Tiger Eyes

by Kimberly Nee

  “Diego, I…” Why was she hesitating? This was exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it? So why was she being such a ninny about it? Was she going to make the same damn mistake again?

  He lowered her to her feet, but refused to release her. “Gabby, why do you do this? Why do you fight me at every turn? I’ve had weeks to think about this, to know what I want, and what I want is you. If you want to keep sailing, we will. If you want to stay on land, we will. I care not where we are, as long as when I go to bed at night, you are the one beside me.”

  Her mouth went dry at his soft words, and her heart must have tripled its pace, it was beating so furiously. Breathing was unusually difficult as well, as she whispered, “Do you mean that?”

  “Have you known me to lie to you?” His hand curved against her cheek.

  His eyes were dark and serious, more brown than gold, and they were the most beautiful eyes she’d ever seen. “No,” she admitted with a shake of her head. “I don’t suppose I have.”

  “We can leave with the morning tide,” he murmured, his thumb lightly grazing her jaw. “And, with any luck, perhaps by the time we return to St. Phillippe, we will have a head start on a family.”

  “Diego!”

  His laugh was a low purr and he brushed her lips with a quick kiss. “We will make beautiful babies, Gabby.”

  “Oh, I am certain you will. Or, that is, you would have.”

  Diego released her slowly, and both turned to see William leaning against the doorway to the music room. He was somewhat rumpled, his hair poking up at all angles, and his coat was missing. Gabby couldn’t remember ever seeing him look so disheveled, and that Iñigo was not with him raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

  “What did you do with Captain Sebastiano?” She peered around him to the empty corridor behind him. “Where is he?”

  “He had the arrogance to believe he was stronger than Carmichael and me. He was wrong.”

  In one fluid motion, Diego had his sword drawn, the blade pointed at William, and he gripped Gabby by the upper arm to pull her back behind him. She resisted at first, but it only made Diego tug harder. Rather than be jerked off her feet, she relented and stepped back just behind him.

  “Where is he?” Diego asked, his voice soft. Gabby knew that tone, and if William had any brains at all, he would tell Diego what he wished to know, and he’d be quick about it. Where most men blustered and yelled when infuriated, Diego did the opposite. He became quite calm and controlled.

  But William remained unruffled. He didn’t know how close Diego was to exploding. “You will know soon enough, Spaniard,” William replied, a hint of derision in his words. Without looking, he called out, “Carmichael?”

  “Yes?”

  Gabby’s blood ran cold as Carmichael calmly strode from the music room and pressed one of the two pistols he held into William’s outstretched hand. William smiled and her blood ran colder still. He looked so much like their father, was almost as handsome, and twice as strong. But where her father had been warm and loving, there was no trace of that in William Markham. His eyes were cold and dark, and his smile held no warmth either. She had never seen him look this way, and she pressed her lips together as she looked from Diego to William and back.

  “Is he—” William jerked his head toward the music room, “—out of the way?”

  “Almost. He will give us no trouble.”

  “Good.” William gestured toward Diego with the pistol. “Take this one to join his friend.”

  “William, what are you doing?” Gabby’s belly lurched as William trained the pistol on her. “What the devil—?”

  “You will come with me, Gabby. And you will drop your steel, Spaniard, lest you wish to see how good a shot I am. I’ve yet to lose a duel, you know.”

  Diego stared hard at him, but made no move to lower his sword. “What are your intentions where she is concerned?”

  “My dear boy,” William’s voice rang with condescension, though he was several years younger than Diego. “She is my sister. Think you I would allow harm to come to her?”

  “Then I suppose she sustained that bruise in a fall?”

  Gabby glanced up at Diego’s back. His shoulders were taut, muscles visible beneath the fine silk of his shirt. Anger fairly simmered from him, though his voice would make one think he was calm and at ease.

  “As a matter of fact, she did. A stumble into a door in the middle of the night.” William lifted the pistol higher still and Carmichael did the same. “Carmichael, shoot him.”

