She slipped free from his hold and rose, then stepped outside to greet the day, ignoring the distant mounds of sand that were a haunting reminder of those the sea had taken.
“Last one to the spring cooks breakfast,” she said as soon as she heard him come outside behind her, and then she ran.
He caught up with her at the water’s edge, swept her off her feet, spun her about so she couldn’t help but laugh, then continued into the water, both of them fully clothed and gasping for breath.
They splashed and played, and Red wondered if she’d ever really played before she met him.
She wasn’t certain, but it felt wonderful.
When she closed her eyes, she could see his face so clearly in her mind.
And even beyond death itself, she thought, she would remember his touch….
And all the emotions it evoked.
They made love in the water, and again on the bank, then just lay there together, their bodies entangled, drifting into dreams. The feel of his arms around her was so sweetly gentle and protective.
The sun rose higher overhead, and all the world seemed kissed by it.
“I do believe we’ve quite missed breakfast, my love,” he told her lightly.
My love.
He didn’t mean it, of course, she told herself. It was just a turn of phrase. It went with the abandon and even the laughter of the morning. It went with the fact they were together as if they were playing house, marooned on this island haven.
“Oh, dear,” she replied lightly. “I suppose we must have an early supper, then. I imagine the servants, lazy rascals, are all lying about somewhere. I’ll have to see to the water for the tea myself.”
“Lovely idea. I’ll see to the fire, and dig about for sustenance,” he returned.
And then, reluctantly, they got up and set about the domestic duties of the day.
BRENDAN EXTENDED his spyglass, looking out across the water. There was a ship in view, but she was but a dot on the horizon, and he could not tell if she was a fine ship or a leaking barge, much less what flag she flew.
“Englishman? Spanish? Dutch…what is she?” Peg-leg demanded on his right.
Brendan shook his head.
Silent Sam was at his left shoulder. “Pirate,” he said with assurance.
Sam had eyesight like an eagle, Brendan thought. If he said it was a pirate ship, then a pirate ship it no doubt was.
“What pirate?” he asked.
“Blackbeard,” Silent Sam said.
They held their course, as did the other ship, and in a little while, he knew Silent Sam was right.
Both crews maneuvered their ships until they were lying broadside to each other, close enough for conversation.
There was never any mistaking Blackbeard. Even when he wasn’t dressed for battle with his beard afire, he was imposing. He was a huge man, and he always wore several braces of pistols, his cutlass at his belt, and knives sheathed strategically about his body.
“Where be Red?” he called out now.
Brendan shouted in return, “We’re searching for Red and the colonist. They went overboard in the storm.”
“Red? Overboard?” Blackbeard was skeptical. Brendan thanked God the man knew the truth between them, that he was Red’s cousin, and the two of them were all that each other had in the world. If Blackbeard thought he’d done any harm to Red…
“Red fell over trying to save a man, and Laird Haggerty went after to save her. We’re searching for them,” Brendan explained.
Blackbeard stared at him. “Aye? I’ll be searching myself, then. But you must be warned. Blair Colm was in New Providence. He was indeed the one to set up the attack.”
“You are certain?”
“Sonya told me, and she is equally certain he is hunting Red in these waters now.”
Sonya? Sonya had abetted the attack, Brendan thought bitterly.
Was she feeding them false information now?
And yet, did it matter? They hunted Blair Colm, so what difference did it make if he hunted them in return?
Still…
They had to find Red.
Before Colm did.
A moment of doubt seized Brendan. Did he dare trust anyone? Especially Jimmy O’Hara, who had told him about the little island they now sought?
“I believe Blair Colm caught a merchantman,” Blackbeard went on. “I saw the final firing of her mast just last night. Sail with care.”
Blackbeard was silent for a moment. Brendan thought the man might even be grieving. “I’ll leave you to these islands, then, and head north to the Carolinas and backtrack. If Red and Logan live, we’ll find them between us.”
“Aye, then, and thanks,” Brendan said in return.
The two ships parted.
“Full sail!” Brendan commanded. “To the island with all speed!” It was all the more imperative that they find Red, and quickly.
Before Blair Colm could find her.
TIME WAS SUCH a strange concept, Red thought. It felt as if they had forever, and yet it all seemed to pass so quickly that she wondered if she would be able to remember it all—the pleasure, the laughter, the comfort and security and joy. And most of all, that ridiculously heady sensation of being cherished…
The nearly savage heat of his body against hers…
The conversations and the arguments, the moments when irritation turned to impatience, and impatience to passion. The times when they loved, and when they just lay together…
She knew his face was permanently ingrained in her mind, as was her knowledge of his character. The way he valued logic and reason. His quiet determination, for he was just as stubborn as she, in his own way. For all those years she had thought she was alone in her frustration and fury, emotions so strong that even Brendan had been unable to fully share them. But now she knew that Logan, too, had been bent on finding the same man, albeit his aim had been justice rather than revenge.
