Time After Time (205 page)

Her hand tightened on his arm and her eyes glowed with such hope, Tristan didn’t have the heart to deny her request. He waved to Socrates at the wheel. “Steady the course, Mr. Callahan.”

Hector de la Vega finished tucking his shirt into his trousers as he stepped forward. “Beggin’ yer pardon, miss.” He bowed his head toward Caralyn then turned his attention to Tristan. “Might I have a word, Capitan?”

“Of course.”

“In private, sir.”

Tristan stepped away from Caralyn, but he didn’t think she noticed as her face was turned into the wind and her eyes were focused on the islands in the distance.

“
Capitan
,” de la Vega said softly, “I must confess. This is not
Isla Caja de Muertos
, not the island I remember from my youth. We have barely passed Hispaniola and still have many miles to reach Puerto Rico.”

“I understand, Hector, and thank you for telling me, but Miss McCreigh believes this is the Island of the Sleeping Man.” He turned so he could see Caralyn at the rail. She hadn’t moved except to raise her face toward the sun. “She believes this is the island we are meant to find and it does resemble a man sleeping on his side. Perhaps it is so, but we’ll never know unless we take a moment to explore.”

The crewman nodded slightly before taking a step back and almost colliding with Graham. He nodded to the navigator then excused himself.

Tristan took in Graham’s appearance, the bright shining eyes, the freshness that only comes with an excellent night’s rest. He himself had listened to Graham’s snoring for quite some time until the steady noise eventually lulled him to sleep.

“You studied the charts as much as I, Tris. What’s more, we’ve sailed the Caribbean for almost ten years and we’ve never seen these islands before.”

Again, Tristan couldn’t deny the obvious, but it didn’t matter. If there was a chance to find Izzy’s Fortune, he’d take it. He shrugged his shoulders. “If nothing else, they’re worth exploring, don’t you think?”

“Of course. However, I believe we should proceed with caution. Although these islands are uncharted, it doesn’t mean they are uninhabited.”

“I agree.” Tristan excused himself and gave orders to Socrates at the wheel.

They circled the islands twice, concentrating on the largest one, the one that resembled a sleeping giant, but found nothing of interest except sandy white beaches, an abundance of tropical plants and trees, and a mountain that must have risen two hundred feet above sea level. They did see a sunken ship east of the island, its weathered masts rising above the water, but it seemed to have been there for quite some time. A decade, at least.

The islands appeared deserted as nothing stirred except the palm fronds and the three waterfalls that thundered down into the ocean. No telltale smoke from someone’s fire marred the perfection of the blue sky, no sound other than the chirping and cawing of the colorful birds peppering the trees and the multitude of chickens on the ground.

By the time they dropped anchor west of the sleeping giant’s knees, Tristan realized Caralyn could barely contain her anticipation. He understood, as her enthusiasm mirrored his own. He heard the excitement in his own voice as he shouted orders to the crew, exhilaration rippling through his body, causing his stomach to tighten and a smile to hover around his mouth.

While his men filled two longboats with supplies and provisions, he watched Caralyn pace the deck from bow to stern. She had plaited her hair into one long braid that bounced against her back as she moved and plopped a hat on her head—not a straw bonnet as he would have expected, but a tricorn, which gave her an air of impudence. She had changed clothes as well, giving up the nightclothes in favor of a loose white shirt and a pair of well-mended trousers tucked into serviceable leather boots. She looked like a pirate—a charming, curvaceous pirate—and he couldn’t help the immediate reaction of his body.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts and hopefully get his heart back to beating normally, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to her time after time.

He watched her now and grinned. Impatience made Caralyn’s steps quick and decisive. She chewed her thumbnail, another nervous habit she had in addition to chewing her bottom lip. Tristan tilted his head as she stopped her relentless pacing in front of Mrs. Beasley in response to something the woman said but continued to gnaw at her fingernail.

Tristan strained to hear the older woman’s comment.

“What you’re wearing is positively indecent,” Mrs. Beasley remarked loud enough for him and the rest of the crew to hear as her gaze raked Caralyn from head to toe. “And if your brother or father were here, they’d make you change.”

