Under the Moon Gate

by Marilyn Baron

  Nathaniel missed Gran. He tried to reach for memories of the past, a mother’s tender kiss or comforting words spoken to heal hurts. He couldn’t dredge up any. Perhaps he had once longed for them. Now they only existed in his imagination. He remembered his grandmother singing him French lullabies; that was all.

  Yet, strangely, something deep inside of him responded to Patience, and he wasn’t entirely unsympathetic to her frailty.

  “Here, you need to eat something now. Have this scone. I insist.”

  She still didn’t trust him, but, in all fairness, he was being polite. He had manners, when he chose to use them. She shook her head, but he lifted the scone to her mouth anyway and coaxed her to take a bite. It smelled heavenly, and though she must have been ravenous, she nibbled on the pastry slowly. When she was finished, he wiped the sugar-coated crumbs and preserves from her mouth efficiently with the napkin. He wanted to skim his fingers across her lips, to let her taste him; he refrained.

  “I think you should go down to your boat now,” she said. He wanted to kiss her and realized from the warm gleam in her eyes she might kiss him back, and who knew where that would lead?

  “And I think you should eat something else before I go,” Nathaniel said.

  Patience relented.

  Patience had beautiful hands to match that beautiful heart-shaped face of hers, so delicate and expressive as she finished her breakfast in silence. Her green eyes reminded him of the color of water in a calm sea.

  ****

  “The food is delicious,” she said. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”

  “At sea, I guess. You learn to cook or you starve. Actually, my Grandmother Simone taught me.”

  “Did you mean what you said about teaching me to cook? I want to learn.”

  “Sure. Next time I make a meal, you’ll be my assistant.”

  “Wonderful. Meanwhile, I’ll be studying some of my grandmother’s cookbooks.”

  Patience got up and stared out the window at the Fair Winds.

  “It’s still there. I thought the fire was just a bad dream. Why did you dock your boat here?”

  “So I could keep an eye on both her and you. I’ll take you out for a sail this morning.”

  “Is she seaworthy?”

  “She’s in great shape, thanks to you. You were a big help last night. I want to take her out for a while, and I want you to come, too.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

  “Apparently I was alone with you last night.”

  “There. You see? And nothing happened, did it?”

  “I should hope not. And nothing is going to happen. I expect you to behave like a gentleman for the short time you’re here.”

  “I won’t attack you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Now where’s the journal?”

  “I’ve put it away in a safe place,” she said, slipping out of the room to the cedar chest under the stairwell. “Where you can’t find it.” She opened the chest—and gasped. “The journal, it’s gone! What have you done with it?”

  He reached inside his coat. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  She glared when she caught the glint in his eye. “Hand it over,” Patience growled, reaching for it.

  Nathaniel shifted it behind his back, and she reached her arm around his waist. He moved it to the other hand, and she reached around his other side until she had both arms around him.

  “Darling, I didn’t know you cared,” he said, closing his arms around her and pulling her roughly against him.

  “Take your hands off me and give me back my journal.”

  “What will you give me for it? How about a kiss?”

  “How about a kick?” she countered, kicking him in the shin.

  “Ouch! You fight dirty.” But he wouldn’t let her go, instead bringing his mouth down and pressing it against hers, unlocking her lips with his tongue. Invading her. She fought to catch her breath. She tried to fight him but then found herself responding to his touch.

  He was so tender, so gentle, and yet so demanding. She went soft, her vision blurred, and somehow her arms wound around his shoulders and she was nestled close to him, lifting her mouth to his for more. The kiss seemed to go on forever. She wanted it to. Her breasts felt full against his chest, and she felt his heart beating.

  He grabbed her and lifted her up against him. “Patience,” he whispered. “Closer, come closer. You taste so good. I knew it would be like this. I can’t get enough of you.”

  She fought her way out of his embrace and grabbed the journal. “Well, I’ve already had enough of you,” she answered as she spun out of his arms.