  Gabby surprised everyone, including herself, by stepping around Diego to put herself between him and the two armed men.

  “What the devil…? Get back behind me, Gabby.”

  “No.” She jerked away as Diego reached for her.

  “M’lord!” Garrison gasped. “You will lower that pistol at once!”

  William sighed, but he did lower his weapon a bit. “Gabby, what are you doing?”

  “Where is Captain Sebastiano?” she asked, looking from William to Carmichael and back. “What did you do with him?”

  “Gabby…” Diego’s voice was low with warning.

  “Carmichael, is this the man you did battle with?” William asked.

  “Aye. He is, m’lord.”

  “A lie, that,” Gabby broke in. “Just as you did not find the Galatea adrift. You attacked me in Port Royal and stole my ship after you left me and Diego to die on that island.”

  “Exactly how hard did you bump your head, sister?” William asked smoothly.

  “Oh, you fool no one. Not for one second, William.”

  Diego pointed the tip of his sword at William. “I will not ask again. Where is Captain Sebastiano?”

  Garrison’s forehead wrinkled. “M’lord, please… Before someone is hurt.”

  William chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, my dear Garrison, I’ve already assured everyone I’ll not shoot Gabby. However—”

  With that, he swung about and fired. Garrison let out a cry as the lead ball tore into his thin chest, but it was the only sound he made. A bright red stain spread across his shirtfront, and he sprawled across the marble, facedown and silent. Diego took a step toward William, but Carmichael halted him as he came around to grab Gabby around the shoulders and pressed the barrels of his pistol against her temple.

  “I’d not do that, if I were you,” he said, his voice oily.

  She wanted to vomit. Her stomach lurched and spun and she couldn’t keep her gaze from shifting back to the now-silent form of the staid butler who’d shown her such kindness. A dark red puddle formed beneath him, spreading outward as the blood drained from his lifeless body. The metal pressed into her flesh was frighteningly cold and that Carmichael reeked of sweat and liquor didn’t help, either. But the worst of it was seeing Diego slowly lower his sword and letting it clatter to the marble in a gesture of surrender.

  “Good. Now you will come with me, Spaniard.” William gestured down the corridor with his pistol, indicating that Diego should walk in front of him. To Carmichael, he said, “Take her to the blue room. I want her to be able to see.”

  Though bile rose in her throat and a cold sweat prickled along her back, she swallowed hard and whispered, “See what, William?”

  “See your friends hanged for piracy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  It was, perhaps, the longest night of her life as she relentlessly paced before the windows. As William promised, Gabby was moved to new chambers, where she had a full view of a single elm tree, its thick trunk and numerous heavy limbs a testament to a long existence. The pit of her stomach fell away each time her gaze alit on it and the heavy length of rope hanging over a lower branch. At least ten feet from the ground, the limb was thick enough to hold the weight of a grown man, and it took three attempts before Carmichael managed to get the rope over the branch. He fed it over the rough bark until the noose was high enough off the ground. The very sight of it, waving idly in the breeze, brought a sweet, brackish taste to h
er mouth.

  This time, William locked her in, the key grating in the lock to mock her. She tried jiggling the handle just the same after he left. Lightning wouldn’t strike twice. She was trapped.

  The blue room was at the rear of the house, normally reserved for guests of great importance. It was luxuriously appointed, with a beautiful view of the woods. That view mocked her now, even as thick iron gray clouds began to gather.

  She was far too restless to sit. Her heart sped up and slowed down at queer intervals, and more than once, she was quite sure she was going to retch. When William appeared, striding across the lawn toward tree, Gabby flung herself at the chamber pot and this time, her stomach emptied itself violently.

  “Miss Markham?” Anne’s voice, soft and concerned, floated through the closed door. “Are you ill? May I bring you anything?”

  “Yes.” Gabby dragged the back of her wrist over the cold sweat beading her forehead. “Some tea, perhaps? To settle my stomach.”

  “Of course.”

