Bound By The Heart

by Canham, Marsha

"No, of course not—not unless I have to. But I might need a pistol to get on board."

  He nodded. "Then yes, I know where the keys are."

  "Can you get them for me?"

  "I could. Or I could just fetch you a gun from my room."

  Summer was taken aback. "What are you doing with a gun in your room?"

  "I have two of them, actually. Father's old dueling pistols. He gave them to me years ago."

  "Do they work?"

  "Well enough to shoot squirrels from my window. I never really hit any though—ouch!" He jerked his arm back as she pinched him again. "All right, I said I would get them for you. Do you know how to shoot?"

  "I've been duck-hunting and grouse-hunting, so of course I know how to shoot."

  "With a musket or a bow and arrow. Pistols are entirely different. I suppose I could show you what to do and have them loaded. All you have to remember is not to shoot your foot off."

  An hour later, Summer was wrapped in a thick cloak, riding down the dark road toward the tiny harbor situated halfway between Bridgetown and Speightstown. Would the Chimera be there? The last she had heard, Wade's ship had been in the harbor at Bridgetown and Farley Glasse had been vowing it would never leave.

  "Hurry," she cried softly into the horse's mane. "Hurry, hurry, hurry. It has to be there, it has to be!"

  After twenty minutes of hard riding, the dark shimmer of Six Man Bay lay before her. It was a shallow-water bay, used mostly by fishermen, and at first she could not see anything larger than a ketch huddled close to shore. But no...there she was, anchored against the shadow of land! The Chimera was there!

  She reined the horse to a skidding halt on the shingled beach, kicking up a spray of sand and pebbles. The tide was in, so the water was deep enough for the Chimera to be moored alongside the narrow wooden wharf, but even as she ran along the shore, she could see where the waterline was beginning to recede from its high point.

  There was no one on the wharf, but she kept her hand firmly wrapped around the barrel of one of the dueling pistols. She covered the last twenty yards on swift, silent feet and paused behind a stack of crates to catch her breath.

  There was a single guard standing at the open gangway; she could see the red glow from his pipe. He was hunched over, studying something intently in his hands...no...he was whittling! It was Mr. Thorntree.

  Summer nearly called out to him in relief, then she remembered that he was probably stationed there on Wade's command.

  She scanned the deck of the silent ship but could see no other shadows. Everything was quiet. It did not look as though he was expecting to sail within the hour; the sails were still reefed, huge cables kept the ship rocking gently alongside the dock.

  Summer stepped out from behind the crates and walked boldly toward the gangway. Thorny's grizzled head jerked up and his eyes screwed to slits when she came into the lamplight and he saw who it was.

  "W-a-all now, if'n it ain't the governess. What brings ye owt ter the Kameery this late of a night?"

  "I want to see Captain Wade."

  "Eh? Cap'n don't take kindly ter visitors, n'owt even when they're—"

  Summer raised the gun out of the folds of her cloak. "You will take me to see the Captain, please, whether it is an inconvenience or not."

  Thorny's jaw sagged open. He gaped at the brass and cherrywood dueling pistol, then at the pale, determined face above it. "I 'opes yer knows 'ow ter use that."

  She cocked the pistol. "Where is he?"

  "In 'is cabin. Goin' over charts."

  She waved the nose of the gun. "Take me to him."

  "Aye. Aye...as ye please."

  He crabbed sideways and led her up the gangway onto the main deck. Summer followed him to the stern and entered the gloomy hatchway leading down to the great cabin. The door was shut, a bright sliver of light showing beneath. The corridor was dank and musty, flooding her senses with memories, but she pushed them all aside and walked past Thorny as he pressed himself against the bulkhead. She did not bother to knock. She wrenched the latch and shoved the door wide.

  Morgan was standing behind his desk, his dark hair gleaming blue-black under the lamplight. He was studying a chart, and when the door slammed open against the wall, he reached instinctively for his own pistol where it was weighing down a corner of the heavy paper.

  "Don't do it," she cautioned. "This gun is primed and loaded, and at this range I doubt very much if I would miss."

