Her Passionate Pirate Read online

  Amusement danced in Rafael’s eye as he met the woman’s gaze. “Some lovers are harder than others to catch.”

  While the crowd laughed, the woman shook her head at him, her expression slightly mocking. There was an obvious history here, Cora noted. She just couldn’t determine its dynamics. The reporter pressed, “Then can we assume that you’re expecting to find some new information in the Conrad diaries that might shed light on the disappearance of del Flores’s ship?”

  Rafael straightened from his languid pose and crossed both arms over his broad chest. “Hello, Elena,” he said with obvious warmth.

  She acknowledged his greeting with a slight tilt of her head. “Are you expecting to find something in Abigail Conrad’s diaries that will shed new light on del Flores’s ship?” she persisted.

  His challenging stance didn’t alter, and from the corner of her eye, Cora thought she saw his jaw tense. “Direct as usual,” he said.

  “While you’re just as elusive.” The woman pressed closer to the platform. “Aren’t you really here because you believe that something in those diaries will lead you to the Isabela?”

  Cora held her breath. He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “There’s always a chance,” he said carefully, “of an unexpected discovery. If Abigail Conrad was intimately acquainted with del Flores, it’s my hope that her writings will help me understand the man better. Beyond that, I have no expectations.”

  “Really?” the reporter asked, her tone skeptical.

  Rafael’s nod was short. “Really.”

  An unnatural silence had settled on the crowd as they watched the interplay. Cora glanced at her nieces and noted that Liza seemed to have grown restless. She was resisting Becky’s efforts to keep her in her seat. Clutching Benedict Bunny in one hand, she squirmed against Becky’s restraining arm and tried to wriggle free. Elena, unaware of the movement behind her, forged ahead. “But there could be direct information about the wreck,” she countered. “Couldn’t there?”

  “It’s possible, but highly unlikely. As Dr. Prescott explained, the Conrad diaries predate del Flores’s disappearance by several years.”

  Elena lifted her dark eyebrows. “But there could be more diaries?”

  He shrugged. “I’m sure there could be. Dr. Prescott’s team has already conducted a search, however.”

  “But you haven’t searched yourself?”

  “Not yet,” he conceded.

  Elena seemed to sense she had gained the advantage. “And weren’t you in the middle of another project when you left Chapel Hill?”

  “I was considering several options, but none piqued my interest.” His tone had taken on a slight edge as the verbal confrontation escalated.

  Liza, Cora noted with another glance at the front row, was now out of her seat. She and Molly appeared to have a brief argument. Liza pointed to the stage. Molly shook her head emphatically. Kaitlin looked on, her gaze speculative.

  Elena ignored the rapidly elevating noise behind her and asked another question. “So you’re going to spend valuable research time waiting for Dr. Prescott to tell you what’s in the diaries just to learn a little about del Flores? Come on, Dr. Adriano, you’re the leading expert on the man and his career. No one’s going to believe you’re here for nothing more than a glimpse of his love life.”

  “That’s up to them, I suppose,” he retorted.

  Elena shook her head. “I think you believe there’s something in Dr. Prescott’s house, or at least in the Conrad diaries, that’s going to help you find del Flores’s ship.” There was a collective rumble in the audience.

  Rafael leveled a piercing look at the reporter. “Why in the world would you think that?”

  “Because,” she said, clearly undaunted, “you could have chosen to pursue another project while Dr. Prescott studied the diaries. If you weren’t hoping to find something she might miss, why else would you be in that house?”

  Cora felt the situation begin to slide into a dangerous, out-of-control spin. What was it he’d said? We’ll direct them, instead of letting them direct us. Too late for that strategy obviously.

  She glanced at her nieces again and saw that Liza was making her way toward the stage, having eluded Becky’s grasp. Kaitlin now had Becky’s attention as she distracted her from Liza’s behavior. Dragging Benedict Bunny behind her, Liza looked for all the world like a miniature avenging caveman with a club. Cora could only hope that the little girl would succeed in knocking the reporter off her feet before this went too far.

