Surrender To A Scoundrel by Julianne MacLean Page B

stepped back and let her take hold. Again, he stood behind her and wrapped his hands around hers. She inhaled sharply at the sensation of his rough, stubbled jaw against her cheek.
    “Let’s turn it slightly,” he said, “and see what happens to the sails.”
    She felt the pull of his strong hands around hers and looked up as the boat shifted direction. The canvas snapped tight and wrinkled slightly.
    “Is this better?” she asked, fighting to remain focused on the boat and the sails, when she was completely distracted by the nearness of his hard, lean body behind her.
    Again, he dipped his head to speak close to her ear, and she closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the timbre of his deep, masculine voice. “Not really, but do you see how the sails have to be trimmed to suit the direction of the boat? Watch what happens if we do this.”
    He turned the wheel farther over still, and the sails flapped noisily for a moment before he turned it back.
    Evelyn continued to hold the wheel, recognizing the sensation of being in control of the rudder, while Martin explained how the direction of thewind was key, and how all the elements worked together to affect speed.
    “It’s physics,” she said, becoming fascinated by the complexity of the air and water flow working together, and comprehending how the shape of the hull and sails and the size of the keel all played an important part in the boat’s movement.
    For the next hour, he taught her about the science of it all, and though he let her steer the boat by herself, he always remained close by at her side, except for when he had to adjust the lines, which he did so quickly and ably when they tacked.
    “You certainly know what you’re doing,” she said to him later that morning, as the boat heeled to starboard.
    “I like to think so.”
    She remembered what Lord Breckinridge had said about Martin the day before, and what she herself had thought when she’d watched him sail into Cowes.
    “I believe some people might underestimate your skills,” she said. “Lord Breckinridge in particular.”
    Martin’s eyes gleamed with interest, as if this were information that could help him win or lose the race. “What makes you say that?”
    “Well…” she replied somewhat reluctantly, “his first mate on the Endeavor went to school with you at Eton and remembers your reputation for being wild and reckless, and because of that, Ibelieve he assumes you will make rash decisions.”
    “Who is his first mate?” Martin asked.
    “A gentleman by the name of Sheldon Hatfield.”
    Martin looked out to sea, nodding. “Ah yes, he would certainly think me reckless, among other things.”
    “Why?” Evelyn had the distinct feeling there was something scandalous behind this. But with Martin, there was always something scandalous in the milieu.
    “I once took a lady friend of his riding and gave her a spirited horse. She was screaming the entire time.”
    “And you found that amusing?” Evelyn asked, raising an eyebrow.
    He smiled. “Of course. But then she needed to be rescued, and I had to take charge. It was quite a daring rescue, if I do say so myself. Not to put too fine a point on it, but Hatfield dislikes me so much because of the rescue. He was rather smitten with the young lady in question, you see.”
    “And you seduced her,” Evelyn said knowingly.
    “I wouldn’t say ‘seduced,’ but she did entertain a bit of a crush afterward. I had to avoid her for weeks.”
    She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “As I’m sure you had to avoid many young ladies. I can think of one in particular.”
    “Your friend. What was her name?”
    “Penelope Steeves! I cannot believe you! How can you not even remember?”
    There was humor in his eyes as he shrugged. “She was very pretty, wasn’t she? Blond hair?”
    “Weren’t they all pretty and blond?” she replied with mocking derision.
    Martin chuckled. “So tell me, why didn’t Miss Steeves join you this