Who am I kidding?
The real reason she now hated Founders’ Day had nothing to do with the hard work and long hours. But this year she had a plan. This morning she had cast a spell of protection around herself before she’d left the café. Too bad she hadn’t thought to do that in years past. She’d have saved herself a whole lot of misery.
“Are you worried about the café?” Jordan asked. “I doubt it’ll be busy today. Most of the town will be here. Leo can handle things there.”
“I know.” Luna had every confidence that her brother would be fine running the place by himself. So why was her stomach tied up in knots? Twice in the past three years, she’d met guys she’d ended up dating at Cat’s Paw Cove’s biggest yearly event. Both of those relationships had ended badly. But how could she have known that Glen had had a fiancé in New York? He certainly hadn’t shared that information with her at any point in the four months he and Luna had dated. Until the woman had shown up at his door sporting a suitcase and a canary diamond.
Then at last year’s Founders’ Day, Tim had approached the Cove Cat Café’s booth and played with every cat in the pen. By the end of the day, he’d convinced Luna to go out with him, against her better judgment. He’d been so handsome and sweet. She should have known that he’d been too good to be true. The jerk had strung her along for three months before admitting that he preferred men. He’d merely been “trying to be straight” for his very-conservative parents.
Yeah, she had a knack for choosing the most unavailable guys. But this year she was safe. She was taken, sort of. As soon as she really gave herself over to the idea of dating Chuck, everything would be fine.
If only she could shake off that witchy premonition that something was going to happen today that would rock her world. No, it was probably just the fact that she hadn’t slept enough. She couldn’t get that strange dream of being on an old-fashioned ship off her mind. And that insanely hot guy she’d seen there. Must have been because of that news story she’d seen on CPC-TV last night. Several members of the Historical Society had spoken about the restoration of the Guinevere. Luna had paid closer attention when the reporter had interviewed one of Luna’s regulars from the café, Roberta Millingham.
The sheriff approached the booth and smiled at Luna. “Good morning,” he said. “Hi, Jordan.”
“Hey, RJ,” Jordan replied.
The sheriff stepped closer and lowered his voice. “I’m speaking to all the vendors before the festival kicks into high gear. I’d like you to let me know if anyone asks a lot of questions about the museum.”
“What’s going on, RJ?” Luna asked.
His lips flattened to a tight line. “I’m sure you’ve both heard the rumors that there’s a secret treasure hidden somewhere on the ship. And believe me, I’m sure it isn’t true. The restoration team has been all over that vessel. Ninety percent of it is completely restored. If there were any treasure to be found, they’d have come across it by now. But, there are still folks out there who think they can find what everyone else has missed.”
“We’ll call you if we hear or see anything suspicious.” Jordan set a basket of cat toys for sale next to the bakery case chock full of Luna’s homemade pastries and cookies. “How about a coffee, on the house?” She nudged Luna. “I’m sure my boss is down with that.”
Luna grabbed a paper cup. “Absolutely. No sugar, extra cream, right?”
“You know me, Luna. Thanks.” Sheriff Higgins grinned. “I hope you’ve got enough supplies for an army. I heard that ticket sales for today surpassed last year by more than fifty percent.”
“Oh, great.” Not! As she handed the sheriff his coffee, she glimpsed a crowd of festival-goers, some dressed up as pirates, headed her way. Swallowing, she mentally reinforced the protective shield around herself.
Atlantic Ocean, near St. Augustine, Florida
1645
“They’re moving away,” the ship’s captain said, his spyglass trained on the vessel on the horizon.
Standing on the deck of the Guinevere beside the captain, Colin Wilshire released a sigh of relief, but the sound was snatched by the wind. The gentle sighing of the breeze had increased to an eerie whistling a short while ago when storm clouds had blackened the mid-afternoon sky.
Lightning flashed in the distance, accompanied by peals of thunder that were growing louder. The tempest was headed straight for them.
The storm must have convinced the other vessel—the captain believed it was a pirate ship—to change course.
Still frowning, the captain lowered his spyglass. Glancing over his shoulder, he shouted orders to his crew already working to adjust the sails. Other crewmembers on deck were tying ropes around barrels and nets to secure them.
Fifteen years older than Colin and with graying brown hair, the captain had made the journey from England to Barbados and back again four times. Before leaving the Port of London, he’d gathered all of the passengers together and had warned them of the risk of being attacked by buccaneers. Since families with young children were booked on the sailing, he’d felt an even greater responsibility to deliver the warning.
With Spanish galleons weighed down by riches traveling the waters, and the British also eager to claim a share of the New World’s treasures, pirate attacks were a constant threat. The captain had offered to refund passengers’ money if they decided they’d rather not make the sea journey, but no one had accepted the offer.
“It’s good news, surely, that the pirates turned away?” Colin curled his right hand on the weathered rail and fought to keep his balance as the Guinevere rolled upon strong waves.
The captain shook his head. “Once the tempest is over, the pirates will be back.”
“Perhaps their ship will be damaged in the storm. They might no longer be able to attack.”
