by Nora Roberts
And so the necklace had been purchased by Minnefield, who had lost his life on the great Australia reef. The necklace had been assumed lost there, buried in sand and coral.
Until Ray Beaumont had found an old, tattered book and had read of a sailor and an unknown Spanish lady who faced a hurricane aboard the galleon Isabella.
Those were the facts, Tate thought now. Death was always cruel, but rarely mysterious. Accidents, fires, illnesses, even poor luck were simply part of the cycle of living. Stones and metal could neither cause nor change it.
But despite all the facts, the scientific data, Buck’s fears had translated to her, and had that well-groomed imagination working in overdrive.
Now the storm seemed eerie with its keening wind and lashing waves. Every distant flash of lightning was a warning that nature continued to thrive on possibilities.
The night seemed to warn that certain of those possibilities were best left untapped.
More than ever she wanted to contact Hayden, to call on a fellow scientist to help her put the Isabella and its treasures, all of its treasures, back into perspective. She wanted someone to remind her just what it was they had. An archeological find of significant importance. Not a witch’s curse that seduced.
But the night was wild and full of voices.
“Tate.”
She had the unpleasant experience of discovering just what it felt like to jump out of her skin. After she’d knocked over her cup, spilled lukewarm tea into her lap, she had the presence of mind to swear as Matthew laughed at her.
“Little jumpy?”
“It’s hardly a night for visitors, and you’re number two.” She rose to grab a towel from a storage cabinet to mop up the spill. “Buck’s probably upstairs, trying to wrangle a card game. What are you—”
She looked at him for the first time, saw that he was soaking wet. His shirt and worn jeans clung to him and dripped water heedlessly on the floor.
“You swam over? Are you insane?” She was already grabbing more towels as she berated him. “For Christ’s sake, Lassiter, you might have drowned.”
“Didn’t.” He stood cooperatively as she rubbed the towel over his hair and muttered at him. “I had an uncontrollable urge to see you.”
“You’re old enough to control your urges. Go to Dad’s cabin and get some dry clothes before you catch a chill to go with your insanity.”
“I’m fine.” He took the towel, looped it around her neck and used it to pull her to him. “You didn’t really think a little squall would stop me from keeping our date?”
“I had the mistaken belief that common sense would outweigh lust.”
“Wrong.” His lips curved as they met hers. “But I wouldn’t turn down a drink. Got any whiskey?”
She sighed. “There’s brandy.”
“Good enough.”
“Put a towel on the bench before you sit,” she ordered as she turned into the adjoining galley to locate the bottle and a glass. “You just left LaRue alone on the Mermaid?”
“He’s a big boy. The wind’s dropping some anyway.” Pumped up by the swim and the storm, he took the brandy, and her hand. “Want to sit on my lap and neck?”
“No, thanks very much. You’re wet.”
Grinning, he tugged her down and nuzzled. “Now we’re both wet.”
She laughed, and found it amazingly easy to give in. “I guess I should consider the fact that you risked life and limb. Here.” She angled his face with her hand so that her lips could fit nicely over his. On a little murmur of approval, she sank into the kiss. “Warming up?”
“You could say that. Mmm, come back,” he muttered when she lifted her head.
When he was satisfied, he cuddled her head on his shoulder, smiling as she toyed with the silver disk on the chain around his neck.
“I could see the light in here from the Mermaid. I kept thinking, she’s in there, working away, and I’m never going to get any sleep.”
Finding it lovely to be snuggled in his lap, she sighed. “I don’t think anyone’s going to get very much sleep tonight. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah?” His hand slipped nimbly up to cup her breast.
“No, not because of that. I wanted to . . . mmm.” Her mind slipped quietly out of gear as his thumb teased her nipple through her dampened shirt. “How is it you always know just where to touch me?”
“I’ve done a study on it. Why don’t you turn off that machine of yours, Red? We’ll go lock ourselves in your cabin. I can show you a terrific way to ride out a storm at sea.”
“I’m sure you could.” And it was ridiculously easy for her to envision them tucked into her bunk, riding the waves, and each other. “I need to talk to you, Matthew.” Greedily she angled her head to give his busy mouth freer access to her throat. “I never realized I had such a hair trigger sex drive.”
“Looks like you needed my finger on your trigger, sweetheart.”
“Apparently.” Because that idea was more than a little unnerving, she shifted and rose. “We do have to talk.” Determined to remember her priorities, she took a steadying breath and tugged her shirt back into place. “I was going to try to find a way to get you alone tomorrow.”
“That sounds promising.”
“I think I’ll have a brandy, too.” It would give her a minute to compose herself, she decided. At a safe distance, she poured a second glass, easily adjusting to the sway of the boat. “Matthew, I’m worried about Buck.”
“He’s getting his balance.”
“You mean he’s not drinking. Okay that’s good, that’s important, even if he is facing his problem for you instead of for himself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Take the blinders off.” She scooted onto the bench from the opposite side. “He’s here and he’s dry because of you. He feels he owes you.”
“He doesn’t owe me jack,” Matthew said flatly. “But if it helps keep him from drinking himself to death, that’s fine.”