  He grabbed her hand. “You want more. I felt it.” His breath was coming in heavy spurts now.

  “You’re dreaming, sailor boy. I just wanted the journal, and now I’ve got it. Have you read it?”

  “Only the first section.”

  Patience frowned. “Then I guess you think you have your answer. You’ve already made your mind up about my grandfather.”

  “I don’t know what to think,” Nathaniel said. “When will you read the rest?”

  “As soon as you leave me alone. Which can’t be soon enough.”

  “I’ll get the boat ready. After you’ve read some more, come down and we’ll set sail. Will you come?”

  “Anything to get rid of you, to get a moment’s peace,” she said, then added playfully, “and Cousin…”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks for breakfast.”

  He smiled and turned to leave. “We’re going diving,” he called back over his shoulder. “I have wetsuits and towels on board. Don’t make me wait too long.”

  Patience sat on the couch in the parlor and tried to reclaim her equilibrium. The kiss and all the feelings that went with it were real. But she would never let Nathaniel know it. Her heart was still racing. She felt something she couldn’t deny, something big. No one had ever kissed her like that. Made her feel like that. But she had to remember he was out to ruin her and her family’s reputation. And he was manipulating her. Taking advantage. Playing her. Softening her up, damn him. And she didn’t like being handled.

  He was only spending time with her for the access he thought it would offer him to that precious stash of gold. Gold she wasn’t even sure existed. Certainly she had no knowledge of its whereabouts. And if it did exist, she wouldn’t make his job easier. Flustered at first, she soon settled down as she resumed reading about her grandfather’s treachery.

  There, well documented year by year through the war, were her grandfather’s activities, in her grandfather’s hand. Her grandfather, codenamed Insel Adler. The Island Eagle. With its keen ability to observe. A bird of prey. Alert. Watchful. Always sharp. And, in this case, full of deceit.

  Chapter 7

  Patience rubbed her eyes and tried to hold back the tears. She looked out over the ocean in despair, trying to summon the image of the grandfather she remembered, to reconcile these words with the man she had known and loved all her life.

  As she read the damning passages with growing horror, she was also gripped by the love and concern revealed for her grandmother. Of all the emotions described in the journal, these words rang the truest, further proof that William Whitestone had treasured his wife above all else in the world.

  Patience descended the stone steps slowly, head bowed, and stepped onto the dock at the side of the house. Her eyes were dry, and she was determined not to sink into despair because of what she had read. One by one, the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together. The journal was painting a frightening picture of her grandfather as an insincere traitor.

  But the real proof was missing, and she knew Nathaniel planned to confront her with his version of the truth on this sailing trip. A truth she wasn’t ready to face.

  Patience shielded her eyes from the sun as she caught her first real close-up look at Nathaniel’s vessel. She hadn’t paid much attention to the ship duri
ng the fire and had only caught glances of the craft from her window.

  “Your sailing ship is marvelous. It’s a replica of the Sea Venture. I don’t know why I didn’t notice that before.”

  “She’s made of Bermudian cedar,” Nathaniel replied. “Rare, I know, almost impossible to get these days, since the blight, but for the right price…”

  “Why did you call her the Fair Winds?”

  “Just a tradition in our family. Our house in Virginia is also called the Fair Winds.”

  “She’s a beauty. We sure could use a vessel like this in our flotilla to kick off our celebration after the yacht race. It’s going to be a parade of boats to launch all the festivities. Perhaps you’ll agree to sail your boat in the flotilla in January.”

  “That seems like a lifetime from now,” Nathaniel answered. “I don’t plan to be around next year. Don’t know where I’ll be, but probably far away from here.”

  “Off to the next great adventure?” Patience wondered why the thought of him leaving bothered her so much.

  “Do you sail?”

  “Not much anymore, since my grandfather died,” she admitted. He looked over at the boat docked in front of her house.