Caralyn grinned as she rubbed her hand against the patched trousers covering her legs. “Perhaps my brother would, but my father wouldn’t. Father’s crew made these for me, Mrs. Beasley, and they are more than sufficient for the exploring we are about to do. More importantly, I have very fond memories when I wear them.”

In his opinion, Caralyn looked rather fetching, but he kept his opinion to himself as Mrs. Beasley turned to face him. Her lips were pressed together as she pinned him with a glare then
harrumphed
and turned away. She opened her umbrella against the rays of the sun and stood at the rail, her body rigid.

Tristan covered his mouth with his hand to hide his grin. His Cara was a spirited, sassy little slip of a thing.

Now, where did that thought come from? She isn’t my Cara.

At long last, the boats were ready and lowered onto the crystal clear blueness of the water. Securely tethered to the
Adventurer
, they bobbed in the waves. From where he stood on deck, Tristan could see the pristine sandy bottom beneath the surface of the ocean. Colorful fish darted and hid between stalks of coral. A stingray, its wingspan more than eight feet, glided beneath the ship.

“Whistle for me, Mr. Anders.”

The bosun complied and tooted on his whistle—three short blasts and one long one. Every crew member stopped mid-chore and lined up on the quarterdeck. Tristan strode up the steps, grin firmly in place. “I need a few volunteers to explore the island. We’ll be there at least overnight, perhaps longer, depending on what we find.”

Socrates, MacTavish, and Gawain Jacoby raised their hands almost before Tristan finished speaking.

“Count me in.” Caralyn’s sweet voice filled his head and he whirled around to face her.

He wanted to say no as he didn’t know what dangers they might find, but one look at the determination in her eyes changed his mind. She had every right to accompany them. She’d certainly dressed for the occasion.

“Me as well.” Dr. Trevelyan raised his hand.

“If you’re going, then I’m going.” Mrs. Beasley stiffened her spine as she moved closer to the good doctor. It didn’t escape Tristan’s notice she slipped her hand into Brady’s or the blush that gave color to the man’s cheeks. Nor did he miss the steady stare pinned on Caralyn, and he knew Mrs. Beasley’s reasons were twofold.

“Oh hell, I’ll go.” Graham stepped forward, his lopsided smile contagious. “I’ll hunt some treasure.”

“Papa,” Jemmy piped in. “I want to go.”

Tristan shook his head. “Not this time, son.”

“Please, Papa. I’ll keep up, I promise.” He crossed his heart with his finger. “I won’t get in the way. Please?”

Who could resist the hope in those cornflower blue eyes? The crooked grin? Tristan was just as lost looking at his son as he was looking at Caralyn. He gave in. He couldn’t help himself. “All right, but only if you follow every one of my orders. Do I make myself clear?”

The boy nodded with so much enthusiasm, he almost lost his balance. Tristan steadied him with a quick hand to his son’s shoulder. The grin Jemmy gave him melted his heart. Love swelled his chest.

Tristan climbed down to one of the waiting boats first, grabbed a rope to steady himself, straddled the seat, and reached up for the next person while Mac did the same in the other dinghy.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked as he grasped Caralyn around the waist and guided her to a seat.

“I’ve been waiting for this all my life.” Her words were breathy, as if she’d run a great distance. Her eyes were wide and her smile faltered. A slight tremor raced through her, one he could feel. Tristan wondered if she could feel the same shiver race through him as he released her, although with a great deal of reluctance. She made herself comfortable next to Jemmy.

Tristan settled himself and picked up the oars.

“Now, Cap’n, ye know ye be doin’ my job.” Gawain Jacoby gestured to the oars in the captain’s hands.

He thought about handing the paddles over to his crewman but knew he couldn’t. Not now, not after touching her and feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin clothing she wore. If he didn’t keep himself occupied, he’d want to touch her again. “Today, Mr. Jacoby, I shall row.” Tristan slapped the oars into the water and began to row.

The small boat, even loaded with supplies, cut through the sea easily as they rounded the huge rock outcropping that formed the sleeping giant’s knees.

The thunderous roar of the water as it fell unimpeded two hundred feet into the cove below drowned out conversation. Misty vapor created a rainbow more beautiful than he’d ever seen, the colors rich and vibrant. The sight took his breath away.

Caralyn caught his attention as she pointed upward where the gaping maw of a cave opening dotted the sheer rock wall.

