Teresa Medeiros (22 page)

“You’re going with me, Emily.”

She crouched and gathered up the fragile bits of china. There would be no gumming them back together this time. The pieces were too jagged to fit.

“No,” she said softly. “I’m not.”

He caught her arm and pulled her around to face him. “Why not?”

She inclined her head, fearful of finding her own pain mirrored in his tawny eyes. “I can’t go back to England with you.”

He was silent for a long moment. She could almost hear the facile little wheels of his mind clicking. “If you’re in trouble with the law, Emily, I can help you. I’m an
influential man now. I’ll have an army of barristers at my disposal.”

She laughed weakly. “Probably a few judges as well.”

His fingers bit into her arm. “What is this? Your brave attempt at gallows humor?”

Tilting her face to his, she flattened her quavering voice to dead calm. “Unless you care to tie me up and put me on that ship, I’m not going.”

Justin was tempted to do just that. But as he gazed down at her, he didn’t see her pale and drawn as she was now. He saw her pelting down the beach with the children, her curls dancing, her merry, freckled face turned to the sun. He saw her swaying in the firelight with sensual abandon, her skirt billowing around her ankles. Try as he might, he could not imagine her trapped in the winter chill of London, her glow fading to pallor beneath a gray sky dulled with soot.

Grief stabbed him, fresher than anything he’d felt at the news of his father’s death. Emily was right. She didn’t belong in London any more than he did. She belonged here, bathed by sunlight and sea, cloaked in the sweet melodies and loving grace of the Maori. Despite her tough veneer, she was a wild, fragile bloom that would surely wither if transplanted.

He paced away from her, raking a hand through his hair. If it weren’t for David’s child, he would stay. But he couldn’t offer Emily a heart unfettered by the past until he’d repaid that old debt. “I have to go. I have no choice.”

“I know.”

Why didn’t she cry? Why didn’t she throw herself at his feet and beg him to stay? Her damnable pride was tearing him apart. A fierce regret touched him. He should have taken her last night, forged the bond between them that much stronger. What a joy it would have been to return to find her splashing through the waves, rosy and plump with his child!

“I shouldn’t be gone for more than a few months. I’m leaving Penfeld with you.”

“You can’t. You’d break his heart. He’d never forgive you if he missed a shopping expedition to Fleet Street. Trini can look in on me if you’d like, but I’m really quite good at looking after myself.”

He snorted. “This from a woman who fell off a boat in the middle of the Tasman Sea?”

She shrugged. “I tripped over my boot lace.”

His shoulders slumped in helpless laughter. “Christ, Em, what am I going to do without you?” Aching with longing, he reached to fold her in his arms.

She backed away, her dark eyes aflame with the dangerous sparkle of tears. “Please, don’t. I detest good-byes.”

With those words she spun around and fled the hut, leaving him to gaze at the barren table and wonder how she could have swept his heart so empty with a single careless stroke.

Emily stood alone on the bluff, gazing out to sea. Her fingers trailed absently over the blunt peak of the wooden cross.

The sun’s splintered rays bathed her face in warmth. She closed her eyes. The wind raked her with tender fingers, fresh and pure like a melody never to be heard by any ears but her own. Its beauty made her ache. But when she opened her eyes they felt as dry and barren as the withered husks of the flowers rustling at the base of the cross.

She was waiting for Justin. She knew he would come. She had seen him on the beach below saying his good-byes—embracing Trini, grasping the sun-browned hands of the solemn natives, lifting Dani to his shoulders for a last ride.

The Winthrop steamer loomed like a dark blot on the misty azure and jade of a wet painting. Justin didn’t make a sound, but Emily knew he was behind her.

“I hate ships,” she said. “They’re always taking people away.”

“But they bring them back too.”

She turned to face him, hugging back a shiver as if the wind were cold instead of warm. A jolt of shock raced through her. She had never seen Justin in anything but his faded dungarees. Seeing him fully clothed now was somehow more erotic than his near nakedness. He wore no coat, but a handsome waistcoat covered a shirt pressed to crisp perfection. Her mouth went dry with unexpected longing.

The shirt hung loosely over his broad shoulders. Tenderness washed over her for the brawny young prospector who had come to New Zealand filled with dreams and hope. But she wouldn’t have traded a single thread of silver from his temples to have that man back.

His lean form suited the elegance of his garb. Emily felt sorely lacking in her primitive skirt. She shuffled her feet in the sand, fighting a desperate shyness. “I’ve never seen you with shoes before.”

He cast the polished leather a woeful glance. “They pinch like hell.”

She drew in a breath, but instead of the laugh she had intended, a broken sob burst forth. Justin reached for her. She melted into him, throwing her arms around him like a bereft child.

He held her as if he would never let her go, kissing her nose, rubbing his stubbled chin against her cheek, mingling her tears into a salty balm against his seeking lips.

He buried his mouth in her hair. “I’ll be back for you, Emily. I swear it.”

Her slender shoulders convulsed beneath Justin’s hands. Her small fists opened and closed against his back, and in the desperation of her grasp he realized something that cut him almost as deeply as leaving her.

She didn’t believe him.

With staggering reluctance he dragged himself out of
her embrace. He reached in the inner pocket of his waistcoat and drew out a box.

“I have no ring to give you. All I have is this.” His hands shook as he dropped the lid in the sand and drew out the shining rope of gold.

The watch dangled between them, casting shards of sunlight across Emily’s tear-stained face. She sucked in a shuddering breath as he lowered the chain over her head. The watch fell between her breasts, golden bright against her tanned skin.

