A Pirate's Possession (14 page)

Wearing Nate's clothing was a double-edged sword. On the one side it made her feel far too vulnerable. She hadn't fully realized just how much she hid—not only her body but also her identity—behind her clothing until she looked down the exposed length of her legs and her bare feet. Though the shirt fell past her knees, she felt naked and defenseless, despite the weapons that lay on the table within easy reach.

The other side of the imaginary sword was equally dangerous as it reminded Claire of what was missing in her life. She pulled the collar up to her nose and inhaled the clean smell. It didn't stink of dirt or smoke; it wasn't tattered and torn. It hadn't been mended over and over again because he couldn't afford to replace it.

Sighing, she sat heavily on the berth. She wanted it over. She wanted the treasure and she needed to get on with her life. She was tired of living from a bag and foraging for food. She hated waiting until night to bathe but neither did she dare do so in the daylight, not in the places she'd been.

She was tired of sleeping on hard ground, she thought, pressing her hand into the soft mattress beneath her. And if she were truly honest with herself, she was bone tired of being alone. Letting herself fall back, she stared at the wooden ceiling. Shadows cast by the candles frolicked on the planks. Shadows, Claire thought with a heavy heart. It seemed those were the only things keeping her company most days. Shadows of the girl she used to be, shadows of her past, and shadows of an elusive treasure.

Stop it
, she chided herself. It wasn't always possible to ignore the regret that haunted her, but she determinedly cast it aside tonight. Growing up had taught her that regret changed nothing. It didn't change the past or her current situation. She had to concentrate on her future, on making it be everything she wanted and needed. And for that, she needed the treasure.

 

 

They reached Isla de Hueso at sunset the next day with the only threat to them being the churning black clouds and the impending rain.

Though the weather had improved enough to allow full sails, it had worsened the closer they'd gotten to Isla de Hueso. It was almost as though the island was staying true to its nature of not welcoming anyone who wanted to plunder its soil. The wind that had raged all night once again continued its assault. Rowing the longboat to shore was an ordeal that pushed every person on board to their limits.

Waves splashed over the sides, soaking all its passengers. The men at the oars growled with every stroke. Claire knew from their strained faces that they were working as hard as they could. She also knew that if it hadn't been for the ship that had followed them for a time, Nate wouldn't have risked rowing a longboat in these waters. But it made sense to drop them off while the sky roiled angrily and the rain that fell in sheets in the distance hid their location.

She and Vincent kept busy bailing, which would have been a useless effort had they been any farther out to sea as the amount of water that poured in was far greater than what they were able to throw out.

Overhead the sky was cold gray and the air no warmer. Wet and chilled, Claire jumped ashore with the others. Through her chattering teeth she helped unload supplies, crates of food, as well as whatever other provisions Nate had deemed necessary. He hadn't enlisted her help with any of that, and though she'd been annoyed by his slight, she had to admit that judging by the sheer quantity of supplies, he seemed to be well prepared.

“That's all of it!” he yelled over the wind as he set the last crate down.

Claire's hat had been jammed into her bag to keep it from sailing off to sea and her hair lashed about her head. Though it hadn't been declared, she noticed several crew members eyeing her differently and knew some of them had figured out she was a woman. She'd overheard two of them discussing it when she'd gone to the galley for breakfast.

They couldn't see why else their captain would go ashore with such supplies on a deserted island if it wasn't to be with a woman. They also had a good laugh over that, claiming she couldn't be much of a woman, not if they'd all believed her to be a man. Even after years of wishing differently, after knowing that her lack of curves had made her life easier, Claire couldn't stop wishing she were made differently.

Nate's crew piled back into the longboat. Claire's heart did a hard knock against her chest. In a matter of moments, she and Nate would be alone. There would be no crew between them on the island, no demands of a ship to keep Nate busy. No lifeboat for Claire to sleep under.

There was no denying, despite her lack of womanly assets, the attraction that remained between them. She'd seen it on his face when his hand had brushed her breast and she wouldn't lie to herself by claiming she hadn't felt anything. Because she'd felt a great deal. If Vincent hadn't come back at that moment, there was no telling what Claire would have let Nate do.

Well, she'd have to be stronger this time, she reasoned. There was too much at stake. Not only was there the treasure, but there was her heart, and since it had yet to heal from their first relationship, Claire knew she couldn't risk it again.

Feeling stronger with her decision, she plodded through the sand to where Nate and Vincent were talking, their heads bowed together in order to be heard over the wind. Grit flew up and pelted her face with each step she took.

“All set?” she yelled.

Nate nodded, slapped Vincent on the back. “Bring her in if you need to. There are enough little bays around here to tuck her into while you wait out the worst of it.”

Vincent nodded. “Just as I could bring her into a little bay for a day or so to give you some extra time.” His eyes danced from Nate to Claire.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Nate growled. He ploughed through the wind to address his crew one last time.

“Don't waste this time, Claire.”

“We'll find the treasure, don't worry,” she shouted as another slap of wind hit her.

Vincent shook his head. “I thought he was the only idiot around here. You two care for each other. All you need is time together.”

“Nothing is that simple.”

“Claire.” Vincent grabbed her hand, which was as chilled as his. “If he hasn't realized what's before his eyes by the time I get back, then you and I will just have to get married and be revoltingly happy to spite him. How does that sound?”

Claire grinned. “It sounds fine to me.”

He smiled, his cheeks red from the wind. “I'll see you soon. Either way, Claire, you'll end up with a good man.”

Claire laughed, kissed him on the cheek. The red on his cheeks flushed deeper.

“Godspeed, Vincent. Be safe.”

“Just so you know,” he hollered over the roar as he stepped away, “I sure hope it's me.”

