A Bride for the Maverick Millionaire. Marion Lennox

to gather for cocktails at sunset. At dawn they’d be set up again, but for now they made a deep shadowed recess of stacked wood.

      Stacks could be manoeuvred, just slightly, so that a passenger could set up one chair behind, far into the shadows, and doze and watch what went on around the ship in the small hours.

      He was on this ship incognito because he suspected his crew was drug-running. Simple as that. Said out loud, it sounded appalling. It was appalling. He didn’t want to believe it but, the more he saw, the more he thought he was right.

      Each time he’d taken this cruise before, the crew was flawless. The cruise was flawless. Since then there’d been a gradual attrition of staff. This crew, this cruise, was less than flawless.

      During last night’s delay the Temptress had veered slightly off course. He’d dozed at the wrong time but had woken just as a small dinghy pushed away from the side.

      He wasn’t very good at this spy stuff. A real spy would never have dozed, but he was figuring things out.

      Indonesia was close. The Temptress never left Australian waters so was never searched by customs officials. Drug transfer would be all too easy.

      By his boat and his crew. The thought made him feel ill.

      He would not go to sleep tonight.

      And then she came.

      Rachel.

      There was one light up here, for safety’s sake, forward of the spa pool. He watched through the mass of folded deckchairs as she slipped off her bathrobe, revealing her swimming costume. He watched as she slid into the water, and he heard her murmur of pleasure as the warm water enfolded her.

      She lay back on the padded cushions at the side and gazed up at the night sky and he glanced up, too, and saw the Milky Way as one never saw it on land, as one could only ever see it where there was no one, nothing for miles.

      As they were now. No civilisation for a thousand miles. The ends of the earth.

      He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be watching. He was starting to feel as if he was invading her space, her privacy.

      So stand up and say hi? He’d scare the daylights out of her.

      ‘Who’s there?’

      He froze. What the…? He was tucked right in behind the stacked chairs. There was no way she could see him. Was there someone else coming up to join her?

      He could see out through the gaps in the stacks of seats, but that was only because she was in a pool of light. Surely she couldn’t see in. Not when he was so shadowed.

      ‘Who is it?’ She was suddenly nervous, gripping the edge and starting to pull herself out.

      It must be him. She’d sensed his presence and he was frightening her. No…

      ‘Rachel, it’s Finn,’ he called. Whatever illegal things were happening, nothing seemed to be taking place tonight. Hopefully, no one below deck could hear.

      ‘F… Finn?’ She was half in and half out of the water, peering into the shadows. ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Meditating,’ he said, making his voice firm, abandoning his hiding place, strolling out as if it were the most natural thing in the world that he’d been sitting behind a stack of deckchairs in the small hours.

      If the people he was watching had this woman’s intuition…

      ‘How did you know I was there?’ he asked, trying to make his voice casual.

      ‘My grandma was Koori,’ she said, still sounding nervous. ‘She was sensitive at the best of times, and when she was older she lost her sight. She reckoned if she had to learn to make her way by sound, we should, too. She’d take us out to the park at night, turn off the torch and make us tell her what was happening. And then she’d tell us whether we were right. Your chair scraped a bit—and then I thought I heard you breathing.’

      ‘That’s creepy.’

      ‘Not as creepy as you hiding behind deckchairs,’ she retorted, reaching for her bathrobe.

      ‘Don’t get out,’ he told her quickly, but not moving any further forward. He desperately did not want to frighten this woman. ‘I didn’t mean to invade your privacy. I’ve had my quiet time now. I’ll go.’

      She slid down into the water again, neck deep, and watched him. She’d tied her hair up, knotting it on top so it wouldn’t get wet. She looked… stunning. A nymph in the moonlight.

      Her fear was fading. Speculation took its place. ‘Meditating,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Like in Zen?’

      ‘Yoni Mudra,’ he said promptly. Back in his boat-building days, he’d built a boat for one interesting lady. Maud-ish, but with kaftans and cowbells. The entire time he’d built, she’d tried to convert him to whatever it was she followed.

      He still wasn’t sure what it was, but he’d enjoyed it.

      And, to his astonishment, Rachel knew it.

      ‘I’ve heard of Yoni,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘That’s where you block your ears, cover your eyes, pinch your nostril and press your lips together with whatever fingers are left. Breathing’s optional.’

      ‘When I’m deep in meditation, that’s a worry,’ he said, starting to smile. She really was one amazing woman. ‘I can go ten minutes without remembering to breathe.’

      She chuckled, but then she said, ‘You’re lying.’

      ‘How can you doubt me?’ he demanded, wounded. ‘I prefer mantra meditation, but humming my Oms would wake the boat.’

      She chuckled, but then her smile faded and she looked at him directly. She was floating forward on the cushioned pads at the side, her chin resting on her arms. Her attention was all on him.

      ‘So you were hiding behind the deckchairs—why?’

      ‘There’s a good one set up at the back. It’s comfy.’

      ‘It would have been comfier if you’d set it up in the front.’

      ‘I might have scared any chance wanderers with my weird breathing.’

      She thought about that. ‘How many chance wanderers have been up here?’

      ‘None,’ he admitted.

      ‘But you were expecting some?’

      ‘I was right to expect,’ he said. ‘Here you come, wanting to gossip…’

      ‘Right,’ she said dryly. ‘Go back to your Yonis. I won’t bother you.’

      ‘I’m done with Yoni. My chakras have been wakened and they can’t go back to sleep. So…’ He surveyed her with care. He had frightened her, he thought. He should leave, but he had the feeling that she’d no longer feel safe here. He’d spoiled her night.

      She didn’t believe him about the meditation. Why should she? It was a crazy story.

      He couldn’t tell her the truth, but maybe he could make it normal. He could make her relax and then leave.

      Leave?

      What he’d really like to do—really like to do—was move closer, maybe even slip into the spa.

      Right. Strange guy, hiding in the shadows and then jumping into the spa… She’d be justified in screaming the ship down.

      ‘You can’t sleep?’ he asked, and she shook her head.

      ‘Nope.’ Nothing forthcoming there.

      ‘It’s the best time,’ he said easily, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and lounging back against the ship’s railing. Giving her space. Acting as if this were midday rather than the small hours. ‘When I was a kid I used to escape at night,’ he told