  As her muscles stopped jerking and spasming, she rose back to her feet, a bit more unsteadily this time, and went right back to the window. Carmichael and William were there, apparently arguing about something, as each gestured with wild, flailing arms.

  The sun dipped low on the horizon and the grayness thickened even more. When Anne returned with the silver tea service, her forehead was creased and her eyes were red. Surely she couldn’t know what had happened to Garrison, as William made Carmichael drag the butler’s body from the entrance. Gabby didn’t know where he’d been taken, but even Carmichael would not be so foolish as to allow anyone else to see it. No doubt Carmichael was the one ordered to mop the blood from the marble. Her belly lurched again.

  But something obviously troubled the maid, no doubt. “Anne, what is it?”

  “Lord Hampton just told me what is happening. They captured two of the men responsible for the theft of the Galatea.” She turned worried brown eyes to Gabby. “And the handsome one, he forced himself on you? Ruined you in so vile a manner?”

  Her words emerged as a horrified whisper, and Gabby’s stomach rolled over to bring a fresh wave of nausea crashing down upon her. Swallowing hard against it, she slowly shook her head. “He is lying to you, Anne. Captain Carmichael accosted me outside a tavern in Port Royal and kidnapped me. Captain Santa Cruz was already his prisoner. He marooned us both.”

  “Captain Santa Cruz?”

  Gabby grinned. “The handsome one.”

  “So, he did not—” Anne’s gaze darted about, as if she was afraid of being overheard, “—rape you?”

  Had the situation not been quite so dire, Gabby might have laughed at the scandal laced through that one word, might have laughed at the notion of Diego Santa Cruz, despite his size and fierce temper, ever being anything other than gentle when he made love to a woman.

  “No, Anne. He did nothing of the sort.”

  Anne glanced toward the window, then moved over to stand before it. “But he is yours, isn’t he?”

  For the first time since William locked her in the blue room, Gabby smiled. “Yes,” she said without hesitation, “he is.”

  Anne cast a queer look in her direction. “And yet, you sit up here, waiting to watch him hanged?”

  Gabby couldn’t halt her scowl. Anne should only know how much she hated being so damn helpless. “William locked me in, you know.”

  “Ah, but he was fool enough to give me the key.” Anne dangled the small brass ring before her eyes. “I was a bit surprised, actually. I’d have thought he’d give them to Garrison to hold, but I can’t seem to find him anywhere.”

  Gabby bit her tongue as she joined Anne at the window. Both men were no longer in sight, and her nausea returned, riding a fierce wave. Having the keys would do her little good, if she kept retching. She swallowed hard. It was best for her to remain where she was, but that didn’t mean she was still helpless. “I need you to do something for me, Anne.”

  “What?”

  “We haven’t much time, but I need you to go into the village and find a man named Jonathan Wrothston. He’s a smithy, and his shop should be on Oak Street. That’s where it was five years ago.”

  Anne nodded. “Why am I fetching him?”

  “He is my uncle on my mother’s side. I’m going to need his help so please, just go fetch him, won’t you?”

  Another nod and Anne pressed the keys into Gabby’s hand. “I will be back as soon as possible, Miss Markham. But, if I’m not, Lord Hampton keeps another set of pistols in the armoire in his chambers. And he does not lock it, as he thinks no one knows about them.”

  “How is it you know about them?” Gabby asked mildly.

  Two spots of bright rose blush appeared on Anne’s fair cheeks. Gabby couldn’t fault her, though, as William was not only strikingly handsome, but when he wished, he had abundant charm. “I understand.”

  Anne cleared her throat. “It was silly of me, to think I might rise above this station, but—”

  “Worry not, for I won’t tell a soul.”

  The blush faded, but still remained in place as the maid bobbed her head. “I thank you.”

  “There is no need, Anne. All I ask is that you hurry.”

  Another head bob, and the maid hurried off, leaving Gabby to stand alone by the window, the key warm in the palm of her hand. She wouldn’t show her hand just yet. But when the time was right, William would pay the price for his treachery.

