Time After Time (210 page)

“How could anyone not notice?” she asked with a laugh. “He called her Lovey. Not once, not twice, but several times.”

Tristan shrugged his shoulders. He wasn’t interested in Stitch and Mrs. Beasley. The sparkle was back in Caralyn’s incredible eyes and the grin on her face did something strange to his heart. The urge to kiss her once again, to take her in his arms and lay her down on the sand became undeniable. His pulse picked up its pace and his heartbeat so fast, he thought his chest might explode.

“Did you find the treasure?”

“Are we richer than Midas?”

“Where is it?”

“Are we going back for it tomorrow?”

Whatever thoughts and wishes he harbored toward Caralyn quickly disappeared beneath the barrage of questions from his crew as the men accompanied the small party to the fire pit.

“Been wonderin’ when ye’d be back,” Hash remarked as Tristan cut a small piece of pork and slipped it into his mouth. “Been waiting fer ye. Ye find that blasted treasure?”

Tristan grinned and spoke to all the men gathered around him. “We did not find the treasure. We did find a gold statue of the Blessed Mother and a clue.” He gestured toward Mac. “Show them the statue.”

The Scotsman pulled the burlap wrapped effigy from his sack and released the tie that held it together with great care. The men
oohed
and
aahed
and passed the icon from one hand to the other. The parchment came next. One after another, they read the written words and tried to decipher the clue. Instead of being disappointed because there were no jewels or coins, the crew became more excited. This was their proof, and each one, to the last man, couldn’t wait to begin the next part of their adventure.

“Where to next, Cap’n?” Gawain asked.

“We’ll continue on to Puerto Rico for fresh supplies then Jamaica.” Tristan glanced at Caralyn. The grin parting her tempting lips melted his heart. “Miss McCreigh believes there is a chapel on Pembrook’s plantation.”

The excitement grew and their voices became louder, gestures more animated as they dined on fresh pork and small roasted potatoes Hash pulled from the glowing ashes of the fire.

Mrs. Beasley did not join in either the meal or the conversation. She stayed in her tent, using exhaustion for her excuse, but Tristan suspected she might still be angry they were continuing their quest. Or, she was embarrassed by the clothing lent to her as her gown had been truly ruined by the excursion into the cave.

The conversation and laughter around the fire pit did not end with the meal. The hopes and dreams of every man was shared long after the moon rose high and stars twinkled in the velvety black night.

Belly full, clean and warm, and exhausted from his adventures of the day, Jemmy snuggled beside his father. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes. In seconds, he slept, despite the loud laughter all around him. Or perhaps because of it.

Tristan gazed at his son’s blond hair shimmering in the moonlight and grinned. He’d never known anyone who could fall asleep so quickly or completely.

Content, feeling the warmth of his son’s heavy body leaning against him, Tristan let himself relax. The day had been long and yet, he wasn’t tired. Indeed, despite only finding one gold statue in the cave, he was exhilarated. After years of searching for Izzy’s Fortune, he’d finally found some proof it truly existed. His eyes roamed to the crew gathered around the fire.

This is the life!
What could be better than to be surrounded by people you loved and trusted and who felt the same about you? To be on the trail of a fabulous fortune? To be on an island paradise with a beautiful woman?

With a start, he realized Caralyn wasn’t among those gathered around him. Stitch and Socrates were missing as well. He glanced at the tent behind him, the flap now open. No light shined from within. Mrs. Beasley was gone, too.

He spotted Graham lounging against one of the logs that had been set up around the fire, a piece of pork in his hand. “Where is Cara?”

The man shrugged his shoulders and took another bite of the meat. “Haven’t seen her in awhile,” he said around the food in his mouth.

“I saw her walk over to the waterfall awhile ago,” Gawain offered then gestured to Stitch, who paced the sand further down the beach.

With great care so as not to disturb Jemmy’s rest, Tristan rose to his feet and lifted the boy in his arms. His son murmured but did not awaken as Tristan carried him to their tent and laid him down on a bedroll in the soft sand. He sighed deeply as Tristan covered him with a light blanket. He left the tent, spoke a few words with Hash, and went in search of the woman with the dancing sea-blue eyes.

He found Socrates standing guard atop a huge boulder near the first in a series of three glistening pools fed by the waterfall. “Sorry, Cap’n, ye can’t be comin’ any further.”

