****
Aimee took a startled step back as the man dragged Eden back and put his arms around her waist. He was wearing an elaborately plumed captain's hat, and by his attire, she guessed he was some sort of a pirate. Her breath caught in her throat. Really, he was quite handsome.
But he was a pirate.
What kind of trouble had Eden gotten herself into? Yet Eden actually appeared quite happy. Was this the same woman who had been telling Ivy and Aimee just weeks ago she would never marry any man? What had gotten into her? The man whispered in her ear, and she giggled up at him. After a moment he hefted her in his arms and used a dangling rope to swing them both over the bulwarks.
As soon as the man released her from his embrace, Eden ran over and hugged Aimee and Ivy. Tears streamed down her face. "I missed both of you so much!"
"Thank God you are safe, Eden! You have no idea how worried about you we have been this entire time," Ivy whispered. Aimee laid her head on her friend's shoulder.
"We searched for you for so long. For goodness’ sake, we had thought perhaps Lord Rutger had found you."
Eden shook her head, her brown eyes growing wide. "Lord Rutger is dead."
"Dead?" Aimee echoed in disbelief, frowning at her friend.
"Aye. Rutger fell off of his ship and drowned while he was trying to kill me. He wanted to throw me overboard because I would not agree to marry him, but he slipped over the edge himself."
"We are safe from him then?" Ivy inquired.
"Yes. He will never hurt me again. We are safe."
Aimee hugged her friend. “Oh, thank God!”
****
Caspian could not help but grin at his wife's happiness. But who were these young women? Her sisters, perhaps? Nay, they looked nothing like her, and she had never mentioned sisters. A brother, yes, but no sisters. These women were most likely just her friends.
Caspian cleared his throat. Eden turned around, a sheepish grin on her pretty face. "Forgive me for not introducing you to them, darling."
"That is perfectly all right, milady," he smiled, bowing slightly.
She moved back to the women. "Caspian, this is Lady Ivy Shaw and this is Lady Aimee Dawson. They are my good friends from back in London. I have known them practically since we were babies. Our mothers were good friends," explained Eden.
Caspian bowed deeply. "Nice to meet you, ladies." The girls seemed to be younger than Eden by a year or so. They smiled back at him, nodding politely in reply. The blond, Lady Dawson, batted her eyelashes rather coquettishly.
He averted his eyes.
"And Ivy and Aimee, this is Captain Caspian Archer, my husband."
Her friends gasped. "Your husband? Since when are you a married woman?" The girls both objected in unison.
"Aye, Caspian is my husband. We married only a matter of days ago."
Caspian's heart rose at the giddy excitement in his wife's voice when she mentioned their marriage.
Caspian leaned toward Eden. "I will go speak with this Matthew Emery while you catch up with these ladies." She nodded, and he squeezed her hand before turning to Emery.
****
"You are happy, Eden? Married to that man?" Ivy inquired with a concerned look on her face.
Eden giggled at her friend's concern that was entirely misplaced. "Yes, of course I am happy, Ivy. I love Caspian with all of my heart.” She felt a blush rise on her cheeks from talking about her husband in front of them. Would they think her foolish?
"You told us just months ago you never wished to marry, and that you would just become an old spinster," supplied Aimee.
"Well, I simply changed my mind when I met Caspian, is all." And with that she told them the tale of how she had come to be a wife, all the way from stowing away on Caspian's ship to his proposal. The girls oohed and aahed at every turn of her story.
"I hope I find a man like that someday," Ivy sighed.
"Me, too," Aimee agreed, glancing over at Captain Emery with an odd expression on her face.
****
Caspian and Matthew's discussion was drowned out to a dull buzz in Gage's ears as he stood next to them He did not see Eden or the blond woman who was standing beside her.
Nay, all he could notice was the beautiful redhead next to the both of them. She wore her golden-orange curls pinned atop her head in the tightest bun he had ever seen, although a few red wisps had escaped their confinement. Her nose and cheeks were splattered with dark freckles, and her eyes were a stormy shade of gray-blue. Those brilliant eyes snapped to his, and her cheeks flushed to a vibrant purple-pink when she caught him staring.
