Starlight & Promises (41 page)

Richard patted James on the back once more, bent down and kissed Masina’s cheek, and turned away, striding back to the boats.

James stood on the sand, his arm around Masina’s waist, while the men pushed the two catamarans into the lagoon, climbed aboard, and picked up the paddles. Once the boats cleared the reef, James raised his arm in farewell. When Richard waved back, James and Masina turned and disappeared into the jungle.

Two weeks of sailing eastward from island to island and paddling when the wind died, and they ran out of islands with no larger landmass in sight.

“Continue on eastward and pray we find New Zealand, or go back?” Christian asked Richard. “If we continue, we’ll be heading into open sea.”

“I’m for going on,” Richard said. He polled the other men, and they seemed of one mind—go on.

They filled their stores of coconuts and breadfruit, though the island had no freshwater. Coconut milk would have to do. Then they set out again, sailing ever eastward. One week passed, another, and no land, only endless open sea lapping against the sides of their boats. On dawn at the beginning of the third week, one man sighted the sails of a ship to port. They adjusted their sails to intersect with its course.

“What if it’s a pirate ship?” Garrett asked, a gloomy look on his face.

“Shut up, Garrett,” Christian replied, “or I’ll throw you overboard. A ship is a ship and better than a watery grave.”

Garrett gulped and closed his mouth.

As they drew nearer, the Union Jack flying from the ship’s topmast brought a rousing cheer from the men on the catamarans. The ship heaved to and brought them on board, and two weeks later, they made landfall on the coast of New Zealand. Though sunburned and dehydrated when they sighted Auckland, the men voiced their elation with prayers and hoorahs. They had made the arduous trip with few mishaps and no loss of life. After a few days’ recovery, they caught a British military troop ship headed for Hobart.

With Samantha on his mind, Christian stood at the rail as Hobart came into view. He imagined the delight in her eyes when he reunited her with her uncle Richard. A smile stretched his mouth, his heart warmed, and his cock hardened. He’d been so long without a woman, he would likely come at the sight of her. He had eschewed the attentions of the native maidens on the island, his thoughts only on Samantha. Now that he had returned alive, he resolved never to leave her behind again. A gust of wind ruffled his hair, and he breathed in the heady harbor scents. Civilization at last. Hobart was far removed from Boston, but it was better than a reed pallet in a hut and eating breadfruit paste with his fingers. Never had he been so anxious to return from the wilds. But then he’d never had a woman like Samantha waiting for him.

The ship set anchor in the harbor. After the troops and the
Maiden Anne’s
crew disembarked, Christian, Richard, and Garrett climbed into a dinghy and were rowed to the docks. They rented hacks from the nearby stable and galloped through the streets toward Talmadge House, their haste underscoring their impatience to end their journey.

Pounding hoofbeats brought Cullen from the barn at a run. His mouth dropped open, and he darted toward the riders pulling to a halt in a scattering of crushed shell. “Chris!” he shouted while grabbing the horse’s bridle in one hand. He turned his head toward the house, cupping a hand at his mouth. “Christian’s back! And Garrett, too!”

Pettibone opened the door at the commotion and lost his composure. He ran down the steps and left the door swinging on its hinges. Jasper, Delia, Chloe, and Gilly appeared a few seconds later. They milled around the men, hugging bodies and bussing cheeks. Delia held Richard in her pudgy arms as if she would never let him go.

Christian embraced them all, swept up in the hubbub. After a few moments, he realized he’d not yet seen Samantha, whom he had expected to be the first to greet him. He stepped away and searched the courtyard in vain, the lightness in his heart dying. His smile slowly turned into a frown, and his stomach tilted with a sickening wobble.

Clasping Delia’s shoulder, he turned her away from Richard. “Where is Sam?” he asked, barely able to curb his urge to shout.

Her gaze fell, and she linked her arm in his. “You had better come inside.”

At her paleness, his heart moved into his throat.

