A Treasure Worth Keeping

by Marie Patrick

  The captain grunted and held out his hand. Porkchop placed the spyglass in it and remained silent as Entwhistle peered through the glass. He grunted again and returned the spyglass. “Don’t let them out of your sight.” He started to walk away then stopped and said over his shoulder, “If you value your life.”

  Chapter 15

  After leaving Jamaica, a pod of dolphins took up residence beside the Adventurer, racing with the ship, their sleek bodies hurling out of the water and flying through the air with amazing agility and speed. To every sailor on board, the dolphins brought with them a sense of good fortune.

  As the sun began its slow descent into the horizon, the reddish gold rays bathed the sails in color so vibrant, the normally white sheets appeared to be on fire. A light breeze filled them and the Adventurer glided through the waves. With a firm grip on the ship’s wheel, Tristan couldn’t be more content. This was where he wanted to be, what he chose to do. His gaze fixed on Caralyn and a trickle of anxiety whispered through his veins.

  They were running out of time.

  In truth, he was glad they hadn’t found the treasure in the chapel, but only because it allowed him to continue the search with Caralyn. As he studied her now, listened to her laughter, watched the bright smile light up her face as she watched the dolphins with Jemmy, he knew, despite the fact they only had a few handfuls of jewels, she was happy.

  And what her happiness did to him simply amazed him. Joy surged through his veins and brought a smile to his face.

  His gaze slid to Temperance and Stitch. They, too, watched the dolphins. They stood at the rail, hand in hand, the warm glow of the sun washing them in pure light, but perhaps it wasn’t only the sun that had them glowing. Perhaps it was love. The fondness between them had grown to something more, something that couldn’t be denied, something evident to every man who saw them together.

  Tristan grinned, happy Stitch had found that elusive prize, and yet, regret and jealousy tinged his happiness. He witnessed the tender kiss Stitch placed on Temperance’s forehead, the lingering touch of his hand on hers before the ship’s surgeon headed toward the helm. Envy tightened Tristan’s gut, made him grip the wheel tighter, and yet, he couldn’t begrudge any man who’d found love, especially since that was what he wanted.

  “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?” Stitch said as he stepped beside him at the wheel.

  “Yes, it is.” Tristan lifted his cup of coffee and took a big gulp.

  “Temperance and I want to get married.” The words spilled from Stitch without hesitation.

  Tristan swallowed the mouthful of coffee so he wouldn’t choke, but a strangled cough escaped him anyway.

  “We would consider it an honor if you would preside over our vows.”

  Rendered almost speechless, Tristan grinned. “Of course. When?”

  The man grinned in return then shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He clasped his hands behind his back. “I can’t think of a better time than right now. Temperance and I don’t need anything fancy. Just a few simple words from the Bible. Everyone we care about is already here.”

  “Do you have a ring to give her?”

  A blush stained Stitch’s face and the smile he gave reminded Tristan of Jemmy’s when caught doing something he shouldn’t. “No, not yet, but when we were at the chapel, I found a beautiful emerald that I’ll have made into a ring for her.”

  “I’m happy for you, Stitch. She’s a wonderful woman.” He turned and looked at the sun lowering in the sky. “I think a sunset ceremony would be lovely. Go tell your future bride the good news.” Stitch would never know how much Tristan wished the ceremony could be his, that he could marry the woman of his choice instead of the nameless, faceless woman waiting for him in England. His gaze swept the deck and settled on Caralyn once more. His vision misted as she smiled at him.

  The doctor walked away, a jaunty bounce to his normally dignified step. Tristan watched him as he kissed Temperance then gave her the good news. She glanced in his direction and mouthed the words “thank you” before she and Caralyn left the deck amid happy squeals.

  Tristan signaled to Graham and beckoned him closer then nodded toward Stitch pacing the deck. “The good doctor wants to marry Mrs. Beasley.”

  The man followed his line of vision then quirked an eyebrow and grinned. “I have long suspected as much. Any fool can see he’s beyond smitten with our young widow. And she with him. They make a good pair.”

