Fortune's Bride

by French, Judith E.

  “No? It was under the ocean, but it moved. Is it under that palm tree? Or here?” He kicked at a hump of sand. “Should we dig here—or over there? It’s not a very big island. We should be able to dig it all up in a couple hundred years.”

  She turned and ran away from him into the jungle, his taunts echoing in her ears. Tears clouded her eyes; leaves scratched her face and arms. “Damn you,” she cried. “Damn you, Garrett Faulkner.”

  She ran until she thought her heart would burst from her chest, until she could hardly lift her legs, until she was panting for breath. And when she stopped, she could no longer hear the sounds of the ocean or feel the sea breeze on her cheeks.

  She sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands, but she would not cry. He was being so unfair. She wasn’t lying to him. There was a treasure—she knew it. But she couldn’t expect anyone to believe the truth of how she knew.

  God’s flesh! Ha’ ye no faith in yourself, girl?

  The woman’s voice again. Inside Caroline’s head. This time, she didn’t tense up. She waited. And softly, almost in a whisper, the voice came again.

  Aye ’tis time ye showed the sense of an Eastern Shore lass. ‘Tis still here, girl, waitin’ for ye where I left it.

  A flash of blue filled Caroline’s mind. Suddenly she was surrounded by an underwater kingdom of living coral, blue and yellow fish, and feathery sea ferns. A crab swam by so close she could have reached out and touched it. For an instant, she was transfixed by the strange beauty. Then she blinked and she was back leaning against a palm tree in the jungle.

  My world, the woman said. I lifted a king’s ransom from the ocean floor for James, but I never trusted him. And some, I hid away for a rainy day. You must—

  “Caroline!” Garrett’s voice. “Damn it! Where are you?”

  “You didn’t trust him either?” she asked.

  “She did not,” Kutii said. He was sitting in a hammocklike loop of a kaklin vine about eight feet up from the jungle floor. A green parrot perched on his wrist. The Incan was feeding the bird pieces of banana.

  “She said she dived for the treasure,” Caroline said.

  “Like a dolphin.”

  “But how?”

  Kutii shrugged and flashed a rare smile. “She was Star Woman.”

  “She didn’t tell me where to find the gold.”

  “Caroline!” Garrett was closer than before.

  “I need your help.”

  “Use your own strength,” the Incan said. “You carry her power.”

  Garrett shoved a leafy vine aside and stepped into sight. “I’ll not have you running off and getting lost.”

  “You’ll not have!” She stared at him as she got to her feet and brushed off her skirts. “You may be my husband temporarily, but you have no right to tell me where I can and cannot go.”

  “You don’t know this jungle. There may be snakes or—”

  “The only snakes I’m afraid of are those that walk on two legs,” she said. Then ugly suspicions curled in the back of her mind. “Why do you want a ship so badly?”

  “I intend to run the British blockade—bring ammunition and guns in from French and Dutch ships lying off the coast.”

  She swallowed, trying to rid her mouth of the metallic taste of fear. Weeds of suspicion sprouted at the shadowy comers of her mind. “Dangerous work for a tobacco planter. Who are you, really?”

  “Garrett Faulkner.”

  “Not the man they call Osprey?”

  He made a sound of derision. “Hardly”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she said. “If I thought you were the traitor who killed my husband and left my brother to die, I’d shoot you myself.”

  “That’s a comforting thought,” Garrett said. “Didn’t a Continental tribunal find Osprey innocent of those charges?”

  “How can you defend a coward like that? I’ll never believe he was innocent. Never! Have you ever heard of a captain who survived when his ship and entire crew was lost? Use common sense, Garrett. He’s as guilty as sin—and I won’t rest until I see him hanged for his crimes.”

  “Suit yourself. But right now I don’t give a damn for Osprey or his problems. I want to know why you lied to me.”

  “I told you, I didn’t. I’ll find the gold. I just need a little time.”

  “Two days, Caroline.” His voice was cold. “Show me solid proof in two days or I’m leaving you here and finding a ship some other way.”