  Morgan's hand froze. He straightened slowly and the expression on his face changed from surprise to curiosity.

  "This is a hell of a way to come on board my ship, Governess," he said quietly.

  "Where is she?" Summer's gaze darted around the room, but there was no cradle, no blankets, no baby. "Where is my daughter?"

  The dark eyes flicked down to the gun and Summer inched it higher until it was pointing dead center of the broad chest.

  "I will pull this trigger, Captain Wade," she promised. "I do not want to do it, and I am frightened to death to do it, but I will...and if you refuse to answer me, I shall aim to kill. I will only ask one more time: Where is my baby?"

  "Safe."

  "Take me to her."

  "I'm afraid I can't do that."

  The hand holding the gun shook noticeably. "Wh-what did you say?"

  Wade's eyes flicked again, this time to a point over her shoulder. "Not until you put the gun down and calm yourself. Right at the moment you're in no condition to see anyone, much less my daughter."

  "I want my baby," she cried softly. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks. "How can you be so cruel?"

  "Put the gun down," he commanded gently. "Or use it. Whichever you decide, you'd best do it quickly before Mr. Roarke takes it on himself to decide for you. He is standing right behind you, if you would care to look, and his gun is not shaking in the least."

  The breath left her lungs on a sob. She began to lower the heavy weapon, to turn to face this new threat, when her finger trembled too hard against the trigger. The sound of the gunshot roared in her ears, followed instantly by a crash and splintering of glass. Her hand jumped back with the recoil and she would have dropped it had it not been wrenched out of her fingers. She covered her mouth and began screaming. She shut her eyes tight, afraid of what she might see when the cloud of acrid smoke cleared, and was only dimly aware of being pulled forward by rough hands and shaken so hard her head snapped to and fro. It was Morgan. He was alive, and there was as much alarm in his eyes as there was anger.

  "You damned fool!" He cursed and drew her against his chest. "You damned hotheaded little fool! You could have shot yourself, or been shot coming on board my ship waving a gun around!"

  "My baby!" she cried. "My Sarah!"

  "Alright, alright. She is fine. She is safe and she is fine." He smoothed the hood back off her hair, nodding to Stuart Roarke as he did so. "Have the child brought here."

  Stuart adjusted his spectacles and looked down at the smoking pistol in his hand. He said nothing, though, and left the cabin.

  "Hush now," Wade said, brushing his fingertips over Summer's cheek to wipe away the tears. "Hush. You will have your baby in a moment. Are you hurt? Did you hurt yourself?"

  Summer covered her mouth again and was gaping in horror at the bright red stain spreading across Wade's sleeve.

  "I shot you," she gasped. "Oh, Morgan...I shot you!"

  He frowned and looked down. "By God," he muttered. "So you have."

  "I'm...I'm so sorry."

  He peeled aside the torn edges of his shirt and peeked beneath. The ball had grazed the surface of the muscle on his upper arm, but there appeared to be more blood than damage. Injured worse were the glass-fronted bookcase behind his desk and the sill of the gallery window.

  "Oh, Morgan—"

  He cursed again as the pain began to wear through the numbing effects of the graze. Blood had trickled down as far as his wrist, and as he shook it, some spattered on the floor.

  "Oh,
Morgan—"

  "Say that once more," he growled, "and I am liable to forget why I brought you here."

  He shook his arm again and reached for the bottle of rum on his desk. He unstoppered it with his teeth and spat out the cork, then took several deep swallows before liberally dousing the wound.

  "You will be the death of me yet, woman," he said through a grimace. "First sharks, then rip currents, now loaded pistols."

  Summer was neither watching nor listening. She was reaching frantically for the squalling pink bundle in Stuart Roarke's hands.

  "Sarah! My beautiful Sarah, you are alright!"

  "Of course she is alright," Wade snapped, rolling up the sleeve that was now soaked in blood and rum. "Did you think I would have her slung up in the rigging?"

  "I didn't know what to think," she countered furiously, whirling to confront him. "Any man who would deliberately steal a child away from her mother would be capable of anything!"

