My Seaswept Heart (26 page)

“Looks as if we’ve found it,” he announced,
then stepped aside for Anne to get the full impact of the small
pond of crystal-clear water. Trumpet-shaped scarlet flowers vined
around the edge as if ready to herald their arrival.

“It’s beautiful,” Anne breathed, stepping
forward into the shaded glade. “Where did the water come from?”

“An underground spring, I imagine.” Jamie
scooped some to his mouth, checking for potability.

“Well, I for one am thankful.” Anne leaned
forward and twirled her fingers in the cool liquid. “How far do you
think we are from the beach?”

Standing, hands on lean hips, Jamie looked
toward the east. “’Tis hard to say. We’ll go back this way and find
out.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Then we’ll have to
make a path. I suppose you can cut one out with the knife. And
collect some sort of containers for the water.” Anne wrinkled her
brow. “Coconut shells will have to do at first until we can think
of something else.” Her expression brightened. “And a storage shed.
We’ll need something built near our shelter where we can store the
water.” She looked toward Jamie, obviously pleased with her
suggestions. He merely stared back.

“We have storage for the water.” He jerked a
thumb toward the pond. “And there it be.”

“Well, I...” Anne sucked in air that smelled
exotic and mildly erotic. She ignored the scent. “I realize that’s
where the water is now. However, we need it closer.”

“Why?”

Anne blinked. Few people ever questioned her
orders. Partly because her ideas were usually correct, and partly
because those around her didn’t have the time or inclination to
think of practical things. That task had fallen to her from the
time she could remember. First with her parents, and then when she
went to live with Uncle Richard and Arthur.

The citizens of Libertia, their minds full of
lofty democratic ideals, had utilized Anne’s talents to the
fullest, putting her in charge of seeing that the island ran
smoothly. While they lived their grand experiment.

With the exception of her parents’ death and
d’Porteau’s devastating attack on Libertia, she’d never failed. She
didn’t intend to now.

Squaring her shoulders Anne faced the pirate.
“If we are to live here for any length of time, we need to behave
like civilized people.”

“Which means?”

“Building a storage shed for water.” Anne
turned and started to forge a path toward the beach. She heard him
follow, imagined he shrugged in that offhand way he had. While she
trudged, Anne tried to think of a foolproof argument for why they
did need the water closer. Most of her reasons evaporated like
smoke when after a short distance she broke through, stepping into
the blinding sunlight onto the beach.

She didn’t need to shift around to know the
smug, self-satisfied expression on the captain’s face. But she did
anyway. Her chin notched up. “We shall need a path anyway.”

“I’ve no problem with that.”

“And some sort of shelter.”

He shrugged and glanced around, squinting
toward the treetops. “Nothing too fancy.”

“Something sturdy enough to keep out the
elements,” Anne countered. My God, if he had his way they would
sleep sprawled on the warm sand. An image sprang to her mind, of
them lying, both naked to the night, gritty sand sticking to their
entwined, sweat-slick bodies. She swallowed, forcing the thought
aside. “I don’t wish to sleep in the pouring rain.”

“Nor do I.”

“Good.” Anne turned on her heel. “Then it’s
settled.”

Except nothing was settled.

Jamie grimaced and clenched his jaw as she
supervised the cutting of the palm fronds that would form their
roof. Since he was near the top of a palm tree, having shimmied his
way up, and she was giving unnecessary orders from the ground, he
found it twice as annoying.

With a yelp she jumped out of the way just in
time to avoid the broad leaf he let fall to the sand.

Construction of the shelter, which Jamie
envisioned more as a lean-to type structure while Anne thought a
square hut more the thing, was no easy task. By the time hunger
drove Jamie to dive into the turquoise water, knife between his
teeth, the roof he’d managed to fasten to the oars from the boat
wasn’t half the size of the plan she’d drawn in the sand.

“We need more room,” Anne called after him as
he disappeared beneath the water. With a sigh she glanced at the
rough shelter he’d thrown together, a grimace darkening her face.
There was barely room for both of them beneath the roof. And
certainly no extra space between them. Which was fine, Anne assured
herself, for she could sleep out under the stars. After all, she’d
done it many times since going aboard the
Lost Cause
.

Just as long as it didn’t rain.

While the captain fished for their supper,
Anne set about making beds out of the dried seaweed that collected
around the rock formations. She made certain to keep a strip of
sand, no matter how narrow between the two mounds. When she was
finished she looked around for something to use as a cover for the
mattresses, but could find nothing.

“Tomorrow I’ll start weaving mats,” she
mumbled, adding that to her mental list of things to do.

For now she gathered twigs and fallen
branches, using some of the dried seaweed to catch the spark from
the flint. She had a good fire going by the time the captain
returned with a fish large enough to fed them both. To this main
dish they added coconut meat, and crystal-clear water, each
pronouncing their repast a feast.

If the captain noticed anything about the
beds he didn’t comment as he leaned back on his elbows and tilted
his head to study the stars that came out while they ate. Anne sat
stiff-backed watching the flicker of light and shadow from the fire
play across him: the bold bone structure of his face; the plains
and valleys of his body.

She’d always thought there was something
savage about him, something wild, but never more so than now. He
seemed to meld into his surroundings, the broad stretch of isolated
beach, the untamed forest beyond. And the sea. Always the sea.

He shifted, the gold in his ear loop catching
the light, and his eyes met hers. Even in the near darkness she
could see their blue-green color, yet another link with the sea.
Anne’s heart thumped, and it was all she could do to breathe.

