Treasured (10 page)

Blood flooded her mouth in a coppery rush, and dark spots swam through her vision. She lay stunned for a brief moment, and he ripped her shirt wide open to expose her breasts. His hands were rough and cruel as he squeezed her tender flesh. She reacted automatically, bucking and twisting to get away. Her knee came up to slam into his groin. He wheezed and shot out his fist to hit her. He caught her ear and left her head ringing. His hands caught her around the throat to keep her from escaping. She gasped a breath before he tightened his grip. The world faded in and out, black edging in at the corners of her vision. Her fingers fumbled along the floor, clumsy as she lost strength, lost air. She caught something metal in her hand. The familiar hilt slipped into her palm. Her sword. She blinked, but her eyes wouldn’t focus. Using the last of her willpower she lifted the blade and thrust blindly at Bones.

Then her head lolled to the side, her eyes slid closed, and she saw nothing, felt nothing, was nothing.

*

“
Rebecca
.” James used his shoulder to batter in the door to Bones’s cabin. He heaved himself against the wood again and again. “Rebecca!”

He stumbled into the room as the door gave suddenly. His heart seized at what he saw. The room was destroyed and blood pooled on the floor, splattered up the walls and across the ceiling. Bones’s ass was up in the air, twisted at an awkward angle. It was obvious he lay on top of something. Or someone. Nothing moved. The room was unnaturally still.

“Sweet Mother Mary.” Willy crossed himself with his pistol.

Oh, God
. Despair and hope kicked him in the chest. Perhaps she wasn’t here. Perhaps she had escaped. But he was a realist. His world didn’t allow for delusions of sweetness and charity. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to lift Bones’s body up to see if his wee Rebecca lay dead beneath the portly man. Even if she wasn’t there, what horrors had she experienced at the man’s hands? Guilt, remorse and abject terror warred for dominance inside him. “I should never have let her stay on deck.”

Willy didn’t look at him or at Bones. “I’ll check the bed, Captain.”

“Yes.” James stepped over to curl his fingers around the pirate’s shoulder. He rolled him over and met the glazed eyes of a dead man’s blank stare. Then he looked down.

“She’s not here, sir.” Willy rifled through the covers strewn across the floor. He even lifted the mattress and looked under the bed. He glanced up at James. “Is—is the Lady Pirate under him?”

“No.” James’s voice sounded harsh even to his own ears. A brief moment of relief flooded him, and his eyes squeezed shut. Rebecca’s dagger had held McCrory off the floor, but she wasn’t there.
She wasn’t there
. She might still be alive. Thank God. Thank
God
.

A young sailor with a shock of red hair tore around the corner and into the room. One of the new men from Port Royal. James couldn’t remember his name. “Captain. It’s
The Fortune
, sir. She’s on fire.”

Wrapping his fingers around the jeweled hilt of the dagger, he wrenched the blade out of Bones’s chest with a sucking pop. He glanced down at Willy and nodded to the new sailor. “Take him and find her.
Find her
.”

“Aye, aye, Captain. We’ll tear this cursed ship to the waterline if that’s what it takes. If she’s still on board, we’ll find her.” Willy’s young eyes narrowed with cool, ruthless determination.

James strode past, tucking Rebecca’s blade into his belt. Damnation. He wanted to look for his wife himself. His insides churned with the desperate need to see her, feel her warm body against him. His duty called him to his ship. There’d be no hope for anyone if
The Dark Fortune
burned. Fire was a seaman’s worst nightmare. He hurried his pace. The sooner he dealt with this threat, the sooner he could search for Rebecca. With any luck at all Willy would find her before then. If anyone could, it was that talented little pirate. He had a knack for seeing and hearing everything. James didn’t like it, it went against his instincts to turn any duty over to someone else, but without the ship his crew would perish. “Bloody hell.”

Chapter 6

The pain was gone. The thought pulled her back to consciousness and she remained still to take stock of her body. She couldn’t feel the glass embedded in her back, her throat no longer ached, and the bruises and scrapes on her hands didn’t sting when she flexed her fingers. Her eyes blinked open to white light. A warm, dense fog surrounded her, caressed her skin. It sucked away with unnatural speed. She squinted in the unrelenting brilliance of harsh light that remained. She turned her head to the side. A man in a robe sat perched on a marble throne, glaring sternly down at her.

