The Reef (30 page)

She remained silent a moment while it all simmered. “You know, Matthew, I'm just too worn out to be angry with you, even for something that ignorant. I really had no idea you, of all people, had a problem with self-esteem.”

“It's not self-esteem.” The idea made him feel ridiculous. “It's just fact. I'm a treasure hunter, broke most of the time. I've got nothing but a boat, and even that's part LaRue's. I'll make a fortune on this hunt and probably blow it in a year.”

She might have sighed if she hadn't begun to understand. “And I'm a scientist with a carefully balanced portfolio. I don't have a boat, but I have an apartment that I rarely use. This hunt's going to make me famous, and I intend to use both that and my share of the fortune to make my mark a little deeper. Given those rundowns it appears we have very little in common and no logical reason to cultivate a long-term relationship. Want to give it a shot anyway?”

“I figure this,” he said after a moment. “You're old enough and smart enough to live with your mistakes. So yeah, I want to give it a shot.”

“Me, too. I loved you once blindly. I see you much clearer now, and I love you more.” She framed his face
with her hands. “We must be crazy, Lassiter. But it feels good.”

He turned his head, pressing his lips to the center of her palm. “It feels right.” Joy, he couldn't remember when he'd last felt the simple lift of it. Gathering her close, he nuzzled his face in her hair. “I'd gotten over you, Red. Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I could never quite forget the way you smell.”

With a chuckle, she leaned back so that she could see his face. “The way I smell?”

“Fresh. Cool. Like a mermaid.” He touched his lips to hers, lingered. “I named her for you.”

His boat, she realized. The boat he'd built with his own hands. “Matthew, you make my head spin.” Content, she laid her head on his shoulder. This time, she thought, they would sail off into the sunset. “We'd better go out on deck before someone comes looking for us. We've got something to tell the rest of the team.”

“There's that practical streak.” He brushed a hand over her hair. “And I was just thinking about getting you in bed.”

“I know.” A quick, satisfying shiver coursed through her at the pleasure of being desired. “And that's definitely something I'm looking forward to. But for now . . .” She took his hand and pulled him to the door. “I like the way you locked this,” she said, flipping the latch. “Very macho.”

“You like macho, huh?”

“In small, tasteful doses.” Outside, she hooked her arm through his and walked to the rail. She could hear the radio jingling from the deck of the
Mermaid,
and her mother's brisk, tireless hammering. The compressor kicked on, grinding. The air was filled with the sulfuric perfume of undersea excavation.

“They're all going to be shocked and excited when you show them the amulet.”

“We show them,” Matthew corrected.

“No, it's yours. I can't explain rationally how I feel about this, Matthew,” she continued over his protest. “It
seems I'm starting to accept that this whole business isn't meant to be rational. I felt the pull of that necklace, a kind of lust of ownership. When I was holding it earlier, I could actually see, vividly see,” she added, turning to look at him, “just what it could bring me. The money, the outrageous fortune, the fame and respect. The power. It shakes me to realize that under all the fine lofty motives of education and knowledge, I want those things.”

“So, you're human.”

“No, it was very strong, that desire to keep it, to use it to gain my own ends.”

“What stopped you? What made you decide to turn it over to VanDyke?”

“I love you,” she said simply. “I'd have done anything to protect you.” She smiled a little. “Sound familiar?”

“Sounds to me like it's time we started trusting each other. The fact remains you found the amulet.”

“Maybe I was meant to, so that I could give it to you.”

“Meant to?” He took her chin in his hand. “This from a scientist.”

“A scientist who knows her Shakespeare. ‘There are more things in heaven and earth.' ” Keeping her eyes on his, she suppressed a shudder. “It's in your hands now, Matthew. And for you to decide.”

“None of this—if you loved me you'd . . . ?”

“I know you love me. A woman can go her whole life and never hear the kind of things you've just said to me. That's why you're going to marry me.”

His hand dropped away from her face. A knee-jerk reaction that made her lips curve wryly. “I am?”

“Damn right you are. It shouldn't be too difficult to arrange the necessary paperwork on Nevis. I'm sure we'd both prefer to keep it simple. We can have a small ceremony right here on the boat.”

His stomach jittered, then settled smooth. “You've got it all worked out.”

“Working things out is my life, Lassiter.” Smug, she linked her arms around his neck. “I've got you, from where I'm standing, exactly where I want you. You're not getting away again.”

“I'd probably be wasting my time arguing.”

“Totally,” she agreed, almost purring when he slipped his arms around her. “Might as well give up now.”

