The vagabond by Alexandra Sellers Dear Reader: We are delighted to bring you this daring series from Silhouette. Intrigue--where resourceful, beautiful women flirt with danger and risk everything for irresistible, often treacherous men. Intrigue--where the stories are full of heart-stopping suspense and mystery lurks around every corner. You won't be able to resist Intrigue's exciting mix of danger, deception. and desire. Please write and let us know what you think of our selection of intrigue novels. We'd like to hear from you. Jane Nicholls Silhouette Books PO Box 236 Thornton Road Croydon Surrey CR9 3RU SILHOUETTF DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER? If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was reported unsoM and destroyed by a retailer. Neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this book. All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention. All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises H B. V. The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. This hook is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. First published in Great Britain 1996 by Silhouette Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR Silhouette, Silhouette Intrigue and Colophon are Trade Marks of Harlequin Enterprises II B. V. ISBN 0 373 07579 0 For Nick 46-9608 Made and printed in Great Britain Prologue Don,t think of s art,. They said night was when predatory creatures came into the bay--when they were most dangerous, unseen but seeing in the dark. But she must Imep her mind resolutely away from the thought of what might be fanning its sinlsler way toward her in the depths. It would do her no good to panic. She shiveazat. She was cold, though the water and the night air were warm. Her progress seemed slow. Every minute was in~ the chances of discovery. She swam with her head above the water. It slowed her down, but an engine propeller would kill her more surely than a shark. There were so many lights, so many boats, and so much darkness in between. She had no landmark, only the line of moored boats she must follow, chosen for their easy recognition in the dark. If she lost her bearings she might not find her way again. At last she saw the shape she was looking for--the green catamaran. Behind its mast the huge bulk of the yacht appeared. She struck out in a wide arc and came at the yacht :~midships. At a distance of a few yards, inside the yacht's shadow, she rested, treading water. From here she could see the night watch in the wheelhouse above. He sat in the captain's chair, working at something on the table in front of him, intermittently watching a screen. Twice, as his idle glance strayed out over the water, she ducked her head. Another figure appeared on the bridge. She sighed in re-lief--it was a woman, carrying a tray. She watched as the woman set down the tray, handed the watchman a glass, took one herself, bent and kissed him, and then, as he pulled her down, settled onto his lap. She watched as they drank and nestled in each other's e~brace, kissing and tall ring Her inactivity became gradually more terrible, her cour-' age and confidence draining away. What she was doing was stupid and very dangerous, but she had been able to ignore that fact as long as she was moving. The waiting was giving her time to think about the consequences of discovery--and the chances. Until this moment she had believed in success. But if the couple did not move soon. There! The woman was standing up, holding out her hand. The man set down his glass and stood up. After a moment they disappeared from view. A light went on behind the drawn olrtains of the captain's cabin, farther aft. Keeping her eyes on that light, she swam slowly to the stern. When the light went out, she pulled the flippers off her feet and laid them on the swimming platform, then as quietly as possible pulled herself out of the water to sit be, side them. Here she was still in shadow, but above her head the s'~e~a light threw a gloomy half light over everything, and she would be e~osed as she climbed to the deck. She must sl~ confidently. More important, she must walk softly. 3~ac noise of footsteps carded on a boat. She skirted the Ja~. Now the aft aznera would be picking h~ up, but the night watch wasn't the~ to see. She climbed the ladder to the nezt tick. the ~,agaoona 9 Here the glassed-in deck, with all its greenery, was sinister in the gloom. She slipped gratefully into the relative protection of the side deck and crept forward to the crew It was unlocked. The second hurdle passed. Inside, she paused, breathing heavily, and waited for her heart to still. Then she moved down the steps and along the carpeted hallway. Small deck-level lights outlined her way now--but she would have known it in the dark. At the end of the short corridor she pulled a latch and with terrible slowness slid open a metal door. She carried a small, powerful flashlight, and here, in the dark heart of the ship, she could use it without fear. She turned its glow upward, slowly playing it along the ceiling with its bare, exposed metalwork as she stepped awkwardly around the equipment at her feet. After a few moments, she moved to the doorway, doused her light, and slid the door open again. She crept down a short corridor and into the darkened lower-deck saloon. Taking a deep breath, she turned on her flash again. She moved to a drawer behind the room's luxurious wet bar and lifted out a pointed tool, then reached up as if at random to prise out one of the leather-covered panels lining the ceiling over her head. After a struggle to work loose the first, she pulled down three in quick succession. Time was passing. She played the flash briefly on her watch, then moved forward, pulling down the panels as quickly as she could and laying them softly at her feet. Suddenly her mouth opened in a soundless gasp as she gazed up toward the area of ceiling bared by her exertions. Now she began working more quickly, as if inspired, leaving a trail of panels as she crowed the room in a straight line. It happened without warning. A panel slipped from her grasp, and in her convulsive attempt to catch it, the ice pick flew from her hand and landed on a bronze. tray in the mid-die of a glass-topped table. The noise was horn~le in the silence--a ringing clangour from the tray and a loud, echoing thump from the dropped panel. She might as well have brought a brass band aboard with her. She killed the flash and stood unmoving, listening for movement from above. The sound of a shout from behind her, on the same deck, made her gasp in dismay. Who besides the watchman was aboard? There was a noise overhead, too, of the night watchman on the deck above. Would he go into the saloon above and down the stairs into this saloon? Or would he go straight down the forward companionway? Which way should she run? In the shadowy glow that filled the room, she saw the ice' pick on the carpet a few yards away' and instinctively snatched it up before running on tiptoe up the carpeted staircase to the next deck, through the saloon and into the glass-enclosed aft deck. She paused to pick up a pbtted hibiscus from a table just inside and threw it back down the s~tairwell, where it landed with helpful thunder, then ran to the sliding-glass door. The key was in the lock. She turned it as quietly as she could and opened the door. An onshore breeze blew against her face. She slipped out onto the small, open section of the deck and closed and locked the door behind her. After a second's hesitation she sent the key overboard. Behind her she saw light in the stairwell--they had reached the lower-deck saloon. Too late, she realized the plant had been a mistake, for it would tell them exactly where she was. She flung the ice pick in a high arc toward the bows of the upper deck, but it did not land with any noise. Behind her, in the saloon, she could see a head coming up through the stairwell. There was only one way out now. She climbed over the side rail, clinging high above the water with one hand, and leapt off into darkness. She sank deep beneath the surface, with scarcely enough breath to let her claw her way back up. Fear was using up too much of the oxygen in her blood. Had they seen her? Had they heard the splash? Would she come up to find a searchlight blinding her? She ~surfaced in darkness-and gratefully heaved in oxygen. She had, perhaps, moments. She dived under and began to swim in long, powerful strokes. No time to think of other dangers now. When she surfaced for ~ third time, she heard the sound of an engine. They were in the dinghy. Her heart sank; she had a long way to go. She could play hide and seek among the boats fora whi~, but she would be worn ...
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