A Pirate's Possession (25 page)

It could be a watery grave, if the chests were found in water. It didn't necessarily mean a real grave, in a cemetery.

“Captain!” Horace called. “Over here.”

James clutched both the box and the map and ran to where Horace stood on a long finger of sand.

“Over there, Captain. A cave.”

James grinned. “Great work, man. Let's go have a look.”

As they neared its opening, he saw the line that had been worn in the rock from the constant slap and retreat of the waves. “Marked waterline,” he mumbled as he stepped into the cool, dim cave. It wasn't large and he could easily see where it made a turn at the end. He hurried to the bend.

There was nothing around the corner but a wall of rock, just as James had expected. The items, the chests, had already been recovered. “At the turn, thrice to fail.” He waded through the knee-deep water back into the sunshine.

“What now, Captain?”

James emptied his boots of water, then struggled to get the wet leather back on.

“I want these chests moved to the camp we came from, two men per chest. If they could carry them, so can you. Come on, men,” he said, “we have a graveyard to find.”

The sun moved across the sky as afternoon wore on. It changed the angle at which its rays cut through the canopy. Where before he and Claire had been mostly in the shade, now the shadows of waving leaves danced over Claire's red hair.

She shifted, grimacing as she did. She leaned to the left. She leaned to the right. She jerked first one leg, then the other. Nate did the same. Tingles pricked at his feet, and he shifted the sword from hand to hand to ease the cramps in his fingers. He, too, tried leaning to a side, anything to ease the discomfort in his backside.

Claire flopped onto her stomach, straddled the branch. Her cheek pressed into the bark, which couldn't be comfortable. She had her arms around the branch; the sword never left her palm. She'd tucked her pistol into the back of her trousers. She sighed, and her eyes met his.

“Nate, getting shot can't possibly be worse than this.”

“I'm beginning to agree with you,” he said as he shifted off his left buttock. “I was thinking if we're careful and stay inside the cover of the forest, we can scout the situation, maybe get a sense of just how outnumbered we truly are.”

“Amen,” she said.

They held their positions a moment longer, taking the time to listen and look. Nothing moved but the sway of the canopy and the occasional patch of leaves below as some creature scampered away. Satisfied, Claire followed Nate to the ground.

By the time dusk fell, they had a better idea of where they stood. Four men watched their old camp, no doubt hoping Claire and Nate would return. A three-masted schooner bobbed in the same bay where Nate and Claire had come ashore, where Vincent was to meet them upon his return.

They'd been careful making their way to the relics of the town, keeping well back from the edge of the trees. They'd heard voices long before seeing the graveyard and had tread very lightly once they had. Using the same trick that had worked thus far, they'd climbed a sturdy tree, only going as high as needed to get an idea of what they were facing. When James's voice rang out, Claire met Nate's gaze. She wasn't happy.

James hadn't found the treasure, but his men, at least a dozen, were scouring the graveyard, reading every stone. Since James had figured the puzzle well enough to get him this close, Nate had no doubt he'd make it the rest of the way. He tapped Claire's arm to get her attention. They descended the tree and folded back into the forest.

Claire's breath whispered in Nate's ear. “They'll find it soon, Nate. If you could trip over it, so could they.”

He sighed. “I know.”

“You haven't changed your mind about going to camp tonight, have you?” she asked, stepping back to look him in the eye.

He touched her cheek, suddenly needing the contact. He'd expected the time on the island to be dangerous to his peace of mind, to test the limits of his attraction to her, but now everything had shifted like sand in a storm. Things were getting complicated, and if they made the wrong move, it could cost them their lives. He really wished he could hide Claire away in a cave until this was over, but he didn't want her on her own. At least if she was with him, he could protect her.

“Once they're asleep, we'll get what we need and leave James a warning while we're at it. Then we'll head for the beach where we found the chests. With the chests gone and their ship on the other beach, we should be safe enough. But we'll have to work through the night, Claire. We need to make a fire big enough for Vincent to see, big enough for him to change his direction and too big for James and his men to put out.”

“I hope Vincent is close enough to see it,” Claire said.

Nate rubbed the back of his neck, which suddenly felt tight. “I hope he's the only one that is,” Nate added softly.

Nineteen

James's eyes kept darting to the sky. Despite his curses, his silent will that the sun remain another few moments, it simply refused to listen. The blasted thing was about to fall behind the trees any minute now. He spun to his men.

“What the hell is taking you all so long? Find that treasure!”

“Captain?” Horace wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “We've been looking for hours, sir. The men need a break.”

“I don't care what they need!” James yelled. “Haven't I been right alongside them the whole of the day? Do you see these?” he asked, showing hands blackened with earth. Beneath the dirt were at least six raw blisters that burned like the devil, making his mood more sour than it already was.

“I've dug up as many graves as anyone here and we'll keep at it until that treasure is found. Someone fetch some lanterns!” he roared.

He looked out again, swore savagely at the sun that was determined to mock him. Pink, purple, and blue filled the sky with color, but all James saw was red.

“There's a treasure here and any man that wants a part of it had better keep digging. Whoever puts down his shovel forfeits his share.”

James ignored the grumblings and curses and picked up his shovel. Around him he saw his men do the same. The breeze had abandoned them in the last hour and the smell of sweat and dirt shrouded the graveyard. He hoped whoever had run off for the lanterns hurried back. Digging in a graveyard in full sunlight was one thing, but the thought of doing it in darkness made James shudder.