“Sweetheart, I hoisted the white flag the minute you knocked me out of that hammock onto my butt.” The smile faded from his eyes. “You're my luck, Tate,” he murmured. “There's nothing I can't do if you're with me.”

She settled into his arms, closed her eyes. And tried not to think about the weight of the curse in his pocket.

 

The teams gathered on the deck of the
Mermaid
in the thinning light of dusk. The weeks of treasure-hunting had been prosperous. On the generous foredeck, bits and pieces of the latest haul were separated from debris. There were sextants, octants, tableware, a simple gold locket containing a lock of hair.

Tate did her best to keep her mind off the amulet Matthew still held and answered questions on the two porcelain statues her father was examining.

“They're Ching dynasty,” she said. “They're called Immortals, depicting saintly human figures from Chinese theology. In all there are eight, and these two are wonderfully undamaged. We may find the other six, if indeed there was a complete set. They're not listed in the manifest.”

“Valuable?” LaRue tossed out.

“Very. In my opinion, it's time we started thinking about transferring the more valuable and the more fragile items to a safer place.” Deliberately, she kept her eyes averted from Matthew's. “And that we call in at least one other archeologist. I need corroboration, and more extensive facilities in order to complete a proper study. And we have to begin work on preserving the
Isabella
herself.”

“The minute we make any move like that, VanDyke would be on us,” Buck objected.

“Not if we take the precaution of notifying the proper institutions. The Committee for Nautical Archeology in England, its counterpart in the States. If anything, keeping this to ourselves is more dangerous than going public.
Once we're on record, it would be impossible for VanDyke or anyone like him to sabotage our operation.”

“You don't know pirates,” Buck said grimly. “And government's the biggest pirate of all.”

“I'm leaning with Buck on this.” Frowning, Ray studied the Chinese figures. “I won't dispute that we have an obligation to share what we've found, but we haven't finished yet. We have weeks more excavating, maybe months, before we've played her out. And we've yet to find the main thing we came for.”

“Angelique's Curse,” Buck said under his breath. “Maybe she doesn't want to be found.”

“If she's there,” LaRue corrected, “we'll find her.”

“I think you're all missing the point.” Marla spoke quietly. It was so rare she offered an opinion on excavation policy, everyone stopped and turned to her. “I know I don't dive, don't work the airlift, but I understand the heart of all of this. Look what we've done, what we've found already. A small operation with only two diving teams, working frantically to keep it all so quiet and secret. Yet we've uncovered a kind of miracle. And we've made Tate responsible for caring for that miracle. Now that she's asking for help, we're all worried someone might come along and steal our thunder. Well, they can't,” she added. “Because we've done it. And if we focus so narrowly on one piece, aren't we losing sight of the whole? Angelique's Curse might have drawn us here, but we don't have to find it to know we've done something incredible.”

With a sigh, Ray draped an arm over her shoulders. “You're right. Of course you're right. It's foolish to think we haven't succeeded because we haven't found the amulet. Still, every time I go down and come up again without it, I feel as though I've failed. Even with all this.”

Tate's hot gaze skimmed over Matthew before settling on her father. “You haven't failed. None of us have.”

Saying nothing, Matthew rose. He took the gold chain from his pocket, let it dangle. For an instant, Tate thought she saw light flash from the stone.

Ray got shakily to his feet. His vision seemed to blur
and fracture as he reached out to touch the center ruby. “You found it.”

“Tate found it. This morning.”

“It's a devil's tool,” Buck whispered, backing away. “It'll bring you nothing but grief.”

“It may be a tool,” Matthew agreed, and his glance flicked over LaRue. “And I'll use it. My vote goes with Tate. We make arrangements to transfer what we have. She can contact her committees.”

“So that you can lure VanDyke,” she murmured.

“VanDyke's my problem. This is what he wants.” Matthew slipped the necklace from Ray's hands. “He won't find it easy going through me to get it. It might be best to suspend operations for a while. You and Marla and Tate could go on island.”

“And leave you here to face him down alone?” Tate tossed back her head. “Not a chance, Lassiter. Just because I'm stupid enough to want to marry you doesn't mean I'll let you bundle me off.”

“You're getting married?” Marla pressed a hand to her lips. “Oh, honey.”

“I had intended to make the announcement a little more smoothly.” Annoyance glittered in Tate's eyes. “You jerk.”

“I love you, too.” Matthew hooked an arm around her waist while the amulet dripped from his free hand. “She asked me this afternoon,” he explained to Marla. “I decided to give her a break and go along with it, since it means I get you in the bargain.”

“Thank goodness the two of you have come to your senses.” With a sob, Marla threw her arms around both of them. “Ray, our baby's getting married.”

