“Dear Abby...I’ve been chasing the same bad guy all over the Middle East. Got him!”
Never once had he written what he’d felt: “Dear Abby...I miss you.” It would have made those feelings too real, would have opened a door he hadn’t dared to open.
For the same reason he had never let her know how to contact him in return. He had feared that one sweet letter expressing even a hint of encouragement would draw him back into her life. He hadn’t been willing to risk it, for her sake and his own.
But for all of his precautions, he had never, ever forgotten the dark-haired angel of his soul, the one person who had always been able to bring him laughter in the midst of his deepest sorrows.
The only time Abby had been out of his thoughts at all had been when he was caught up in the challenging task of thwarting some terrorist or chasing after some elusive treasure that promised a reward of professional satisfaction as much as financial gain. Those often dangerous missions should have been enough to keep his mind fully engaged, but the image of Abby was always there, taunting him, making him long for things that simply couldn’t be.
For a few hours or a few days at most, he was able to push her image aside and immerse himself in the kind of cold, calculated concentration that had kept him alive, but never for longer than that. Sooner or later he would see a woman with long, dark hair or smell the scent of jasmine or hear a certain throaty, joyous laugh and immediately Abby would come to mind as vividly as if she were actually standing right next to him. And his heart would ache.
After a while the expected sense of excitement at succeeding on his most challenging, most dangerous assignments had been increasingly hard to come by. His work had suffered, as if the daring that had once sustained him through the worst that life had to offer no longer had the strength to mount this one last, pitiful battle against his loneliness. No other woman along the way had captured his heart. That belonged to the woman he had deliberately left behind.
That, in the end, was what had sent him back to Phoenix in time for Abby’s twenty-fifth birthday. He had needed to find out once and for all if everything he remembered about her was accurate or if his mind and heart were playing tricks on him. He needed to know so that he could get on with his life.
His first night back he had gotten his answer. It had taken no more than a glimpse through the Dennisons’ living room window to tell him that nothing had changed. His heart had filled with wonder just at the sight of her, her long hair a silken wave down her back, her face alight with laughter.
And then he had gone inside, held her in his arms for the space of a hug...and learned that she was engaged.
Nothing he’d ever experienced had prepared him for the sense of abandonment and desolation he had felt in that instant. He’d been overcome with regrets for all the time he had wasted, for the treasure he’d allowed to be stolen right out from under him. He had cursed himself for a fool for letting it happen, just as Jared had predicted he would if he let her go again.
And all the while on that awkward, devastating night he had been forced to offer congratulations to old Martin, to act as if his own heart weren’t breaking.
But as the planned two-week stay turned into three weeks, then four, Riley had begun to see signs that the engagement wasn’t the heaven-made match Abby pretended. He had been encouraged by her fascination with the details of each and every assignment he’d carried out over the years he’d been away. And he had planted the seeds to entice her into asking to come along on the trip to Mexico.
So, despite what anyone said, he knew without a doubt that what had happened to her here was his fault. She would never have asked, if he hadn’t deliberately opened the door, hoping...well, who knew what he had been hoping. Not this, though. Definitely not this.
He pressed a kiss against her knuckles, noting that the bruises were fading and the scrapes were finally healing. Soon the skin would be soft and smooth again. Soon, if he had his way, her hands would reach for him.
“I know you need more than words, more than promises this time, Abby, but I have changed and that’s the truth. With a little help from my friends,” he said, thinking of Jared’s unrelenting prodding, “I’ve realized that life is all about taking chances and that includes taking a risk on love and commitment. I don’t ever want to be separated from you again. I’m here for you now and I will always be there when you need me. Always.”
* * *
What was this nonsense about always, Abigail wondered irritably. Captain Riley Walker seemed to think he had some sort of permanent hold on her, just because he’d rescued her. Actually, to be more precise, he probably thought that those kisses he’d stolen, the awakening of her passion, gave him some sort of claim, as well. Perhaps at another time, under other circumstances, they might have.
The truth of it was that she’d discovered she was quite taken with him. He was indeed gorgeous. In fact he was just about the finest specimen of masculinity she’d ever encountered, she thought dreamily. And the way he had made her feel, well, the truth of it was that no one had ever made her senses soar in quite the same way.
But always? The word alone no longer had the power to seduce her. She needed proof. She needed actions.
Still thinking of that, she awoke with a frown on her face and realized that she had been asleep again, though the explosive sounds above her had never ceased. She must have grown worn-out with worry. She had no idea how long she had slept, how long the screams and fighting had raged on. It seemed, though, as she listened carefully, that the thundering noise on the deck had lessened somewhat.
She crept closer to the door and listened more intently. There were murmurs in the corridor outside the cabin, hurried footsteps, then nothing. Time seemed to slow to a standstill as she waited, praying that no terrible fate had befallen Riley, feeling certain that she would know in her heart if it had. Instead, though, she thought she could feel his presence, feel his vitality reaching out to her.