“What?” Although he knew she spoke, he missed most of what she said in the rumbling torrent of gushing water. He rowed the boat past the cascading cataract and into an idyllic cove surrounded by lush vegetation and sandy white beaches.

“How are we supposed to get up there?” she repeated, louder, and Tristan twisted in his seat to study the hole in the granite where the slumbering man’s heart would be. Unless they could scale perfectly smooth rock, they had to find another way. “There has to be another entrance to the cave. Otherwise, sunlight would not have been able to shine through it to guide us.”

He stopped rowing for a moment and just took in the sight before him. There were several words Tristan could have used to describe the Island of the Sleeping Man.
Perfect
came to mind as did
heavenly
and
peaceful
, despite the cacophony of birdsong. Perhaps even magical and enchanted, as if the island could cast a spell over him and anyone else who dared to venture on the pristine shores.

Tristan wasn’t the only one mesmerized by the tropical beauty. Caralyn pointed out some of the sights to Jemmy, her blue eyes twinkling, her mouth curved into a serene smile, her infectious laughter echoing off the rock walls surrounding the inlet. In that moment, he wanted to lay her down on the soft white sand and—

He didn’t allow himself to finish the thought. Instead, he rowed again, the physical exertion a great distraction as he focused on bringing the boat to the middle of the cove. Tristan hopped into the warm, tranquil water and pulled the dinghy onto the sand beside the remains of what had once been a fire-pit. Scorched stones formed a semi-circle roughly three feet across, but he could tell there had been no fire in the pit for a long time. Along the tree line, someone had built crude shelters using the bounty of the island.

He helped Caralyn and Jemmy from the boat then started to unpack the supplies with Graham and Gawain’s assistance.

“Jemmy and I are going to explore,” Caralyn told him as she gestured to a grouping of huge boulders where the waterfall cascaded into the cove.

“Stay within my sight. Jemmy, you listen to Miss Cara.”

Caralyn held Jemmy’s hand as they scampered along the edge of the water, unconcerned her well-worn boots were becoming drenched. Tristan grinned as he watched her. For a moment, the smile on her face made her look as young and carefree as his son. Her laughter left him in no doubt she wasn’t a child. She was all woman, a soft, sensual, alluring woman who’d make a wonderful mother.

The thought careened through his mind before he could stop it, and he shook himself free of the implications.
What the hell am I thinking? One minute, I want to lay her in the sand, the next, I’m thinking what a wonderful mother she would be
.

With a sigh, he pulled his gaze from her and grabbed one of the canvas tents from the boat. He was just about to drop it on the sand when something made him stop. Gooseflesh rose on his arms and a cold shiver raced down his back. The fine hair at the back of his neck rose. Dried leaves crunched and crackled as if the sleeping giant had awakened and thrashed the forest in anger because his slumber had been disturbed. The piercing squawks of the birds died, replaced by a heavy silence. Tristan’s stomach clenched and his eyes narrowed as he scanned the area, looking for the source of his unease. He saw nothing. No one else seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary, but the feeling of impending peril wouldn’t stop.

He walked a few paces away from the boat and dropped the tent. Again, the rustling at the edge of the forest made him stop and take stock, but it wasn’t until he heard the strange, eerie grunting noise that his heart leapt into his throat.

The rustling sound grew louder and the leaves closer to the edge of the forest shimmered and shook. Small saplings, just beginning their growth toward the sun, crashed to the ground, the sound deafening in the stillness of the cove. He glanced down the beach toward Caralyn and Jemmy. They didn’t hear what he heard, couldn’t have heard what he feared and yet, he didn’t even know what he feared. So far, there was just noise, but the din was enough to strike terror in his heart.

He started running toward them while keeping an eye glued to where the sand ended and the thick copse of trees and ferns began, shouting orders to his men to get everyone back in the boats until the danger had passed. His heart pumped in his chest, but his blood ran cold as a feral pig burst through the foliage and thundered straight for Caralyn and his son. “Cara! Jemmy! Don’t move!”

Caralyn stopped and turned. She waved at him, oblivious. It wasn’t until she started to twirl toward Jemmy that her eyes as well as her mouth opened wide as the animal raced closer to her. She didn’t scream, although Tristan wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.