by Nora Roberts
“Totally,” she agreed, almost purring when he slipped his arms around her. “Might as well give up now.”
“Sweetheart, I hoisted the white flag the minute you knocked me out of that hammock onto my butt.” The smile faded from his eyes. “You’re my luck, Tate,” he murmured. “There’s nothing I can’t do if you’re with me.”
She settled into his arms, closed her eyes. And tried not to think about the weight of the curse in his pocket.
The teams gathered on the deck of the Mermaid in the thinning light of dusk. The weeks of treasure-hunting had been prosperous. On the generous foredeck, bits and pieces of the latest haul were separated from debris. There were sextants, octants, tableware, a simple gold locket containing a lock of hair.
Tate did her best to keep her mind off the amulet Matthew still held and answered questions on the two porcelain statues her father was examining.
“They’re Ching dynasty,” she said. “They’re called Immortals, depicting saintly human figures from Chinese theology. In all there are eight, and these two are wonderfully undamaged. We may find the other six, if indeed there was a complete set. They’re not listed in the manifest.”
“Valuable?” LaRue tossed out.
“Very. In my opinion, it’s time we started thinking about transferring the more valuable and the more fragile items to a safer place.” Deliberately, she kept her eyes averted from Matthew’s. “And that we call in at least one other archeologist. I need corroboration, and more extensive facilities in order to complete a proper study. And we have to begin work on preserving the Isabella herself.”
“The minute we make any move like that, VanDyke would be on us,” Buck objected.
“Not if we take the precaution of notifying the proper institutions. The Committee for Nautical Archeology in England, its counterpart in the States. If anything, keeping this to ourselves is more dangerous than going public. Once we’re on record, it would be impossible for VanDyke or anyone like him to sabotage our operation.”
“You don’t know pirates,” Buck said grimly. “And government’s the biggest pirate of all.”
“I’m leaning with Buck on this.” Frowning, Ray studied the Chinese figures. “I won’t dispute that we have an obligation to share what we’ve found, but we haven’t finished yet. We have weeks more excavating, maybe months, before we’ve played her out. And we’ve yet to find the main thing we came for.”
“Angelique’s Curse,” Buck said under his breath. “Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”
“If she’s there,” LaRue corrected, “we’ll find her.”
“I think you’re all missing the point.” Marla spoke quietly. It was so rare she offered an opinion on excavation policy, everyone stopped and turned to her. “I know I don’t dive, don’t work the airlift, but I understand the heart of all of this. Look what we’ve done, what we’ve found already. A small operation with only two diving teams, working frantically to keep it all so quiet and secret. Yet we’ve uncovered a kind of miracle. And we’ve made Tate responsible for caring for that miracle. Now that she’s asking for help, we’re all worried someone might come along and steal our thunder. Well, they can’t,” she added. “Because we’ve done it. And if we focus so narrowly on one piece, aren’t we losing sight of the whole? Angelique’s Curse might have drawn us here, but we don’t have to find it to know we’ve done something incredible.”
With a sigh, Ray draped an arm over her shoulders. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. It’s foolish to think we haven’t succeeded because we haven’t found the amulet. Still, every time I go down and come up again without it, I feel as though I’ve failed. Even with all this.”
Tate’s hot gaze skimmed over Matthew before settling on her father. “You haven’t failed. None of us have.”
Saying nothing, Matthew rose. He took the gold chain from his pocket, let it dangle. For an instant, Tate thought she saw light flash from the stone.
Ray got shakily to his feet. His vision seemed to blur and fracture as he reached out to touch the center ruby. “You found it.”
“Tate found it. This morning.”
“It’s a devil’s tool,” Buck whispered, backing away. “It’ll bring you nothing but grief.”
“It may be a tool,” Matthew agreed, and his glance flicked over LaRue. “And I’ll use it. My vote goes with Tate. We make arrangements to transfer what we have. She can contact her committees.”
“So that you can lure VanDyke,” she murmured.
“VanDyke’s my problem. This is what he wants.” Matthew slipped the necklace from Ray’s hands. “He won’t find it easy going through me to get it. It might be best to suspend operations for a while. You and Marla and Tate could go on island.”
“And leave you here to face him down alone?” Tate tossed back her head. “Not a chance, Lassiter. Just because I’m stupid enough to want to marry you doesn’t mean I’ll let you bundle me off.”
“You’re getting married?” Marla pressed a hand to her lips. “Oh, honey.”
“I had intended to make the announcement a little more smoothly.” Annoyance glittered in Tate’s eyes. “You jerk.”
“I love you, too.” Matthew hooked an arm around her waist while the amulet dripped from his free hand. “She asked me this afternoon,” he explained to Marla. “I decided to give her a break and go along with it, since it means I get you in the bargain.”