Could this idyll go on forever?
Did he want it to?
Or was it only she who feared the passage of time, and even the possibility of rescue?
It was late that afternoon, when they were quietly sitting on the beach together, drinking grog, that Logan suddenly went very stiff.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A ship…I think.”
Her heart should have soared. Instead, it seemed to sink like lead.
It could mean…
But she didn’t want to be rescued. Not yet. Perhaps…one day.
People were sometimes marooned for years….
They’d shared just four days…five, counting the storm.
Logan was staring out at the horizon, and she followed his line of vision. At first she saw nothing.
Then…a speck. One that would disappear with the coming sunset, she was certain.
Logan rose, then ran hard back to their shelter. When he returned, he had a spyglass he’d found in one of the trunks. He looked out through it for a long time, saying nothing.
“Should…I stoke the fire?” she asked at last.
“Not yet.”
“But…”
“I don’t know the ship. I can’t see a flag.”
“If you can see the ship, can the ship see us?” she asked.
He looked at her. “Two specks on the sand? I doubt it. But soon enough…We need to douse the fire.”
“But…if we douse it…”
If it was Brendan out there, as well it might be, she couldn’t let him search and not find her.
“We have to know who sails her first,” he said, then went back to looking through his spyglass.
She tried to remain patient, but she was about to explode when he spoke at last.
“I don’t trust it.”
“Is it my ship?” she asked.
“No…the masts are wrong,” he said.
“You can see the masts?”
He took the glass from his eye and handed it to her.
She wasn’t pleased that it
took her several seconds just to find the ship, and even then, she could see almost nothing, only that it was a ship. And he was right. She couldn’t actually count the masts, not when it was still at such a distance, but the shape was wrong.
“We need to douse the fire now,” he said. “We can prepare a few torches for ourselves for the night, though the moonlight will probably be enough. We’ll bring essentials to the cave I found behind the spring—we must make sure we supply ourselves with plenty of drinking water. The pots and pans…rum, for medicinal use. And we’ll take the surgeon’s kit…some clothing, and then…”
“And then? It’s obvious someone has been living here. Can we strip away all hint of habitation so quickly?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. If you will begin to transport our belongings…” He paused, wincing, then looked at her. “I will prepare to dig.”
“Dig?”
“The gentleman and his wife. I’m afraid I will have to dig them up and make it appear that they reached the shore, then…perished here days later.”
She stared at him in horror. “But…”
“Their bodies are…they are not long dead.”
“Still…wouldn’t a physician know…?”
“I doubt that any ship’s ‘physician’ is going to perform an autopsy,” Logan said. “We will let it appear that the husband died holding the wife. That she perished first. The elements…the hardship…their age…all would have worked against them. I doubt any questions will be asked.”
“Oh, dear God,” she said. “After all they suffered…and all that we have taken from them.”
“I hardly think they would begrudge us for saving our lives,” Logan said gently.
She nodded.
“And yet…”
“Yet what? It isn’t your ship.”
“It might be Edward Teach. Or someone else I know.”
“Who else knows that you are Red?”
“I could pass as your…cousin?” she suggested.
“We must see what ship this is, first. Thanks to the coming of night, they will not send boats ashore until dawn. Let’s hurry.”
She felt ill, and yet it was indeed time for action, which meant she couldn’t allow herself to be weak in any way. She had come to depend upon him, and that was something she should not have done and which now must stop. She had taught herself once to be fair, merciful and as strong as steel, and now the time for steel had come again.
“If you wish, I can dig, as well,” she offered.
“You’re fast. You will be better at arranging a hideout deep in the cave. As the stronger, I can dig faster.”
Red nodded and set to work.
As she began the task of going through all they had salvaged from the shore, she realized she could not leave her pillow. Some of the bedding, yes. It was necessary it be left behind, so that an enemy crew—should their visitors indeed be enemies—would believe that the old couple had lived there and made use of the flotsam and jetsam until they died.
But her pillow…
It went with her on one of her many treks to the cave.
As she worked, she thanked God they had been cast ashore upon an island with a spring and a deep cave. She explored their home-to-be a bit, intrigued when the deeper tunnels proved to be filled with bats.
After bringing in everything she thought they would need, she began to plan.
She found several little escape fissures in the rocks, and decided on the best place to set up their camp, a spot from which they could easily access the spring itself and where they would be well hidden. They could even eavesdrop upon any visitors to the spring, so they would know if their refuge had been discovered.
When she returned to the shore, the last golden light was playing across the beach, and she had to hold back the gasp that came to her lips.
Logan was standing just outside their little structure, as the fire burned low.
The waning flames gave just enough light for her to see the tableau he had arranged inside the shelter. He had painstakingly dusted the burial sand from the elderly couple. The man’s body had been seated against one of the trees supporting the structure, and he appeared to be looking downward in dejection.