“It’s possible.” As Colin’s hopes lifted a fraction, the captain added grimly, “Unfortunately, the marauders know these waters better than my crew and I. They know the islands and protected coves where they can drop anchor and wait out the storm. They know the reefs that can pierce a ship’s hull. They’ll let the wind and sea batter us. Then they will come for us.”
Crikey. The situation couldn’t possibly be so dire. “Can’t we also seek shelter at one of those islands or coves?”
“And make it easy for the pirates to entrap us or force us aground? You must not have heard what pirates do to their captives.”
Colin had indeed heard some harrowing tales. His cousin, Matthew Wilshire, who’d invested in a small shipping fleet that sailed from London to the Caribbean, had told him the stories after Colin had confided that he was going to leave England. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you or your lovely wife,” Matthew had said, his unusual, pale blue eyes lit with concern. “If I were you, I’d stay in England. I beg you, think about it.”
Colin had, over many sleepless nights. Kept awake by his racing mind, he’d sat at the desk in his late father’s study and had put quill and ink to parchment—rather ironic, when his sire had always considered Colin’s creative pursuits a waste of time. Colin had finished the drawings of his latest invention; sketches he’d intended to show investors. He needed funds to not only make the wheeled contraption but begin paying off his late father’s secret, outstanding gambling debts. Colin had inherited them along with the bankrupt family estate and letters bearing King Charles I’s official seal that demanded immediate payment of overdue taxes.
While Matthew had offered to loan Colin some money if he’d stay in the country, Colin couldn’t accept. His cousin’s finances were already at risk from investing in the fleet. Colin’s sense of pride also wouldn’t let him become indebted to anyone else, especially a widow with a limited income—his reason for refusing Evelyn’s plea to borrow money from her mother. In the end, Colin had decided his only option was to flee. Perhaps in Barbados, once he and Evelyn were settled, he could look for investors.
In truth, Colin
was already a hostage: of his late sire’s financial ruin. Could being a prisoner of pirates really be as bad—or worse—than what he’d been facing in England?
As though following Colin’s thoughts, the captain’s scowl deepened. “The lucky captives of pirates are ransomed. The unlucky ones are sold as slaves or tortured for any bit of information that can be bartered for the buccaneers’ gain. And the women….”
Colin thought of Evelyn in their cabin below deck.
“The women are used day and night until the pirates grow bored of them. Then they are sold or slain. Not, I vow, a fate you’d wish upon any of the fairer sex, let alone your wife who is carrying your babe.”
“No.” Imagining Evelyn facing such horrors made Colin’s gut clench. While they hadn’t wed for love—their fathers had arranged a marriage between them—he’d known her since they were children, and he cared about her. He had a responsibility to her, and he’d honor it until his dying breath.
If pirates did end up attacking the ship, he’d do all he could to protect her. Guilt grazed his heart, because it was, after all, his fault they were sailing to Barbados. His fault they were on the run and practically penniless. His fault she was lonely and miserable, as she’d reminded him every day since they’d left port.
As the wind rose to a hiss, and the Guinevere tilted hard to the left, Colin struggled to stay upright. Stinging raindrops began to fall from the heavens.
The helmsman, gripping the ship’s wheel, shouted down to the captain then motioned to the water.
Colin glanced in the direction the helmsman had pointed, but could see only sea spray and churning waves.
“Excuse me,” the captain said to Colin.
“Tell me how I can help.” Colin didn’t have much experience with ships, but since the Guinevere had set sail, he’d learned to tie knots, the basics of reading charts, and had fixed a window in the captain’s cabin. “I realize you and your crew have sailed in storms before—”
“This is no ordinary storm.”
The captain’s words echoed Colin’s own sense of dread. He’d experienced some strong thunderstorms in his lifetime, watched one recently from the leaded windows of the manor house he knew he was going to have to abandon. Yet, he’d never seen clouds as ominous as the ones overhead.
“If I were you, I’d go below,” the captain said. “Stay with your wife.”
Colin swiped away rainwater running down his face. “If you need my help—”
“I will call—”
The ship lurched to the left again. Men yelled over the hissing wind, while the soles of Colin’s leather boots slipped on the deck and he careened into a post, pain jarring through his shoulder.
He steadied himself, to see the captain staggering toward the helmsman.
A wave crashed over the side of the vessel. Cold water sprayed over Colin, soaking his white linen shirt, and he gasped before grabbing hold of ropes nearby and making his way to the door and the cramped stairway that led to the cabins below.
As the ship groaned like a rusted gate, he stumbled down the hallway to his and Evelyn’s room at the far end. Beyond the closed doors he passed, he heard frightened moans, worried voices, and crashes of objects hitting the floor. He’d met the Bells and Harrisons and most of the other passengers, and they were clearly terrified. There were cats on board too; Sherwoods, the captain had called them, a breed that had mask-like markings around their eyes. Two felines were huddled by his and Evelyn’s cabin.
Colin thought to knock on the doors and quickly check on the people inside—the captain and crew needed to focus on the ship, not the passengers—but when he heard a cry from the direction of his cabin, he hurried to see to Evelyn first.
