Care and Feeding of Pirates (30 page)

"If the chests are wood, they'd have rotted
away by now," she said.

Christopher turned his head, which brought
his lips near enough to her for a quick kiss.

"The caskets are metal," he said. "Tin and
brass. Probably rusted and corroded by now, but still whole."

"Have you gone inside yet?"

"We need to widen the entrance a little,"
Christopher said. "Someone will have to go in and help dig from the
inside out. Someone small."

All eyes turned to the Irishman, Mr.
O'Malley, who was the smallest man on either crew. O'Malley
blenched. "Don't much like caves," he said, and shuddered. "Did I
mention that bloody English soldiers threw me into a hole like that
once? For three months."

James and Christopher only looked at him, and
Mr. O'Malley went still more pale.

"Don't make him," Honoria said. "That's
cruel. I'll go."

"No, you won't," Christopher and James said
at the same time. One spoke with a neutral English accent with
overtones of French, one in a heated Southern drawl.

"Do you have another crewman smaller than
me?" Honoria asked. "I'm not afraid to climb down there. Digging
won't be any more difficult than in my garden at home. The soil is
loose and damp, not hard." She demonstrated, scooping a little away
with her fingers.

"Honoria," Christopher began, his voice a
growl.

She met his gaze. "Are you afraid it will
cave in?"

"How the hell should I know? I don't know
anything about caves--I was born and bred on a ship. That's not the
point."

"No?" Honoria asked, lifting her chin. "The
point is, I should obey you without question, is that it?"

"Yes."

"Our vows never said that."

Christopher scowled. "Back to that argument,
are you? The vows mean that your husband knows best and that you
should listen to him."

"Hmm, I don't remember saying those words at
all."

"Then I think you and I need to have a little
talk."

"We have had them," Honoria said. "We both
know how our little talks usually end."

Christopher's eyes flickered, and his scowl
became a small, private smile. Was he recalling the time she'd
slathered oil on his body in Alexandra's spare bedroom? And the
rather rough and tumble--and very slippery--lovemaking they'd had
after that? Or the occasion a few nights ago, when he'd helped
Honoria undress and sponge off her body in their cabin? Things had
gotten a bit wet and soapy, and Honoria's voice had been hoarse the
next morning.

Christopher's own voice was a bit throaty
when he said, "Don't play the innocent with me, Miss. You'll pay
for it, later."

"That is a risk I will have to take. And it's
Mrs.
"

His look turned dangerous, and Honoria's
heart pounded with excitement. She never thought verbal sparring
with a man would be so satisfying. But then, that man was
Christopher, who kissed like fire and awoke in her things she'd
never known she could feel.

A shadow fell over them. "If you are finished
with your interesting discussion," James said, "I say let her down
there, Raine. If she gets dirty and cries, it's her own fault."

Honoria rose to her feet, every ounce of
ladylike haughtiness coming to the fore. "Really, James. It is most
rude to listen to a private conversation."

Her brother gave her his most fearsome
Captain Ardmore look. Honoria gave him one right back.

Christopher cleared his throat. "I would hand
you two pistols and let you count off paces, but we don't have
time. St. Cyr, get some ropes, the strongest you can muster. My
wife wants to go exploring."

*** *** ***

They lowered her in a harness they created
from stout ropes. Christopher held the lead rope himself, with St.
Cyr to back him up. He would not let James touch the rigging at
all.

Honoria kissed Christopher on the lips, for
luck and in gratitude, then put her feet into the hole and let them
lower her inside.

She did not go a very long way down. She
thought the harness unnecessary, but Christopher insisted they be
able to pull her out at a moment's notice.

Honoria knew in her heart that if Christopher
had thought the venture terribly dangerous, he'd never have given
in. He'd have tied her up and carried her back to the cove, never
minding how much she argued.

The cave had an earthy smell overlaid with
the odor of rotting vegetation, the air marvelously cool after the
blazing heat of the outdoors. Tree roots poked through the dirt
around the opening, but the rest of the cave had been carved out by
nature from solid rock.