The woman was stretched across his lap, her face turned up to him.
His hand rested upon her graying hair, as if he were cradling her in a last embrace.
The stench of human decay suddenly hit her, and she turned away.
Logan saw her but didn’t move to touch her, only doused the fire, then straightened.
“I have to…bathe,” he rasped, then turned to head inland.
Red noticed he had left the spyglass near the fire. Trying not to breathe, she picked it up and looked out to sea.
The ship was closer now. She could count two masts, but she still couldn’t make out the flag. And the last light of the sun would soon be gone.
She set the spyglass down where she had found it, and as she did so, she became aware of the drone of flies.
They were going after the corpses.
There was no help for it.
She noticed crabs on the beach, and she knew that they, too, would soon be feasting upon human flesh, and her heart revolted in her chest. She was certain they had been good people, and they had deserved so much more.
But she wanted to survive. She still had so much to achieve, and now…
Now she had other dreams, as well.
She stiffened, turned and followed Logan back to the spring. He was in the water, the bar of soap in his hands, scrubbing himself furiously. As she watched, he dived down and came back up with a handful of sand, then scrubbed himself with that, as well, and she understood.
He could bathe all night, and he still wouldn’t feel clean, not after he had dug up two people who should have been left to rest in peace.
She shed her clothing and walked out to him. As he stared at her, she took the soap from him and worked it into a lather against his back.
The day’s colors changed.
Gold and pink became mustard and crimson.
He turned and locked his arms around her. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest.
Eventually he lifted her chin and very lightly kissed her lips.
“It may be our last night,” she said, breaking from him.
He shook his head and smiled slightly. “No, Red. I’ll not let it be our last night. Perhaps the last here in this paradise, but never our last night.”
“Still…” she said.
“Still…” he agreed.
He turned and, taking her hand, led her from the water. He reached for their clothing, but she shook her head, and when he gazed at her, his head at an angle, a brow arching, she flushed.
“I should show you our new accommodations.”
“I would dearly love to see them.”
They left their things strewn on the shore. She led the way to the far bank of the spring, fringed to the shore with palms that hid the entrance to the cave. She didn’t show him how she had strategically planned their new quarters, though.
She simply led him to the blanket and pillow.
When they lay down, darkness had come.
And in the darkness, they made love. She was wilder than she had ever been.
She clung harder.
He moved deeper.
Spent and gasping, hearts pounding, they lay still afterward, holding one another. Then she moved, just slightly.
And they made love again.
Ever more desperately.
And so the night wore on, each bout of lovemaking more powerful than the one before.
They did not sleep. When it was still long before dawn, he rose reluctantly. She joined him. They retrieved their clothing, but Logan insisted she don one of the dresses that had been in the trunk; he didn’t want anyone to suspect that she might be the notorious Captain Red Robert.
She went to the cave and changed, as he had suggested, then went to find him standing in the
cover of the trees and staring across the beach.
The ship was anchored now out beyond the reefs. It was still quiet, but it would not be so for long.
He had the spyglass, and he was standing stiffly.
She did not need the glass to understand his tension.
She could see the ship’s flags clearly.
The two flags that rose high on the pole. Just below the Union Jack was a personal flag.
And it belonged to Blair Colm.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“YOU’LL GET IN the next boat.”
As near as Cassandra could tell, the man giving the order was Blair Colm’s first mate. She had heard him called Nathan.
He wasn’t particularly tall, and he was a far cry from Blair Colm, who could easily play the part of the great statesman, the soldier, the hero and the gentleman. This Nathan was a solid man, bulky with muscle and with no discernible neck. He was surprisingly agile, however, given that he was built like a squat tree with legs instead of roots.
She absolutely loathed the man. He was bald, and had a grin that made her uncomfortable every time he looked her way.
She had heard rumors about Blair Colm; she had simply never believed them. They were too terrible, and had come only from the underbelly of society-indentured servants who were most often alive only because they had been saved from the terrors of Newgate or the scaffold and sent to work in the colonies. She remembered those rumors now, though, and believed them, even—or possibly, especially—the one that said he sold women.
And that, she was convinced, was why Nathan undressed her with his eyes every time he saw her, but didn’t touch her.
Help had to be out there somewhere.
Unfortunately, it did not seem to be coming today.
She and her father had been dragged from below at the crack of dawn, only a few hours after she’d managed to fall asleep. They were at anchor outside the reefs surrounding a small and quite beautiful little island. The white sand beach sparkled beneath the dawn. Hills rose behind a rich display of palm trees, sea grapes and other tropical growth.
“Someone is there,” her father whispered.
“What?” she whispered in return.
He inclined his head toward a spot on the beach. She had to squint to see what he was indicating, but then she saw the small shelter he had spotted.
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