Elizabeth Grayson by Moon in the Water

Ma would have his ears if he even thought about overcharging.”
    “Is this what your father does?” She and Chase hadn’t gotten much past introductions, and Ann was curious.
    “Pa has a wood yard between Council Bluffs and Sioux City,” Rue said with a nod. “That’s why Chase likes having a regular Sioux City run—so he can stop by Hardesty’s Landing once or twice a month.”
    “Will I meet your parents?” she asked him, not at all sure she wanted to. How was Chase’s family likely to take the news that their son had married a woman they’d never met? One who was carrying another man’s child?
    “I wouldn’t count on being aboard when we reach Hardesty’s Landing,” Chase advised her.
    Ann turned as Chase sauntered toward where she and Rue were braced against the railing. That he moved across the deck with such rangy grace, with such confidence and self-possession, surprised Ann a little. Back at the commodore’s house, his size and rough-hewn looks had seemed coarse and out of place. Here, that broad, bony face conveyed authority and strength—and a kind of blatant masculinity that made Ann’s heart beat faster.
    “I won’t go back,” she told him for what seemed like the dozenth time since she’d come aboard.
    Chase let his gaze run over her in a perusal so thorough it made Ann flush. The way his eyes lingered on the rise of her belly made his most compelling argument for sending her home.
    “A woman in your condition,” Chase pointed out, “has no business aboard a boat that’s headed for Montana.”
    Ann shifted away from the rail and faced him directly. “If one of the women passengers was expecting a child, you wouldn’t consider putting her off.”
    “If one of the women passengers was expecting a child, she wouldn’t be my responsibility.”
    Ann knew he was right to be concerned for her. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit the journey frightened her. Carrying this child frightened her. But she was here, and she was staying—no matter what.
    “I won’t be any trouble,” she assured him.
    Chase shook his head. “You can’t promise that, Ann; no one could. And you’ve already been trouble.
    “By taking your meals upstairs on a tray, you’ve made more work for the kitchen staff,” he enumerated. “You’ve shut me out of my own cabin and disrupted my work. I don’t even have a bed to sleep in.”
    But his scent still lingered on her sheets, Ann realized with an odd, hollow feeling in her chest. It was a musky masculine smell, tempered with a good dose of woodsmoke. And not in the least unpleasant.
    “I’m sorry about the bed,” Ann offered.
    Chase dipped his head in acknowledgment. “We’ll call things even if you stop taking your meals in the cabin. Come eat supper with me tonight, with me and my officers.”
    Though Ann might be comfortable with Frenchy, the notion of facing Chase’s men and a salon full of passengers, intimidated her more than she cared to admit.
    “I still prefer,” she answered softly, “to take my meals in the cabin.”
    At her refusal, Chase’s eyebrows clashed over the bridge of his nose. “Do you think you’re too good to share a meal with me and my men because you’re the commodore’s daughter?”
    Ann retreated a step in surprise. “I most certainly do not think that!”
    “Then have supper with us tonight and prove it,” Chase challenged her.
    Ann bristled at his tone. But before she could answer, Rue’s applause cut her off.
    “Well done, big brother,” he observed laconically, rubbing at one corner of his mustache. “You argue with her, bargain with her, insult her, then expect Ann to want to join you for supper. Ma taught you better; try being polite!”
    It was Chase’s turn to flush, but after a moment he accepted Rue’s advice. “We’ll be putting in at a town this evening, Mrs. Hardesty,” he tried again. “That means supper will be something a little special. My officers and I would be pleased if