He supposed he should be embarrassed, as well, but he found he was not. All he could do was continue to stare at this pretty young lady.
****
Ivy felt herself flush as she caught a rather handsome pirate staring at her.
He flashed a grin and winked at her.
She shook her head in order to clear it and then closed her eyes tight.
Eden grabbed both her and Aimee's hands in her own. Ivy forced herself to draw her attention away from the handsome rogue and transfer it to her friend.
"I am afraid I will be staying here in the Caribbean, my friends. Caspian is going to build us a nice house somewhere in Jamaica, I think, so Reed and I don’t have to be on the ship all the time if we don’t want to. We might even go looking for Adam sometime. I am afraid I will not see the two of you much at all anymore." Eden chewed on her lip as she spoke.
****
Eden swallowed back a sob and tried to hold back the tears burning in her eyes.
Aimee did not even attempt to halt the water pouring down her own cheeks. "I guess this is good-bye, then. For good."
"I suppose so. But we simply must write letters back and forth, as often as we can. I'll have to hear of all your new beaus, and your new families, and your children… I am sure Caspian will take me to visit London every once in a while, since he sometimes has business there. Maybe you two could even come here and stay with Caspian and me for a couple of weeks."
“Maybe.” Ivy pulled Eden into an embrace.
Aimee lunged forward and wrapped her arms around the both of them. “We will miss you so much.”
****
Caspian gathered his crying wife into his arms and swung her back over the bulwarks to his ship. She waved to her friends until their ship was just a tiny speck on the far horizon.
He kissed the tears off of her pretty, creamy cheeks. "It is all right, Eden. Everything is going to be all right. You'll see. You will be able to see your friends again someday. Besides, you can write letters to them." He drew her against his chest and breathed in the vanilla scent of her. His wife.
****
Eden leaned against Caspian's chest and closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms tightly about her waist. He kissed the top of her head until her tears slowed down and finally ceased.
"I know, Caspian. It is just that I will miss them so much." Eden pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead.
"But you do not regret marrying me, sweetheart, do you?" He spun her around to face him.
"Of course not, Caspian; I would never even think such a horrid thought. I love you, and I know I will never regret our marriage."
He gave her the charming grin that she loved to see and hugged her, and then began to nuzzle her neck. "We shall visit them. Don’t worry. I have business in London at least every year, sweetheart.”
“But not too soon, I hope." There was a mischievous lilt in her voice.
"And why would that be? I thought you said you would miss your friends."
"Why, I have only just arrived in the Caribbean, and I could count on one hand the times I have been alone with my own, brand new husband…"
He laughed, a hearty sound she had grown to adore. "I believe I like your way of thinking, milady."
Reed skipped up to them and latched himself onto Eden.
Giggling, she fell into Caspian’s arms.
Aye,
she had everything she needed right here. With this man. She had this ship, her freedom, a son, and her handsome pirate captain.
About the Author
Heather Manning is a young lady who loves to read—and write. She has won multiple competitions for her writing with “Nextgen Writers” and placed first in some writing contests with the “Go Teen Writers” blog and is a proud member of ACFW. She lives in Kansas City, Missouri where she attends high school, acts in community theatre, eats donuts, and reads every Inspirational Historical Romance she can get her hands on.
Also from Astraea Press
Chapter One
Village of Aztec,
New Mexico Territory, 1905
The baby was nestled snugly inside the large roasting pan. Wrapped in a bit of blue flannel blanket, she reminded Amanda Dale of an over-sized tamale. The pan had been set upon the open door of the warm oven so the premature infant could absorb the life-saving heat. She is so little, Amanda thought with a clutch of fear. She bent over the pan to peer into her niece’s tiny face — a face not much larger than a silver dollar.
"Do you think she’ll die?" ten-year-old Rex asked. Bonita, the large, red dog, stood beside him, her long tongue hanging out of her open mouth.
