Once Upon a Midnight Sea (20 page)

"Yes," she admitted after a hot sigh. Her heart leapt with her daring, yet it hadn't been as difficult to admit as she'd thought it would. "I do wonder. I even wish."

His eyes flashed with magic light.

"But it isn't." She pulled free of his grip. "Who we are will never change."

"That is not true," he argued with sudden energy. "We can change if we want to."

"No." She took the wheel again. "It isn't as simple as that. What we have come through to get here will always be. None of it can ever be changed."

"Nor forgotten?" he asked. In his eyes, she saw defeat. "Forgiven?"

Adriana glanced away. This conversation made her so uncomfortable she wanted to crawl out of her skin.

"Then I won't apologize," he finally said. "But I will tell you this. I know what has befallen you is my fault, and I regret it. If I could turn back time and fix this, I would."

Anger leapt inside her like the roar of a flame. "You have gotten exactly what you wanted!"

"No. I never intended this." He shook his head. "Surely you don't believe I deliberately put you in harm's way."

"To treat me like a fool is simply another offense against me. You set out to hurt me. You should be happy, the sea has nearly, and might yet still, do my demise for you."

"Good God, Adriana, how could you believe that?"

She made a face of mock disappointment. "Oh, I forget, neither I, nor my father, are any good to you dead. You need us alive, to endure in our suffering."

His expression changed ever so slightly, but in it Adriana could see the damage she'd wrought with the accusation. Her heart ached with the horribleness of what she'd said, but she didn't have the strength or the courage to tell him she hadn't meant it. Instead, the pain of her martyrdom was easier to endure.

"I never wanted anyone to be hurt, not physically." His softly spoken confession was almost snatched away by the wind. The light in his eyes had disappeared, leaving them dark and cold.

Adriana's heart hammered against her ribs. She wished Mr. Ling hadn't left them alone. She was likely to say or even do something she would regret. She gripped the wheel spokes until her knuckles ached.

"Perhaps in the beginning, your suffering would have pleased me."

His revelation cut deep and hurt like a cold steel blade. How could she have thought she loved this man?

"But I didn't know you then," he continued. His gaze fell to the deck and he paced back and forth, leaving her thunderstruck. "I've come to care about you, Adriana. Perhaps you will never believe that. But I have to say it. I realize now that you and your father are just people. Though I still blame him for what he did, I no longer blame him for what I've become."

Her breath caught in her throat. Could it be he was telling the truth? Oh, if only! She wanted to believe him so badly, but she just couldn't bring herself to take that final step toward trust.

He stopped pacing and faced her. The brightness had returned to his eyes. Now they were a brilliant emerald shade, vivid with desperation. Lord forgive her, but she ached to believe he told the truth.

"I've become a person even I don't like, and for a time, I blamed your father for it. But I know now it was my own doing, and I have to accept that. Just like it is I myself, alone, who can rise above it and become a better man. If I cannot, I am no good, just as I claimed your father was."

Adriana trembled so hard her knees shook. Her mind whirled with a million thoughts, but each one flew from her conscience before she could say them, or even decide they were the right thing to say.

Christian stopped pacing and approached where she stood frozen as if her feet had become part of the wooden deck.

"Don't you see?" He gripped her shoulders and drew her close. She could see the stubble peppering his jaw, smell the salty masculinity pouring off him. "Things
could
be different, if we want them to badly enough."

She let her eyes drift shut. It was too impossible to believe that he truly was a changed man. She opened her eyes again to find him leaning towards her.

"Are you saying you would give up your quest? That once the storm abates you would put in to shore and turn yourself in?"

He froze, searching her eyes. His expression grew hard again. "Is that what it would take to appear a better man in your eyes, heiress?" He eased away. "That I should leave my father to his fate and abandon my own to the arrogance of the nobleman's laws?" He released her and took a step back.

A long moment passed between them. The silence was broken only by the lonely sound of the wind through the creaking masts. The cold spray of seawater misted her, but Adriana stood mesmerized by the forlorn misery in Christian's jade eyes. The wind toyed with his long hair, otherwise he remained motionless.

"Perhaps you are right," he finally said on a soft breath. "It could never be different between us."

Adriana closed her eyes, searching the deepest part of herself for a sliver of belief that it actually could be. When she opened them again, he was gone.

* * *

Lady Luck crawled into the bay at Bathsheba with a weary crew. The night had been just as rough as the last two, but when Christian stepped on deck at dawn, the furious winds and angry clouds had all but vanished, leaving a pristine, sapphire sky almost as vibrant as Adriana's eyes. For the clearness of the water and the warmth of the breeze, one could almost believe the storm had never been.

But as they drew nearer the island, he saw the damage wrought by the hurricane. Halfway to the tree line, a ribbon of litter ran the length of the island's glittering white beach, pushed there by the morning tide.

Broken palm fronds floated amongst belongings of the islanders. Along the shore, local people were seen busily repairing damages to battered buildings singled out by the storm's fickle mood, while others stood undamaged.

The island rose sharply from the sea, its steep hills dotted with the gleaming faces of opulent estates hidden within its dense jungle foliage.

He cast a suspicious glance down the railing where Adriana stood gazing at the island. Was she planning to make her escape to one of those palatial mansions? Surely she had at least one wealthy acquaintance who owned a home here.

Henri stood amidships, scratching his bristled chin as he stared up at the damaged mizzenmast. Mrs. Bailey emerged through the main hatch looking haggard and green. Unruly slips of hair escaped the bun at the nape of her neck and her clothes were wrinkled. When she slipped on the wet deck, Christian caught her elbow.

"Unhand me," she barked. "I need no assistance from you."

