Once Upon a Midnight Sea (22 page)

This masquerade was over, he was certain.

Chapter Seventeen

"Mr. Ranklin, how nice to see you. Are you enjoying your sojourn?" Adriana accepted the man's outstretched hand. Though Mr. Ranklin was somewhat known as a cad and only accepted in polite circles due to his enormous wealth, Adriana's new disrespect for the frivolous and phony views of upper society made her glad to see him. She almost felt a sort of kinship with him. "You know my captain, Mr. Dupree. This is our first mate, Mr. De la Croix and my chaperone, Mrs. Bailey."

Christian's face blossomed scarlet and his Adam's apple worked up and down in his throat. He probably anticipated she would confess her situation, and he would be dragged away in chains. Adriana was surprised to discover her desire to vex him had completely faded, and she actually felt sorry for him.

He shot to his feet and accepted Mr. Ranklin's handshake, then politely accepted introductions to the man's son, Bernard.

"First mate, eh? Perhaps I'll try and steal you." Mr. Ranklin winked at Henri and jabbed him with an elbow. "Our first mate jumped ship in Santo Domingo, the yellow bellied lamprey. I say, good officers are indeed hard to find."

Mrs. Bailey let out an unladylike snort and gave Christian a scornful grimace as he helped her into her chair. "They certainly are."

Though Mrs. Bailey looked quite silly, Adriana no longer found any amusement in the woman's anger. Christian had proven himself a pleasant enough kidnapper and she was growing tired of her chaperone's ceaseless poison. The nastiness was wearing on everyone's nerves. Adriana made up her mind to speak to her when they returned tonight. Mrs. Bailey wasn't so mean, surely she would find improving relations with Christian just as pleasant as Adriana did.

Well, maybe not as much as she did, Adriana thought with a secret smile.

Mr. Ranklin thought her smile was for him and his mustache twitched. "Did you sustain much damage in the storm?" He rattled on. "I noted the repairs going on to your mizzen royal earlier today. Tigress lost her keel, confound it all. We shall be laid up here for a week. We were on our way to Rio de Janeiro. Where are you headed, my dear? Perhaps we might join up with you."

"Mr. Ranklin, I am sorry, we hadn't even planned to come this far south, the storm decided that for us. We leave tomorrow for Jamaica and then back to Florida. But if you'd like, we would be happy to take you on to Rio first."

In the corner of her eye, Christian bristled. Henri and Mrs. Bailey fell still and silent.

"Father," Bernard interjected politely. "The young lady's offer is quite generous, but it would be most selfish of us to accept. Miss Montague, I wouldn't dream of asking you to change your itinerary."

"Oh, no, of course not," his father agreed. "I wouldn't hear of it. Though I do appreciate your generosity, my dear. You certainly are your father's daughter."

She cringed inside and cast a furtive glance Christian's way. Whatever he was thinking, he hid it well beneath a crooked smile.

"Perhaps when we reach the states we could send help for you?"

Mr. Ranklin patted her hand. "There are excellent craftsmen here on the island. The delay will be an inconvenience, but I am quite certain we shall be repaired and on our way soon enough. However, I would quite enjoy it if you joined us for supper."

Adriana smiled, though inside she dreaded an evening monopolized by the chatty man. "That would be delightful."

Christian looked ready to crawl out of his skin as Mr. Ranklin helped her to a seat on one of the wooden chairs that served the outdoor dining table. A plate of breadfruit slices sat before him, but Christian hadn't touched it. The server brought more food, and everyone except Christian seemed interested. He scarcely sampled the sugared coconut, crab legs or even the mild-in-flavor grilled Sea Bass, all island delicacies.

"How very strange," Mrs. Bailey said, "but I feel as though the land is rocking."

"Haw! Don't have your sea legs yet, do you?" Mr. Ranklin gave a hearty laugh. "When you're not accustomed to it, going back to land is as bad as the first day aboard. You shall learn to tolerate it soon enough."

"Each night I pray I shall never set foot on a ship again," she answered solemnly.

"Mrs. Bailey, if you are not feeling well, perhaps you should return to the ship." Maybe Christian's sparse appetite was due to seasickness as well, Adriana thought.

"Don't be silly, Adriana. We haven't finished our supper."

The restaurateur served her favorite island delicacy; snapper cooked over an open flame and seasoned with a tangy-sweet paprika and pineapple sauce. She noticed Christian ate only the fresh green beans and a little of the candied sweet potatoes that accompanied the main course.

By the end of the meal Mr. Ranklin was drunk on rum and his son, Bernard, was red-faced with embarrassment.

"My, what strange music," Mrs. Bailey commented. Out on the beach, a violinist accompanied a xylophonist and a female singer with maracas.

"I quite like it," Adriana said. It reminded her of her childhood visit to Jamaica with her father, and a simpler time when she had no worries at all. A time she was sure would never be matched again.

"To Adriana," Christian said, raising his glass. "May her next birthday as Mrs. Pres'on Weiss be as joyous as this." He slugged back the remainder of his rum and slammed the glass onto the table.

Adriana's pleasant mood was shattered. The insinuation in his comment was clear.

"Mr. De la Croix," Mrs. Bailey said angrily. "It is most unbecoming to let your spirits get the better of you."

"Here here!" Mr. Ranklin slurred happily. He raised his glass. "To spirits! And many happy birthdays to come."

"Er, Mr. Ranklin, please accept my apologies," Mrs. Bailey stuttered. "I certainly meant no disrespect against your character."

"Ah, none taken, dear woman. None at all. Haw!"

"Miss Montague," Bernard cleared his throat. "Though it is not exactly a chamber orchestra, I believe one can dance to this music. Would you do me the honor?" He rounded the table and offered his hand.

