She changed tactics. “I’m supposed to just accept the fact that you are disguised as something you are not and blindly trust you with my life and the lives of these children?”
“Blind acceptance?” He rested his elbows on the rim of the boat. His mouth quirked slightly. “Sounds good to me.”
“I want an answer.”
“Yes,” he shot back.
“Yes to what?”
“Yes,” he said. “You can blindly trust me with your lives.”
“That’s not the question I wanted answered.”
“Well, sweetheart, that’s the only answer you’re gonna get.” With that he swung his feet over the plank seat in front of her, then dropped them on top of it and crossed his ankles. He gave her a cocky look.
She stared at his feet for a second. Around both ankles was a strip of skin that was paler than the skin on his tanned feet. She glanced up and caught his gaze as it flashed up from his feet to her face, then narrowed ever so slightly.
She waited to see if he would say anything. He didn’t, but that cocksure look of his faded ever so slightly.
“Ankle cuffs,” she said, fishing for information. He returned her stare.
She hugged the children a little closer. “You’re from that French prison I heard the crew mention before we docked at Dolphin Island.”
He said nothing.
“I assume, since you are dressed as a priest, that they didn’t release you.” He continued to stare.
“The crew said no one had ever escaped from there alive.”
He laughed, crowed actually, as if what she’d said were a fine joke. “I didn’t escape alive.”
She frowned, refusing to look away.
“They thought I was dead.”
“But you’re not dead.”
“No, and since your sweet butt’s in this lifeboat instead of bobbing along like shark bait, you should be damn glad I’m not dead.”
She knew he was trying to get a reaction from her, anger or fear or both, but she wouldn’t react. Because despite his disguise, despite the fact that he was a convict, despite his bitter tone and hard looks, he had saved their lives. It didn’t make sense that he would save them only to turn around and harm them. So very calmly she asked, “How long were you there?”
“Too long.”
“Why were you there?”
“No place else to put me.”
She tried another angle. “What did you do?” He didn’t answer.
After a long, tense few seconds that stretched into minutes, she exhaled. “You’re not going to answer me.”
He just gave her a long and cold stare.
“Considering our situation”—she gestured to the small lifeboat—“I’d appreciate an answer.”
“Yeah, well I’d like a million dollars, a steak dinner, and a wagon load of beer, but I’m not gonna get those things anymore than you’re gonna get an answer.”
She shook her head. “I don’t see why you just won’t tell me. What am I going to do? Turn you in? Notify the authorities?” She glanced out at the dark sea. “Hardly.”
