Destiny's Daughter Read online

  There, Chase Masters, she thought, studying her reflection in the mirror. You’re going to see a lady. A very proper lady. That should convince you that I am not about to help you in your devilish scheme to cheat at cards.

  A part of her hoped she could avoid seeing Chase tonight. He made her feel uncomfortable. He made her feel awkward and silly. He made her think and feel things proper young ladies should never indulge. But as she walked past the opened rosewood doors and entered the elegant salon, Annalisa found herself studying the faces, searching for that one person who could make her palms sweat and her blood pound. Would she have the same reaction if she saw him again?

  She was shown to a corner table, where gaslights hissed, casting a soft glow. She ordered quickly, then allowed her gaze to trail the partially filled room.

  She spotted him at a table with five other men. At the table alongside theirs, another, more intense poker game was in progress. Above the two tables, a pall of smoke drifted lazily. Waiters hovered, pouring drinks, brushing away stray ashes from the careless smokers.

  The atmosphere in the room seemed tense, expectant. An occasional grunt or oath from one of the players as the hands were shown was the only outward sign of intense concentration.

  Annalisa noted that the pile of chips in front of Chase wasn’t nearly as large as some of the others at the table. She felt a little tremor of satisfaction. It served him right. Cheaters didn’t deserve to win.

  A waiter appeared at her table with an opened bottle and a long-stemmed glass.

  "I didn’t order that," she said softly.

  "It is compliments of a gentleman," he replied, pouring. "Our very best French champagne."

  He stepped back and waited expectantly. Annalisa glanced up, unsure what to do.

  "But I don’t want this."

  The waiter blinked. "You would prefer something else? Wine perhaps?"

  "No. That is, I don’t think so. I intended to have tea."

  "Perhaps if you would try a taste." The waiter indicated the glass.

  She sighed in exasperation, wishing he would just go away. Picking up the glass, she sipped, feeling the cool amber liquid slide down her throat. Yvette had once tried to describe the taste of champagne to Annalisa after one of her summers in Europe. She had declared that there was nothing quite like the taste. And the bubbles, she added, tickled her nose.

  Annalisa’s eyes widened. It was tart, with a slightly fruity taste that was very pleasing. And the bubbles didn’t exactly tickle; they . . . fizzed.

  Surprised, she smiled her approval. As the waiter walked away, she caught a glimpse of Chase across the room. With a slight nod of his head, he acknowledged her acceptance of his gift. Instantly irritated, she looked away, avoiding those dark, knowing eyes.

  She should have sent that waiter away with a brusque refusal. Chase was laughing at her, she thought with annoyance. There seemed always to be a hint of a smile lurking behind those dark eyes.

  A waiter bore the first course of her dinner, giving Annalisa an opportunity to turn her attention to something other than Chase Masters.

  At a rumble of laughter, Annalisa glanced toward the poker table. The man beside Chase caught at a pile of chips, greedily raking them toward him. Chase showed absolutely no emotion as he viewed the scene. Biting an end from a cigar, he leaned toward a waiter who held a match to the tip. Through a haze of smoke, his eyes narrowed. Seeing Annalisa’s gaze fixed on him, he watched the stream of smoke drift upward. She felt dark eyes pin her with a deadly stare. Her pulse lurched when he gave her a knowing wink.

  She tossed her head then stared out the window, seeing nothing. Her cheeks were burning, her breathing as erratic as her heartbeat. How dare he flash that arranged signal.

  Hadn’t she made it plain that she wanted no part of his dirty little scheme? She wouldn’t look at him again. She wanted it clearly understood. She was not going to help him cheat at cards.

  She heard the low rumble of voices as the cards were being dealt. The whisper of cards being picked up signaled the start of another hand. Still she refused to look over. Keeping her head averted, she stared determinedly at the trail of silver moonlight on the darkened river.

  Let Chase Masters lose. She hoped he lost a fortune. It served him right. How could he ask a lady, a stranger he had just met, to be a partner in his crime?