 

 

Claire blinked her eyes open. Nate's handsome face looked down on her, and a tender smile curved his lips. The hand that caressed her cheek was gentle.

As dusk was setting, they'd eaten a quick meal of bananas and berries then settled to wait until James's men had fallen asleep. When Nate had offered his lap, Claire had gladly used it as a pillow. She'd been exhausted from the day's events, and as Nate had said, they'd be up most of the night working under the cover of darkness.

She sat and stretched her stiff muscles. Around them night creatures buzzed and chirped. The underbrush rustled with things best not thought about. The moon was out, though the fullness of it was already beginning to wane. Still, it was mostly full, which would hopefully be more of a blessing than a curse. It would allow them to work with some light since they wouldn't dare use lanterns—even if they did steal some from camp—but it would also illuminate them once they were on the open expanse of beach. With James busy in the graveyard, and with no need for his men to be about when their ship was on the opposite beach, she and Nate were betting that they'd be safe. Considering her luck with gambling lately, Claire wasn't sure that was a smart wager.

“Is it time?” she whispered.

“I was about to check. Stay here and I'll—”

She grabbed his forearm.

He smiled, bent down, and kissed her forehead. “Don't worry, I won't do anything without you. I only want to see if it's safe to move.”

She nodded, releasing his arm. As he folded into the darkness, it struck Claire that she trusted him. Not only to keep her safe, because that was simply in his nature, but also to keep his word. She smiled to herself, pulling her knees to her chest. She was still smiling when he returned and knelt beside her.

“They're asleep and the fire's low, so I think they've been asleep for a while.”

“They didn't post a guard?”

“They did, but he's nearly asleep on his feet.”

“Apparently they don't consider us a threat.”

Nate grinned. “Only because they don't know us very well. Are you ready?”

Nerves hummed underneath Claire's skin as they crept closer to their camp. Insects buzzing in her ears, she felt some bite her hands and the back of her neck. It was a silly time to wish she once again had long hair, but the thought came nonetheless.

Soon not only could she smell the campfire smoke but she could see its glow through the foliage. Nate took her hand, pulled her up against him, and spoke low in her ear. Despite the seriousness of what they were about to undertake, her body responded to the press of his. Blood ran hot where he touched her, which was along most of her front. Even with her shirt and vest, her nipples felt his chest and beaded eagerly.

“I'll take the guard first. Don't come into the camp until you see me.”

She stepped back, took an unsteady breath, and agreed. With her pistol in one hand and the sword in the other, Claire crept forward. When she was near enough to hear their snores, she dropped to her belly and dragged herself as close to the edge of the clearing as she dared, gently nudging some broad leaves out of her way.

The crates were open, the lids resting sleepily against them. Their bed held one man; the other two men lay on opposite sides of the fire and made good use of the blankets Nate had packed.
They sure made themselves at home
, Claire thought bitterly.

Dirty plates and cups had been tossed aside, attracting something furry that skittered among them. Shivers ran up Claire's spine. She'd lived in the woods a long time, but she'd never acclimated to furry things that scurried in the night. Or daylight for that matter.

Something flittered past her ear and Claire shook her head. What the devil was taking Nate so long? Had something gone wrong? Had James or another of his men come back to camp and caught Nate unaware? She slid a little closer, angling her head to hear. Fire crackled and hissed as burnt wood broke apart. Sparks danced heavenward. The men snored on. Claire came to her knees. She was going to count to twenty, and if Nate wasn't in camp by then, she'd go look for him.

A shadow moved in the trees across the camp from her. Her heart jerked. She waited, her breath catching in her chest. Branches parted and Nate stepped quietly into the open. Blood pooled from a cut on his bottom lip and the same crimson color dripped from his sword. He bent down and wiped the blade on a leaf. His pistol remained tucked into his pants.

Claire pressed her pistoled hand to her heart, sighed in relief, and came to her feet. As was agreed upon, Nate stood watch while she, being the smallest and thus more likely to creep around undetected, looked for what they needed.

Glad now that James's men had left everything open and ravaged, she eased her way to the open crates. There wasn't much left in them. The food, which had been intended for only two people—and had already been half consumed before the camp was taken over—was now gone. Her clothes were still there, as was her hat, but Claire didn't bother with those. The blankets were being used and the extra weapons and ammunition were also missing. As was the flint. She turned to Nate and shook her head.

Claire pointed to the sleeping men, then her weapon. Nate's eyes widened and he made a rubbing gesture. He wanted her to concentrate on the flint, not the pistols. Though it would surely be risky to try to get close enough to the men to unarm them, Claire didn't like knowing she was in their camp and they were armed.

She moved through the camp on silent feet. The area around the fire was nothing but ash and dying grass. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Claire went toward the dirty dishes. Even expecting it, she nearly squealed when the rodent dashed over her boots. Shuddering, Claire knelt down. A quick glance told her there was nothing in the pile she was looking for. Gladly, she stepped away. Thinking it would make sense to keep the flint near the wood pile, she made her way there next.

Clearly they had kept busy during the day by gathering wood. The pile of sticks and branches was nearly half her height. She saw it immediately—the low flames shone off the dull gray of the flint. Expelling a deep breath, Claire tucked her pistol into her pants and reached for the flint.