  The Chimera swayed unexpectedly, sending Summer off balance.

  "Here," Wade ordered gruffly, "sit down before you fall down. And you will watch your tongue with me if you value keeping it. She wasn't stolen, and neither of you is suffering for the experience...yet."

  Summer allowed herself to be steered into the leather chair. She cradled Sarah tightly and kissed the coppery curls, whispering reassurances over and over until her daughter's crying slowed to a whining fret.

  "She's starved half to death," Summer said, casting yet another scathing glance at Morgan. "How were you planning on meeting that contingency, Captain?"

  He merely glowered at her as Roarke tied a strip of linen around the wounded arm. Sarah began to wail in earnest again, her little mouth searching for a way through the layers of clothing over Summer's breast.

  "I hope you are satisfied with your night's work," she said, her temper flaring anew. "I have never seen her cry so hard. I trust you will not force me to fight my way off your wretched ship now."

  She started to rise, but another lurch set her down hard. Sarah wailed all the harder for the sudden jolt and had to be soothed and petted until she found the comfort of her thumb.

  "Well, sir?"

  "Well, madam? You said the child was hungry. Feed her."

  "Here?"

  "Unless you would rather do it on the dock in the midst of fish scales and seaweed."

  "Then I am free to leave?"

  "You are free to go anywhere you wish," Wade said brusquely. "You may have to swim for it, however."

  "Swim? What do you mean swim?"

  Wade looked pointedly out the gallery windows. "It seems you have just made it on board in time. Mr. Phillips was worried we would not catch the tide before it flowed out."

  "The tide?" Summer's mouth dropped open. Too late, she realized the cabin was swaying rhythmically and she could hear the unmistakable sounds of beams creaking and rocking. "Oh my God! You didn't! You wouldn't! My God...we're moving!"

  "I told you I was leaving at midnight. The bell was struck ten minutes ago."

  "You have to turn back! You have to put me ashore!"

  "I'm afraid I can't do that. Six Man Bay is only deep enough for our keel at high tide; if we turn back we would run aground and be beached until the next tide came in."

  "Then you can just lower a boat and have me rowed ashore when we clear the point."

  He sighed extravagantly. "I can't do that either, I'm afraid. We have a fair wind, by the feel of it. Enough to carry us out to open water. I couldn't risk losing such a clean start, not when there will be a thousand eyes searching for us come morning."

  Summer stared out the gallery windows in dismay, watching the shore lights wink by at an alarming rate. She gasped as the full import of his words struck her.

  "You were waiting for me. You gambled that I would come after Sarah alone—that was why you took her!"

  "Not such a wild gamble, in truth," he admitted. "I fear I am almost coming to understand the way your mind works. Ahh, Thorny...thank you." He said this as Thorny carried in a tray with hot chocolate and biscuits. "At Roarke's suggestion, we have a goat on board for fresh milk, if you require it."

  "You can hang the goat for all I care," she said coldly. "What if you had guessed wrong? What then? What would you have done if I hadn't checked her crib until the morning?"

  "You would have been a poor mother and I would have been justified in taking her."

  Summer swore an oath that had Thorny's eyebrows flying up to his hairline and both he and Roarke making hasty excuses about being needed on deck.

  When they were gone and Summer had regained a measure of control, she asked, "Do you know what you have done?"

  "I have a fairly good idea."

  The ship tilted as it maneuvered into the wind, prompting Summer to cradle the baby closer. Sarah instantly lost interest in her thumb and started nuzzling into her mother's bodice again.

  Wade selected a cigar from the box on his desk then headed for the door.

  "You will forgive me if I leave you for a while. Mr. Roarke may need me on deck."

  "The devil may need you in hell, sir," she said bitterly. "You should join him with all haste."

  Wade paused at the cabin door. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm sure you know where everything is."