Wait a minute. White light, white room, dude in a white robe. Oh, crap.

She swallowed. “Am I—am I dead?”

“No.” His voice matched his face, deep and reproving. “However, you aren’t alive either.”

Okay. That made sense. Not.

Her heart contracted and she jerked upright. Her hands fisted tight, terror drawing her body into a tight bow. “James. Is James all right?”

“Captain Morrow is in his own time, living his life as he should.”

Irritation bubbled up inside her, and she glared at the big man. “So, what am I doing?”

His silver eyes narrowed on her face. “You were misplaced.”

“You need to start making some sense. Are you the crazy one here or am I? I mean, if I’m not dead or alive, then I’m insane.” Disappointment pressed down on her chest, threatening to choke her. She really had lost it, and it wasn’t real. James. The ship. 1715.
James
. She closed her eyes as despair wrenched at her heart.

“You are not insane.”

“Yeah, right.” Of course her crazy dream didn’t think she was crazy. She choked on a bitter laugh, all her hopes ripped away to reveal how nuts she truly was. Oh, Lord. She hugged her arms around her waist and rocked herself. She bit back the keen that threatened to spill from her throat.

“Stop.” His voice boomed, cracking like thunder.

She shuddered and tucked her chin against her chest, rocking, rocking. Maybe she would finally wake up. Maybe it would all be over.

His feet appeared in front of her, and his tone dropped to wheedling. “I’ll let you go back to James forever if you stop.”

“What?” She could go back to James? Since when did delusions bargain? It didn’t make sense. Nothing had made sense since she’d landed on board
The Dark Fortune
. She blinked the sheen of tears away and met his gaze. “Who are you?”

He heaved a long-suffering sigh, retreated to flop back onto his throne, and propped his chin in his palm. “The answer to that question is far too complicated for a human to understand. I am…I am who you would think of as Father Time.”

“Father Time?” Nope, she was for sure nutty. Over the ledge and all the way around the bend. Crazy.

“Yes, Father Time.” His testy response made her spine snap straight, and she pulled herself to her feet. If she was nuts, her delusions shouldn’t be so nasty.

She arched a brow and drawled, “Why am I here, Father Time?”

“A mistake was made with you when you were born. You were placed in the wrong time. As was your counterpart.” Clearing his throat, he glanced away.

“The other Rebecca. James’s real wife.” Realization slid over her skin like ice water. When his silver eyes met hers, she had the sudden
knowing
, understanding that this was no game, no delusion, no fantasy. This was
real
. It had really happened, and she was sitting in heaven talking to Father Time about how her life was supposed to have worked out.

His gaze locked with hers and didn’t waver. Power such as she’d never felt brushed against her senses. She shivered, a chill creeping up her spine. “
You
, Rebecca, are his real soul mate.”

“So finding his sword sent me back to him. What happened to his wife?”

“When you
finally
gave in and touched the dagger, she was pulled forward in time to her soul mate just as you were thrust back in time to yours.” He shifted on his chair, his glare becoming even fiercer as though she were somehow to blame for not taking the bait of the sword sooner
and
for being born in the wrong century. “A mistake was made.”

“Steve. That’s her soul mate.” He’d been drawn to her, had asked her out again and again. Jesus, it all made perfect sense. When had that ever happened for her? She shook her head. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would think I was insane.”

“You are quite sane. And, yes, Steven Barry is Rebecca’s soul mate.”

Her brow scrunched. “How could this have happened? How could I be switched at birth with someone born hundreds of years ago?”

“Time is fluid here. For us, all time happens at the
same
time. James is living his life and humans are colonizing the moon. In your time, that would still be the future. Here, time does not follow in a long, endless line.” His gaze pierced her. “Haven’t you ever wondered why history fascinates you so much, why you
have
to know more, why it goes beyond mere interest and into obsession for you? And not just any time period, but the one you’re supposed to live in?”