  Someone bet. A second voice raised. She felt a tiny prickle along her skin as she recognized Chase’s deep voice calling for a card. With fierce determination she kept her gaze averted and stared at the clouds scudding across the moon. From clear across the room she could hear the tense silence as the hands were being declared. There was a collective sigh, then a burst of good-natured swearing as the winning hand was displayed. Annalisa chanced a furtive glance at the dark head bent over the cards as a stranger across the table raked in the chips. In that brief instant, Chase looked up. With the barest hint of a smile, he winked. Her heart stopped. She felt the heat stain her cheeks. Narrowing her eyes, she shot him a hateful look. His mustache twitched. Beneath it his smile widened.

  Her eyes blazed. This dreadful man was mocking her. Without even taking time to think through what she was doing, she pushed back her chair and stood. Lifting her skirts, she strode toward the maitre d’. As she flounced past, Chase studied her straight back, her chin jutted in defiance. Then, with a smile of confidence, his gaze returned to the cards in his hand.

  Annalisa’s honeyed voice was laced with outrage. "I wish to report a cheat at the poker table."

  The maitre d’ looked properly horrified. Several heads swiveled at her aggrieved tone.

  "My dear young lady. We run an honest game on the City of Memphis. A member of the crew, chosen by the captain himself, oversees the entire operation."

  "This man is very clever. But I can assure you, he is cheating.

  The man bowed slightly at her fury. "Very well. If you will point him out."

  "That one," she said, darting a quick glance at the table. "The man in the black jacket, with the gold chain across his vest."

  The maitre d’ spoke to two towering waiters, who immediately advanced toward the poker tables. With her hands on her hips, Annalisa tossed her head and waited, determined to see justice done, no matter who was hurt. Sister Marie Therese would be proud of the way she handled this matter.

  In fascinated horror, Annalisa watched as the two waiters stopped at the wrong table and positioned themselves at either side of a white-haired man in a black jacket. Realizing their error, Annalisa turned to explain to the maitre d’. Just then a string of oaths caused everyone to turn in the direction of the poker table. The accused reacted with the fury of a wounded bear.

  One of the waiters was sent sprawling across the room. Two more rushed to take his place, struggling to subdue the now frenzied gambler.

  Several men at his table, who had lost heavily, pushed back their chairs and jumped into the fray, eager for revenge.

  Annalisa clutched the maitre d’s sleeve, trying to make him understand his error.

  "This is not the man I meant."

  "Please, miss. Not now. This matter will be taken to the captain himself to be settled. We will need your statement later."

  "But you don’t understand. That man isn’t the man who is cheating."

  "You mean there are others?"

  "Yes. No." Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. Wiping furiously, she hissed, "I don’t even know that gentleman."

  The maitre d’ was clearly agitated. While several crew members and two of the men from the poker table dragged the accused away, he surveyed the damage to the elegant salon, the overturned chairs, spilled drinks, chips littering the floor, then focused his icy attention on the young woman beside him. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  "You mean to say you accused a man you don’t even know?"

  "You aren’t listening to me," she wailed. "I wasn’t accusing him. You approached the wrong man."

  By this time the headwaiter
’s patience snapped. "And shall we keep hauling the players away until there are none left? Young woman, you have made some serious accusations. You will be contacted later by a member of the crew. I’m sure the captain will wish to interview you further."

  As she stood there, feeling crushed and humiliated, he turned on his heel and stormed away to report to the captain.

  Annalisa glanced at the poker tables. The oval table was nearly deserted. Only one man, a member of the crew, still lingered, overseeing the distribution of chips.

  At the other table, the poker game continued. As Annalisa watched, Chase calmly dropped his cards, face up, to the muttered oaths of the others. With a flourish he scooped the chips into a pile beside his elbow. Glancing in her direction, he inclined his head slightly. There was no mistaking the gleam in his eye.

  With a look of pure hatred, she whirled and fled to her cabin.