  Diego groaned as he rubbed the back of his neck and shifted on the packed dirt floor. “My arse is numb.”

  Above him, Iñigo leaned back against the rough stone wall, lifting first one booted foot, then the other. “Finn is not going to be happy about this.”

  Diego chuckled. “We won’t tell her about this. Besides, once you tell her that Gabby and I are going to be married, she’ll forget all about you’re almost getting hanged.”

  “You say that as if you know it won’t happen.”

  “Carmichael excels at the sneak attack. Markham, on the other hand, is too much of a fop. Most likely will leave the mess to Carmichael. Though, his shooting the butler was unexpected.” Diego closed his eyes as he halted his rubbing. “I’m more worried about Gabby than I am us.”

  Iñigo groaned as he shifted his weight again. “She always was more than capable of taking care of herself. Somehow, I can’t see that it’s changed at all.”

  Opening his eyes, Diego couldn’t halt his grin. “No, you’re probably right.”

  With a low groan, Iñigo stretched his arms overhead and arched his back before he sank to the floor beside Diego. “Does she know the two of you are betrothed?”

  “She knows I want to marry her.”

  “Have you asked her, or did you tell her?”

  The question was pointed enough that Diego paused in his neck rubbing to stare at his friend. “No. I don’t suppose I asked her, really,” he confessed, rubbing his eyes instead of his neck. “I’ve been a fool where she is concerned. So easily casting aside her worries when my actions most likely spoke louder than any words I could utter.”

  “How so?”

  “She made mention of not wanting to give up her ship, of not wanting to give up sailing, and I played along, told her what she wanted to hear. But even as I did that, in my mind, I saw us on St. Phillippe, surrounded by children. Like you and Finn.” At Iñigo’s long stare, he let out a wry laugh. “It was something I wanted for us, not something she wanted. And I think she knew. That’s why she bolted.”

  “And this time?”

  “I thought we were going to die on that island.” He settled back against the chilled stone wall as the ache in his legs and backside twisted and grew. “I don’t think either one of us wanted anything to happen, for old wounds to be reopened. But when I saw her…” He tried to laugh again, but it emerged as more of a groan. “I was powerless. I can’t help myself, Iñigo. I love her. I never stopped loving her.”

  “So ask her. Trust me, silence leads only
to trouble.”

  “The only problem with that is, when I’m with her, talking is not what I want to do.”

  Iñigo let out a bark of laughter as he rose up to stretch again. “Don’t I know that feeling well. Sometimes I think God created women to drive men out of their minds, one way or another.”

  “Ahhh… But when she looks up at me…there is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. Nothing I wouldn’t give her. If she asked, I would give her the moon.”

  “Does Adeline know?”

  “She does. She’s the one who pushed me into making this voyage.” He leaned his head back against the dank wall. The cellar was low-ceilinged and rough-walled, and the dampness bit into his already aching leg with dull teeth. No matter how he stretched it, his healed wound refused to go silent. “I hope Finn forgives me one day.”

  “She only wants you to be happy. And, since Addy’s also her friend, she wants Addy to be happy as well. It will take time, but she will come around.”

  Diego closed his eyes as the ache in his leg worsened. “First things first, we need to find a way out of here. Then, we need to get Gabby. And then—”

  “You need to find a quiet room, preferably with a bed and a lock on the door?”

  He almost groaned. It had been too long since the afternoon on board the Serena, when he and Gabby last made love. His body tightened at the memory, his blood warming as the image of her in his arms, her body warm and soft all around him, leapt into his mind. A delicious memory, no doubt, but one that wrought havoc on him and threatened his sanity. “I doubt we’d even make it to the bed.”

  “Ah, yes. I know that feeling well. There are still times when Finn barely gets the door closed.”

  Diego opened his eyes. “It is a relief to know marriage isn’t the death knell.”

  “Not at all. Not at all.”

  The boards overhead creaked, and dust filtered down at the heavy tread of feet above. From the sounds of it, either Carmichael or Hampton had begun pacing, as Diego was fairly certain they were beneath the library.