“Thank goodness the two of you have come to your senses.” With a sob, Marla threw her arms around both of them. “Ray, our baby’s getting married.”
He patted his wife awkwardly on the shoulder. “I guess this is my cue to say something profound.” Emotions warred through him, regret mixed with joy. His little girl, he thought, was another man’s woman. “I can’t think of a damn thing.”
“If you will pardon me,” LaRue said. “I suggest a celebration.”
“Of course.” Marla wiped at her eyes and stepped back. “I should have thought of it.”
“Allow me.” LaRue strolled off into the galley to unearth the bottle of Fume Blanc he’d hidden away.
After the glasses were poured, the toasts drunk and the tears dried, Tate walked to the starboard rail to join Buck.
“It’s a pretty big night,” she murmured.
“Yeah.” He lifted his glass of ginger ale.
“I thought—I’d hoped that you’d be happy for us, Buck. I do love him so much.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Guess I know you do. I got used to thinking about him like my own the past fifteen years. I ain’t been much of a substitute father—”
“You’ve been wonderful,” she interrupted hotly.
“Screwed up more than once, but mostly I done my best. I always knew Matthew had something special in him. More’n me, more’n James. I never knew how to make it come out. You do,” he added, turning to her at last.
“He’s a better man with you than he would be without. He’ll try harder with you there, and turn off that bad Lassiter luck. You gotta make him get rid of that damned necklace, Tate, before it curses your lives. Before VanDyke kills him for it.”
“I can’t do that, Buck. If I tried, and he changed himself because I’d asked, what would I leave him?”
“I should never have told him about it. I made him think we could make James’s death worth something if we found it. That was stupid. Dead’s dead.”
“Matthew’s his own man, Buck. What he does can’t be because of me, or you, or anyone. If we love him, we have to accept that.”
CHAPTER 25
T ATE STRUGGLED TO take her own advice to heart. As Matthew slept beside her in his cabin on the Mermaid, she tried to put her fears to rest.
He’d said it was time they trusted each other. She knew trust could be as strong a shield as love. She would make hers strong enough, she promised herself, to defend them both against anyone or anything.
Whatever happened, whatever he did, they would face it together.
“Stop wo
rrying,” he murmured and nudged her closer.
The heat of his body, the hard length of it against hers, soothed. “Who said I was?”
“I can feel it.” To distract them both, he ran his hand over her hip. “You keep sending out all these nasty little worry darts. They’re keeping me awake.” His hand inched back up, over her rib cage. “And since I’m awake anyway . . .” He rolled on top of her to send kisses and shivers down her throat.
“Next time I build a boat, I’m going to make the master cabin bigger.”
She sighed as his lips nibbled their way to her ear. “Next time?”
“Mmm-hmm. And I’m soundproofing it.”
She let out a chuckle. Buck’s snoring from the next cabin battered the walls like thunder. “I’ll help you. How does LaRue stand it?”
“He says it’s like the boat rocking in the current. It’s just there.” Circling a finger around her breast, Matthew studied her face in the moonlight that drifted through the open window. “When I designed the living quarters, I didn’t have a wife in mind.”
“You’d better keep one in mind now,” she warned him. “This one. And I think the living quarters are just fine.” Teasingly, she flicked her tongue over his jaw. “Especially the captain’s cabin.”
“You know, if I’d figured out that this engagement business would clear the way for this, I’d have tried it sooner.” To please himself, he spread her hair over the pillow. “It beats the floor of the bridge.”
“All to hell.” She curved her lips under his. “But I kind of liked those nights. Don’t think this engagement business is going to last long,” she added. “We’re going to Nevis tomorrow to start the formalities.”
“Christ, you’re bossy.”
“Yeah and I’ve got you, Lassiter.” She vised her arms around him. “I’ve really got you.”
Nothing, absolutely nothing, she vowed, was going to take him away from her.
“The minute you’re finished, I want you to meet me in the boutique.” Under the bright morning sun, Marla shook the sand out of her sandals as she stepped from the beach onto the stone walkway of the resort. Small, informal wedding or not, she intended to take her duties as mother of the bride, and surrogate mother of the groom, seriously.
Tate sighed and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “I don’t suppose it’s any use telling you again that I don’t need a new dress.”
“No use at all.” Happily, Marla beamed. “We’re getting you a wedding dress, Tate Beaumont. If the boutique here at the resort doesn’t have anything suitable, we’re going to Saint Kitts. And Matthew”—she patted him gently on the cheek—“you could use a haircut—and a decent suit.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Suck up,” Tate muttered.
Ignoring that, Marla continued to smile. “Now y’all go see the concierge. I’m sure he can help you find the way to push through the paperwork. Matthew, you and I will look into that suit later this afternoon. Oh, and Tate, ask him about shoes.”
“Shoes?”