  * * *

  Annalisa was too angry and distressed to sit still. In frustration she tossed her bonnet and shawl on the bunk and paced the small cabin.

  Stopping, she pulled the pins from her hair and studied her reflection in the minor. Her eyes looked wide and frightened. A worried frown marred her forehead.

  What could she possibly say to the captain tomorrow morning? Her hand flew to her mouth as a new thought intruded. Could she be sent to jail for accusing an innocent man?

  In agitation, she began pacing. If she were to tell the truth, who would believe her? How could she explain that she had innocently returned Chase’s wink? And that he had assumed she knew that it was a secret signal? Would she believe such a story if she were the captain?

  With quick angry movements, she unbuttoned the ice blue dress and dropped it on the bunk alongside the bonnet and shawl. With a gesture of defiance she kicked her shoes into the corner. In her white chemise and petticoat she began pacing the room in her bare feet.

  If she implicated Chase, she would implicate herself as well. There was no getting around the fact that she appeared as guilty as he. No one would ever believe otherwise.

  She stopped to stare at the sliver of moon hanging in the night sky. Damn the man. He was so cool, he had even used those moments of her humiliation to cheat. While everyone else was watching her make a fool of herself, he was manipulating the cards, changing his luck.

  There was no way she could sleep this night. As she started pacing again, her mind was awhirl with terrifying thoughts. What would she say to the captain? How was she going to get herself out of this mess? She couldn’t bring disgrace on her mother’s good name. After nine years in the convent school, she couldn’t possibly return for the first time wearing a prisoner’s chains.

  She buried her face in her hands, forcing herself not to cry. Tears burned her throat and she swallowed them back. What had she done? Hadn’t Reverend Mother often told her this was her greatest shortcoming? She always seemed to jump into situations without thinking them through first. Why hadn’t she stayed with the sisters, where she had been safe from the perils of the world? What was to become of her?

  Anguished, she continued to pace. If she had to, she would walk the floor until she dropped from exhaustion. Only then would she allow herself to rest.

  * * *

  The tall, slightly stooped figure paused outside the cabin and listened to the sound of the girl’s angry pacing. His excitement mounted as he thought of the way she would look when he surprised her. She would be startled, then frightened. His smile grew, as he thought of how her heart would pound, her pulse race. Fear. Absolute terror. It gave him a sense of power that was exhilarating. He loved to watch the eyes of those innocent little victims. It gave him a feeling that nothing else could match. It had always been that way. Even in the beginning, when he was young and hungry, and taking less care about his victims. Often they were just strangers who had money or jewelry. But now he could afford to be more particular. They had to be young. They had to be beautiful. They had to radiate a certain—innocence.

  Trying the door, he found it locked. He felt a surge of excitement as he put his shoulder against the door. He could hardly wait to see the expression on her lovely face when he held the knife to her throat and began to strip her of her clothes. Her clothes and her dignity. Her dignity and her innocence.

  Hearing footsteps, he flattened himself against the door, melting into the shadows. As the figure of a tall man rounded the deck and headed his way, he took a step forward, then began walking briskly in the opposite direction. Without turning around, he continued walking until he heard the other footsteps stop. Turning, he was dismayed to see the man stop at the very door he had just left. With a wave of black rage, he strode to the upper deck and let himself into his own cabin. His fists clenched in impotent fury. He had lost this chance, but the game wasn’t over yet.

  * * *

  Chase paused a moment. He had the feeling that the man who had walked away so quickly had been standing outside this very door. Something about that figure had been unsettling. Chase felt a quiver of unease, then, intent on his mission, he dismissed all thoughts but one.

  * * *

  At a soft tap on her door, Annalisa turned. Her heart leaped to her throat. For some minutes now she had sensed someone listening outside her door. This was the moment of reckoning. They had come for her.

  The knock sounded again, this time a little louder. On bare feet she padded to the door, then paused. Her hands shook slightly. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

  "Who is it?" She leaned against the door, feeling the gentle rocking of the boat.