  “Is she yours?”

  “She was my grandfather’s. But yes, she’s mine now.”

  “She’s magnificent,” said Nathaniel, but he was looking directly at her. “I’d like to see how she handles, if you would care to take me out later,” he said, and Patience suspected he might not be talking about the boat now.

  His blue eyes pierced hers.

  “Let’s go, then,” he said after a minute. “You can never really know a place until you’ve seen it from the water.”

  Patience watched him maneuver the boat expertly away from the dock, out of the bay, and into the open ocean. He was wearing khaki shorts and a white polo shirt, and she could see fresh scrapes and blood on his knees.

  “Ouch. You’re hurt. How did that happen?”

  “I had a close encounter of the worst kind with a brick wall,” he said, embarrassed.

  “The walls are made of limestone, not brick,” Patience corrected, “and that’s about the worst case of road rash I’ve seen in a long time.”

  “Why do they put those damn walls in the middle of the roadway? I can ride a bike. But you people drive on the wrong side of the road.”

  “No, actually, it’s the left-hand side,” she joked. “The hospital is swelling with snowbirds who can’t follow the rules of the road. And pale tourists who baste themselves and bake and broil in the Bermuda sun. The sun can often be deceptive. When we drop anchor, I’ll tend to it, if you have supplies. Otherwise the salt spray will kill you.”

  “Will you kiss it and make it better?” He looked directly at her mouth.

  Patience blushed.

  “No, I’ll use peroxide or something equally painful, that stings terribly.”

  “No, thanks, sister. I’ll live with it.”

  “I thought I was your cousin,” she teased, surprising herself. It wasn’t in her nature to tease with a man. She was awkward around most men. And perhaps that was why she had never formed a long-term relationship with one. Flirting came easily to Cecilia. But never to Patience. She was what people called an odd duck.

  She tired of the constant parade of proper suitors, bankers, politicians, businessmen, all “the right kind of people,” from the right families, that her grandmother had trotted out before her, like she was Prince Charming, waiting to see if the slipper fit. Well, they were all her grandmother’s kind of people. And instinctively she knew they were all wrong for her.

  Her grandmother and Cecilia would have been surprised, shocked, if they knew what was in her heart. She yearned to be spirited away by a dark and dangerous swashbuckler, longed to be swept entirely off her feet, wanted to feel her heart race uncontrollably and be thrown off balance by the wrong kind of man. On the surface, a man like that would appear alien to her nature, but that would not be true. In fact, the man of her dreams was beginning to look a lot like Nathaniel. She stared at him as they got under way.

  “So, you’re American,” Patience began.

  “As American as they come. I’m from Virginia.”

  “Ah,” she said reverently, and her eyes held a faraway look. “Virginia.”

  “Have you been there?” he asked, intrigued.

  “No,” she said, not wanting to admit that she’d never even been off the island. “But my family had many ties to the state. The two places are intertwined.” Patience linked her hands to illustrate as she spoke.

  ****

  Intertwined. What a strange word. From a strange woman. Patience. Even her name was old-fashioned. But somehow it seemed to suit her and her surroundings. She was so prim and proper, and preachy, a real know-it-all, but so animated when she talked about her island. That was certainly her hot button, and maybe it was also the key to his quest. She spoke of the place as if it were Camelot. It was strangely arousing. He imagined what it would feel like to break through that reserve to the simmering woman he was sure he’d find inside. To peel that veneer back layer by layer. It would take a lot of patience on his part.

  Patience would be surprised to know how much he had already learned about her. For instance, he knew she was named after the Patience, one of the two rebuilt ships that set sail from Bermuda to Virginia the year after the wreck of the Sea Venture. One of his ancestors had been aboard that vessel, which had foundered in a hurricane off St. George’s Island in 1609 while on its way to resupply the starving colony of Jamestown, an occurrence that led to the accidental settlement of Bermuda. He knew her relatives were also among the first settlers of Bermuda. Intertwined. Yes. That was how he had always felt about the two places. How would it feel to be “intertwined” with the bewitching girl sitting in front of him?