  Annemie’s disapproving face was a study in carved amber. “You let them slip though your fingers,” she accused. “They spent nearly a week in Port-au-Prince before purchasing a sloop and sailing off—presumably to Arawak Island.”

  “God’s bowels, Mama. Must you come here to shame me?” Matthew sat up in his bunk and shoved the sobbing black child who was with him onto the floor with one vicious kick. “If my crew hears you—”

  “Hold your tongue,” she warned, pointing a beringed finger at him. “And ask forgiveness of our Lord for taking His name in vain.” She sniffed. “This cabin stinks like a harlot’s crotch.” Scowling, she glanced at the naked girl crouching in a corner, trying to cover her budding breasts with bloodstained hands. “How old is this one?”

  “Old enough,” Matthew growled.

  “Where did you steal her?”

  “She’s bought and paid for, Mama dear. I gave her mother—”

  “Stop whining,” Annemie snapped at the child. “And cover yourself.”

  Still weeping, the girl retrieved a torn shift and tried to wrap it around herself. The attempt proved futile; not enough of the garment remained intact to be of any use. Annemie seized the child by the hair and stared into her swollen face. It was plain to Annemie that she’d been beaten, and she was certain she knew who had done it.

  Releasing the girl, Annemie turned to the servant who had accompanied her to the ship. “Wrap her in a blanket and take her to the good sisters.”

  “She’s mine,” Matthew protested as the tall liveried mulatto draped a blanket over the child and led her toward the hatch.

  “Enough. You’ve had your shilling’s worth and more,” Annemie said. “Put your breeches on. Have you no respect for your mother?”

  “Doubtless you’ve seen my pizzle before.” He picked up his rum-sodden breeches and stuck a hairy leg into them. “You’re naught but a seek-sorrow,” he complained. “If they’ve gone to Arawak, so much the better. The island is small. Where can they hide?”

  “They could have come and gone without a by-your-leave,” she retorted. “An informer sold news of their passing to Julien Puce in Port-au-Prince. Fortunately, Julien spies against the French for Falconer as well as for the British crown. Falconer’s message to be on the lookout for them did not come to him until after Osprey and the woman had set sail, or Julien would have detained them.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “Several weeks. You will sail on the next tide, Matthew. Falconer will have them in the palm of—”

  “I am the captain of this ship. I decide when and where it sails,” he said stubbornly.

  “Then decide to sail on the tide,” Annemie ordered. “And if a hair on their heads is harmed before they face Falconer, you will—”

  “I will bring him alive if I can.” He smiled. “And it is not her head I am interested in.”

  “Do not fail me in this,” Annemie warned.

  “You know best, Mama. As always.”

  But the gaze that met hers was more defiant than dutiful, and Annemie’s heart was troubled. “See that you continue to believe that, my son, lest you too lose your value to me.”

  On Arawak Island, the black tomcat padded silently through the underbrush, slipping between the tall ferns and leaping from fallen log to hummock. The sun was directly overhead, hot and molten, but the heat did not trouble the cat. Once a larger, wild cousin saw the sway of leaves and crouched in ambush, but when the tomcat came into view, the native feline sniffed the air, rolled its taw
ny eyes, and turned to flee.

  Harry paid the wild cat no heed. He hurried on, drawn inexplicably to an outcropping of limestone on a hillside within the sound of the breakers. Here the trees were scrubby and clung to the shallow topsoil in sporadic clumps.

  For thousands of years, rainwater had gathered into streams on the mountain peaks and rushed down to empty in the sea. Gullies and hollows had been worn into the limestone, some deep, some shallow. And shaded by a tenacious banana tree, Harry found a crack leading deep into the heart of the rock. Without hesitation, he dived into the cool darkness.

  Minutes passed, and a small brown lizard scampered across the rock. Afternoon shadows began to lengthen. Clouds drifted overhead, as white and fluffy as meringue. A seagull folded its wings and dropped down on the limestone to preen and strut. Then a black furry head emerged from the crack, and the bird squawked and took off into the air.