He knocked twice then opened the door. The heat and stuffiness of the room hit him, along with a sour smell. Evelyn was clinging to the end of the bunk, doubled over, her left arm wrapped around her belly. As the ship swayed and the door slammed inward against the cabin wall, she looked up. Tears streamed down her ashen face and onto her sapphire-blue silk gown that even before the storm had badly needed washing.
“Colin—”
She threw up. As he stumbled into the room, following the cats that had darted inside, he saw more vomit on the floorboards. A pang of sympathy ran through him, because she’d already suffered for weeks from severe morning sickness. From the day they’d set sail, she’d been seasick. Being on the storm-ravaged boat must be utter hell for her.
Breathing hard, Evelyn dragged the back of her hand over her mouth. “I…can’t stop….”
“It’s all right.” He managed to shut the door; the cats were now under the bolted-down chest of drawers, where they were welcome to stay. He lurched over to the bunk, snatching up their spare, clean chamber pot on the way.
Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, tears welled along her bottom lashes. “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“Come now.” He handed her the chamber pot, sat beside her, and put his arm around her waist. “The captain and crew—”
“They can’t outwit nature.” Her brown eyes blazed as she gestured to her rounded belly. “No one can.”
He swallowed hard, wishing she hadn’t brought their innocent, unborn babe into the discussion. Neither of them had expected her to get with child so soon after they’d married. It had happened so quickly, she must have conceived on their wedding night. But, a child—any child—was a miracle.
Colin very much looked forward to being a father. He’d vowed to be a far better parent than his own sire had been. Perhaps, if the child were a boy, he’d also be interested in inventing things. Surely Evelyn was excited to be a parent, despite their current predicament.
He stroked Evelyn’s hair that was a rich brown color, like polished oak. She’d pinned it up earlier, but now most of her tresses tumbled to her lower back. “I spoke with the captain moments ago,” Colin said. “We must trust his experience with storms—”
The ship rocked, and she groaned.
“—and you must trust me,” he said.
She glared.
“Trust that I will protect and provide for you, as a responsible husband should.” He sincerely meant those words. When Colin had asked about safekeeping important documents on the journey, the captain had told him that the Guinevere’s former owner had been a smuggler; there was a secret cavity in the cabin Colin had booked. Colin had brought all of his sketches, protected by layers of canvas and stored inside a watertight wooden tube. After finding the secret spot concealed by crown molding, he’d hidden the tube in it.
Once they reached Barbados, he’d work hard to support Evelyn and not only the child they’d soon have, but any other offspring.
Moaning, she bent over the chamber pot.
He held her hair back from her face until she’d finished vomiting. Then he pulled the linen pillowcase from her pillow and handed it to her to wipe her mouth. He would have offered her water to rinse away the taste of bile, but the pitcher had fallen off the iron-bound trunk they’d used as a table and had shattered.
“I wish we’d never left England.” Her words ended on a sob.
“Evelyn, we’ve talked about this.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to be quiet.”
Colin gritted his teeth. “I wasn’t going to. But—”
She averted her gaze. Her spine stiffened, and misgiving rippled through him. She was withholding something from him. Something important.
He gently squeezed with the arm around her waist. “What is it?” When she didn’t answer, his misgiving deepened. “Are you hurt? Were you injured while you were alone?”
“No,” she bit out.
He fought a welling of panic. “The babe. Is it all right?”
“As far as I can tell, it’s fine.” Tears dripped onto her bodice.
With an eerie creak, the ship listed to the right. She clutched the sloshing chamber pot with white-knuckled hands as he steadied
them both.
The vessel finally leveled. The cabin, though, seemed to be growing smaller, closing in on Colin. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck to blend with the seawater soaking his hair and shirt.
“I was going to wait to tell you,” she said.
Bloody hell. He struggled to keep his voice steady. “Tell me what?”
She drew a sharp breath. “It’s…it’s about—”
A muffled thud.
The ship juddered.
As he and Evelyn were thrown several yards across the room, shouts and screams sounded down the hallway. The chamber pot flew from her hands and broke, its contents spreading over the floor.
“What’s happened?” Evelyn cried, pushing up on one elbow.
“I don’t know.” She’d landed on her belly. His heart hammering, Colin struggled over to her. “How are you? Is the babe—?”
A muffled crack; the sound of splitting wood. Another thud that jolted the deck above their heads.
More urgent cries.
“I must go,” Colin said.
“No.” Wild-eyed, Evelyn caught his hand. “Stay with me. Please.”
“I must do my part.”
Her fingernails dug into his skin. “You’ll abandon me? Our child?”
“No, I’m going to try and save you and everyone else on the ship. I promise I’ll return as soon as I can.”
About the Author
Wynter Daniels has authored more than three dozen romances, including contemporary, romantic suspense, and paranormal romance books for several publishers including Entangled Publishing and Carina Press, as well as for Kristen Painter’s Nocturne Falls Universe. Along with author Catherine Kean, she launched the Cat’s Paw Cove series in 2019. She lives in sunny Florida with her family and a very spoiled cat named Chloe. After careers in marketing and the salon industry, Wynter’s wicked prose begged to be set free. You can find her on the web on Facebook, Twitter, and her website.
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