More Than You Know (43 page)

"Claire.” Rand said her name gently. He took her face in his hands and held her still. Without a word he willed her to look at him. He saw her uncertainty, her fear, the return of panic as her vision blurred again, and then he spoke with the quiet assurance that would change all that.

"You're crying, Claire. Do you understand? From where I'm looking, the rainbow is in your eyes."

Cerberus
rode high in the water. Her canvas was taut. Speed, direction, and the fullness of sail all defined the presence of the powerful wind at her back. The rush of the sea against her hull had a percussive musical cadence that was almost hypnotic. Salt spray lifted high over the rail in a fine mist. In this moment the curve of the horizon was a seamless joining of water and sky, unmarked by islands, atolls, or other ships.
Cerberus
glided on alone. Solonesia was behind her.

Claire leaned forward at the head rail, her arms braced as stiffly as masts to confront the wind's resistance. Where her dark hair had escaped its anchoring pins, it fluttered away from her face. She could taste the sea on her lips.

"I knew I would find you here.” Rand came up behind her. He lightly placed his hands on Claire's shoulders. She didn't resist the gentle pressure of his palms as he grounded her to the deck again. If he knew where to find her, he thought, then perhaps she had been expecting him. With no conscious intent, they had established a ritual for themselves.

It was the onset of darkness that beckoned them both to this place. Each evening for a week now, Claire had watched the passage of twilight into night and saw the ocean absorb the deep indigo presence of the sky. Rand could always feel the slender thread of tension that held her still until she glimpsed the first evening star. She stood here on the edge of night and confronted her fear of the darkness coming upon her forever.

Claire relaxed in the shelter of Rand's embrace. Sirius was a distinct point of light overhead. “I don't want to take it for granted,” she said softly.

"I know. Neither do I."

"Do you think I'm foolish coming here?"

"You're incredibly brave.” He said it as a matter of fact, not opinion.

Claire smiled. “Why do you come?"

"Because you're here. I don't want to take
you
for granted."

Claire turned in his arms and tipped her head back.
I won't let you,
she had been going to say. The flippant response simply lodged in her throat. She was not quite used to seeing him yet, not used to the riveting expression of his polished chestnut eyes. She had thought she understood how he looked at her, but this was something else again. She had known the shape of his features, the defined chin and cheekbones, the Roman nose, the thin scar that creased his skin from temple to chin, but this deeply studying stare of his had been outside her imagination.

Claire anchored herself to Rand as she stood on tiptoe. She touched her mouth to his and didn't close her eyes until long after he did. The kiss left them both a little unsteady and breathless. She felt Rand's fingers lace at the small of her back and keep her right where she was for a few minutes more. When he set her away from him, she felt his reluctance.

"I have to speak to Dodd,” he said. “There are some—"

Claire shook her head. “You don't have to explain. I understand. Go on.” She watched him walk away, his long, confident stride never faltering under the roll and pitch of the deck. Halfway to his destination he glanced back, seeking her out. She lifted her hand to indicate that she was fine and he went on, reassured. She wondered at this gesture, wondered if it was the casual habit that it seemed. How often in the past had his eyes sought her out and never received any response?

Her smile softened, became a shade bittersweet. He had been looking after her in the most literal fashion, and she had been unable to appreciate or encourage it. No, she thought, she would not take this miracle of sight for granted.

Or the miracle that they were together now, bound for Charleston on
Cerberus.
It was Tiare's fine hand that had guided them toward this end. With the collapse of the mountain vault, she saw the opportunity to help them escape. The priests had expected that the treasure would bring death for both Hamilton and Waterstone. Tiare showed them that this was indeed the case. Once Claire and Rand were safely aboard
Cerberus,
Tiare and Tipu brought the priests together. Tiare solemnly led them to the crushed entrance and recounted the story of how Macauley Stuart had taken her and Tipu to the site. In Tiare's recitation she made the doctor a hero for permitting her the opportunity to witness Rand and Claire's burial in the mountain. There was no disputing testimony from Stuart. According to Tiare, he died while trying to rescue Rand and Claire. It was an impressive performance in that the words did not stick in her throat. She took some satisfaction from the fact that while the doctor was aboard
Cerberus
by then, he was also considerably more confined in his hiding place than Rand and Claire were in theirs.