He patted his wife awkwardly on the shoulder. “I guess this is my cue to say something profound.” Emotions warred through him, regret mixed with joy. His little girl, he thought, was another man's woman. “I can't think of a damn thing.”

“If you will pardon me,” LaRue said. “I suggest a celebration.”

“Of course.” Marla wiped at her eyes and stepped back. “I should have thought of it.”

“Allow me.” LaRue strolled off into the galley to unearth the bottle of Fume Blanc he'd hidden away.

After the glasses were poured, the toasts drunk and the tears dried, Tate walked to the starboard rail to join Buck.

“It's a pretty big night,” she murmured.

“Yeah.” He lifted his glass of ginger ale.

“I thought—I'd hoped that you'd be happy for us, Buck. I do love him so much.”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Guess I know you do. I got used to thinking about him like my own the past fifteen years. I ain't been much of a substitute father—”

“You've been wonderful,” she interrupted hotly.

“Screwed up more than once, but mostly I done my best. I always knew Matthew had something special in him. More'n me, more'n James. I never knew how to make it come out. You do,” he added, turning to her at last.

“He's a better man with you than he would be without. He'll try harder with you there, and turn off that bad Lassiter luck. You gotta make him get rid of that damned necklace, Tate, before it curses your lives. Before VanDyke kills him for it.”

“I can't do that, Buck. If I tried, and he changed himself because I'd asked, what would I leave him?”

“I should never have told him about it. I made him think we could make James's death worth something if we found it. That was stupid. Dead's dead.”

“Matthew's his own man, Buck. What he does can't be because of me, or you, or anyone. If we love him, we have to accept that.”

T
ATE STRUGGLED TO
take her own advice to heart. As Matthew slept beside her in his cabin on the
Mermaid,
she tried to put her fears to rest.

He'd said it was time they trusted each other. She knew trust could be as strong a shield as love. She would make hers strong enough, she promised herself, to defend them both against anyone or anything.

Whatever happened, whatever he did, they would face it together.

“Stop worrying,” he murmured and nudged her closer.

The heat of his body, the hard length of it against hers, soothed. “Who said I was?”

“I can feel it.” To distract them both, he ran his hand over her hip. “You keep sending out all these nasty little worry darts. They're keeping me awake.” His hand inched back up, over her rib cage. “And since I'm awake anyway . . .” He rolled on top of her to send kisses and shivers down her throat.

“Next time I build a boat, I'm going to make the master cabin bigger.”

She sighed as his lips nibbled their way to her ear. “Next time?”

“Mmm-hmm. And I'm soundproofing it.”

She let out a chuckle. Buck's snoring from the next cabin battered the walls like thunder. “I'll help you. How does LaRue stand it?”

“He says it's like the boat rocking in the current. It's just there.” Circling a finger around her breast, Matthew studied her face in the moonlight that drifted through the open window. “When I designed the living quarters, I didn't have a wife in mind.”

“You'd better keep one in mind now,” she warned him. “This one. And I think the living quarters are just fine.” Teasingly, she flicked her tongue over his jaw. “Especially the captain's cabin.”

“You know, if I'd figured out that this engagement business would clear the way for this, I'd have tried it sooner.” To please himself, he spread her hair over the pillow. “It beats the floor of the bridge.”

“All to hell.” She curved her lips under his. “But I kind of liked those nights. Don't think this engagement business is going to last long,” she added. “We're going to Nevis tomorrow to start the formalities.”

“Christ, you're bossy.”

“Yeah and I've got you, Lassiter.” She vised her arms around him. “I've really got you.”

Nothing, absolutely nothing, she vowed, was going to take him away from her.

 

“The minute you're finished, I want you to meet me in the boutique.” Under the bright morning sun, Marla shook the sand out of her sandals as she stepped from the beach onto the stone walkway of the resort. Small, informal wedding or not, she intended to take her duties as mother of the bride, and surrogate mother of the groom, seriously.

Tate sighed and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “I don't suppose it's any use telling you again that I don't need a new dress.”

“No use at all.” Happily, Marla beamed. “We're getting you a wedding dress, Tate Beaumont. If the boutique here at the resort doesn't have anything suitable, we're going to Saint Kitts. And Matthew”—she patted him
gently on the cheek—“you could use a haircut—and a decent suit.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Suck up,” Tate muttered.

Ignoring that, Marla continued to smile. “Now y'all go see the concierge. I'm sure he can help you find the way to push through the paperwork. Matthew, you and I will look into that suit later this afternoon. Oh, and Tate, ask him about shoes.”