He released her and took a step back without speaking. The woman would never warm up to him, but it didn't matter. They would part company soon enough. Their journey was nearly over. He glanced at Adriana. In a short time, she too, would be gone from his life. Surely he would never see her again. She would return to her world, and he to his.

His skin ignited with a prickling sensation. Life without her beautiful face or the sound of her sweet voice would be life with a crucial element missing. Even the absence of her sharp wit would leave an empty spot within him.

Christian looked at his hands. It wasn't just an emotion-brought sensation; his fingertips really were tingling. He was exhausted. Adriana had been right, this journey had been the most difficult thing he'd ever done.

Mrs. Bailey smoothed her hair as she ambled carefully to Adriana at the railing.

"Merciful heavens, is the storm finally gone? Good gracious, it was nearly the end of us."

"It was not so bad. Why, if we hadn't had to sacrifice the mizzen main, we would have had absolutely no damage at all."

Christian's stomach pitched at her intimation. "What tragedy isn't started first by a foolish mistake?" he said dryly, feeling sorry for himself.

Adriana's cheeks grew pink. "I only meant that we are safe and sound," she said. "That is what is important."

Christian gazed across the water at three small boats rowing toward them. "Who are those people?" There were women amongst their occupants.

Adriana turned around. "They are coming to see if we need services, which we do." She looked past him and shouted to Henri. "Mr. Dupree!"

Christian searched her face for some indication of her intentions, then turned back to the approaching boats. Was there a town official, perhaps a lawman amongst them?

"Do not be alarmed," she said softly. "It is quite normal in the islands."

"Who do you know that lives up there?" He nodded in the direction of the hills.

"No one." Her expression darkened.

Christian shrugged his guilt away. What did she expect, she'd given him no reason to trust her.

"I am in no state to be seen by anyone," Mrs. Bailey complained. "I require a bath and clean garments."

Adriana turned away, but not before he saw the irritation in her narrowed eyes. "You are in luck. The women are laundresses. If we collect our linens they shall wash them."

"How absurd. I am not in the habit of collecting my own laundry."

Adriana sighed. "I shall do it."

Mrs. Bailey let out an unhappy grumble. "For heaven's sake. I shall do it."

Mrs. Ling appeared on deck with a huge white sack Christian assumed to be laundry. The tiny woman dropped it on deck and stepped up to the rail as the boats drew alongside.

The natives were dark skinned men, some of them so black their teeth looked like polished ivory when they smiled.

She pointed to a wicker cage suspended in the water with something live squirming inside and began haggling. They refused her francs and demanded three shillings for five eel. When Mrs. Ling cook lifted the basket on deck, Christian's stomach rolled. He couldn't tolerate the idea one of those slimy, squirming creatures would be his dinner, even though he knew she could prepare it in a way he would find acceptable. He was actually developing a taste for the woman's unique cooking style.

"I haven't been to the islands for so long I have nearly forgotten what a spectacle she makes." Adriana leaned close to speak quietly and accidentally brushed his arm. For a fleeting second, her soft skin slid against his in a velvet caress. A hissing sound filled his ears. Christian took a deep breath to calm his quivering stomach.

"You should be glad Mrs. Bailey is below deck," he said dryly. "I am certain she wouldn't approve."

"Ah, the haggling is a show, for Mrs. Ling knows I am generous. Mrs. Bailey would not approve of that, either." Adriana gave him a sly smile before turning her gaze to the gleaming ribbon of beach. "These people have so little, and they suffer so terribly in these tropical storms. Sometimes they hit three or four times in a year."

Christian didn't know what to say. He'd never imagined the great and powerful Adriana Montague, for whom life was easy and carefree, could feel compassion and understanding for those whom it wasn't.

"Miss Montague, you are a constant surprise." He shifted and stared down at her until her features began to swim in his vision.

She caught him looking and smiled bashfully. Was she actually blushing again?

"I so enjoy proving you wrong about me, Mr. De la Croix."

One of the fishermen handed up strange green fruit and the tiny woman stretched to reach it. Adriana sighed wistfully. "Ah, pineapple. My mouth waters."

"Surely you're not going to eat that strange object. Truly, even though those eel are alive, I'm not in the habit of eating things given me by strange sorts."

"Then you shall go quite hungry here. Surely Paris has a peasant's market?"

"That is quite different. I recognize the foods I purchase, and can judge their quality." The spiny ball looked most unappetizing. In fact, though he was so hungry he felt weak from it, nothing seemed to tempt his appetite. Christian knew exhaustion did this to a person. He would feel better when he was rested.

"Why Mr. De la Croix, I thought Paris was served with the finest of everything." Adriana's voice held an edge of derision. "Surely you've had the opportunity to steal one on at least one occasion."

He scowled. "I'll not fight with you, Adriana," he returned sharply. He turned and went forward without receiving the hurt expression he was certain she forced into her innocent little face. He strode across deck to help Henri hoist empty water barrels through the bow hatch.

"For the life of me, I don't understand how you've tolerated her silly antics all these years," he complained to the old man.

"Almost as difficult as bearing yours, my boy. Be nice to her, and she'll buy us dinner on the island tonight."

Christian took a breath and softened his tone. "I do not think it is wise for us to go ashore."

Henri stopped and eyed him. "You got nothing to worry about, Christian." The old man's gaze flicked past him to Adriana, but Christian wouldn't let himself be convinced to turn around. Henri lowered his voice. "I saw you looking at the estates on the hill. You've got to stop expecting the worst of her. She's not going to run."

He pictured it in his mind; Adriana fleeing into one of those rich hideaways where commoners like him were as unwelcome as the pox. It was like a bad dream. Could she really hate him so much she would flee the first chance she got? She'd kissed him, after all. She'd stared into his eyes like there was no one else on earth, and for a moment he was sure that for her, there wasn't. Surely she had some sliver of fondness for him? The idea she might not sickened him.