Her Passionate Pirate. Neesa Hart
sheen of sweat had beaded her forehead, and as much as she’d like to blame it on the stage lighting, she suspected it owed more to an increased pulse rate. Damn the man, she thought irritably.
As rumbles began in the audience, one reporter, a strikingly attractive woman in a lipstick-red tailored suit, managed to shoulder her way through the crowd of photographers near the edge of the stage. She had dark hair and an olive complexion that gave her an exotic look. “Dr. Adriano,” she said, and Cora saw an unmistakable smirk on her full mouth, “while that’s all fine and good as the reason for your, uh, passion about your work, we’d still like to know why you’ve been looking for del Flores’s ship specifically for the past twenty years.”
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.
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