  Harry trotted out into the bright glare of afternoon, and the sunshine reflected off the tiny gold guinea pig clutched in the cat’s mouth. Harry dropped on his belly and released his prize. He extended a scruffy paw and batted playfully at the intricately carved statue, then watched as it tumbled down the limestone incline and came to rest against a fern. Yawning, he closed his eyes, stretched out on the warm rock, and began to purr contentedly.

  The gold guinea pig with the turquoise inlaid eyes lay motionless in the island sun.

  Chapter 16

  Amanda patted Jeremy’s leg and sang softly to him as the small hammock swung slowly back and forth on the side veranda of the manor house. It was late afternoon, and she’d put the baby down for his nap. Here, shaded from the hot island sun, the air was heavy with the scents of wild orchids and lemon blossoms. Amanda’s eyelids were heavy and she found herself on the verge of drifting off to sleep as she continued to hum and sing the old lullaby.

  “. . . can there be a chicken that has no bones?

  How can there be a cherry that has no stones?

  How can there be a story that has no end?

  How can there be a baby, with no cryin’?”

  Jeremy whimpered and she soothed him, rubbing his sturdy little back. “Shhh.”

  “A chicken when it’s peepin’, it has no bones.

  . . . cherry when it’s bloomin’, it has—”

  Amanda started as a man’s hand closed over her breast. “What are you—” She twisted around and Eli caught her by her shoulders, yanked her to her feet, and kissed her roughly. “No! Stop that!” she shrieked, shrinking away from him. “Take your hands off me!” she cried, trembling with a mixture of fright and rage. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at Noah’s brother. “You have no right,” she protested.

  Eli laughed. “You know you liked it. What you goin’ around pretendin’ you’re better than me for? Anybody can see that light-colored boy of yours. You laid down for some white man. Why a fine-lookin’ woman like you so standoffish with your own kind, Manda?”

  “No!” she insisted. “Get away from me!” Her first thought was for Jeremy, but he was sleeping soundly. Shaking, she moved to stand between Eli and the baby’s hammock. “Don’t touch me,” she said hoarsely.

  “No need to act like that,” he said, grinning.

  Amanda’s stomach knotted. Eli was nothing like his brother. He was short for a man and wiry; his skin had a yellow cast, and his eyes were small and slightly bulging. His hair was shoulder-length and greased back against his narrow head. With his long teeth, he reminded her of a weasel. “Leave me alone,” she pleaded.

  “Noah said you’ve givin’ him a little sugar—why not me? Eli teach you something fine, sweetness. All the women like Eli.” His left hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

  “No! Not again!” She tried to twist free, but he was surprisingly strong for his size. He squeezed her flesh until she winced.

  “Don’t be that way,” he coaxed. “You and me, we got to get to know each other better.” He brought his wet mouth down on hers. When she tried to turn her head, he grabbed her hair and forced her around.

  Amanda gagged as Eli’s thick tongue thrust between her lips. She bit down hard. He cursed and slapped her. She fell back against the hammock, and Jeremy woke and started to cry.

  “Damn you,” Eli cried, wiping the blood off his mouth. “You’ll not—”

  At that instant, Noah came charging down the porch, spun his brother around, and struck him in the face with the back of his hand. Eli went flying. He slammed his head against a table; it tilted and showered him with crockery. He groaned once, his eyes rolled back, and he lay still.

  Noah turned to Amanda and his dark eyes searched her face. “Did he hurt you?”

  She gathered the baby against her breast. “No . . . no, I’m all right.” Huge tears rolled down her cheeks.

  He held out a broad callused hand to her. “I’m sorry, Amanda.” Eli stirred and moaned. “Lay there!” Noah snapped. “You move from there, and I’ll knock your teeth down your throat.”

  “Don’t,” she murmured. “Don’t hit him.” She swallowed as her stomach churned. “I hate violence,” she said. “I hate it. I don’t want you to hurt your brother because of me.”

  “The little shit—” Noah ran a hand over his shaved head. “He’s my brother, but I don’t understand him. I’m sorry, Amanda.” He turned back to Eli, grabbed him by the back of his shirt collar, and hauled him to his feet with one heavily muscled arm. “Apologize to the lady,” he said.