At her side Tiare had Tipu for support and Cutch's dark, grief-stricken face as further evidence of the deaths. There was never a moment in which she was not believed.

With the treasure buried at last and William Abberly's wishes carried out, there was no reason for
Cerberus
to remain on Arahiti. The tikis had stretched their powerful tapu across time and brought an end to Hamilton and Waterstone. The work of the priests was done. The treasure had been protected for those it was meant to destroy.

Tiare and her men led
Cerberus
out of the harbor, past the dangerous shoals and into open water. Claire and Rand came topside only when they were certain they could not be seen by the outriggers. It was an unsatisfactory way to say good-bye to the woman who had ultimately saved them. Standing at the taffrail that evening, Claire and Rand had to tell themselves that Tiare understood what was in their hearts.

She had let them leave with their lives and the treasure, and they were both richer and poorer for her generosity. Never returning to Arahiti meant that Tipu was forever out of their reach. Tiare and Cutch as well. In the week they had been aboard
Cerberus,
neither Rand nor Claire had looked at the treasure. It was locked in the hold very near Macauley Stuart's new quarters. They hadn't looked in on him either.

Claire was sitting in the middle of the bed, brushing out her hair, when Rand came upon her again. Her head was tilted to one side as she pulled the brush through in long, lazy strokes. One of his journals was open in the cradle of her crossed legs. She was studying his notes on the coral reefs around Tahiti, her free hand guiding her eyes as she read the page. She was so absorbed that she didn't look up when he entered.

Rand cleared his throat.

"I know you're there,” Claire said. “I'm ignoring you."

Rand shrugged out of his jacket and laid it over the back of the desk chair. He sat down and began removing his boots, tossing them toward the bed so they thumped loudly on the floor beside Claire. She continued reading, not even annoyed by his attention-seeking. Shaking his head, Rand let her be. He removed the ship's log from the desk and recorded the day's journey. When he was finished he sat back, stretched hard, and looked up. Claire was watching him, a sweet smile curving her lips. She was holding the closed journal in front of her. The brush lay on the trunk. It was obvious to him now that she had been studying him as intently as she had his notes.

"Did you try clearing your throat?” he asked.

"Several times. You were oblivious."

At least she knew he wasn't ignoring her. He shut the ship's log, put it away, and leaned back in the chair. He propped his feet on a padded stool under the desk. “I had a lot to write today."

Claire knew this seventh day at sea had been relatively uneventful. Rand was catching up his record of all that had happened since they'd found Pulotu. “Will you read it to me when you're finished?"

Rand's brows lifted slightly. “You can read it yourself."

"I'd rather you read it. I like the sound of your voice."

He grinned at that.

"Almost as much as Mr. Cutch's,” she said.

His grin merely deepened, forcing a small dimple to appear at the corner of his mouth. “Setting me in my place, Mrs. Hamilton?"

She laughed. “Something like that, Captain.” Claire scooted back on the bed so that her back was flush to the wall. Her fingers lightly tapped the journal's leather binding. “What do you suppose Mr. Cutch is doing now?” she asked a trifle wistfully.

Rand pretended to give it some thought. “Let's see ... it's a warm, lovely evening on Arahiti ... starshine ... gentle breeze ... Tipu's asleep and Cutch is alone with Tiare. I'd hazard a guess about his activities, but then you'd blush.” Rand watched as Claire was put to a blush anyway. His smile faded slowly. “I miss him,” he said. “I'm happy for him, but I miss him."

Claire nodded. It was the same for her. Cutch had elected to stay behind on Arahiti with Tiare and Tipu. He said at the time that it didn't seem like a choice. It was something he had to do. Claire and Rand understood exactly what he meant. “Did you ever imagine Mr. Cutch would fall in love?"

