Eyes of Fire (18 page)

“Rainy days,” she reminded him.

He shook his head. “I mean a real break. A vacation.”

“People come here to vacation. I live in paradise. An island Eden.”

“You
work
in paradise,” he told her. “And that's quite different.” He was propped on one elbow, watching her.

She tried not to let him realize that she was watching him in return. Appreciating the length of his naked body. Darkened by the sun—except in strategic areas. Long, muscled, tight, slick. Handsome chest thickly furred with rich, dark hair. Tapered waist. Strong legs. Sexy legs. And hips. And other attributes.

“You need a break,” he continued. “A real break. A place where you don't have to get up to make sure that other people are enjoying their croissants.”

She smiled and shrugged. “I love the island. But maybe you're right. One day soon I'll take a break. After…this.”

He nodded, then frowned slightly. “Where was the baby born?”

“Miami,” she said.

“Ah.”

“Ah, what?”

“So he
is
your baby?”

She stared at him, refusing to allow him to unsettle her. “Did I say that?”

“You knew where he was born.”

“Of course. I took Yancy to the hospital.”

“Or Yancy took you.”

“Adam, you really should go to hell.”

“You really should tell me about Hank.”

“Then you should tell me what you found in the water yesterday.”

He arched a brow at her, then shrugged with a dry grin. “Touché, Miss Carlyle.”

“Just what is it you want to know about Hank Jennings?”

“Your relationship with him.”

She smiled. Thinking of Hank always made her smile, even if it was a sad smile. “I loved him,” she said simply.

“But the baby is Yancy's?”

“What makes you think that baby belongs to Hank Jennings?” she demanded.

“Because he loo—because from what I understand, Hank was the most likely candidate on the island.”

“Why did you just change what you were about to say?”

“I didn't.”

“You did.”

“Damn it, I don't even know what I was going to say anymore.”

“You do, but you're not going to tell me. Fine. My turn. What did you find in the water?” she demanded.

“You didn't tell me anything, why should I tell you?”

“You did find something.”

“Maybe.”

“Tell me,” Sam insisted.

“I'm not telling you anything until you come clean with me,” Adam informed her curtly.

She didn't like his attitude. “Why should I tell you anything until you come clean with me?”

“You owe me an explanation.”

“
I
owe
you
an explanation!” she exclaimed. “Wait a minute here—I own this island. You show up here, and
I
get attacked.”

“I did save your life, remember?”

Sam exploded with an expletive, telling him what he should do with himself, and rose from her side of the bed. She walked into the shower, turning the water on hard and hot.

A second later he had stepped in behind her. Groping for the soap. Groping for…her.

“I thought you didn't like the shower?”

“Not for the first time after so many years.”

“Ah.”

He lifted her, drawing her legs around him, bracing her against the tile. The tile was cool. The water was stingingly hot. The steam rose around them. Sam felt as if she was sinking into it as they made love within the steam and heat of the water. Finally the water cooled. She was still in his arms, glad of his strength; she couldn't have stood on her own. She didn't speak, neither did he. The water continued to pour around them.

Only now it was turning cold.

“You have to trust me,” he said to her at last as she slid down his body, finding her feet, feeling the chill of the water.

“
You
have to trust
me,
” she insisted, staring at him. “There's a lot you're not telling me.”

To her surprise, he looked away, not denying what she said.

She felt a shivering inside her.

He knew something.

Something she wasn't going to like.

 

Yancy wasn't at breakfast. Lillie was filling in for her in the dining room.

“Is anything wrong?” Sam asked Lillie. It wasn't like Yancy to have anyone substitute for her.

“No, the baby had a restless night. Yancy says she's exhausted.”

“I'll just check on her,” Sam said. She left her coffee by the buffet table and hurried up the stairs to Yancy's room. Jem was just coming out of his own.

“Everything okay?” she asked him, not at all sure why she had such an uneasy feeling.

“As far as I know,” Jem said. “We're still diving the Steps, huh?”

“I guess.”

“You're the boss here. You can change the itinerary if you want.”

“If everyone is obsessed with the Steps, then we'll go there. My dad was obsessed with them—you know that's why I'm not crazy about diving there. But I haven't got the right to keep others from it because of my own hang-ups.”

Jem grinned. “That sounds like a bunch of psychological claptrap to me. You want to go, we go—that's where the truth of it lies. You almost ready to head down to the boat?”

“I'm just checking on Yancy.”

“Yeah, she seems wiped out today.”

“You talked to her?”

“Yeah. She looked like hell. Well, you check up on her, and I'll see you down at the boat. By the way, we've got to keep an eye on the weather in the next few days.”

“A storm?” Sam asked, pausing.

“Yeah. That depression that formed off the east coast of Africa last week has been steadily strengthening. It rose to tropical storm velocity last night, and they're expecting it to reach hurricane proportions by midnight tonight. It's still a fair distance away, and you know how these things go. It probably won't even hit here.”

“Yeah,” Sam muttered. “That's what we were all saying about Hurricane Andrew right before it wiped out half a dozen cities. You're right, we've got to keep an eye on it.”

“Yeah. Thank God
one
of us still has a little time left to watch the news now and then.”