  “Yes, they do.” He didn’t realize he’d said the words with a touch of wistfulness until Graham shot him a glance, his eyebrow raised almost to his hairline. He ignored the expression and asked, “Do we have any champagne to toast the happy couple?”

  “I think we have several cases, but I’ll double check. If not, we have plenty of rum, wine, and brandy.” Though he said he’d double check, Graham didn’t move for the longest time, his sharp eyes searching Tristan’s face. “Are you all right with this?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” he snapped, his tone more brusque than usual.

  Graham shrugged. “I was just thinking about your own upcoming nuptials and wondering if you’re still planning to go through with them.”

  Tristan said nothing, although his stomach twisted and left a sour taste in his mouth. What could he say? Graham knew he had no choice, knew whether they found the treasure or not, his father had committed him to marry and he wasn’t in the position to refuse.

  Again, Graham shrugged. “I’ll go check on that champagne.” Ten minutes passed before the navigator returned, a case of champagne in his arms. Dust and cobwebs covered both the wooden crate and Graham’s fine clothing. “Found it.”

  “Good.” Tristan took the case from him. “If you’ll take the wheel for a bit, I’ll bring this to Hash, then I need to find my Bible.”

  As soon as he stepped into Hash’s galley, his mouth began to water from the incredible aromas, and his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He watched the big man chop vegetables and toss them into a pot on the stove. Over the years, other captains, having heard of Hash’s culinary mastery, had tried to entice the cook away from the Adventurer. Hash, to Tristan’s gratitude, never even considered their offers.

  He placed the case of champagne on the table. Hash didn’t jump, didn’t even turn away from the stove as he dropped a bit of green bean toward Smudge. The cat gobbled up the tidbit and meowed as he rubbed up against the man’s legs. “How can I help you, Cap’n?”

  “You didn’t happen to bake a cake for desert tonight, did you?”

  Hash turned around and wiped his hands on his ever-present apron. Sweat and flour dotted his round face. “As it happens, Cap’n, I did not.” A frown creased his forehead. “Beggin’ yer pardon, but did ye want cake?”

  “Well . . . .uh . . . I hadn’t even thought about it until a few moments ago. Stitch and Temperance are getting married and I thought a cake would be nice.”

  “That sly fox.” Hash shook his head and grinned. “Earlier today, I received a special request from the good doctor. He asked for rice pudding with rum raisin sauce.” He used the apron to swipe at his forehead then stepped over the cat still winding his way between his thick legs and leaned against the table in the middle of the room. “Miss Temperance’s favorite dessert, I was told.” His grin widened and he slapped the tabletop. “Gettin’ married, is he? Well, I’ll be damned.” He gestured to the crate on the table. “An’ I suppose this champagne is for the celebration?”

  “You suppose correctly. The wedding will be at sunset on the quarterdeck.”

  Without another word, Hash turned toward the stove and removed the pot then untied his apron and threw it on the hook behind the door. “I’ll be seein’ ye on deck, Cap’n. Wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  For a man as large as Hash, he moved with speed and grace. Smudge followed, his long, sinewy body weaving between the man’s legs. Hash didn’t seem to mind. Indeed, his stride lengthened to accommodate t
he cat. Before he disappeared into his cabin, he stopped. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n, but could ye ask Mr. Callahan, Mr. Jacoby, and Mad Dog to meet me in the galley?”

  “Of course,” Tristan said then shook his head, amusement making him grin as he watched man and beast disappear. He took a deep breath and went to his cabin.

  He heard giggles coming from behind the closed door, the excited chatter of Caralyn and Temperance as they prepared for a shipboard wedding. A surge of jealousy struck him again. For a moment, his stomach twisted into a knot and a heaviness settled in his chest, the same debilitating weight as when he realized Caralyn would leave him when they found the treasure. He forced himself to breathe, inhaling and holding it before releasing the lungful of air slowly. The tightness in his stomach eased, but his chest still felt heavy. He raised his hand and knocked.