He cupped her face between his palms and gave her one last kiss, hot, sweet, and fierce with promise. Then he started down the hill, nearly stumbling in his haste to leave her before his will faltered.

“Justin Connor!”

The croaked bellow brought him to a sliding halt. He shaded his eyes against the sun and looked back at the bluff.

Emily was jumping up and down, waving her arms. “Show them you’re the best damned duke England has ever seen! Better than Prince Albert. Better even than the Duke of Wellington. And tell Mr. Thaddeus Swinestocking his spit isn’t fit to polish your shoes!”

He wouldn’t have to. The hefty agent was standing beside the dinghy, his fat jowls drooping in consternation.

Justin touched his fingers to his lips, then spread them toward Emily in a silent salute.

“Buy Penfeld some china!” she shouted, cupping a hand around her mouth. “Wedgwood jasperware with a floral pattern.”

The natives watched with solemn eyes as he climbed into the dinghy. The sailors used the long oars to shove them away from the shore. Penfeld perched awkwardly in the bow, clutching the sides of the boat with whitened fingers. Justin didn’t dare look at him. If his valet’s fat little chin quivered the tiniest bit, Justin feared he would
throw himself overboard and swim back to Emily even if they were halfway to England.

“Don’t forget that English bulldog! He’ll need a spiked collar. Keep him away from poodles. They’re not real dogs, you know, just rats with curly hair and you mustn’t breed …” Her hoarse voice was fading.

The oars parted the water in long, rippling strokes, shoving away the shoreline. A plaintive melody filled the air, sonorous and sweet.

He had told Emily the truth. The Maori could do nothing without singing.

Not even say good-bye.

Chalmers’s cool, questioning gaze touched his face, but Justin didn’t even blink. He kept his gaze riveted on the slender figure standing on the shrinking bluff and let the salty breeze burn the tears from his eyes before they could fall.

It was twilight before Emily made her way down from the bluff. The last tawny rays of the sun bathed the beach. Her limbs, her eyelids, her throat, ached with a leaden heaviness like the weight of the watch against her breastbone, but her heart felt as drained as her eyes. She had watered her father’s grave with her tears for the last time. The sand had absorbed them, sucking them away as if they had never fallen.

The packet of letters she had taken from the hut rustled against her skin. She had spent the past few hours poring over them. They were simple letters written to a child, filled with the warmth, wit, and charm she had come to expect from Justin. They were filled with the pleasures of his days, the beauty of the island, his friendships with the Maori, and humorous anecdotes about her father. He had shared all of himself in those letters, everything but the puzzling truth that had kept him from posting them.

Emily’s steps faltered as she saw Trini sitting cross-legged
in the sand. She didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want to see anyone. She just wanted to crawl back into the sea as she had come. She walked past him without a word.

He scrambled to his feet. “Where will you go?”

She forced back a groan. When Trini used words under five syllables, he was deadly serious. She turned to face him. “Away.”

“What shall I tell the Pakeha when he returns?”

“He won’t be back.” The bitter words shot out before she could stop them.

“And if you are wrong?”

She squared her shoulders. “Then I’ll be the one to leave this time.”

A sad smile played around his lips. He drew a line in the sand with his toe. “Perhaps you are no wiser than we Maori. Seeking
utu
, your own personal revenge, for every slight.”

“He slighted my whole life!” she cried.

Emily realized then that it wasn’t about the gold. It never had been. She couldn’t forgive him for breaking the heart of a child who had believed in him. And she couldn’t afford to find out if he would do it again, Time had robbed her of her defenses. Her woman’s heart wasn’t as resilient as the child’s had been. Another blow would surely shatter it. She felt the warning prick of tears behind her eyes. She blinked them away, not wanting Trini to see her cry. Not wanting anyone to ever see her cry again.

“It reminds me of something the Pakeha’s mighty God once said—‘Vengeance is mine.’ ”

“Not this time, Trini.” She stabbed her chest with her finger, tapping the locket. “This time vengeance is
mine
.” His solemn brown eyes surveyed her with maddening wisdom. She turned away with a dismissive wave. “How can I expect you to understand?”

“Perhaps I understand better than you know … Claire.”

Emily froze in mid-stride, flinching as the name
sounded like a slap across her face. She turned slowly, remembering all the times she had seen him entranced by the shiny watch case. “How?”

Trini pointed. For the first time, Emily saw the children scattered among the dunes, their normal jubilance muted to pensive quiet.

“Dani,” he said. “She recognized you from the watch. She told me you were the Pakeha’s lost angel freed at last from a terrible spell.”

Dani was wrong, Emily thought. She had only fallen under a more deadly spell. She opened the watch case with a trembling hand. The case was empty, the photograph gone. Once again Justin had taken the best part of her with him.

She cast Trini a pleading glance. “How could he not have known?”

The native’s lips quirked in an enigmatic smile. “The Pakeha sees only what he chooses to see. It is his way.”

As Emily stared blindly into the locket, a low chant rose from the dunes. The children were repeating one word over and over.
Claire
. They pelted out of the dunes, surrounding her. She sank to her knees, wrapping Dani’s warm little body in her arms. She pressed her eyes shut, imagining how it would have felt to hold the child she would never have. She could almost see him—his silky dark hair falling in his eyes as he bent over the piano.

She opened her eyes. Trini helped her to her feet, his tattooed brow furrowed in a frown. “How will you go from here? You have no money, no means.”

Her eyes burned with a fierce light. “Oh, yes, I do. Gold brought me here, and gold will take me away.”

A yelp of dismay escaped him as she held the watch aloft and twisted, shattering the last chain that bound her to Justin Connor.

Chapter 15