She didn't look directly at Christian, but heard the heated breath he dragged in through his nostrils. She took Bernard's hand and stood. "I would be delighted."

Her feet sank in the sand as they moved out into the gentle light of the setting sun. The musicians saw them and struck up what, with a little imagination, could be accepted as a waltz.

"Do forgive my father," Bernard said quietly. "He hasn't been the same since Mother passed away."

"You needn't apologize for him," Adriana told him. "I rather like him."

"I pity him, in a strange way." Bernard's gaze slipped over her shoulder to the placid bay. "He's only half a man without her. He's not interested in any of his old hobbies. It seems all he wants to do is sail and drink."

Adriana wondered what her father had been like when her mother was still alive. Was he only half that man now? She knew he'd worshipped her mother, but Adriana been too young when she died to remember them together.

Before she could stop herself, she wondered what Christian would be like if he were ever to find happiness like that. A warm ache pulled at her heart.

All people deserved to find love someday, yet the thought of Christian blissfully in love with a faithful, adoring wife brought her a painful twinge of jealousy. She'd known his kiss once, only briefly. Never again. Someday, some lucky woman would know it completely, forever.

"Miss Montague?"

She glanced up. "I'm terribly sorry, what did you say?"

"Would you like to take a stroll on the beach after supper? With your chaperone, of course."

"Oh, I–”

"May I cut in?" Christian materialized beside them, giving a gentlemanly bow.

Before Bernard could protest, Adriana turned and took Christian's hand. The song ended and the violinist struck up the first movement of Handel's hauntingly sweet
Sonata in G
. The sun passed behind the horizon, leaving the sky streaked with magnificent orange and cinnamon brush strokes. In the slant light, Christian's eyes were pale and full of longing.

In a tender embrace, they twirled more slowly than she had with Bernard, his hold around her waist more daring.

"You remembered my birthday." Adriana didn't know why, but it nearly brought her to tears.

"I'm not so self-centered as you claim."

She forced a smile. "Yet you won't even let me have one whole dance with another man." Instantly she regretted her forwardness. When she glanced away to hide her embarrassment, he released her hand to lift her chin.

Her stomach quivered with uncertain discomfiture. She knew she shouldn't be dancing with him, yet she had never felt as wonderful as in his arms. "You had better watch yourself," she whispered. "Mrs. Bailey is sure to intercede."

"On the contrary, she suggested I cut in. She is content with your loathing of me to have me dissuade Bernard. And she's feeling quite guilty about forgetting your birthday."

"She shouldn't. The storm distracted us all."

They twirled slowly across the soft beach as the fading sky cast him in an otherworldly quintessence.

"Do you remember saying you wished things were different between us?" he asked. "That we were different people?"

Adriana could hardly draw a breath as she nodded. Christian leaned close until he spoke just at her ear. "Tonight, during this one dance, we are."

She closed her eyes as a fantasy too good to believe danced across her imagination. His arm tightened around her waist and he drew her closer until she could smell not only his clean scent, but the masculine essence of him, feel the very heartbeat within him. Her own heart raced as she dared to let herself become another person–anyone other than Adriana Montague, future wife of Preston Weiss.

"If only it were true."

The music stopped. He drew back until he could look into her eyes. She barely heard him as he spoke, yet she could read the words on his lips. "We can make it true."

A glowing light at the patio caught her attention. One of the proprietors held a cake alight with tiny candles. The other musicians joined the violinist in a rendition of "Happy Birthday," and everyone at the patio began singing.

Adriana blushed as she started towards them. She brought her hands to her cheeks, delighted nearly to tears. After everything they had been through, they took the effort to celebrate her twenty-first birthday.

She turned back to Christian and laughed with joy. "Did you arrange this?"

He took a wobbly step toward her, then sank to his knees and collapsed into the sand.

Chapter Eighteen

Adriana raced to Christian's side. Henri's running footsteps mashed through the sand as he ran over.

"Why of all the shameful nonsense," Mrs. Bailey sounded off. "He's inebriated himself with rum."

"He hasn't, he had only one glass of rum," Adriana said. "Something is terribly wrong."

Henri turned him over and brushed the sand from his cheek. "He's feverish."

Adriana placed the back of her hand to his forehead. His skin was fiercely hot. "Is he ill from swimming during the storm?"

Merciful heavens, this was her fault!

"Christian. Wake up, boy. Answer me." Henri gently slapped one side of his face, then the other.

"Don't hurt him!" Adriana insisted. The restaurant owner rushed over to help. "Get a cool cloth for his head. Do you have a doctor here?"

"
Oui
, yes. I will send my son." The man turned to a young boy and pointed to the hillside as he gave fast instructions in French. The boy nodded and raced off. "There is a doctor in the village. My son will bring him."

The man's wife knelt beside Christian and gripped his wrist, then touched his cheek. She wore a grim expression as she glanced up at them.

"What is it, what is wrong with him?" Adriana demanded. "He went into the water during the storm. My dog fell overboard and he dove in to save it. Could that have made him sick?"

"I fear it is jungle fever."

Jungle fever... "Malaria? No, it cannot be! We've been on the ship this whole time." She looked at Henri, silently willing him to make it better.

The old man's expression fell into horror. "He complained about the insects at Sombrero Island."

"Henri..." Christian's eyes fluttered. "So hot."

"I'm here boy. Don't worry, you're going to be fine."

"
Mon pere
, Henri... My father..."

Henri swept a nervous glance across the people crowded around. "Don't worry, son. You'll be back on deck in no time."

"Take him to the patio," the proprietor said. He and another worker helped Bernard and Henri carry Christian to a hammock strung at the far end of the pub.

Mrs. Bailey took Adriana's arm. "Come away, child," she said gently. "Let them see to him."