He would be back for her. She had to keep believing that. They had unfinished business of a most personal nature. When he had held her and touched her and kissed her, he had made a promise. Her body, taken to the edge of fulfillment and abandoned, cried out for him to keep that sweet promise.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she heard the triumphant sound of his laughter outside the door, then the familiar grating of the key in the lock. Her heart pounded expectantly.
When he burst into the room, Riley had the look of a warrior back from the front, exultant and heady with victory, despite the fresh cut on his cheek, the blood covering his clothes, the gash in his breeches that had apparently narrowly missed the flesh beneath. She shuddered at the sight of it. While there was something quite dashing and romantic about the concept of a man cheating death, she discovered that the reality was something else again.
“Come, my lady,” he said, extending his hand.
Abby regarded him doubtfully. “Where?”
“To the ship we have taken. This will be your first taste of the pirate’s life, your first sweet triumph.”
“Mine?” she said dryly. “I have been locked here, while the victory was won above deck.”
He regarded her with amusement. “You wished to have a sword and join in the fray?”
She answered with another question, watching his face as she asked, “Would you have permitted it, if I so wished? Would you teach me to be as adept with a sword as you are?”
He scowled at her. “Not bloody likely. I have sweeter uses for you, my lady. I do not wish to see that silken skin slit by an enemy’s dagger or those satin cheeks marred by some devil’s knuckles.”
“I see,” she said.
It was, all told, exactly what she had expected him to say, but it grated nonetheless. It seemed these men were all alike. None saw beyond her beauty or their own pleasure. None respected her strength. None imagined her bravery. And far, far worse, none cared what was in her heart.
But even as she cursed the discovery
that Captain Walker would set his own limits for her despite her wishes, he was scooping her up and striding up the stairs with her, taking matters into his own hands, despite her lack of acquiescence. Oblivious to the deck that was awash with blood and to those who had not survived the carnage, he made his way to the plank that connected the Sea Witch with the ship it had just seized for its bounty.
Aboard the seized vessel, the scene was even more macabre as bloodied men in chains lay moaning while Walker’s men stood guard. Abby’s stomach churned at the sight. She began to rethink her desire to be any part of this. Surely there were tamer adventures to be had.
“Where are you taking me? Do you plan to lock me in yet another cabin?” she demanded.
“I wish you to see what today’s business has yielded,” he said as he carried her into the ship’s hold. Putting her down, he lit a candle and held it aloft. “There, my lady, a dowry for you, if you so choose.”
Abby’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped, despite her intention of remaining aloof. Chests filled with gold pieces overflowed onto the wooden planking. There were bejeweled chalices made of gold and silver, crucifixes magnificently etched with intricate designs, ornate necklaces studded with diamonds, rubies and emeralds. It was indeed a king’s ransom in treasure.
“You have brought me luck,” Riley told her, his eyes glittering with excitement. “I have sought this ship for months, playing tag across the seas like children at a game. Today, with you at my side, I found it.”
“Stumbled across it is more accurate,” Abby said crossly. “I had no part in it. Neither did you, for that matter. You were with me at the time, as I recall.”
“What is the difference? It is ours, Lady Abigail.” He picked up a necklace of gold and sapphires and placed it around her neck, then nodded with satisfaction. “It matches the radiance of your eyes, I think.”
The pretty compliment did not soften her attitude. He had laid a fortune at her feet, but he did not understand her need to share in the adventure of finding such riches herself. Nor did he comprehend that in abandoning her just as she was prepared to bestow on him her greatest treasure, herself, he had chosen riches over love. She guessed that it would always be so. The realization made her sigh with regret.
“What is this?” he asked, regarding her with some bemusement. “Are these tears I see? I must say that I cannot see what there is to cry about. The sight of so much wealth renders me quite happy.”
“So I see,” she said.
His gaze narrowed. “If there is a meaning to your words, my lady, I do not see it.”
She smiled ruefully. “I am sure that you do not.”
“Then explain. Tell me what it is you want of me.”
The only thing Abby really wanted from him now was to be returned home—to her own life, her own family, her own damned century. She wondered if there would ever be a man who truly understood her, who was capable of treating her as an equal. Somehow it seemed more likely in the twentieth century than in the past.
“I’d like to go back now,” she insisted firmly.
“Back? Back where?” he asked, looking more puzzled than offended by the request. “To the Sea Witch?”
“No. To Arizona.”
He seemed even more confused by that.
“It’s in the United States,” she informed him, wondering if she’d made a dreadful mistake in thinking that he had brains to match his brawn. Surely she would not have found herself in danger of falling in love with a dolt. Until now she’d been convinced that Captain Walker had his wits as well as his virility to recommend him. “Surely you know of Arizona.”
He shrugged, which Abby viewed as no answer at all.
“You promised me anything I wished,” she reminded him. “I would trade all of this...” She gestured toward the gold and jewels. “I would trade all of it for that one thing. I want to go back to Arizona.”
“And you shall go wherever you like,” he agreed. “In due time.”
He spoke in a placating tone that set her teeth on edge. Obviously he thought she was raving.