  "Chase."

  Her eyes widened. Completely unaware of her state of undress, she flung open the door to confront him.

  "You. How dare you come to my cabin. How can I make you understand that I want nothing to do with a cheat and a liar?"

  Surreptitiously glancing around the darkened deck, he stepped past her and closed the door. Casually lounging against it, he watched as she began her attack.

  "I have nothing but contempt for you. Because of you an innocent man was caused great embarrassment. Because of you my good name has been sullied. How could you calmly sit there tonight and allow another man to pay for your crime?"

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Chase studied the wild-looking creature as she paced in front of him. In the narrow stream of moonlight coming through the porthole, her slender figure was visible beneath the translucent chemise and petticoat. He felt a tightening in his midsection. Reality was even sweeter than his imagination. Her breasts were full and ripe. Her waist was so tiny, his hands could easily span it. Her long hair fell in tangles about her back and shoulders. Her skin was pale, almost iridescent in the eerie silver light. She seemed smaller, younger, as she unleashed all her anger and frustration.

  "Are you finished?" His voice was low, devoid of expression.

  "I’ve just started." She turned away, paced to the window, then faced him for another volley. "I made it very plain this afternoon that I wanted no part in your little game. When you winked tonight, I looked away. You knew I was ignoring you. Yet you persisted in watching me."

  "And how would you know that unless you were watching me as well?"

  "Oh." She stormed around the cabin, venting her frustration.

  Chase removed a cigar from his breast pocket and bit the end. Holding a match, he puffed until the tip glowed red. Releasing a cloud of smoke, his eyes narrowed, pinning her. His voice when he spoke again was barely a whisper.

  "I’m a man of my word, Miss Montgomery."

  She gave a strangled sound of derision. "The word of a cheat."

  Reaching into his pocket, he held out a handful of money. "This is your half."

  "Half of what you stole?" She swung away. "Keep your filthy money, Mr. Masters. I won’t be a party to cheating."

  His voice warmed with unspoken laughter. "You’re quite an actress."

  "Actress." She stopped in mid sentence to stare.

  "You pass yourself off as a nun."

  "I
never ..."

  He held up a hand. "An almost nun then." His gaze raked her. "But I’ve never seen a nun look like this."

  For the first time Annalisa realized how she must look to him. Frantically she caught up the crumpled dress from the bunk and held it up to her to cover her near-nakedness.

  "Get out of my cabin this minute."

  He shot her a dangerous smile and took a step closer. With a flick of the wrist he tossed the cigar out the window. Dropping the money on the bunk, he caught her arm and pulled her against him. Her heart slammed in her chest. Her breathing stilled. Stunned, she felt the dress fall from her hands, dropping to the floor at her feet.

  He bent his head, inhaling the delicate floral scent that enveloped her. "And I never knew a nun who smelled like a French whore."

  Her heart began beating double time. She couldn’t breathe. "You’re disgusting. Stop this."

  His lips brushed the hair at her temple, then dropped lower to graze her cheek. Her skin was the softest he had ever touched.

  She stiffened in his arms. Dear God. He was going to kiss her. His mouth hovered just above hers. The fine mustache tickled her skin, teasing, taunting her. Her heart lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her. She felt afraid, yet strangely exhilarated. She was standing on a precipice. One step, one tiny movement, and she would find herself hurtling through space.

  Chase brought his hands to her shoulders and drew her closer. Staring down into her tawny eyes, he was surprised to read the fear and innocence there. And something more. Guarded invitation. He could sense an almost simmering sensuality.

  He could walk away now, and leave her as he found her. With her last ounce of defiance, she lifted her head to meet his eyes. His gaze fastened on her mouth. It would take only the slightest movement to taste her lips. He hesitated, thought briefly about fighting the desire, then swearing under his breath, bent to her. That haughty lift of her chin, those pouting lips were too great a temptation.