“’Tis a good job ye did with the beds,” he
said, his voice low, blending with the eternal lap of the waves,
the soft clatter of wind through the palms.

“Thank you.” Anne’s mouth was dry.

He pushed to his feet and without another
word stretched out on one of the seaweed pallets. After he wriggled
a bit to get comfortable he crossed his arms over his bare chest
and shut his eyes. Within minutes his snores joined the symphony of
night sounds.

Anne looked from him to the seaweed beside
him, then back to him. True, there wasn’t much space between, but
then there didn’t seem much need for any. After taking a deep
breath Anne settled into her own bed. But it was a long time before
she slept.

And even then her mind was filled with
thoughts of the sinfully handsome pirate captain.

Sleeping late was becoming a habit Anne
couldn’t appear to break.

It didn’t seem to matter how often she told
herself that she would rise at first light, she still managed to
wake to find the sun rising in the sky and the captain gone. On the
third day on the island, like the other two, she found him swimming
out by the rock formations. With the dolphin. Except for her
stay-a-bed tendencies and the fact that she rose to the smell of
fish cooking, Anne would have berated him for wasting time.

Not that he didn’t work, Anne admitted to
herself as she waded knee-deep into the water, scattering a covey
of stiffly stepping herons. The previous day he hacked out a
definite path to the pond. It wasn’t as wide as Anne thought it
might be, but there was a path. And since he only had her knife to
work with, she gave him credit for an admirable job.

Anne splashed water onto her face and
scrubbed down over her cheeks. By the time she finger-combed her
hair and started back toward shore, Anne noticed the captain
swimming her way. She braced herself for the sight of him emerging
from the water. It still took her breath away. But at least she
didn’t let him know how much the sight of him dripping wet, his
breeches clinging to him like a second skin, affected her.

As usual his spirits were good in the
morning, a trait Anne found annoying.

“I think Lucy has decided to take up
permanent residence here,” he announced once onshore. He shook
himself as thoroughly as any dog Anne had ever seen, then glanced
out to where the dolphin arched out of the water.

“I imagine this is as good a place for her to
stay as any,” Anne responded without enthusiasm. She couldn’t help
thinking the captain spent too much time frolicking with the
creature. Time he could use to accomplish something. She knew he
credited the dolphin with saving their lives. Anne was less
inclined to believe.

After pulling her jacket over her wet shirt
Anne stepped into her shoes and followed the captain to their
makeshift table. The fish was tasty; the water refreshing.

To keep her mind off the captain’s bare
chest, and the fact that the sun seemed to be bronzing it darker,
and bleaching the hair lighter with each passing day, Anne started
her mental list of things to do. It was growing to include such
things as strengthening and expanding their shelter, which Anne
still found too small, when the pirate leaned back and surprised
her with his announcement.

“What do you mean today is a holiday?”

“I mean we should declare it one.” He grinned
at her. “Make it a day of thanksgiving.”

Her brow arched. “You plan to spend time on
your knees, thanking God?” Somehow she couldn’t reconcile that
vision with the pirate.

Apparently he couldn’t either, for he leaned
back and laughed, a sound that sent shivers down her spine.

“Nay,” he chuckled. “Though I do believe
today is the Sabbath, so if you’re so inclined... He shrugged his
powerful shoulders and left the rest unsaid.

“Is it Sunday?” A wave of sorrow passed
through Anne when she realized she’d lost track of the days. From
now on, she decided, she’d make a small mark on the largest palm
each day.

“Aye.” He smiled at her again after biting
off a hunk of fish with his strong teeth. “A day of rest.”

Anne didn’t know whether to believe him or
not about it being Sunday. But she didn’t think they had time for a
day of rest or a holiday, and told him so.

“And just what do ye think is so important
that needs done?” He sat up and leaned toward her, his expression
sober. “We have a shelter.” Jamie ignored her mumbled, “of sorts”.
“A path to the pond.” To Jamie’s way of thinking, they’d taken care
of the essentials.

“Well, for one thing, I thought we might
begin drying fish today.”

“Drying fish? What in hell for?”

His tone made Anne fold her arms. “Well, we
have no salt to preserve them so... We do have sea salt. Do you
think that would work?”

“I think ’tis foolish to bother. We have all
the fresh fish we want.”

What he said made sense. Except that Anne was
a firm believer in squirreling things away in case of emergency.
Experience had taught her that lesson. Her chin notched up. “What
if something happens to you and you can’t swim out to fish for us?”
Anne thought her argument a good one and was gratified to see him
nod slowly. She was confident there would be no more talk of taking
the day to lie around on the beach.

“’Tis a point ye have there, Annie.” Jamie
stood and stretched. “And one I’ve been remiss in ignoring.”

“Good.” Anne rose putting off cleaning the
area for the moment in favor of explaining to him how she wanted
the drying racks built. “I thought perhaps over there out of the
way. We could dig a pit for the fire and then construct some sort
of ledge where we could line up the fish....” Anne stepped closer
to him, her eyes narrowing. “Are you listening to me?”

His only response was to look down at her and
grin.

“I don’t think you heard a word I said.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong, Annie.
You’re worried I might be unable to bring in food, and ye be right
in your concern. ’Tis possible that could happen. That’s why it’s
time ye learn to swim.”

“Swim?” Anne sputtered the word. “But I
can’t.”

“And that’s because ye’ve never been taught,
I’ll wager.”

What was there to learn? You got into the
water and either floated to the top, or as in Anne’s case, sank to
the bottom like a stone. She wasn’t interested in swallowing
choking amounts of salt water on such foolishness. “I haven’t
time,” she told him, then turned to walk away.