“We’ll want to get some to match your dress.” With a cheery wave, she headed up the steps toward the boutique.
“She’s off and running,” Tate said under her breath. “Thank God we’re doing this here and now. Can you imagine what she’d be planning if we were getting married back on Hatteras? Showers and bridal shows. Flowers, caterers, cakes.” She shuddered delicately. “Wedding consultants.”
“Sounds kind of nice.”
“Lassiter.” Bemused, Tate stared up at him. “You’re not telling me you’d like all that fuss and bother. If she had the chance, she’d stuff you into a tux, maybe tails.” She gave his butt a friendly pat. “Not that you wouldn’t look wonderfully dashing.”
“I thought women were supposed to want a big, splashy wedding.”
“Not sane women.” Amused, she paused halfway up the steps. “Matthew, is that what you want, all the pomp and circumstance?”
“Look, Red, I’ll take you any way I can get you. I just don’t see what’s so wrong with the fancywork. A new dress, a haircut.”
Tate narrowed her eyes wickedly. “She’s going to make you wear a tie, pal.”
He couldn’t quite control the wince. “Not such a big deal.”
“You’re right.” With a little laugh, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I guess I’d better just come clean and admit it. I’m scared.”
“Good.” He clasped his hand over hers. “That makes two of us.”
Together they went into the lobby to track down the concierge.
Fifteen minutes later, they walked out again, dazzled.
“It’s going to be awfully easy,” Tate managed. “Proof of citizenship, sign a few papers.” She blew the hair out of her eyes. “We could pull this off in two or three days.”
“Cold feet?”
“They’re blocks of ice, but I can handle it. You?”
“I never welch on a deal.” To prove it, he scooped her off her feet. “Are you going to be Doctor Lassiter or Doctor Beaumont?”
“I’m going to be Doctor Beaumont and Mrs. Lassiter. Suit you?”
“Suits me. Ah, I guess we’d better head to the boutique.”
“I can save you from that.” Understanding, she gave him a hard, smacking kiss. “If we manage to find a dress in there, you aren’t allowed to see it. Mom will have a fit if we don’t follow at least one tradition.”
Hope bloomed. “I don’t have to go shopping?”
“You don’t have to go shopping until she snags you. Why don’t you swing by in about a half hour? Wait, I forgot I was dealing with Marla the mad shopper Beaumont. Give us an hour. And since I’m feeling so generous where you’re concerned, if Mom decides to drag me off to Saint Kitts, we’ll detour back to the boat and drop you off.”
“I owe you big, Red.”
“I’ll collect. Put me down.”
He gave her one last kiss, then set her on her feet. “I bet they carry lingerie up there.”
“I bet they do.” She laughed and gave him a shove. “I’ll surprise you. Get lost, Lassiter.”
Smiling, she watched him disappear back into the lobby. Suddenly the idea of a new dress, something flowing and romantic, didn’t seem so frivolous. Something that would be flattered by a little gold heart with a single pearl dripping from its point.
Lassiter, she decided, I’m going to knock your socks off.
Flushed with pleasure, she started across the patio. The hand that clamped on her arm made her laugh. “Matthew, really—”
The words, and her breath, clogged in her throat as she stared into the smoothly handsome face of Silas VanDyke.
Reality tilted on its edge for a moment. He looked exactly the same, she thought dumbly. The years had laid lightly on him. The thick, glossy pewter hair, the smooth, elegant face and pale eyes.
His hand was soft as a child’s on her arm, and she could smell the subtle, expensive cologne he’d dabbed on his skin.
“Ms. Beaumont, what a pleasure to run into you like this. I must say, the years have been overwhelmingly generous with you.”
It was the sound of his voice, faintly European and coldly pleased, that snapped her back. “Let go of me.”
“Surely you have a moment or two for an old friend?” Still smiling benignly, he steered her sharply around the garden of brilliant annuals as he spoke.
There were dozens of people around, she reminded herself as she fought back fear. Guests, staff, the early diners who lounged in the poolside restaurant. She only had to shout.
The realization that she was afraid, here, in the bright sunlight, had her digging in her heels. “Oh, I’ve got a moment or two for you, VanDyke. In fact, I’d enjoy dealing with you very much.” Alone, she thought, without Matthew shouldering her aside. “But if you don’t let me go, right now, I’ll start screaming.”
“Now that would be an unfortunate mistake,” he said mildly. “And you’re a sensible woman. I know.”
“Keep pawing at me
and I’ll show you just how sensible.” Furious, she jerked her arm free. “I’m sensible enough to know there’s nothing you can do to me in a public place.”
“Do to you?” He looked shocked, and vaguely offended. But his head was aching, pounding at the idea that she would defy him. “Tate, my dear, what a foolish thing to say. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to you at all. I’m simply inviting you to come out and spend an hour or two on my yacht.”
“You must be insane.”