“I agree, to a point. Eventually, he’ll have to keep himself sober for himself. That’s not going to happen as long as he’s so worried about you.”
“About me?” With a half laugh, Matthew sampled the brandy. “What’s he got to be worried about?”
“About you finding Angelique’s Curse, and paying for it.”
Annoyed to have the recklessly cheerful mood that had driven him into a stormy sea shattered, he dragged a hand through his wet hair. “Look, as long as I’ve partnered with him, he’s wanted that damn necklace. He worried about it, sure, but he wanted it. Because my father wanted it.”
“And now you do.”
“That’s right.” He knocked back more brandy. “Now I do.”
“And for what purpose, Matthew? Underlying it all, the nonsense about spells and witches, I really think that’s what’s eating at Buck.”
“So, now it’s nonsense.” He smiled a little. “You didn’t always think so.”
“I used to believe in the Tooth Fairy, too. Listen to me.” With some urgency, she closed her hand over his. “Buck’s not going to feel easy in his mind or his heart as long as the amulet is an issue.”
“Don’t ask me to forget it, Tate. Don’t ask me to make a choice like that.”
“I’m not.” She sat back, sighed again. “Even if I could convince you, I have to work on my father, probably LaRue. Even myself.” With a restless movement of her shoulders, she glanced over to the monitor. “I’m not immune to the fascination, Matthew.”
“You’ve been writing about it.” Intrigued, he nudged at her to get a better look. “Let me read it.”
“It’s not finished. It’s rough. I was just—”
“Let me read it,” he repeated, “I’m not going to grade you on it.”
Huffing a bit because she felt exactly like a schoolgirl facing a quiz, she sat back out of his way.
“How does this thing work?” he asked after a moment. “I never had much use for computers. How do you turn the pag
e?” Absently, he glanced down as her fingers quickly tapped. “Got it.”
Thoughtful, he read from beginning to end. “Pretty cut and dried,” he murmured, and put her back up.
“It’s a paper,” she said testily, “not a romance novel.”
“Until you read between the lines,” he finished, and looked back at her. “You’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”
“Of course I have. Everyone has, though nobody talks about it.” With a few expert taps, she saved her file and shut down. “The fact is I want very much to find the amulet, see it myself, examine it. It would be the find of any professional lifetime. Truthfully, it’s been playing on my mind so much that I’ve revised my entire thesis around it.”
She turned back with a weak smile. “Myth versus science.”
“What are you asking me, Tate?”
“To reassure Buck, and I guess to reassure me, that finding it will be enough for you. Matthew, you have nothing to prove. If your father loved you even a fraction of the amount that Buck does, he wouldn’t want you to ruin your life on some useless vendetta.”
Torn between comforting and convincing, she framed his face in her hands. “It won’t bring him back, give you the years you lost with him. VanDyke’s out of your life. You can beat him if that’s still important to you just by finding the necklace. Let that be enough.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. The war inside was so familiar he barely registered the rip of battle. In the end it was he who broke contact.
“It isn’t enough, Tate.”
“Do you really think you could kill him? Even if you managed to get close enough, do you really believe you’re capable of taking a life?”
His eyes glinted as they sliced to hers. “You know I am.”
She shivered as her blood chilled. There was no doubt in her mind that the man looking at her now was capable of anything. Even murder.
“You’d ruin your life? And for what?”
He shrugged. “For what’s right. I’ve ruined it before.”
“That’s so incredibly ignorant.” Unable to sit, she shoved out and paced the room. “If there’s a curse on that damned thing, this is it. It blinds people to their better selves. I’m calling Hayden.”
“What the fuck does he have to do with it?”
“I want another scientist here, or at least I want to be able to consult with one. If you won’t find a way to reassure Buck, I will. I can find a way to prove to him that the amulet is just an amulet, and that if and when it’s found, it will be treated as a relic. With the scientific community backing me, that necklace will be put in a museum where it belongs.”
“You can toss it back into the sea when I’m done with it,” Matthew told her, and his voice was cold and final. “You can call a dozen scientists. They’re not going to stop me from dealing with VanDyke my way.”
“It always has to be your way, doesn’t it?” If it would have done any good, she would have thrown something.
“This time it does. I’ve been waiting half my life for this.”
“So you’ll waste the rest of your life. Not just waste,” she said furiously. “But throw it away.”
“It’s still my life, isn’t it?”
“No one’s life is theirs alone.” How could he be so blind? she wondered bitterly. How could he turn the beauty of these past weeks into something as ugly as vengeance. “Can’t you stop and think, for just a moment, what it would do to other people if you manage to succeed in this insane idea? What would happen to Buck if you get yourself killed or spend the rest of your miserable life in prison for murder? How do you think I would feel?”
“I don’t know, Tate. How would you feel?” He pushed away from the table. “Why don’t you tell me? I’m interested. You’re always so goddamn careful not to tell me anything you feel.”
“Don’t turn this around on me, make it my responsibility. We’re talking about you.”