Tristan stopped and glared at the man who impeded his progress. “And why not?”

The crewman shifted his weight from one foot to the other and a big grin spread his lips. “Miss McCreigh needs her privacy.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. Never before had Socrates Callahan taken such a stance. “I beg your pardon?”

Socrates lowered his voice. “She’s takin’ a bath. Mrs. Beasley’s up there with her.”

His imagination took flight. Tristan envisioned Caralyn in the moonlight, water sparkling on her skin, her hair flowing down her back. He had not forgotten about laying her down in the sand and exploring every inch of her body, of touching her skin to see how soft it truly was, of feeling the weight of her milky white breasts in his hands. Hot blood surged through his veins, and the urge to surprise her while she bathed became undeniable.

Before he could even consider acting on his desires, Socrates shook his head. “Now, Cap’n, I know ye can order me to step aside and I might consider it ’cause ye’re the captain, but I don’ think ye’ll be doin’ that. Ye have respect for Miss McCreigh and so do I.” His red hair gleamed like fire in the moonlight as he took a step closer and pointed to Dr. Trevelyan’s lonely figure pacing the sand farther down the beach. “Jes’ like I tol’ Stitch, ye’ll have to wait until they’re done.”

Tristan bowed his head. As much as he would have liked to at least catch a glimpse of his fascinating mermaid, he wouldn’t invade her privacy—not with a guard dog like Socrates on duty. “As you wish.” He stuck his hands in his pocket and strolled toward Dr. Trevelyan.

Chapter 11

Caralyn shot out of the water in the small pool beside the cascading waterfall and pushed her hair out of her face. It felt wonderful to be clean, to be rid of the smell of the cave. With her stomach full of Hash’s wonderful dinner, and plans in place to continue the search for Izzy’s Fortune, contentment spread through her.

She treaded water and listened to the noises coming from camp. The men were in high spirits, their ribald laughter competing with the chirping crickets, the breeze that rattled the palm fronds, and the constant rush of water as it fell to the cove below her. She grinned and floated on her back. Above her, the bright ball of the moon glowed.

“Miss McCreigh! You haven’t a stitch of clothing on!”

Startled, Caralyn gasped and sank to the bottom of the pool. She turned quickly and through the shimmering water saw Mrs. Beasley standing on a rock above her, arms folded across her chest, body stiff with indignation. She rose to the surface, exposing only her head, in time to hear another tongue-lashing.

“Young lady, this goes beyond what could be considered proper, beyond decency. I’ve never seen such heathenish behavior.” The woman took a deep breath and began to tap her foot on the rock on which she stood. “Even for you, Miss McCreigh. Your family will hear of this, I assure you.”

Too full of the satisfaction of finding another piece of Pembrook’s puzzle, Caralyn grinned. “Tell them. Tell them everything I’ve done. I’ll bet you a pound Father won’t be upset, though Charles might be.” Her grin widened and the urge to laugh tickled her. An invitation fell from her lips before she could stop it. “Why don’t you join me, Mrs. Bea—Temperance? The water is warm and quite lovely. It’s much better than the baths we’ve been taking in the hipbath. At least take your shoes and stockings off and put your feet in.”

The woman sniffed but she did gaze at the water with what Caralyn thought was longing.

“It’s improper,” she stated, but without as much arrogance as usual. “As are these clothes I’m wearing.” She gestured to the loose white shirt and tan trousers that replaced her ruined gown. The pant legs were rolled to her knees, exposing the white stockings beneath, and a length of rope, tied around her waist, held the trousers in place.

“No one can see you here, Temperance. Mr. Callahan is keeping watch.” A touch of sympathy rushed through Caralyn for the ruination of her companion’s clothing. “I’m sorry your gown is beyond repair, but we’ll remedy that once we reach Puerto Rico. While the men are gathering fresh supplies, you and I can shop. If I recall correctly, there’s a lovely dress shop in San Juan.” Caralyn grinned at her. “Although, you must admit, dressed as you are now, don’t you feel a bit more free? And cooler?”

For once, the pinched expression her companion usually wore eased and a slight smile graced her lips. In that moment, in the moonlight, her lips parted, she looked beautiful and Caralyn saw why Stitch was smitten with her.