Christopher had lowered in a few lanterns
before her--candle lamps, not oil--and their feeble flickers
glistened on water-damp walls that bore patches of moss and red
fungus.

When Honoria's feet touched the ground, the
lower edges of the entrance tunnel were level with her eyes. She'd
been instructed to use the spade and pick they'd lowered to widen
the opening of the entrance tunnel so that larger men, like
Christopher and James, could get in and finish the work.

Honoria ignored the tools for the moment and
turned to study the cave. The caskets, brass and glinting in the
candlelight, were piled on the floor and up the walls. There must
be forty or fifty of them, waiting to be discovered.

She moved to the nearest chest and touched
its lid. The iron lock still rested in its hole, but the hasp had
rusted through.

Christopher's voice came sharply through the
hole. "Honoria, where are you going?"

"I want to look at the gold." Honoria lifted
one of the lanterns and shone it on the casket. The innocent brass
glinted back at her. She carefully checked for spiders then put her
hand down and opened the lid.

She caught her breath. The candlelight fell
on rows and rows of glittering golden ingots, throwing light back
at her and dazzling her eyes.

The gold had not been minted but molded into
the tiny bars for transportation. There had to be hundreds of the
things in this chest, and so many chests filled the cave.

Napoleon must have been sickened by its loss.
The war in Spain was going badly for him now--what the emperor
would not give to have this much gold back.

James would never let him have it, however.
James did not approve of tyrants, excepting, of course,
himself.

Honoria suddenly understood the gold's power.
It had beauty in itself; its presence weighty. Men murdered each
other for gold, adored it, sought it, hoarded it. With it they
purchased women by buying them jewels, clothes, and
houses--security. Whoever possessed gold possessed power.

And Christopher was about to give it all
away.

A strong tug on the harness brought her back
to herself. "What are you doing?" her husband called.

Honoria dropped the lid back into place and
made her way to the hole before Christopher could drag her to it.
"It's here," she panted up at him. "Really here. All of it."

"Thank you for the report," Christopher
growled. "Now, start digging or I'll haul you out by your
backside."

"Yes, dear," Honoria said, sarcasm dripping.
She picked up the spade and began knocking damp earth away from the
opening of the tunnel.

She heard Christopher chuckle. "I like this.
My wife on the end of a tether."

"You would," Honoria said darkly.

After a half hour of tiring digging, the
tunnel was wide enough to satisfy Christopher. Honoria rubbed her
aching arms as her husband slithered down into the tunnel and
dropped to the floor at her side. He still held the rope.

"Your face is dirty," he said. His eyes
twinkled in the lantern light.

"I see no reason for you to be so happy,"
Honoria said, still massaging her arms. "You are going to give away
all this beautiful gold."

Christopher opened the casket she'd peered
into, and the reflection of the gold lit his face. He stared at the
ingots for a long, sober moment, then he banged the lid shut.

"Too much gold is a curse, my wife," he said.
"I shall be glad to be rid of it." And he winked at her.

She stared at him, a deep suspicion stirring
in her mind.

But Honoria had no chance to ask Christopher
what he was up to, because James climbed down into the hole with
them, and any secrets had to remain secret.

*** *** ***

Once Honoria had been helped out of the hole,
where she sat gratefully on a boulder to rest, Christopher's and
James's men began the laborious process of lifting each casket from
the cave. Only one chest could be moved at a time, because of the
size of the tunnel and the fact that the caskets, though small,
were heavy.

They rigged a pulley system using the
overhanging trees for anchors. Men inside the cave bound the
caskets with ropes, while men above hauled each to the surface.

Christopher helped his men construct a
makeshift sled of planks and ropes to help transport the gold to
the cove. Three caskets fit on the sled, which one man pulled while
a second steadied and slowed from behind.

The work was tedious, and by late afternoon,
only half the caskets had been taken down the hill. Christopher
tramped back to the cove with Honoria and the last load of caskets,
and they made camp once again. James volunteered to take the first
watch.