“Sounds like we’re talking about us. You put up the rules from the get-go,” he reminded her. “No emotions or pretty words cluttering up nice, companionable sex. You didn’t want me interfering with your life or your ambitions. Why should I let you interfere with mine?”
“Damn it, you know it’s not as cold as that.”
“No?” He lifted a brow. “It looks like that from where I’m standing. I don’t remember you saying any different.”
She was very pale now, her eyes too dark against the white skin. He had to know how he was making everything they had together sound. Everything she’d given to him.
“You know I have feelings for you. I wouldn’t sleep with you if I didn’t.”
“News to me. Best I can figure, you’re just scratching an itch.”
“Bastard.” Stunned by the sting, she’d swung out and slapped him hard before she could stop herself.
His eyes flashed, narrowed, but his voice was icily calm. “Did that help? Or was that your answer to the qùestion?”
“Don’t attribute your own motivations and lack of sensitivity to me,” she shot back, both furious and ashamed. “Do you think I’d pour out my heart and soul to you the way I did once? Not a chance. Nobody hurts me, especially you.”
“You think you’re the only one who got hurt?”
“I know I was.” She jerked at her arm when his fingers wrapped around it. “You’ll never get a second chance to shrug me off again. I loved you, Matthew, with the kind of innocent, unrestricted love that only comes around once. You tossed it back in my face like it was nothing. Now your pride’s ruffled because I won’t put myself in the position where you can do it again when you’re ready to move on. Well, the hell with you.”
“I’m not asking you for a second chance. I know better than that. But you’ve got no right to ask me to settle for sex then expect me to give up the one thing that’s kept me going. I gave you up, now I’m taking what’s left.”
“You didn’t give me up,” she tossed back. “You never wanted me.”
“I never wanted anything the way I wanted you. I loved you.” He dragged her painfully to her toes. “I’ve always loved you. I cut my own heart out when I sent you away.”
She couldn’t breathe, was afraid if she did everything inside her would shatter like glass. “What do you mean, you sent me away?”
“I—” He caught himself. Shaken, appalled, he loosened his grip and stepped back. He needed a minute, he told himself, to get his balance. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter. Digging up old ground doesn’t change where we stand now. I won’t give you what you want. That’s the bottom line.”
She stared at him, one part of her brain fascinated by the way he was able to close off. All those vivid emotions were dimming behind carefully shuttered eyes one by one. No, she thought. Oh no, not this time.
“You started digging this ground, Lassiter. Now we’ll finish the excavation.” She balled her unsteady hands into fists. “Eight years ago you laughed in my face, Matthew. You stood there on that beach and told me that it had all been for fun. Just a way to pass a summer. Was that a lie?”
His gaze never faltered, never changed, never sparked. “I said it doesn’t matter. The past is past.”
“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be so hellbent on evening the score with VanDyke. Answer me,” she demanded. “Was it a lie?”
“What the hell was I supposed to do?” he exploded. Outside the windows, the sky erupted in frenzied light. “Let you throw everything away on some idiotic dream? I didn’t have anything to give you. I ruined everything I touched. Christ, we both knew I wasn’t good enough, but you were too stupid to admit it.”
Thunder grumbled, a nasty old woman’s chuckling.
“But you would have,” he continued. “And then you’d have hated me. I’d have hated myself.”
Unsteady, she braced a hand on the table. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one pitching inside her. Everything she’d believed, everything that had kept her from looking back in misery was shattered at he
r feet.
“You broke my heart.”
“I saved your life,” he snapped back. “Get a picture, Red. I was twenty-four years old, I had no future. I had nothing but an uncle who was going to need every penny I could scrape together, maybe for the rest of my life. You had potential. You had brains, ambitions. All of a sudden, you’re talking about ditching college and hooking up with me, like we’d just sail off into the sunset.”
“I never thought that. I wanted to help you. I wanted to be with you.”
“And you’d have ended up saving nickels and wondering what the hell you’d done to your life instead of making something out of it.”
“And you made that choice for me.” Oh, she could breathe now. She could breathe just fine. In fact, the air that filled her lungs was hot and pure. “You arrogant son of a bitch. I cried myself empty over you.”
“You got over it.”
“Damn right I did.” She could lash back with that and be thankful. “I got way over it. And if you think I’m going to weep gratefully on your shoulder because you see yourself as some self-sacrificing hero, you’re mistaken, Lassiter.”
“I don’t see myself as anything but what I am,” he said, wearily now. “You were the one who saw something that wasn’t there.”
“You had no right to make that choice for me. No right to expect me to be grateful for what you did.”
“I don’t expect anything.”
“You expect me to believe you’re in love with me.”
What the hell, he thought, he’d already ruined it. “I am in love with you. Pathetic, isn’t it? I never got over you. Seeing you again, eight years later, carved a hole in me I’ve been trying to fill ever since with whatever you’d toss my way. No chance.”
“We had one once.”
“Hell, Tate.” He reached out to rub his thumb over a tear on her cheek. “We never had a chance. The first time it was too soon. This time it’s too late.”
“If you’d been honest with me—”
“You loved me,” he murmured. “I knew you loved me. You’d never have left me.”