  “I only kissed her,” Eli whined.

  Noah drew back a meaty fist.

  “I’m sorry,” Eli said. “I’m sorry.”

  Noah gave him a shove. “Now get out of here. I don’t care where you go, but stay out of my sight.”

  Still trembling, Amanda rocked Jeremy and patted his back. “He said that you said you arid I . . .” She hesitated. “You didn’t tell him that we . . .”

  He shook his head. “No, Miss Amanda, I did not. I wouldn’t do that. Not with a lady I wasn’t doin’ it with, and not with one I was. There’s a mean streak in Eli. I don’t know why. It’s like he gets a thrill out of sayin’ things that hurt folks. I raised him, so I guess part of the fault must be mine.”

  “I can’t believe that,” she said, putting the baby back into the hammock and pushing it. “Shhh, Jeremy. Go to sleep,” she crooned. “You’re a good man, Noah Walker, and I can’t imagine you teaching your brother anything bad.”

  “He won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of that.”

  “Thank you.” She wiped the tears from her face and stroked the baby’s back lovingly.

  “Could I sit here with you for a while?” Noah asked.

  “I’d like that . . . but . . .” She felt her cheeks grow warm. She liked this kindly giant, but he wasn’t Reed. And it wasn’t fair not to tell him that her heart was already set on another man. “I appreciate your help, but I wouldn’t want you to think—” she began.

  “To think you were encouragin’ me?” he teased. He sat down on a bench, took out his pocket knife, and began to whittle on a piece of pine.

  “There is someone else,” she said shyly.

  “Figured there must be.”

  “You’re a good man.”

  “You said that already.”

  She laughed. “I guess I did.”

  “You’re not much what I first thought you were.”

  Their eyes met. “No?”

  “Nope. I told Garrett you thought you were a black white woman.” He grinned. “Or a white black woman, I’m not sure which I said exactly.”

  “I feel that way sometimes,” she admitted.

  He concentrated on the block of wood, which was beginning to take the shape of a boat. “Family always meant a lot to me,” he said. “Eli’s all I got left. I always wanted my mother to see my sons, but that’s not possible.”

  “You don’t think the people who love us can see down from heaven?” Amanda asked.

  “Not sure there is a heaven—or a hell.”

 
; “I am.”

  “You and my mother would have a lot in common.”

  A parrot shrieked in the tree overhead. A bee buzzed, and Amanda kept pushing the hammock to and fro. Jeremy’s regular breathing told her that he was sound asleep. “When he was born, I wondered what he was,” she confided. “White or black? After awhile, I realized he was just a baby.”

  “Eli’s got it in his head that he’s goin’ to get a potful of money and go back to Africa and be some kind of African prince.” Noah chuckled. “I hear Africa is a big place. And somehow I can’t see Eli huntin’ lions or leadin’ men he can’t even talk to in their own language.”

  “He wants to go back to Africa. What do you want, Noah?”

  He thought for a moment. “I want to build the best boats I can. And I want to raise a houseful of kids. I want a wife to come home to and friends to laugh with.”

  “You mean you wouldn’t laugh with your wife?” she teased.

  Noah rubbed his nose. “I guess you got me there.” He began to shave thin strips from the hull of the wooden boat. “A man shouldn’t take a wife unless they’re friends,” he said. He held out the toy. “Maybe he’d like it to chew on. It’s pine. It won’t splinter.”

  Amanda fingers brushed his as she took the boat. “Thank you. He’ll love it. We had to leave all his toys behind at Fortune’s Gift.”

  “A boy needs something to play with. If I can find some leather, I’ll make him a ball tomorrow.”

  “Noah?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I asked you a question, would you tell me the truth?”

  “Depends on what the question was.”

  “Is Garrett Faulkner Osprey?”

  Noah slipped his knife back into its sheath. “Would you tell her if he was?”

  She smiled at him. “No. I wouldn’t. She loves him, you know. She won’t admit it, but she does.”

  “Garrett’s a fine man—none better.”

  “Then what they said he did—”

  “Garrett or Captain Osprey?”

  “Osprey.”