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“The minute I heard of him and his bravery, I just couldn’t keep myself from becoming entranced. The Sea Wolf is the most courageous hero to ever roam the billowing waves. Kind, but fierce, he protects those who can’t protect themselves. And his crew! Don’t you just love the motley bunch who sail with him?”
His look turned murderous.
A sudden wave of fear crept along her spine, and she had the distinct feeling that he didn’t care for her writing one little iota.
“Why is this so important to you?” she asked.
“I think you know well enough why.”
Confused, she shook her head. Why would he assume such? “No, I can’t say that I do.”
“What do you take me for, a fool?”
“Certainly not,” she answered. Indeed, she took him for a most marvelous specimen of male physiology. He reminded her much of the hero she had dreamed of for the Sea Wolf. Aye, the Sea Wolf would have that same fiercely stubborn jaw and those dangerous eyes that flashed like burnt cinnamon.
“You talk about sources in your article. Who told you about the Sea Wolf?” he demanded.
She shrugged. “I overheard my brother talking to my father about him.”
“Your brother and father? How did they learn of the Sea Wolf?”
She bristled. “What is this? The Inquisition?”
When he spoke, he enunciated every word slowly and carefully, his voice dark with warning.“I want his name.”
What would it hurt to humor him? If it would appease him, far be it from her to keep silent. After all, silence was not something she was good at.
“My brother heard the story from a sailor down on the docks who said that he’d seen the Sea Wolf’s ship from a distance. He said he was sure it was the same Sea Wolf who had been a blockade runner during the War of Independence.”
“I want that man’s name.”
“I don’t know his name.”
His eyes darkened in such a way that she could tell he didn’t believe her.
How dare he come into her father’s shop and interrogate her like a prisoner of war! She wasn’t about to letanyoneintimidate her.
Just who did this man think he was?
The Sea Wolf?
“Why are you so interested in him?”
Morgan Drake took a deep breath to calm his raging temper. With as much patience as he could muster, and that wasn’t much, he placed his hat on her desk and braced his hands on either side of the paper pile that rested in the center.
Leaning forward, he gave her the glower that had driven grown men to their knees in terror. It was his fail-safe glare that always broke the spirit of whomever he was trying to intimidate.
Instead of cringing, she stiffened her spine!
Damn. He needed answers, not a ruffled hen. And damn the imbecile who had allowed a woman to write for his paper.
She leaned back in her chair as if his temper didn’t concern her in the least. As if she were well accustomed to dealing with irate men.
“I don’t see why a fictitious piece has you so angry,” she said at last. “It’s just a little story I made up.”
“Made up,” he repeated in disbelief. “You couldn’t have made it all up. Too much of it smacks of truth.”
“Truth?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Why, sir, the piece isfictitious. Completely and utterly.”