  Caralyn answered the door, her eyes sparkling, her cheeks filled with color, her hair piled on her head in loose curls. The smile on her lips made his heart beat a bit faster. She’d changed from the pale yellow gown she’d worn earlier into an amethyst one shot through with silver threads. A row of tiny pearl buttons went from the neckline to her waist, and he wondered briefly if they were just for show or if they functioned as they should. He had an incredible inclination to find out.

  He couldn’t speak over the lump that rose to his throat. She’d never looked lovelier, never more beautiful, and again, he wished this ceremony could be between the two of them. He swallowed. “Sorry for the interruption. I just need to find my Bible.” The door opened wider and he stepped through.

  “Temperance, you look lovely.” And indeed, she did. Her long auburn hair hung loose and curled wildly down her back, the chestnut tresses gleaming in the lamplight. A simple strand of pearls adorned her neck and glowed against the midnight blue of her gown. Behind the lenses of her glasses, her eyes twinkled with excitement. “Uh, I’ll be out of your way in a moment.”

  He went to his desk, opened the side drawer and retrieved a well-worn, much loved Bible. “I’ll see you on deck,” he said to both of them, but his gaze remained on Caralyn as he closed the door behind him.

  With his step heavier than usual, Tristan trudged up the stairs and signaled to Mr. Anders. “Would you assemble the crew?”

  The bosun tooted on his whistle and the crew immediately paused in their activity to assemble on the quarterdeck.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, his voice rising over the excited rumblings of the men, “tonight, we have the honor of witnessing the marriage between our own Stitch and Temperance Beasley. Go wash yourselves up, but be back here in five minutes. Mr. Callahan, Mr. Jacoby, Mad Dog,” he addressed the sailors, “Hash requests your presence in the galley. However, I suggest you clean up first.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” all three responded in unison before they raced to their own quarters, jostling each other with well-connected elbows and shouts.

  Tristan stood on the quarterdeck as he waited, motionless, torn between happiness and misery.

  He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked down to see Jemmy. Someone had taken him in hand as well. Perhaps it had been Stitch. The boy sported his finest clothing, his hair slicked back with pleasant smelling pomade. “Why is Stitch marrying Miss Temperance?”

  “Because he loves her and she loves him.”

  With all the innocence of a boy who’d seen much being raised by a roughened crew of men, and who remained naïve yet knowledgeable at the same time, he asked, “Does that mean you’re going to marry Miss Cara? You love her, don’t you?”

  Startled by the simple question, Tristan stiffened. What could he say? Though he wished it to be so, that didn’t necessarily make it so. And love? He didn’t know if what he felt for Caralyn could be considered love. Then again, what would he know of it, having never felt this way before. True, he enjoyed her company and found her intelligent, fascinating, and adorable, but he wasn’t certain if that equaled love.

  Instead of answering, he said, “Let’s just celebrate one wedding at a time, shall we?”

  The boy nodded, although questions remained in his eyes, questions his curious son did not voice, questions Tristan would rather not answer. He watched, Jemmy’s hand in his, as Mr. Callahan and Mad Dog created makeshift tables made of planks of wood. He’d never seen either of them move so quickly, but then Hash was right behind them, carrying a cast iron pot, which lent a heavenly scent to the air. Amusement tickled him as the men rushed, almost tripping over themselves, in their haste to have everything prepared.

  Glasses, plates, and silverware were added to the table along with napkins and baskets of bread, the crate of champagne, and the large pan of rice pudding drizzled with rum raisin sauce. Candles, surrounded by protective glass, flickered as Mr. Jacoby lit them against the coming night.

  He turned and studied the horizon behind him. The sun was sinking quickly. He figured he had less than ten minutes to perform the ceremony before the sun set completely. “Mr. Anders, please sound the order.”

  The shipman gave three short blasts on his whistle. The crew came running from all directions, dressed in their finest clothing, hair wet and slicked back, hands damp, some still buttoning their shirts or adjusting their trousers.