“First, perhaps, I think it is rest you need more than anything,” he said in that same deliberately soothing tone.
“I am not tired,” she insisted.
He regarded her with concern despite her claim. “You seem so to me. It would explain your testiness, these irrational demands you place on me. Only a few short hours ago, you complained bitterly because I intended to part from you in Charleston. Now you are not satisfied when I decide to let you stay.”
“Irrational?” Abby repeated indignantly. “You would call me irrational because I wish to return to the life I once had, rather than accept your magnanimous gesture to remain your mistress? And what of these dangerous games you play? Do you not perceive them still as designed for men only?”
Clearly he did not like the questions, nor did he anticipate her liking his answers. He ignored them. As if she were too fragile to walk, he unceremoniously scooped her up again and returned to the Sea Witch. He strode into his cabin, bolted the door behind him and placed her gently on the bed.
“Rest for a while, my lady. We will talk later. Perhaps when you have taken time to give the matter some thought, you will change your mind and decide you would like to seek even greater pirate’s treasure with us. In the meantime you will be safe here.”
Knowing that Blackhearted John was still aboard the Sea Witch, Abby figured Riley’s promise didn’t count for much. She heard the lock click, wedged a chair under the door for added protection, then curled up on his bed.
She supposed by Riley’s standards it was quite a concession that he was offering to take her along at all. And searching for treasure held a powerful allure. It was something she had once wanted more than anything, as she recalled vaguely.
But his offer was not enough without a true sense of partnership. After what she had seen, saying no had been far easier than she had anticipated. She had been given a choice and she had made it. She was quite sure she had had enough of piracy and the carnage it left behind.
Suddenly she felt stronger than she had in quite some time. Despite that, there was an odd emptiness deep inside as she contemplated leaving Riley behind. Though they had been together far too briefly, she knew that she would miss him desperately, as if she had lost a part of herself.
She considered this man who had stolen her heart so readily. It struck her as strange indeed that a man who had been so gentle with her, so protective, could have the stomach for such savagery. In his world, though, that was no doubt what it took to survive. And she knew that she would come to no harm as long as she remained with him.
Eventually, too, she believed that he would get her home again. Perhaps, if she were persuasive enough, he would even give up this dangerous life and come with her.
And then what? she chided herself. Then there would be two miserable people, rather than one. That was no answer. Since she had no other answers to their dilemma, she concentrated on his words.
“You will be safe here,” he had promised. Despite her initial skepticism, that vow echoed in her head again and again, and somehow, at last, she knew she would always be safe as long as he was near. Finally she slept.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“How is she?” Riley asked the doctor. The question was automatic. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t figure out the answer for himself.
Abby was no better now, or so it seemed, than she had been on the day the guerrillas had brought her in. Oh, her superficial cuts were healing and her bruises were fading, but she was still sound asleep, albeit more peacefully than she had seemed to be a few hours earlier. Since she had called out his name the previous night, she hadn’t murmured another word. Her eyes had remained tightly closed.
With every day that passed without a significant change in her condition, Riley was increasingly consumed by guilt and worry. He’d begun dreading the daily calls to her family, calls during which he had no encouraging news to offer, calls during which the
Dennisons insisted on trying to comfort him. Their kindness only made him feel worse.
Today he was determined to have something more to report. “Come on, there has to be something you can tell me,” he persisted.
“Her injuries are healing quite nicely,” the doctor reassured him.
“The superficial ones, yes. What about the others?” Riley asked, searching for some shred of encouragement he could pass along to Abby’s family.
“The results of the most recent CAT scan don’t indicate any permanent damage.”
How many times had he heard that? The words no longer had the power to pacify him. His frustration, built up over a period of days, finally boiled over. “Then why the hell is she still unconscious?” he demanded angrily. “That can’t be a good sign. Surely she should be responding to treatment by now. Maybe the bottom line here is that you don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”
The doctor faced him calmly, with only the merest hint of irritation in his dark eyes. “Sometimes unconsciousness is just nature’s way of giving a person more time to heal before getting back to the real world. The subconscious has a way of giving the body what it needs to cope. Obviously Miss Dennison needs this rest.”
He gave Riley an especially pointed look and suggested, “Perhaps she was under some strain before she was attacked.” Then he added blandly, “Is that possible, Mr. Walker?”
“Yes.” Riley bit out the word through gritted teeth. “She was very angry with me.”
“Ah,” the doctor murmured. “I see.”
“I doubt it,” Riley said dryly. The doctor could not possibly guess from examining this placid, unconscious woman exactly how rebellious Abby truly was or how furious she had been with him. “If I’m the problem, maybe I should take off. Get her mother down here or something.”
Even as he spoke the words, Riley saw them as the excuse to flee that he’d subconsciously been searching for. Sitting here hour after hour, day after day, he was in danger of going back on all of the rules he’d set for himself. He was in danger not of falling in love—he’d done that years ago—but of acting on his feelings. Leaving now, before it was too late, would definitely be the smart thing to do. All he needed was an honorable excuse for doing it.
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