“Shoes?”

“We'll want to get some to match your dress.” With a cheery wave, she headed up the steps toward the boutique.

“She's off and running,” Tate said under her breath. “Thank God we're doing this here and now. Can you imagine what she'd be planning if we were getting married back on Hatteras? Showers and bridal shows. Flowers, caterers, cakes.” She shuddered delicately. “Wedding consultants.”

“Sounds kind of nice.”

“Lassiter.” Bemused, Tate stared up at him. “You're not telling me you'd like all that fuss and bother. If she had the chance, she'd stuff you into a tux, maybe tails.” She gave his butt a friendly pat. “Not that you wouldn't look wonderfully dashing.”

“I thought women were supposed to want a big, splashy wedding.”

“Not sane women.” Amused, she paused halfway up the steps. “Matthew, is that what you want, all the pomp and circumstance?”

“Look, Red, I'll take you any way I can get you. I just don't see what's so wrong with the fancywork. A new dress, a haircut.”

Tate narrowed her eyes wickedly. “She's going to make you wear a tie, pal.”

He couldn't quite control the wince. “Not such a big deal.”

“You're right.” With a little laugh, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I guess I'd better just come clean and admit it. I'm scared.”

“Good.” He clasped his hand over hers. “That makes two of us.”

Together they went into the lobby to track down the concierge.

Fifteen minutes later, they walked out again, dazzled.

“It's going to be awfully easy,” Tate managed. “Proof of citizenship, sign a few papers.” She blew the hair out of her eyes. “We could pull this off in two or three days.”

“Cold feet?”

“They're blocks of ice, but I can handle it. You?”

“I never welch on a deal.” To prove it, he scooped her off her feet. “Are you going to be Doctor Lassiter or Doctor Beaumont?”

“I'm going to be Doctor Beaumont and Mrs. Lassiter. Suit you?”

“Suits me. Ah, I guess we'd better head to the boutique.”

“I can save you from that.” Understanding, she gave him a hard, smacking kiss. “If we manage to find a dress in there, you aren't allowed to see it. Mom will have a fit if we don't follow at least one tradition.”

Hope bloomed. “I don't have to go shopping?”

“You don't have to go shopping until she snags you. Why don't you swing by in about a half hour? Wait, I forgot I was dealing with Marla the mad shopper Beaumont. Give us an hour. And since I'm feeling so generous where you're concerned, if Mom decides to drag me off to Saint Kitts, we'll detour back to the boat and drop you off.”

“I owe you big, Red.”

“I'll collect. Put me down.”

He gave her one last kiss, then set her on her feet. “I bet they carry lingerie up there.”

“I bet they do.” She laughed and gave him a shove. “I'll surprise you. Get lost, Lassiter.”

Smiling, she watched him disappear back into the lobby. Suddenly the idea of a new dress, something flowing and romantic, didn't seem so frivolous. Something that would be flattered by a little gold heart with a single pearl dripping from its point.

Lassiter, she decided, I'm going to knock your socks off.

Flushed with pleasure, she started across the patio. The
hand that clamped on her arm made her laugh. “Matthew, really—”

The words, and her breath, clogged in her throat as she stared into the smoothly handsome face of Silas VanDyke.

Reality tilted on its edge for a moment. He looked exactly the same, she thought dumbly. The years had laid lightly on him. The thick, glossy pewter hair, the smooth, elegant face and pale eyes.

His hand was soft as a child's on her arm, and she could smell the subtle, expensive cologne he'd dabbed on his skin.

“Ms. Beaumont, what a pleasure to run into you like this. I must say, the years have been overwhelmingly generous with you.”

It was the sound of his voice, faintly European and coldly pleased, that snapped her back. “Let go of me.”

“Surely you have a moment or two for an old friend?” Still smiling benignly, he steered her sharply around the garden of brilliant annuals as he spoke.

There were dozens of people around, she reminded herself as she fought back fear. Guests, staff, the early diners who lounged in the poolside restaurant. She only had to shout.

The realization that she was afraid, here, in the bright sunlight, had her digging in her heels. “Oh, I've got a moment or two for you, VanDyke. In fact, I'd enjoy dealing with you very much.” Alone, she thought, without Matthew shouldering her aside. “But if you don't let me go, right now, I'll start screaming.”

“Now that would be an unfortunate mistake,” he said mildly. “And you're a sensible woman. I know.”

“Keep pawing at me and I'll show you just how sensible.” Furious, she jerked her arm free. “I'm sensible enough to know there's nothing you can do to me in a public place.”