"Fall? He was tripped."

Claire didn't disagree. “Blind-sided."

Rand laughed. “Exactly.” He unbuttoned the neck of his shirt and massaged his nape. His expression sobered. “He'll be a good father to Tipu."

"I've thought the same thing.” She wished she had told him how she felt before now. “In fact, I've thought that if he does just half as good a job with Tipu as he did with you, my brother will grow up to be a fine man."

Beneath Rand's coppery hair, he felt the tips of his ears redden. Ducking his head a bit, both pleased and embarrassed, Rand changed the subject. “Not having Cutch here will mean more time for me topside, at least until Dodd is sure of his new position and duties."

"I know,” she said. “I told you earlier this evening I understand. I meant it.” Claire held up the journal a fraction. “I have more than enough interests to keep me busy. Your work is fascinating, Rand. You have a broader perspective than my father. Sir Griffin's studies were focused almost solely on deriving tonics from the island plants. His contribution is certainly important, but what you've done has much wider application."

"Do you think so?"

Claire realized she was being asked because he valued her opinion. He trusted her to answer honestly and not pat him on the back with false encouragement. “Yes,” she said. “I do. Your work is remarkable, really. I knew so very little about it before. Studying with Sir Griffin isolated me, and when I returned to England ... well, you know I couldn't resume my work. The duke told me precious little about your explorations..."

Claire shook her head and looked past Rand's shoulder for a moment, retrieving a more accurate memory. “No, that isn't entirely true. He told me some things about you, about your studies, but I displayed little interest. I was jealous, I think. Horribly jealous that you were doing what I wanted to do, and seeming to do it in a half-hearted fashion while you hunted the treasure."

Claire laid Rand's book on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “Stickle understood from the beginning how important your work was to you. I wish I had understood so well. I might not have thrown his ashtray at your head.” She sighed. “Or at least I would have let you kiss me a little longer."

The memory of that kiss in Strickland's dining room lifted one corner of Rand's mouth. “I would have liked that."

"You were trying to shock me."

"Perhaps,” he said. “But I still would have liked it."

Claire could not quite contain her smugly satisfied smile. She began to fold back the covers while Rand stripped to his drawers. Although she pretended to be very involved with smoothing the sheets and pillows, she watched her husband's every move out of the corner of her eye.

Rand blew out one lantern and prepared to do the same to the other.

"No,” she called to him. “Let it burn."

He shrugged and backed away. Rand took one corner of the covers she raised for him and slipped into bed. Almost immediately Claire's arm slid around his waist as she turned on her side.

"I like looking at you,” she said in a rush. Under the blanket Claire's fingers danced across his chest and down his abdomen. She felt Rand suck in his breath. She was surprised when he laid his hand over hers and held her questing fingers still. “Rand?"

"Do you, Claire?” His voice was husky, serious. Only an edge of earnestness gave his tone inflection. He saw that his question had startled her and he felt foolish for asking it. “I ... the scar ... I wondered what...” He couldn't seem to find a coherent thought, so he fell silent. His hand slid away from Claire's.

Claire lifted her fingers to the thin scar that crossed his features. The line was whiter now because Rand was holding his jaw so tightly that a small muscle ticked in his cheek. She laid the backs of her fingers across the spot until she felt him relax; then she replaced her fingers with her lips. She kissed him there once, and again at his temple where the scar disappeared into his hairline. “You should take issue with my imagination,” she whispered. “In my mind's eye you were not nearly so handsome. In spite of Mrs. Webster's fine description, you are so much more than the sum of your parts.” She kissed his mouth. “Although some of your parts..."

It was a long and leisurely kiss that held them bound. Claire's fingers threaded through his copper hair. She cradled his head. He turned so that she was under him. Her hips lifted as he drew up the hem of her nightgown. His thumbs brushed the soft skin of her inner thighs. She made a tiny sound at the back of her throat as he parted her legs.