“Don't you dare torment me about Adam O'Connor, Jem Fisher. You brought that wretch right into my house.”

“And I suppose I twisted your arm into sleeping with him?”

“Jem!”

He chuckled softly. “Hey, the poor fellow didn't have a chance the last time he was here. He would have had to be dead to resist you, the way you went after him.”

“Jem Fisher, that's terrible.”

“Samantha Carlyle, that's the truth!”

“Will you just go—go eat a doughnut or something!”

“We can use him here now,” Jem said quietly. Then he smiled and started down the stairs.

Sam looked after him thoughtfully for a moment. He was right. Maybe she did need Adam now.

And maybe he had been right in other ways. Maybe a lot of what had happened had been her fault.

She turned, still thoughtful, and tapped at Yancy's door. There was no answer. She tried the knob. It was open.

She tiptoed into the room.

Brian was in his crib, sleeping away. He looked so sweet, in fact, that Sam experienced one of those little surges of panic that he might not be breathing. She gently set a hand on his back, then smiled. He was breathing quite nicely.

She turned and tiptoed to Yancy's bed. Yancy, too, was asleep. Deeply asleep. The covers were practically over her head.

“Yancy?” Sam whispered.

“Umm.”

“I don't mean to wake you, but do you need anything? Are you all right?”

“Hmm…tired.”

“Okay, get some sleep. I'll see you later.”

Sam quietly left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

When Sam had gone, Yancy sat up. Emotion began to shake her. Sobs, laughter. Laughter, sobs.

Oh, God….

Sam….

Soon, Sam, soon….

 

Adam watched Sam as they motored out to the dive site at the Steps. It was a beautiful day. There might be a storm coming, perhaps presaged by the very calm that seemed to sit upon the water, but it made for great conditions today.

Sam didn't get much of a chance to reflect upon their trip. She was seated in the back of the
Sloop Bee,
an arm casually around Darlene's shoulders as she tried very hard to explain that though it wasn't impossible for a great white to be swimming in their warm tropical waters, it
was
unlikely. She was also trying to explain how the sharks who attacked people usually did so because they were attracted by blood or perhaps, on occasion, by the swimming, kicking motion of legs that dangled into the water. Divers were another case. They were beneath the surface, face to face with the sea's great predators.

Darlene listened, wide-eyed.

It was fun to watch Sam with the little girl. Sam was a natural, Adam thought.

“There are dangers everywhere, Darlene.”

“Right,” Brad said. “I mean, houses fall on people. Things fall out of buildings. You can walk down a street and a big truck can hit you, right?”

Adam arched a brow at Brad, then decided that making the water appealing again for Darlene might be better than trying to convince her that she was going to meet a grisly end on solid ground.

“You know, when you become a more advanced diver, Darlene, there are more wrecks to see. There's an old English ship, a man-of-war, that went down in about one hundred and twenty-five feet of water another hour's ride out from the Steps.”

“A man-of-war?” Brad said.

“She was called
Our Lady of Mercy.
She was a ship in the English Navy. She went down in 1813—after a battle with the American ship
Tallymar.
The English ship was more powerful, but the
Tallymar
's guns caught her just right, and down she went. Treasure hunters over the years since have dredged up most of what was of value on her, but she's a great wreck to dive. You can almost imagine what she was like when she was under sail. Her figurehead is in a museum in Salem, Massachusetts, but one of the cruise ship companies put a copy of it back on her. Say, do you know why they call English sailors, and sometimes just Englishmen, limeys?”

“I didn't know that they did call them limeys,” Darlene said mournfully.

Adam grinned. “Ships' doctors back then didn't understand about vitamin C, but they did realize that men got scurvy when they were kept from fresh fruit and vegetables too long. Limes lasted, and they were easy to purchase in any tropical port. English sailors were frequently given limes, so they became limeys.”

“Yeah, and the officers used to drink like fish, young man!” Liam Hinnerman added. “Water got bad on the ships quickly, turned green with slime. Didn't matter to the bigwigs in charge if the ordinary seamen drank scum. Those officers, they kept all the liquor around that they could.”

“Sounds smart to me,” Sukee commented.

“Ah, it was a rough life,” Hinnerman continued. He had a look in his eye that said he was going to tell Brad about something bloody. “A British sailor often went to sea for a few square meals, but his meals were filled with weevils and maggots. Know one of the ways they got rid of the maggots that had gotten into their biscuits? They put a dead fish on top of the biscuits. The maggots crawled right for it. They kept putting in dead fish until all the maggots were gone.”

Sam looked at Adam and grimaced.

Darlene was looking a little green again, but Brad was fascinated.

“Being a sailor was hard,” Adam told Darlene. “They could punish men harshly for fairly minor infractions of the rules. One of the things they did was called ‘flogging around the fleet.' The poor fellow was tied standing in one of the small boats, his back bared, and the boatswain's mates from his fleet lashed him twenty-four times each. If there were a lot of ships, he could wind up with more than three hundred lashes.”

“He would die!” Darlene protested.

“He often did,” Adam told her. “If he survived, it was said that he had been given a ‘checkered shirt,' because the lashes on his back crisscrossed in red ribbons and looked like a checked shirt.”