“As much as I hate to acknowledge it, you’re right. I don’t feel quite so constricted; however, it is still highly improper.” Her arms crossed over her chest again. “I have always held myself to a higher standard.”

Caralyn wiped dripping water from her face. “And there is nothing wrong with that, but we are in the middle of nowhere, far away from the rules of society. I certainly won’t tell a soul if you set your standards a little lower. Just for a moment.”

Behind the lenses of her glasses, Temperance’s eyes gleamed as she studied the water in the pool.

Yes, that is longing I see in her eyes.

Temperance bit her lip and glanced around. The only light came from the moon’s glow. The third pool, high above the sandy beach, surrounded by rock, offered privacy and security. Without so much as another word, Temperance sat on the rock and removed her shoes and stockings. She eased her feet into the warm water and sighed. “Oh, this is heaven.” She said nothing more, but her expression remained soft.

Caralyn made her way toward where Temperance dangled her feet and found a small rock shelf below the water’s surface. It was high enough for her to sit, but still be completely covered.

She didn’t want to ruin this lovely interlude. For once, Temperance Beasley seemed a little more approachable, more accepting of a break in decorum. She took a deep breath. “I realize coming on this adventure was never your idea, and you’re only here because of me, but I have a request.” She continued in a rush before she lost her nerve. “In the future, I would appreciate it, if you must chastise me, please do it in private.”

The woman stiffened and the pinched expression returned to her face but only for a moment. She didn’t look at Caralyn. Instead, her gaze settled on her hands folded in her lap. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she said, “I apologize for that.” She finally lifted her head. Caralyn caught the sheen of unshed tears in the woman’s eyes. “From now on, I will endeavor to keep our discussions private. I am only trying to keep you safe, Miss—”

“Please,” Caralyn interrupted, “after all this time, after all we’ve been through, don’t you think you should call me Cara?”

“Your brother paid me to keep you out of trouble. I take my responsibilities to heart, Miss . . . Cara. These pirates you’re so fond of—”

Caralyn giggled. “They’re not pirates, Temperance. They’re treasure hunters.”

The woman
harrumphed
. “Be that as it may, they are still men and men, when not kept at the proper distance, can become . . . unpredictable—and dare I say it—savage. The captain especially. Beneath his air of civility lies a bold and daring man. He has taken far too many liberties, and given the opportunity, I’m certain he would take more.”

Warmth spread throughout Caralyn’s body as she remembered the passionate kisses Tristan had given her. In truth, she hadn’t minded, not one bit. “I cannot argue. Captain Trey is forthright and self-assured but a gentleman through and through.” Caralyn sighed but pushed for her argument, defending the crew she’d come to love.

“These men are the finest of any I’ve ever met. They are kind and considerate. Perhaps not as educated as some, perhaps a little lacking in the social graces but each and every one of them has been nothing but thoughtful and compassionate toward you.” Caralyn tilted her head. “And what of Dr. Trevelyan? Is he not a gentleman? Is he not educated?”

In the glow of moonlight, Temperance’s face took on a pinkish hue. “Education does not make the man, Cara, and I am quite fond of the good doctor; however, I cannot disagree with you. I have been treated kindly.”

“My offer still stands, Temperance. Once we reach Puerto Rico, I can secure passage for you to return to Charleston if you wish or anywhere else you choose to go.”

Her companion grew silent as she mulled over the offer. After a while, she smiled. “I will stay and continue to hunt for this Izzy’s Fortune even though I do not believe it exists. Someone must watch over you to make certain you do nothing more foolish than you have already done.” She sighed and adjusted her glasses on her nose. “Your brother—”

“Doesn’t have to know.”

Temperance just stared at her then finally inclined her head. “I’ll say one more thing and then the subject is closed. Mind your heart, my girl. Too easily given, it can be too easily broken as well.”

• • •

Tristan sat in the sand beside Brady, arms resting on his bent knees, hands dangling between them, and simply enjoyed the quiet solitude of the evening. His companion sat in much the same position as they waited.

Stitch broke the silence. “What will you do with your share of the treasure?”

“Invest it, like I always do. I’ve had my eye on another warehouse in Charleston and there’s a struggling plantation in Jamaica I wouldn’t mind owning. Under the right management, I’m certain Sugar Hill could be quite productive. They make a fine rum.” He chuckled then sighed. “This is my last adventure, Stitch, whether we find Izzy’s Fortune or not.”