten so complicated.”
    Her unexpected revelation took the heat from Rafe’s anger. Who was Barlow Hill? The pirates had never mentioned him.
    A myriad of emotions played across her face. Bitterness colored her tone as she said, “We need your help, Gentleman Rafe Malone. I’m sorry your sleep was interrupted, and I apologize for disturbing your peace.” She paused before adding, “Next time, though, speak up if I walk in on you. All right?”
    Damn, I like her spirit
, Rafe thought, a slow grin breaking across his face. Bowed but not broken. The pirates had told Rafe little of why they wanted him to recover their treasure, and he’d assumed they wanted the money for the usual reasons anyone wanted money. Now he wasn’t so certain. Who the hell was this Barlow person? He started to ask, but then he hesitated. At this particular moment in time, all he really wanted to think about was the captivating woman sharing a mud bath with him.
    In the last half hour, Rafe’s interest in the happenings at Hotel Bliss had escalated. His interest in Maggie St. John had shot off the map.
    “Honey,” he said in a soothing drawl. “When you walked in that door, I couldn’t have talked if I tried. It took all my effort just to breathe. I was getting ready to go rinse off in the lake when you walked in and whipped off your clothes. With the moon being full, it wasn’t all that dark.” He paused, remembering, and added, “You sure are a beautiful woman, Mary Margaret St. John.”
    He could see her mouth working, but no sound emerged. Tension built between them, and Rafe wanted nothing more than to close the distance separating them and take her in his arms. He might have done it, too, had not a voice sounded from the bathhouse door. “Maggie? You in here, sweetheart?”
    “Papa Snake?” Maggie jumped and Rafe slid noiselessly into the concealing shadows, with a dozen of Snake MacKenzie’s more innovative threats flashing through his mind.
    Maggie’s voice croaked. “Papa Snake? When did you get back?”
    “Thank God.” Relief sighed in the old freebooter’s voice. He stepped inside the structure, but like a gentleman, kept