  Summer clenched her teeth in fury and grabbed the closest object she could lay a hand on. It was a heavy brass bookend, and it crashed against the closing door, leaving an ugly gouge in the dark wood before it rebounded to the floor. She stared at the dent with a sense of helplessness and slumped back into the chair, refusing by sheer force of will to cry. Sarah was doing enough for both and Summer immediately unlaced her bodice and uncovered her left breast. She winced as the frantic little gums clamped vehemently around the jutting nipple and began to suck.

  What would Bennett's reaction be when he discovered them gone? It would look as if she had run away of her own accord to be with Morgan. Michael knew the truth, but when he found out the Chimera had sailed with her on board, he would assume, with his boyish enthusiasm for adventure, that she had made the choice to leave of her own free will. Conversely, if he was forced to admit the baby was kidnapped and Summer had gone to rescue her, the stir that would cause would be just the spark needed to set off the political powder keg. Sir Lionel would no longer be able to keep the peace or avoid an incident that would start an open war.

  Summer groaned and shook her head. Either option spelled disaster. Bennett would be hunting for the Chimera with blood in his eye and, if they decided it suited their purpose more to declare it a kidnapping, he would have the full sanction of the navy behind him.

  Wade had to know that Bennett would come after them. His letters of marque would be useless in British ports; there would probably be an open warrant issued for his arrest, if not an outright bounty offered for his capture.

  Summer sat her greedy little daughter upright on her knee and coaxed a Thorny-sized belch from her tummy before settling her again.

  "Why is he doing it?" she whispered, smoothing the fine wisps of hair on Sarah's head. "Why?"

  Then she saw it.

  The drawer in Wade's desk was open a crack and a bright red splash of color inside caught her eye. She slid the drawer open further and it was lying there, coiled neatly on top his logbook where he could not help but see it and touch it and remember every time he made an entry. It was the red silk ribbon she had worn in her hair every day for the week she was on board the Chimera.

  She knew it was the same one she had torn from her ruined shimmy; it still had frayed threads poking through along the stitching line. It had been the only thing she had salvaged from her clothes after being rescued from the sea, but she could not even remember where or when she had lost it.

  She lifted it gingerly out of the drawer and held it closer as she thought back over the long months.

  Wade had kept a trifling thing like this...why?

  The only answer she could think of brought a flush into her cheeks and a fresh
blur of tears to her eyes because she knew it couldn't possibly be true.

  Morgan Wade barked out a sharp correction to their course and ran a hand through the thick waves of his hair. The wound in his arm was throbbing in direct proportion to the frustration pounding in his temples.

  Women! He had spent half a lifetime avoiding them. They were nice to look at and nice to keep a bed warm at night. He had enjoyed the pleasure of their company more times than he could recount over the years, and none of them—not a one—had caused him to lose a single moment of sleep. None had crept into his thoughts or his dreams. None had caused him to sit at his desk and toy with a bit of ribbon or hold it to his nose imagining he could still smell her scent on it.

  Surely none had talked to him the way this one did and gotten away with it. Or taken a shot at him and lived to tell the tale.

  They were complicated creatures who argued for the sake of arguing, who could spin the smallest slight into a full blown declaration of war, who could bring a grown man to his knees with a look or a touch.

  He didn't need that sort of complication in his life right now. He truly didn't. So why was Summer Cambridge Winfield on board his ship? And with a child, no less...what was he thinking?

  He wasn't thinking clearly, that much was a certainty. He hadn't been thinking clearly since the moment Roarke told him the woman who had been plaguing his memories and dreams these past twelve months was no governess at all, but the daughter of Sir Lionel Cambridge. Finding out the child she bore was his...the product of those three days and nights on Bounty Key...well...

  Morgan snarled to himself and signaled Mr. Phillips to run up the royals. The night sky was clear, painted with stars. The wind was brisk and once around the headland, the Chimera would be able to stretch out and race for home at top knots.

  "Why don't you go below, Morgan?" Roarke was beside him. "You aren't needed here, everything is under control."

  "What makes you think I am needed below? She has already expressed her opinion of my night's work."

  Roarke glanced at the bandaged arm and smiled. "She couldn't have been that upset, or she would have aimed for something else."