  Cora brought her gaze back to Rafael. The scar that ran from his hairline to the edge of his patch had whitened, giving the only indication of his rising tension. She had a sudden image of Juan Rodriguez del Flores damning caution and setting a course for the outer banks where he could rendezvous with Abigail. Abigail Conrad, Cora thought, who had flaunted convention and bravely conducted a forbidden affair with her pirate lover.

  Having spent so many weeks immersed in Abigail’s writing, Cora, who was known for her formidable self-control and dignity, decided that she owed Abigail a worthy show of élan. Liza was now a few steps from Elena, and in the face of certain disaster, Cora nudged Rafael away from the microphone and faced the reporter with a bright smile. “Actually, you’re reading this entirely wrong,” she told her.

  Elena gave her a shrewd look. “Am I?”

  “Yes.” Cora glanced at Rafael, then back at the crowd. Liza moved into place behind Elena, but froze when she realized her aunt was speaking. Cora gave Liza a censorious look as she continued, “Dr. Adriano, as you all know, has just completed an extensive excavation project in Greece. He and my colleague, Dr. Jerry Heath, are old acquaintances, and when Dr. Heath mentioned the Conrad diaries, Dr. Adriano felt that the nature of the project would provide a welcome respite from the pace of the last several months.”

  “He’s on vacation?” Elena asked, her voice skeptical.

  “Does he ever go on vacation?” Cora said dryly. The crowd gratified her by laughing. She continued, “And for the record, my early examination of the diaries indicates that they are quite, er, specific about the nature of Abigail’s affair with her lover.”

  “Is del Flores mentioned by name?” Elena asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Cora answered truthfully. “I haven’t examined them all, but Abigail’s writing is a bit cryptic and I won’t really have a firm grasp of it until I study it further. In any case, the five volumes we found are dated years before del Flores’s disappearance. They couldn’t possibly contain information about the wreck.”

  “Then if you’re going to be studying the diaries,” Elena persisted, “and you don’t think they contain any information about the ship, why is Dr. Adriano going to be living in your house?”

  Liza seemed to have lost interest again and was slowly raising Benedict Bunny over her head. Elena’s attention remained on Cora. “Couldn’t you have coordinated your research if he’d remained in Chapel Hill?”

  “Well,” Cora said, “not exactly.”

  The reporter frowned. “Why not?”

  She cleared her throat. “Because he’s going to be my nanny.”

  Liza seconded the announcement by whacking the reporter in the behind with Benedict Bunny.

  “YOUR NANNY.” Jerry snorted. “God, Cora, what were you thinking?”

  They were in the large conference room adjacent to Henry Willers’s office. The elegant room, with its blue carpet, cherry and leather furniture and twin sets of French doors leading to the terrace, seemed like an oasis of calm after the roiling chaos in the outer office. Following Cora’s announcement, they’d fled the stage amid a renewed flurry of questions. Reporters now cluttered Henry’s office where they were grabbing press kits and releases from his secretary. Several were insistently demanding interviews. To Cora’s relief, Becky had managed to round up her three nieces and was keeping them momentarily corralled in Cora’s office.

  Cora flicked a speck of lint from her sage-green suit and mused, absentl
y, if Elena whoever-she-was had ever been assaulted before by a stuffed rabbit. Cora met Jerry’s hostile gaze and wondered why no one else seemed to see the humor in this situation. “What should I have said, Jerry? That we hired him because he had nice legs?”

  Henry gave her a withering look. “I don’t think there’s anything funny about this.”

  “I wasn’t offended,” Rafael assured him. He was leaning back in one of the leather chairs, watching her with a look of amusement. He hadn’t spoken since Henry Willers had hurried them all off the stage, then cloistered them in the conference room.

  Jerry grunted. “You should have been.”

  “Damn right you should have been,” Henry Willers agreed.

  Colleen O’Shannon, chairman of the board of trustees, gave Cora a wry look. “Personally I thought it was brilliant. Talk about a diversion.” A rich chuckle burbled from her throat. “Your nanny! I wish I’d thought of that.”