Amanda noted the anxiety in her nephew’s voice. She didn’t answer at first. Born almost two months early, the baby had been quite small and barely strong enough to suckle. Tufts of dark hair now sprang from the top of her little head like scraggly sprouts. Her tiny limbs appeared so fragile Amanda was reluctant to carry the infant without first placing her on a pillow. Her sister Ella hadn’t even bothered to name the child yet. When Rex started calling the baby Minnie, Amanda did too. After all, the tiny girl was no bigger than a minute, as Gil Gladney had declared the first time he’d seen her.
With a heavy sigh, Amanda shoved thoughts of the handsome schoolteacher out of her mind and filled the medicine dropper with warm milk. She couldn’t afford to indulge in romantic daydreams. Not this busy September morning. Not ever.
"Aunt Mandy, is she going to die?" Rex repeated.
"Not if I can help it," Amanda replied. She gently pressed the tip of the medicine dropper into the baby’s small rosebud mouth. Minnie puckered a bit, trying to suck. Small and feeble, the infant made frail, pitiful sounds like a mewling kitten.
"How is Mama this morning?" Rex asked.
"As well as can be expected," Amanda replied, shrugging. Glancing at him, she noted the anxiety etched on his young face. Her heart ached for him. He’d endured a lot of grief for one so young. "Your mother is sick in her heart and in her mind. It takes a lot of time to heal in those places."
She did wish Ella would make more of an effort though. Sometimes she had to resist the urge to go in there and shake some sense into her younger sister. Of course, she’d never tell Rex what she’d been thinking. Changing the subject, she asked, "Did you feed the chickens?"
"All I ever do is take care of those stupid chickens," he snapped.
"Watch your tone with me, young man," Amanda warned.
Rex sighed. "Yes, ma’am. I didn’t mean nothing by it. I fed the chickens and filled the pans with fresh water too."
"Anything, you didn’t mean anything by it," she said, correcting his grammar.
He shrugged a shoulder. "I spend so much time out there, I should move my bedding into the chicken house." With another shrug, he added, "Ozzie Lancaster calls me Chicken Boy."
Amanda bit her lip and tried not to laugh. She loved her nephew. With his sandy colored hair and freckles, he resembled Ella quite a bit. Her sister would never be able to disown the boy. He was her spitting image. "Well, now, eat your breakfast, and don’t worry about Ozzie Lancaster. He’s not the brightest spool of thread in the sewing basket for sure," she told him. He wasn’t, and that was the simple truth. "Your mama is proud of you and how you’ve pitched in around here since your daddy died. It hasn’t been easy, I know."
When Rex raised one pale eyebrow and regarded her doubtfully, Amanda added, "Your mama knows more about what’s going on around here than you realize. I’m proud of you too, Rex. You’ve taken on the responsibilities of a grown man. Now eat." She shoved the plate of fresh biscuits toward him.
She watched the boy’s face flush with pleasure and felt a little ashamed for not praising him more often. He was a good boy. He truly was. But Amanda rarely received compliments these days, so she seldom felt inclined to hand them out to others. She was a spinster who’d spent most of her adult life caring for one ailing parent after another. Now she was taking care of her newly widowed sister and two fatherless children — one who might die any day. She was twenty-seven years old, going on twenty-eight. Some days she felt twice as old. She feared the best part of her life was over. She’d survived one disappointment after another. It was all she could do not to nurse her bitter feelings. She tried to count her blessings each night before going to bed, but it was getting harder to do.
As she watched Rex tackle his scrambled eggs, Amanda wished there was fresh milk for him to drink, but he’d have to settle for watered down coffee. At least it was hot. She poured some into his cup. There was no money for fresh milk now — not since Rex’s father had died after accidentally falling from Joe Ulibarri’s barn roof. There was just enough to buy the tinned kind for Minnie. She saw Rex take a swallow and grimace. On Sundays, they drank the weak coffee with sugar. But today was not Sunday. It was Saturday. But it was a special day — sort of.
"Go ahead and add some sugar, if you want," Amanda encouraged him.
Rex’s freckled face lit up as he quickly reached for the sugar tin. "It’s going to be an exciting day, isn’t it, Aunt Mandy? Almost as exciting as the rodeo or county fair."