“A lot of people have interests that absorb them.” Her words sounded stiff and unconvincing even to her own ears. She hadn’t been that pathetic, had she? She sighed. Maybe she had. She knew she’d never fit in with the people she’d grown up with, always different, always a step apart.

“It is different for you. You know this.” He waved his hands dismissively.

She nodded. There was nothing she could say to that. He was right.

The power of his gaze pierced her again. “The mistake has been righted, but my…superiors have demanded that I make certain you know this change is irreversible. You can never return to the time you were born in. I’ve already discussed this with the other Rebecca, and she did not take it well. At first. She’s more than pleased now, but I decided to wait until
you
developed an attachment with your soul mate before I broke the news to you.”

She blinked, staring at him. It took a moment to wade through his defensive speech and another moment for comprehension to dawn.
James
. She could go back to him. A smile broke out on her face, and relief sang in her veins. “Never? I can
never
be taken away from James?”

“No. You were made for him and he for you.”

Acting on impulse, she threw her arms around his neck. “
Thank you
. I would have worried that I’d suddenly be back in the twenty-first century. No matter how long I was there, I would have worried.”

“We know.” He cleared his throat roughly and patted her on the back with just the tips of his fingers. His tone was stern as he held her away from him. “If you get throttled by another pirate, I can’t help you again or heal your wounds. Are you ready for me to send you back?”

To go back to the world she really belonged in? To know this time that she wasn’t crazy and could throw herself into her love for James with no doubt or fear or reservation? Sweet joy bubbled up inside her. “Oh, yes. I’m more ready than you’ll ever know.”

*

Soot streaked James’s arms and chest. He’d shed his shirt hours ago. Sweat slipped down his face to burn his eyes. He threw a final bucket of water on the smoking deck. The wood hissed and popped as the salty liquid hit it. Half the railing on the starboard side was gone and they’d lost the main mast to a cannon ball. They’d be floating for several days trying to repair the damage.

He dragged the back of his hand across his forehead. Not a moment had gone by that he hadn’t feared for Rebecca. Was she well? Why hadn’t she been found? Was she helping somewhere else on the ship?

“Captain?”

James snapped around to see Willy. He shifted, his gaze glued to the scorched deck. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. Enough dread crawled through James to make him want to burst out of his skin. Smoke and gathering despair made his tone rough. “Speak, boy.”

“She’s nowhere to be found, sir. We searched everywhere. Boyd and Murdoch searched as well. Nowheres, not on neither of the ships.” His young voice cracked.

“I see.”

“Cap’n.” Murdoch appeared behind Willy. “I’m sorry, sir. Come mornin’ we’ll…search the water for her.”

Her body
. They’d search the water for her lifeless body. Nausea punched in his gut. He wanted to throw back his head and howl. Oh, Mother of God.

“I understand.” His throat felt as raw as if he had been screaming. “Mister Murdoch, you’re in command.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

He walked, placing one foot in front of the other. His cabin. He said nothing, met no one’s eyes. He felt…hollow. His door was in front of him. He stared at it, uncomprehending. Then the latch was in his hand, and he was in the room he’d shared with his wife. He sucked in a deep breath and smelled her spicy vanilla fragrance. The gown he purchased for her was draped over the bed. She’d never worn it. The fabric had never been warmed by the silk of her skin. A low, animalistic sound wrenched from his throat. He stumbled for a chair. The chair he’d sat in when Rebecca had—
no
. He wouldn’t allow himself to think of it. He’d go mad for the pain flaying him open. The claws of it tore at him. He stared in amazement as his hands shook before his eyes. Then he buried his face in them.

“Rebecca.” He whispered her name just to hear it again. Agony twisted inside him. When would he ever be able to say it? Never without the tinge of pain…and regret. He
loved
her.

A stilted, unnatural laugh jerked out. How ironic. To make the discovery after she was…she was…

He heaved a shuddering sigh, fisting his fingers into his hair. He couldn’t force himself to look up, to see all the reminders of his Rebecca. He dropped his hands, but still couldn’t focus. Salty wetness filmed his vision, and he swiped his eyes.

Numbness slid over him. He welcomed the emptiness of it. Slumping back in his chair, he let his hands fall loose on his thighs. He stared out the wide windows that made up the gallery, but he saw nothing.