"I don't envy him," Christopher whispered to
Honoria as they snuggled together in blankets by the campfire. "If
the gold went to my ship, my men would at least know they'd get a
share.
His
men will watch him hand it over to the American
navy."

Honoria felt some alarm. "Do you think he'll
be in danger? Perhaps we should take Diana and her children with us
until he makes the delivery."

Christopher kissed her temple. "No, my sweet.
If Ardmore couldn't command his men by now, he'd already be dead.
He didn't get this far by allowing his crew to walk over him."

"I'd like to walk over him sometimes,"
Honoria said between her teeth.

Christopher only laughed and rolled her to
him to kiss her.

She remembered that kiss, and the laughter in
his eyes, for a long time to come.

*** *** ***

They were awakened early in the morning with
rain, which soon turned into a deluge. Sleepy men scrambled for the
shelter of the trees, dragging blankets and clothes with them.

Honoria waited under the trees, panting and
dripping, while James organized a few of his crew to row the
already retrieved caskets of gold to the
Argonaut
. A little
rain wouldn't hurt them, James said. Honoria wondered if he meant
the gold or his crew.

They watched the boat slide to the
Argonaut
and back three times, until most of the caskets had
been loaded onto the ship. By the time the boat returned for the
last haul, the rain was pounding so hard that the ships were
obscured by the gray curtain of it.

The rain was less dense under the canopy of
forest, and Christopher ordered them back up the hill to the
tunnel.

Honoria insisted on being lowered back into
the cave with him, where she'd be sheltered from the worst of the
storm. Once inside, she squeezed out her rain-matted hair and
watched Christopher work.

He'd shed his wet shirt and now worked
bare-chested, his body drawing Honoria's attention. She looked
forward to returning to the
Starcross
, where she could lie
with him in their bunk and touch his body to her heart's
content.

After they had a proper bath, of course. The
cave was muddy, and Honoria longed for soap and clean water.
Perhaps she and Christopher could bathe each other again . . .

She let her thoughts ramble down this
delicious path as she adjusted the ropes on her waist so they
wouldn't chafe. Christopher had not let her down again without the
harness, which he'd tied off to a tree outside. Honoria felt rather
like a dog on a lead, but Christopher made clear that she either
complied or went back to the cove.

At least the rain let up above, making the
men's task easier. As the sky darkened outside, night coming, the
final casket rested in position beneath the opening. Christopher
sent the men who'd been helping him above, then turned to Honoria.
"Time to go, sweetheart. The adventure is over."

"We did not have much adventure," Honoria
said, coming to him. "I half expected to find that you'd buried a
pirate alive down here, so his ghost would guard the treasure."

Christopher gave her an incredulous look.
"Why the devil would I do that?"

"Or set cunning traps to prevent others from
reaching the gold. Like stakes coming out of the walls when the
gold hunter trips on a rock."

He started to laugh. "Good God, Honoria,
where do you come up with these ideas?"

"Books." Honoria put her arms around him as
he lifted her.

"I've only read two books in my life," he
said, "and nothing like that ever happened in those."

Honoria smiled and smoothed his
sweat-dampened hair from his brow. "Maybe you'll write a book of
your own one day. All about your adventures."

Christopher shook his head, his grin crooked.
"You're an amazing woman, my wife. Kiss me."

Honoria did. It was a long, satisfying kiss,
Christopher's mouth warm, loving.

"Up you go," he said.

Slightly disappointed, but knowing they could
continue later, Honoria allowed Christopher to boost her upward.
Above them, a sailor began hauling on her rope.

When she was halfway up the tunnel, she heard
the men outside shouting. James's voice thundered above theirs.
Honoria craned her head to see what was happening, fearing that
Christopher was wrong, and James's men were mutinying.

But their cries were drowned by a sudden
roaring sound, as though all the rain that had fallen that day had
decided to rush at them in one great wave.