  “Where did you go to college?” she asked in an obvious attempt to find out more about the “houseguest” she hardly knew.

  “University of Virginia.”

  “Ah, I thought I detected a bit of prep school polish under that gruff exterior.

  He hesitated and then smiled.

  “Were you really a history major?”

  Nathaniel lowered his voice. “Yes. Does that turn you on?”

  She shot him a glaring look. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot in my heart for the subject.”

  “Any other soft spots I should know about?” He looked at her through shuttered eyes.

  “None I care to share with you.”

  Nathaniel laughed, then decided to change course. “You know, aside from sailing from Virginia to Bermuda and back, this is my first real trip to the island.”

  “Bermuda is not really one island,” said Patience. “It’s a chain of more than one hundred twenty islands and islets that were created by a prehistoric volcanic eruption.”

  “Is there anything about Bermuda you don’t know and aren’t compelled to spout?” Nathaniel, privately captivated, tried to sound annoyed.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that I sometimes get carried away when I talk about my home. It’s what I do. Don’t you find anything in Bermuda to your liking?”

  Yes, I find you very much to my liking. “How could anyone sail and not love this place?” he answered, never tearing his eyes from her. “It’s like a dream. I’ve never seen a place like it anywhere in the world,” he admitted, his eyes gazing into hers. “The water, the beaches… They’re breathtaking.”

  “Well, we’ve made enough small talk, so why don’t you tell me where you’re taking me?”

  “First, I have to tell you the story of how your grandfather’s chest was discovered,” Nathaniel began. “My uncle was just a teenager when he sailed with Edmund Downing, who discovered the remains of the Sea Venture in 1958 in the waters off Fort St. Catherine on St. George’s.”

  “Your uncle knew Edmund Downing?” He had her complete attention now.

  “My uncle was the real adventurer in the family. I guess I take afte
r him. He never settled in any one place. His home was the sea. He instilled the love of sailing in me. I went with him on some of his expeditions when I was very young. He told me that when he and Downing discovered the wreck of the 1609 ship, they discovered something else at the bottom of the ocean. Downing wasn’t interested in this particular find. On the surface, it appeared to be nothing valuable—just a bunch of papers in a large old sea chest. So he gave the chest to my uncle. I want to take you out to where my uncle first found it.”

  “Do you have the proper maps? There are still treacherous reefs surrounding the islands. During the last 450 years, more than 300 ships have wrecked on these reefs, including pirate ships.”

  “This isn’t a pirate ship, and I’m a good sailor, Patience. Of course I know how to avoid the navigational hazards of the reefs. I managed to make it to Bermuda in the first place, didn’t I? Anyway, I don’t see any stone walls I could run into out here, do you?”

  “They’re hidden beneath the surface of the water,” she said, laughing.

  Nathaniel slowed the motor and dropped anchor. “Here it is. So close to the reef. That’s why no one’s been able to find it in all these years. I figure the chest was originally dropped off here by a German U-boat. Maybe in the same place your grandfather was dropped off to swim to shore.”

  “Pure speculation.”

  ****

  Patience bit her bottom lip as she contemplated the water. This was their special place. Hers and her grandfather’s. It was both frightening and familiar to her. It was the place her grandfather had taken her when he first taught her to swim, then to sail and to scuba dive. There was no way Nathaniel could have known that.

  Initially, Patience had been terrified of being out on the water, couldn’t keep anything down when she was out on the boat. She still wrestled with that fear. But her grandfather had pushed her to conquer her fears until he thought she had made a complete turnabout. He teased her and said she was like a fish in water—had called her his little mermaid. She and her grandfather had gone diving together in these reefs, looking for shipwrecks. There were hundreds of wrecks, dating back centuries.