“The yard is no proper place for a discussion,” Delia said. “Come into the house where we shall be more comfortable.” She turned at the waist to include everyone in her invitation. “I shall ring for tea.”

Christian twisted his mouth bitterly. Typical aristocratic reaction to any unpleasantness. As though tea would drown his worry. He laid his hand on the arm curled within his. His fingers tightened unconsciously. He remained very still, though panic crackling in his brain crawled through his limbs and weakened his knees. “Will someone please tell me what is going on and where my wife is?”

Delia patted his arm. “Not here, Christian.”

He wanted to shake her, but he could see he would get nothing more from her in the yard. Delia, in her own way, could be as stubborn as Samantha. An argument would only delay the information he demanded. “Shall we go in?” he said, capitulating and tucking her arm more tightly in the crook of his elbow.

The others took seats in the parlor. Christian remained on his feet, leaning one shoulder against the fireplace mantel and crossing his trembling arms over his chest. He drew on all his reserves to remain calm and civil. “Now that we’ve seated ourselves and tea is on its way, would you kindly tell me where my wife has gotten herself to?”

When all the Talmadge House inhabitants began to talk at once, Delia made a shushing gesture. “Leave this task to me. Samantha is my niece.”

Christian remained cool and unemotional outwardly, but his fear for Samantha’s safety strained at the leash of his composure.

“Samantha met a man,” Delia began.

Christian’s body turned to stone. He barely exerted command over his temper.

“His name is Steven Landry,” she said. “He told us he knew Richard from school.”

Richard frowned. “I have no recollection of a Landry, but he could have been in a different year from me.”

She turned to Richard with a plea in her expression, as though she wished to be spared this conversation. “He is a mature man. I would imagine about your age. A quiet gentleman. When Christian sailed without her, Samantha took his absence badly. She soon reconciled herself to remaining in Hobart, or so we believed. I approved when she began seeing Steven. He treated her like a daughter and occupied her time, chaperoned at all times, of course, by Jasper and Pettibone. Her disposition brightened. She began to take an interest in her appearance and in enjoying herself and exploring Hobart.” Her gaze swiveled to Christian. “I vow I never saw any improper behavior between the two of them.”

“She ran away with ‘im,” Cullen interjected.

Christian straightened with a jerk. An indrawn breath hissed between his teeth. “She did what?” Reality spun away; numbness settled over him. He cast a baffled gaze at the room’s inhabitants. Their faces reflected pity. His mouth hardened. He had no use for pity; he wanted answers.

“That appears to be the case,” Delia said with a sigh. “We have no notion what truly happened. She departed six days ago and left no word behind. As we feared foul play, we contacted the authorities. When they heard Cullen’s story, they informed us they could do little other than issue an order for the constables to send word should they happen to come across her. She
is
of age, and from what we can determine, Steven did not coerce her.”

Christian narrowed his eyes on Cullen. “Tell me,” he said.

Cullen moved to the center of the room, settled on the carpet as if he were on the deck of a ship, and took a deep breath. He proceeded to relate what he’d observed and his impressions of what happened.

Christian stopped him only once, managing to ask, though the words nigh stuck in his throat, “Why would you assume she wasn’t coerced?”

“She weren’t tied nor nuthin’,” Cullen said. “An’ Landry wasn’t pointin’ no pistol at ‘er back.”

“Go on,” Christian said, dimly aware that a vein in his temple throbbed in concert with his pounding heartbeat.

By the time Cullen finished, Christian’s muscles were coiled as tightly as a leopard’s haunches tensed to leap. He turned to Jasper. “I presume you inquired into Landry’s character and business. What did you find?”

Jasper released a breath, as though relieved Christian had finally allowed him to join the discussion. “The man is a legitimate merchant. He owns a fleet of ships and imports luxury items from Asia. Neither the garrison nor the other merchants had word of any unpleasant gossip. He arrived from England about fifteen years ago and, to all accounts, has been a model citizen ever since. He is unwed, forty-five years of age, and of outstanding moral character, according to his acquaintances.”