  “Thanks, Colleen,” Cora muttered.

  Henry Willers continued his tirade. “We had an opportunity to place Rawlings College among the top research facilities in the country with this project, Cora.”

  “If you hadn’t been so damned stubborn about it,” Jerry added, “we would have had more time to plan this. But you wouldn’t agree to share the spotlight.”

  Henry nodded and placed his plump hands on the girth of his belly. “Do you have any idea what this could have meant to us financially?”

  “We’ve lost millions,” Jerry accused. “Millions.”

  She gritted her teeth. “You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

  “I agree,” Rafael said, surging from his chair in a sudden burst of energy. “You know, Jerry, I never liked you, but I at least respected your integrity. Now I’m not so sure.”

  Jerry’s face paled. “How dare you!”

  “The Conrad diaries are Cora’s project. I made that clear to you yesterday.”

  Henry paled. “There’s no reason to get upset.”

  Rafael glared at him. “Cora is the project director. Period. And she did exactly what any responsible researcher would have done in her position. She could have released the diaries early, possibly sacrificing whatever information we might get from them, or she could stand up to the pressure you were putting on her and take her time deciding how to proceed.” Rafael leaned over the conference table to glower at Jerry. “And let’s at least be honest. You’re not concerned about the research or the money or the college. You’re concerned about yourself. You want credit for whatever comes out of this project.”

  Jerry’s eyes glittered with rage. “You’re accusing me of being a glory hound.”

  “Now, now.” Henry Willers stepped between them. “This is getting us nowhere.” He looked at Rafael. “I explained to you yesterday, Dr. Adriano, that this project and this college were in serious financial trouble before you got here. While I’ll admit that Jerry and I proceeded without your express permission, neither of us imagined that you would have agreed to play second chair to Dr. Prescott’s competent if, er, methodical pace.”

  Rafael’s expression turned harsh. “Just because Jerry is threatened by her competence doesn’t mean that I am.”

  Jerry leaped up from his chair. “I don’t have to take this.”

  “Jerry,” Colleen snapped, “haven’t you caused enough trouble?”

  Henry mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. “I’m sure that if we just put our heads together, we can come up with a solution. Nothing happened today that can’t be easily fixed. We’ll just release another statement—”

  “Are you out of your mind?” Cora asked. “If you say anything else, all you’re going to do is increase the speculation that Dr. Adriano is here to find that ship.”

  “Well, he is,” Jerry sneered, “isn’t he?”

  Rafael glared at him so hard that he finally dropped back into his chair. Cora continued, “Don’t either of you know what’s going to happen when word leaks that Abigail’s diaries or the house itself might contain information about the Isabela?” She ignored the suddenly speculative look Rafael shot her way. “These aren’t nice people, Henry. We’re talking about millions of dollars in unclaimed gold.”

  Colleen coughed into her fist. “I think the trustees should have been informed of this earlier,” she asserted. “This could have terrible repercussions.”

  Jerry snorted. “Don’t be melodramatic.” He glared at Cora. “Cora’s exaggerating.”

  “I don’t think so,” Rafael countered.

  Henry wiped a hand over his balding head. “The important thing is for us to decide exactly what we want to say to the press. They’re clamoring for answers right now, and my secretary isn’t going to be able to keep them out of here forever.”

  “Maybe that little brat could beat them all away with her rabbit,” Jerry said derisively.

  Cora shot daggers at him. “Shut up, Jerry.”

  “Then what do you suggest we do?” he retaliated. “Stick with the nanny story?”

  Rafael laughed. “Might as well. It’s not that far from the truth.”

