Countering His Claim. Rachel Bailey

the original Cora Mae, which was named after his wife.”

      She knew the ship’s history from Patrick, and had a feeling where Luke was going with this. “There’s a portrait of your grandmother hanging in the lobby. I’ll show you later if you like.”

      “Thank you, I’d appreciate that.” He nodded in acknowledgment of her offer. “When Arthur died he split the company equally between his two sons. My father sold his ships and bought hotels instead, which he passed to me when he died. Patrick stayed in ships—he started with several but during some lean times, consolidated down to the flagship, the Cora Mae. After it became apparent he wouldn’t have children of his own, Patrick made it very clear that he wanted to reunite the family company through me.”

      She leaned back in her chair. There was logic to his story, to his sense of expectation of inheriting, but life didn’t always fit into neat boxes, or sit on the shelves in the correct order like the books that surrounded them. Sometimes the unexpected and the irregular were part of life, too. She had no idea what Patrick had been thinking, but he must have had some reason for leaving her half a ship. She just had yet to understand his purpose.

      “So,” she said, choosing her words with care, “because the Cora Mae has been in your family, it should simply stay in your family?”

      His eyes narrowed. “Cora Mae was my grandmother. We’re talking about more than an asset owned by someone I’m related to. This ship is part of the fabric of my family.”

      “And you think Patrick didn’t intend for me to keep the half he gave me?”

      “It’s the only thing that makes sense.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I’ll buy your half-share and you get the windfall my uncle wanted you to have.”

      She glanced through the porthole at the moonlight glinting on the rippled surface of the ocean. Allowing Luke to buy her out was the easiest option, sure, but she wouldn’t be railroaded.

      “What happens if I don’t sell my half to you?” she asked, turning back to him.

      “An untenable situation is created. Both of us would have 50 percent so neither would have a controlling interest. We’d have to agree on all major decisions for any real management to happen.”

      She could see his point, and understood the inherent problems in the current arrangement, but one thought kept floating to the surface—what if Patrick had wanted her to have half the ship for some reason? He’d known how much Della loved the Cora Mae. Della had grown up on the ships her parents worked on, and her father had been captain of the Cora Mae until his retirement twelve months ago. When he’d offered her a job as a doctor working alongside her mother, she’d jumped at the chance, then spent a year working and cruising with her family. Her mother had retired at the same time as her husband, but Della had stayed. She felt more at home out to sea than she did on land. And the Cora Mae was her favorite of the ships she’d lived on, so the sense of ownership she had for the ship probably wouldn’t surprise anyone.

      She stood and smoothed her hands down her dress. “I’m going to have to think about this, Luke. Selling you my half isn’t something I’d do lightly.”

      In a flash, he was standing beside her. “How about this. Sell me a 10 percent share. I’ll pay double its worth, so you’ll still end up with a substantial lump sum.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “This is the valuation of the ship that I had done a few days ago. Take 10 percent of that bottom figure and double it.”

      Della felt her eyes widen as she gripped the page. It was more money than she’d dreamed of.

      “There will be stability to the management,” Luke continued, “and you’ll still get to keep your connection to the ship, plus the cash. Everybody wins.”

      Her breath caught. The idea of having a hand in the future directions of her beloved Cora Mae, the promise of the money and the freedom that would bring...it was overwhelming.

      Yet, what if Luke was wrong and Patrick had wanted her to have half the ship for some reason? The will reading had only been a few hours ago and in that short time there had already been twists and turns to the situation. It was too much to take in at once.

      “I need to think it over.” She refolded the page and handed it back to him. Instead of taking it, he enfolded her hand in his, crumpling the paper inside their two sets of fingers and infusing her hand with warmth.

      “The longer this draws out, the worse it is for the ship and her crew. They need stability,” he said, his voice and eyes both urging her to agree.

      Her stomach dipped. So many people would be affected by her decision. But that only made it more imperative that it was the right one.

      “I’m sorry, Mr. Marlow,” she said, straightening her spine. “This is too big a decision to rush. I’ll contact you when I’ve made up my mind.”

      He gazed at her for a long time, far from happy. “I won’t wait forever,” he said, and walked out, leaving her in the library alone.

      * * *

      Thirty-six hours later—thirty-six hours in which he’d neither seen nor heard from Della—Luke walked along a path in the Sydney Botanical Gardens. They’d docked in Sydney that morning, and before he could find her, Della had left the ship. He was out of time and patience, so, after finding out the direction she’d headed in, he’d followed her.

      He didn’t have the luxury of time to sit around and wait any longer. Even without the mess of Patrick’s will to sort out, he had a full-time job running Marlow Hotels. He would not twiddle his thumbs waiting for a summons from Dr. Della.

      Scanning the crowd, he finally saw her up ahead. The graceful way she moved, the cloud of soft brown hair that sat like a halo around her head. His pulse picked up speed and for a few dangerous seconds, he forgot why he needed to see her and simply appreciated her. But he wouldn’t allow himself the indulgence for long. Too much was at stake.

      “Nice day for a walk,” he said when he drew alongside her.

      As she turned, her eyes flared in surprise then narrowed. “Mr. Marlow. What a coincidence.”

      “Not so much,” he said with a casual shrug. “The captain told me you had the day off.”

      “And you guessed that in a city of four and a half million I’d be in this exact spot.” She arched a dark eyebrow. “Impressive.”

      A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth despite his best intentions. “The captain might also have mentioned that you have a fondness for the Gardens.”

      “Ah.” She glanced across at a display of native flowers. “Considerate of him to throw that information around. Crew privacy is usually respected.”

      “I’m not a random passenger. And you’re no longer a mere crew member of the Cora Mae.”

      “Perhaps, but I am still the ship’s doctor.”

      Yes she was, but a young doctor with the world at her feet cloistering herself away on a ship made about as much sense as Patrick’s will. He glanced over, looking for a clue, but he found nothing. He needed to understand—to work out what had happened with his uncle, it was important to figure out the woman who was at the center of it all.

      “I’ve been wondering something,” he said and dug his hands into his pockets.

      Her eyes flicked to him then back to the trees they were passing. “I have a feeling I’ll regret this, but tell me.”

      “I’ve seen your résumé. Why are you wasting your medical skills on a ship where you’re hardly using them?”

      “I see patients every day.”

      “For seasickness and sunburn?”

      “Some of the issues are minor, but we’re trained to handle outbreaks of contagious diseases and disasters out to sea. And passenger death is not