Christian locked his hands behind his back and strode back and forth in front of the fireplace. His shoulders and back ached under the strain of maintaining a civilized demeanor. He felt as if he stood outside his body, observing the group from a distance. When he glanced in the mirror above the mantel, he was amazed at how unruffled he appeared, considering he felt like howling loudly enough to raze the house. He struggled to consolidate his thoughts and rejoin his body.

Once his initial gut reaction drained from his brain, the cloud over his reasoning cleared. Would Samantha abscond with a man she barely knew, a man who approached her on the streets of Hobart, so soon after their marriage, with no word to her family, no consideration for him? She was devious; she was manipulative, but she was not intentionally cruel or dim-witted, except when it came to defending her family. She would not distress them like this. Neither would she torment
him
like this. He was fairly certain she loved him.

Unless
…

He halted and swung around. “I believe you, Cullen, when you say Landry didn’t coerce her, but I expect he enticed her. Only possible news of Richard would convince her to leave so abruptly.” He directed his next statement at Richard. “She was obsessed with finding you. If someone were to convince her they had word of your location, she would follow them to perdition itself.” Shoving a hand through his hair, he pulled it loose from its queue, and it fell down around his shoulders. “Landry may be only a minor character, perhaps even duped into doing Sam’s bidding. What worries me more than Landry is the other men accompanying them. They could be part of Miggs’s crew. Damn it!” He slammed his fist into the mantel. “I warned her to be wary of anyone unduly interested in Richard. It’s my own fault. She never listened to me before. I don’t know why I expected her to do so this time.”

“Find us food,” he said to Delia. He swept a hand toward Cullen. “Saddle and pack the horses for a trip into the interior.” He turned to Garrett. “Recruit four or five hale men from the
Maiden Anne
‘s crew who are handy with weapons and have no compunction about using them. We’re going after her.”

“How will you find them?” Pettibone asked as the others ran to carry out Christian’s orders.

“Track them,” Christian answered with a humorless smile. “That’s the reason Samantha commissioned me. I track animals.”

E
ight men pounded out of Talmadge House courtyard, the horses’ hooves kicking up shell fragments and a white haze. Waving from the top of the steps, Delia, Chloe, Pettibone, and Gilly prayed for their success. Cullen, a sullen frown on his face at their insistence he stay with the women, stood alone in the stable doorway.

With the seamen less adept on horseback than the three gentlemen, Christian, Garrett, and Richard left the others behind, forging ahead to Huonville to seek transport and information.

Christian learned from the raftsmen that only a few small settlements existed between Huonville and the western coast. However, the inland towns held no interest for him. He sought the pirate’s enclave, Miggs’s rat hole.

Only three inlets west of Hobart appeared suitable for hiding a deepwater ship. Bathurst Harbour lay south of the river and across the Arthur Range, rugged mountain terrain covered in Huon pine, scrub brush, and nearly impenetrable forest. Mostly uninhabited, the area enjoyed a reputation for its inhospitality. Payne Bay, the outlet for the Davey River, also lay across the Arthur Range. Only one tiny outpost existed along this route, a tin mine at Melaleuca. A track of sorts led from the end of the Huon River to Gordon Bend, but to reach Payne Bay, they would be obliged to sweep around the northern edge of the mountains and turn south to Port Davey. The third possible inlet was Macquarie Harbour situated northwest of the Huon River at the end of the Gordon River. It ran westward out of Lake Gordon and through a long track of wilderness to the sea. The last Christian heard, Miggs had anchored his ship at Macquarie Harbour, but that information was months old.

By early evening, the company wended its way westward along the river on two sturdy rafts. They rode the river by day, pulled to the banks at night to camp, and reached the end of their journey on the Huon River after four days. Bathurst Harbour and Payne Bay lay to the south, Macquarie Harbour to the north.