  Henry opened his mouth to respond, but the door flew open and his stricken secretary gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry,” she told them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

  Like water through a breached dam, a crowd of reporters began flooding into the room. Cora shielded her eyes from the glare of a television camera. She felt a strong hand close on hers and pull her to her feet. “Follow me,” Rafael said into her ear. He faced the crowd. “One at a time,” he yelled. “Henry Willers can give you complete details of the project.” He pointed to Henry, who stood on the far end of the conference room. Collectively the crowd turned its attention to the beleaguered president. Rafael used the opportunity to guide Cora along the perimeter of the room. She caught a glimpse of Henry’s panicked expression an instant before Rafael slid open one of the French doors and slipped outside. Cora hesitated, but as the noise in the room grew, she accepted his outstretched hand and followed him to safety.

  Rafael led them swiftly across the marble terrace, through a narrow breezeway and toward the seldom-used gates of the college. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He pushed open the rusted gates with a strong kick of his foot. “Anywhere but here.”

  “I thought you thrived on this kind of thing.” Deliberately she dropped her voice to imitate his drawl. “‘Watch and learn,’ you said. ‘Follow my lead,’ you said.”

  He shot her a wry grin as he shut the gates behind them. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to believe everything you hear from a strange man?”

  “Ha.” They wended their way through a grove of trees. “You’re supposed to be the expert at handling these people. Liza did better than you did.”

  “Elena took me off guard.” He checked over his shoulder again, then steered her toward a large maple.

  “I’ll bet. You weren’t at all distracted by the fact that you could see down her blouse when you leaned over the podium, were you?”

  He laughed. “Would it do me any good to say I didn’t notice?” He guided her to the far side of the tree so they were completely shielded from view.

  “No.” She leaned against the trunk and gave him a disgruntled frown.

  He braced one hand next to her head and bent close. “Then would it do me any good to tell you that Elena happens to be my sister, and that if I’d known she was going to show up, I’d have hidden backstage until the entire thing was over?”

  Cora stared at him. “She’s your sister?”

  “Did I happen to mention that I have nine of them?”

  “Do all of your siblings attack you in public like that?”

  “Some more than others,” he confessed with a wink. “But she wasn’t attacking. She was just doing her job.”

  “And trying to make my life miserable.”

  “No, she wasn’t. It’s not Elena’s fault that the roomful of half-wits didn’t figure out what was going on.” He s
lanted her a grin. “Although I’d wager even she wasn’t expecting the rabbit.”

  “Bunny,” Cora muttered.

  “What?”

  “It’s a bunny. Benedict Bunny.”

  “I’ll have to thank him the next time I see Liza. I can’t remember the last time I had such an ardent defender.”

  “This is going to be awful, you know.”

  “I can control it, Cora. You have to believe me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Is seducing a pack of female reporters with that sea-is-like-a-woman bit part of the plan? I mean, did you actually rehearse that?”

  He blinked, his expression the picture of innocent bewilderment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  She shot him a wry look. “For the record, you’re a rotten liar. The sea—” her voice had dropped an octave “—is dangerous and elusive. Unpredictable. I can’t wait to have my hands on her.”

  His mouth twitched. “I did not say I wanted my hands on her.”

  “You thought it.”

  With a quick step forward, he trapped her against the tree. “Were you thinking it, too?” he challenged.

  Her breath was short. “What if I was?”

  He traced a finger along the lapel of her jacket. “If you were—” his voice had lowered to a silky purr “—were you wondering what my hands would feel like?”

  Cora swallowed. “I have a pulse, you know. I don’t know what Jerry told you, but—”

  He interrupted her by tucking a windblown strand of hair behind her ear. “Jerry’s an ass. I knew it the day I met you.”

  “We can agree on that at least.”

  “But little else?”

  She searched his expression. “Why are you here?”

  His smile was lazy. “Right now, at this moment, I’m here because I’m with a woman I want.”

  Cora sent a silent command to the butterflies in her stomach to cease and desist. “Stop it,” she told him. “I just want you to tell me the truth.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “That I’m attracted to you? You need me to say that?”

  Cora shook her head. “Not that.” She didn’t begin to have the fortitude to talk about that, not when her pulse was still running full throttle. “I want you to quit giving me the same line of rhetoric you dish out for your investors and your fans and the media, and just tell me the truth.”