Chuckling, she watched him tuck in his head and trudge to the longboat. He had a few words with Nate before climbing in. Despite the waves that rose in white swells, Nate waded in the water and shoved them away. He watched them row for a bit, then turned to her, hands on his lean hips.

He had a sheathed sword hanging from his waist. The wind whipped his hair over his forehead; the waves rose up his thighs and darkened his trousers. His shirt snapped with each gust.

The gaze he locked on to her was as turbulent as the sea.

Everything that was woman in her warmed at the sight of him. Bold, manly, and purposeful, and any man standing next to him would pale by comparison.

And for the next handful of days they were going to be alone together. Claire expelled a troubled breath.

“What have I gotten myself into now?” she said.

Ten

Nate strode to her, water swishing within his boots. They were alone now and the realization unnerved him. Finding the treasure was going to be the easy part, he thought, as he closed the distance between them and her every feature beckoned.

The water behind him was filled with angry white-capped waves, but her eyes were the same blue-green hue as a calm sea. Though her face was red from the abrasive wind, he knew her skin to be smooth as any pearl. Even if he hadn't remembered that about her, he'd been vividly reminded when he'd slipped his hand down her undershirt.

Wind tossed her hair, making it look thoroughly ravaged. Hell, he thought as his groin tightened, it was that kind of thinking that was tying him in knots. He couldn't think of any part of her as being ravaged.

Not without wanting to be the one doing the ravishing.

And he couldn't think about that either. Regardless of where her husband was, Claire was married. He needed to remember that.

“Let's get out of this wind.”

“Agreed,” she answered.

Now that he was beside her, he saw that her whole body was shaking. Damn. Because he'd packed the crates himself, he knew which one contained the blankets. Scooping that one off the sand, he tucked it under his arm.

He gestured to the top of the hill. “There's not going to be much of the town left by now, but it's a central point. We can make a camp in the trees up there. We're going to need a fire and I don't want it to be seen from the beach.”

He took her hand. It wasn't a big island. Though it had become overgrown with the absence of people, it wasn't that far up to where the town ruins should be. He could easily dump this crate, get a fire going, and come back f—

“What about the rest of our supplies?” she inquired.

“I'll come back for them,” he muttered. Once she was out of the wind, once her lips were no longer blue.

“Don't be ridiculous.” She dug in her feet.

“Claire, you need to get warm and dry.”

“As I'm the one trembling from the cold, I'll agree with you. Therefore I suggest we take these supplies into the cover of the forest before everything gets soaked.”

Thunder rumbled across the sky, evidence that time wasn't on their side. In the distance the wall of rain was getting closer.

“I can get them later.” He tugged on her arm.

Claire was having none of it. “We'll take them now. The sooner we get them off this beach and into some shelter, the better.”

“I'll make the shelter. Once we have a fire going and you're warm and—”

She snapped her arm from his hold. “I've made my own way for some time now and that won't be changing today.”

Before he could stop her, she had a crate in her hands.

“Shall I pick the spot, then?” she asked, though she didn't bother to await his answer.

She strode forward, seemingly unaffected by the burden she carried. A burden, he knew for a fact, that was quite heavy. Though irritated that she wouldn't listen, he couldn't help appreciating her effectiveness.

Since arguing at this point would do no good, Nate turned back to the remaining boxes and added one of the smaller ones to his load. There were two larger ones left and he assured himself that
he'd
be the one going back for them.

The respite from the driving wind happened the moment they entered the forest. While twisted vines and leaves the size of Nate's hand hindered their progress, it was warmer within the leafy arms of the jungle. Taking the lead, he forced the vegetation out of his way with the crates, mindful that the branches didn't snap back into Claire's face.

They made their way up the slight climb to the abandoned town. The smell of decaying vegetation rose with each step they took. Above their heads fronds rubbed together, giving Nate the image of large hands rubbing together in anticipation. Anticipation of what he didn't want to think about. Families and pirates both had perished on the island but it wouldn't be taking any more lives. At least not his and Claire's.

Wind whooshed down from a sudden opening in the canopy and it cackled as it swept over Nate's face before swooping back up again. A vine tangled around his ankle. Nate stumbled, then gave his leg a firm kick to free himself. He wasn't prone to superstitions but he couldn't help looking back to check on Claire.

She looked exhausted. Her hair was a mess. Her clothes hung wet and heavy on her body. She was breathing through her mouth and he could hear the effort behind it. Yet she kept his pace. She eyed him questioningly.

“If we don't get to the town soon, we'll stop anyhow. I think we're far enough away and the forest is thick enough to hide us.”

She nodded and kept going. Nate didn't know where her husband was or why she was alone, but he couldn't help thinking that the man was missing something special.

The trees began to thin. Long grasses replaced vines, ferns, the tall hairy bark of palm trees, and the gangly lengths of the rubber trees. The ruins spread out before them. Severed walls of stone houses stood crumbling and broken. Moss clung to some, a green blight that appeared to be caught in the process of swallowing the rocks whole. Windows were hollow and dark. Grass grew in thick emerald blankets between the structures and within those that no longer had roofs. Bold trees pushed their way between the desolation, trying to reclaim the land.

Past the town lay a low stone fence and within it the crosses that marked its dead.

Claire set her box next to Nate's feet.

“It's sad, isn't it?” she asked when she saw where Nate's gaze focused. “They took the time to bury and mark their dead and yet left them forgotten.”

Nate turned to her, stirred by the sentiment. He touched her cheek, waited for her blue-green eyes to lift to his.

“Just because a person leaves doesn't mean they forget.” Her eyes widened, nothing more than a flicker, then she stepped back. “We should make camp.”

He let his hand fall, but refused to let his heart follow. He wanted their friendship and he'd keep working until he had it.