  “Are you ready?” Tristan asked as a nervous Stitch walked up the stairs and stood in front of him.

  “Yes.” One simple word was all he could utter.

  “Mac, would you ask the ladies to join us?”

  The Scotsman nodded, his kilt swishing around his legs as he rushed to follow orders.

  A few moments later, a collective sigh went up from the assembled crew as Temperance joined Brady and slipped her hand in his. Tristan shared their awe. She’d never looked more beautiful and it wasn’t the gown or her hair. It was the expression of love and happiness on her face. Caralyn motioned to Jemmy and they both stood a few steps behind the bride. Tears shimmered in Caralyn’s eyes, making them a more crystalline blue. She smiled at him and his heart grew heavier than it had before.

  Tristan dragged his gaze away from Caralyn then cleared his throat and opened the Bible. As he read one of his favorite passages, he glanced at Temperance then at Stitch. He’d never seen a couple more in love than these two, and though he’d never presided over a wedding before, his words rang out with confidence. “If you’ll both place your hands on the Bible.” When they did so, Tristan spoke again. “Do you, Temperance Beasley, take this man as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do you part?”

  “I do.” Her voice, quiet but strong, conveyed her conviction.

  He repeated the same question to Stitch and received the same answer, also spoken with conviction and a great deal of love.

  “If there is any among you who believe Brady and Temperance should not be joined in marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace.” The crew remained silent, as not one objected to the union, and as the sun disappeared into the horizon with a last flash of brilliant color, Tristan pronounced Stitch and Temperance man and wife. “You may kiss the bride.”

  A cheer rose from the crew as Brady Trevelyan leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on his wife’s lips.

  Champagne flowed, the hastily prepared feast enjoyed and exclaimed over, and music filled the silence of the night.

  The sound of feet stomping on the deck as the men danced to the music drowned out the beat of Tristan’s heart. He watched Caralyn as she dipped and swayed, her skirt lifted to reveal lacy petticoats as she danced with one man after another. Patient, though he wanted nothing more than to steal her away and into his own arms, he waited until it was his turn.

  Laughter bubbled from Caralyn’s throat as she landed in his embrace, the buttons of her dress, the ones in his mind since he first saw them, pressed against his chest.

  • • •

  Caralyn didn’t know how it happened. Or when it happened. One moment, they were d
ancing on the deck, swaying to the music, the next they were in the captain’s cabin. Tristan’s hands molded her body to his, his lips on hers as they leaned against the door, his knee pressed between her thighs.

  Perhaps it was the champagne that had flowed so freely, though she’d only had one glass, or the romance of a sunset wedding. Perhaps it was him, and the heady mix of emotions surging through her, the intoxicating touch of his mouth to hers, the taste of him, the feel of his powerful body so close, the smell of spindrift surrounding her. All she knew was that kissing him, holding him, had become more important than breathing.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. The thought rambled through her head, and yet she didn’t want to stop the amazing sensations racing through her, didn’t want to end this perfect moment. He pulled the pins from her hair and the heavy weight fell to tickle her shoulders as his fingers threaded through her curls.

  I should tell him.

  “I’m promised to another,” she blurted as her lips met his, the first time she admitted the secret she’d been hiding. She felt him stiffen and pull away slightly, but only for a moment before he gathered her closer.

  “As am I,” he whispered against her cheek.

  Shock whispered through her, but she chose to ignore it. There would be time enough later to agonize over his admission and her own. For right now, she didn’t want to think at all.

  “But we’re alone now in the middle of the ocean. We can pretend the world and our obligations beyond this do not exist.” The tone of his voice sounded almost tortured to her ears as his arms tightened around her. “Just let me hold you, Cara mia. That’s all I ask.”

  Darkness engulfed the cabin, except for the beams of moonlight that caressed them. Caralyn settled into his arms and reveled in the warmth he exuded, the gentle strength of his embrace. His breath fanned her neck, just below her ear, as he placed tender kisses along her throat and jaw line. Goose bumps pebbled her skin and a strange though pleasant tightening stirred between her legs.