“Do to you?” He looked shocked, and vaguely offended. But his head was aching, pounding at the idea that she would defy him. “Tate, my dear, what a foolish thing to say. I wouldn't dream of doing anything to you at all.
I'm simply inviting you to come out and spend an hour or two on my yacht.”

“You must be insane.”

His fingers closed so quickly, so painfully over her arm, she was too surprised to shout. “Be careful. I don't care for poor manners.” His face smoothed out again with a smile. “We'll try again, shall we? I'd like you to accompany me for a short, friendly visit. If you refuse, or if you insist on making a scene here in, as you say, a public place, your fiancé will pay the price.”

“My fiancé will scrape your face over the pavement, VanDyke, unless I do it first.”

“What a pity that your mother's gentle breeding seems to have skipped a generation.” He sighed, leaned closer, keeping his teeth clenched to control his voice. “I have two men watching your Matthew as we speak. They'll do nothing unless you force me to signal them otherwise. They're quite skilled and quite discreet.”

The blood drained from her face, leaving it cold and stiff. “You can hardly have him killed in the lobby of the resort.” But he'd planted the seed of terror, and it was blossoming.

“You can always take that chance. Oh, and wasn't that your mother up in the boutique? She's chosen several lovely things for you.”

Numb with fear, Tate glanced up. She could see the glass doors and windows of the shop tossing back sun. And the man, broad shouldered, neatly dressed, loitering outside. He inclined his head slowly.

“Don't hurt her. You have no reason to hurt her.”

“If you do what I tell you, I'll have no reason to hurt anyone. Shall we go? I've instructed my chef to prepare a very special lunch, and now I have someone to share it with.” With a horrible gallantry, he tucked a hand under her elbow and led her toward the pier. “The trip will only take a short time,” he assured her. “I'm moored just west of you.”

“How did you know?”

“Oh, my dear.” Jaunty in his white suit and panama,
pleased with his victory, he clucked her under the chin. “How naive of you to think I wouldn't.”

Tate jerked her arm from his grip, gave one last look back at the resort before stepping down into the waiting tender. “If you hurt them, if you so much as touch either of them, I'll kill you myself.”

She planned the ways she would do it as the tender cut through the water.

 

In the boutique, Marla sighed. After instructing the clerk to set aside her selections, she set out to track down her daughter. She searched the restaurants and lounges, scanned the beach and the pool. Mildly irked, she went through the gift shop, then back to the boutique.

When there was no sign of Tate, she marched back to the lobby intending to have the concierge do a page.

She spotted Matthew jumping out of a cab.

“Matthew, for goodness sake, where have you been?”

“Something I had to take care of.” He patted his pocket where the contract he'd just signed was neatly folded. “Hey, I'm only a little late.”

“Late for what?”

“We said an hour.” Unconcerned, he glanced at his watch. “It's just over that. So, did you talk her into a dress or is she still fighting it?”

“I haven't seen her,” Marla said grumpily. She was hot, frustrated. “I thought she was with you.”

“No, we separated. She was going to meet you.” He shrugged. “We were talking about different kinds of weddings, flowers and stuff. She probably got involved in something.”

“I don't—the beauty salon,” Marla said, inspired. “She probably wanted to check about getting her hair and nails done, getting a facial.”

“Tate?”

“It's her wedding.” Baffled by the casualness of youth, she shook her head. “Every woman wants to look her best as a bride. She's down there right now going through pictures of hairstyles.”

“If you say so.” The idea of Tate getting herself
polished and painted for him had him grinning. This he had to see. “Let's go smoke her out.”

“I'm going to give her a piece of my mind, too,” Marla muttered. “I was starting to worry.”

 

“Champagne?” VanDyke lifted a flute from the tray his steward had set beside a pair of peacock blue lounge chairs.

“No.”

“I think you'll agree that it sets the palate for the lobster dish we're having for lunch.”

“I'm not interested in champagne or lobster or your transparent politeness.”

Ignoring the little tremors of fear, Tate kept her shoulders braced. If she'd gauged it correctly they were about a mile west of the
Mermaid.
She could swim it if necessary.

“What I am interested in is why you kidnapped me.”

“Such a hard word.” VanDyke sampled the champagne, found it perfectly chilled. “Please sit.” His eyes frosted when she stayed braced against the rail. “Sit, now,” he repeated. “We have business to discuss.”

Bravery was one thing. But when his eyes looked as flat and mindless as a shark's, she thought it wise to obey. She sat stiffly and forced herself to accept the second flute he held out.

She'd been wrong, she realized. He had changed. The man she had faced eight years ago had seemed sane. This one . . .