"No more dawdling. Eat," Amanda replied crisply. She tried not to think of the adventure ahead. Exciting? She couldn’t say, but it was certainly going to be out of the ordinary. So why was she looking forward to the outing and yet dreading it too?
"I read this book called The Conquest of Mexico," Rex said. "Mr. Gladney loaned it to me. It’s all about the Aztecs and their King Montezuma, and Captain Cortez and a beautiful lady named Marina. Mr. Gladney says the Aztecs didn’t build the old ruins, but he says the first settlers thought so, and they named the place after them. Mr. Gladney knows a lot about archeology. His best friend is an archeologist."
When Amanda raised her eyebrows, Rex explained. "He says archeology is the scientific study of old artifacts and stuff from ancient cultures. You know, pottery and skeletons and such."
"Eat," she said. "He’ll be here soon, and you haven’t finished your breakfast yet." She picked up the baby — roasting pan and all — and swished into the other room to change Minnie’s diaper. She knew Rex had been looking forward to this particular Saturday for weeks, ever since Mr. Gladney had announced he would be willing to take interested boys and girls to explore the old Indian ruins along the Animas River. A field trip, he called it.
Like most of the other people living in the small New Mexico town, Amanda knew the ruins existed, but she didn’t think about them much. After all, there was laundry to wash, her ailing sister to look after, little Minnie to care for, eggs to collect and sell, and the small garden to tend. Why should she concern herself with old deserted dwellings, home now to nothing but lizards and spiders?
When Rex told her about his teacher’s eager fascination with the old Indian settlement, Amanda had imagined all too well how Gil Gladney’s blue eyes must have lit up. Eyes as blue as the New Mexico sky.
Rex adored Mr. Gladney, she knew. Her nephew wanted to be a teacher when he grew up. He loved school and reading books. While most other boys his age would rather go hunting or fishing, Rex loved studying history and geography. He hoped to go to college one day. He even prayed about it. Amanda didn’t see how it would be possible, but she wasn’t going to say so and ruin his dreams. Rex was a good boy. So when he asked her to come along, to be a chaperone for the girl students, she’d said ‘yes.’
He
r cheeks flamed now, reflecting upon her foolishness. She heard Bonita bark, and her cheeks grew even hotter. He was here! Her fingers fumbled with Minnie’s small diaper — squares of white flannel no bigger than a woman’s handkerchief.
Amanda heard voices in the kitchen — Rex’s and a woman’s. She relaxed a little and gently returned the baby to her roasting pan, tucking the blankets around her small body. Smoothing her skirt and her wavy dark hair, Amanda picked up the pan and returned to the kitchen.
"Good morning, Señora Martinez. Thank you for coming," she said, noting with pleasure the basket of fresh sopapillas and a jar of honey on the kitchen table.
"I am happy to help," the older woman replied. Short, plump, and middle-aged, Dolores Martinez was the mother of six grown children and more than a dozen grandchildren. She had proven to be a good neighbor many times in the past several months. "Let me have the baby," she insisted, taking the roasting pan. "Pobrecita, poor little thing," she cooed, looking down at Minnie. "She is small, but muy bonita, no?"
"Yes, she’s a pretty, little thing," Amanda agreed.
"Hmm, the sopapillas are still warm!" Rex exclaimed. He helped himself to one of the pillowy triangles of fried dough and drizzled it with a spoonful of honey.
"Mind your manners, and be sure to water the señora’s horse," Amanda reminded him as she peered out the window at the horse tied to the porch railing.
"Thanks, Mrs. Martinez," Rex mumbled, his mouth full. He darted out the door to do as he’d been told.
Amanda whisked his plate from the table and placed it on the floor. As usual, Rex had left a bit of egg and some biscuit crumbs for the dog. "Here, girl," she said, patting Bonita’s dark velvety head.
The animal was looking healthier every day, despite the broken tail and the sore patch on her back where someone had scalded her with something hot. Miserable and apparently homeless, the pitiful creature had shown up months ago on the farm. Rex had adopted her with fierce affection. Amanda dreaded the day when someone would turn up to claim the dog. She feared Rex wouldn’t be able to handle the loss so soon after the death of his father.
Swept to Sea Page 22