Under the Moon Gate (21 page)

In the months following the assassination attempt on Hitler’s life at Wolf’s Lair, William had known that some five thousand people associated with the plot were rounded up and executed. Nathaniel wondered if Patience’s grandfather had felt the noose tightening then, if he had realized suspicion would arise in the inner circle of power, questioned how long it would take before they wondered whether Wilhelm von Hesselweiss, protégé of Canaris, was a threat to them? Whether he could be trusted, or if he would have to be
handled
as well?

Nathaniel was familiar enough now with the words and thoughts of William Whitestone to know that his first fears would not be for himself but for his wife, whom Nathaniel was convinced he’d loved deeply and to whom he’d given his greatest allegiance.

Nathaniel’s only regret was that Patience finally knew undeniably who and what her grandfather was. That’s why Nathaniel had taken to rereading sections of the journal just before Patience did so he could anticipate her moods. He placed the journal on the coffee table, stretched, and decided it was time to wake up his princess, perhaps with a kiss.

Nathaniel padded into her bedroom in his socks so as not to startle her. But she was already awake.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It’s in the past. It’s all in the past, Nathaniel.”

“Of course,” he said, in an attempt to comfort her. “Patience, I think you were born too late, into the wrong time, even the wrong century.”

Nathaniel had known the effect the journal passages would have on the woman he was growing to love. And there was no way to protect her from that. He’d wanted to rip the pages out of the journal because he knew the words would destroy her. But he could no sooner destroy those pages of history than rip apart the spine of a reference book. He would have given anything to spare Patience from the grief she experienced when she discovered the love she took for granted was an illusion.

In Nathaniel’s mind, Patience was
a miracle.
His
miracle. Had her grandfather ever really appreciated what he had in her?

Chapter 20

While Patience puttered around in the garden, Nathaniel decided it was time to open his grandmother’s letter. The one he had promised on her deathbed to hand deliver to William Whitestone, along with the diamonds. Perhaps the answer to his and William’s questions could be found there. William Whitestone was dead. Nathaniel’s grandmother was dead. What could it matter now if he read the letter to finally discover what had passed between them? Nathaniel brought the crumpled envelope out of the pocket of his jeans and began reading.

To William Whitestone at Marigold House,

William, perhaps you will remember me. Maybe you have even thought of me since we last met. Or perhaps I flatter myself that you would even be interested in what happened to me after all these years. You certainly made quite an impression on me, one I’ll never forget. If you’re reading this, then I am no longer alive. But before I leave this earth, I want you to know that I owe you my life and the lives of my children and grandson. So I am writing to finally thank you properly. A mere letter must seem inadequate after all this time. But your offer of help at such a desperate time in my life meant everything.

When you returned to the hospital and found me missing, I cannot imagine what you must have thought and how you must have worried. But I think you knew who I was and that I had no choice but to leave. My life and the lives of my babies were in danger.

We once guarded each other’s secrets although we were on opposite sides. I could have betrayed you with just one signal. You could have taken my life to save your own. Or you could have left me in the hotel room to die. For certainly our mutual “friend” would have killed me. Or I would have died in childbirth before he got there. But I saw something in you, something good. It was easy to recognize after I had been immersed in evil, literally sleeping with the devil. And that goodness caused you to respond to me when I needed you most.

I had the advantage of knowing what happened to you. It was easy to follow your career. You are a legend in Bermuda. You have done well in your life and done good with it. I hope you found some happiness along with your fame and fortune. It was with great sorrow that I read about the death of your daughter Gwyneth. I cannot even imagine how you must have felt. From the way you cared for my babies, I know you must have been a wonderful father.

I also know the great love story of William and Diana Whitestone. I was fortunate to find love with a wonderful man when I came to America and settled in Virginia. But now I can admit, because I would never have had the courage to say it to your face, I was a little in love with you myself. Maybe it was the bond we forged when you delivered my children.

My daughter and my son were always restless and unhappy and never at peace. I think the twins might have had too much of their father in them. When my daughter abandoned her son, I raised him. My grandson, Nathaniel Morgan, was the real joy in my life. He has brought me so much happiness that all the rest was worth it. I hope your granddaughter has brought your life as much fulfillment as Nathaniel has brought to mine.

I know you will like Nathaniel, and I would like him to meet you. He is at loose ends right now, and I feel that his destiny lies in Bermuda.

So I have asked my grandson to deliver this letter and to return the diamonds you gave me, along with the trunk my son found containing your private papers. Having them helped me find my way through the darkest hours. I have hopes that Nathaniel will find his way, too.

I never knew what became of Nighthawk. That is still a great mystery. Maybe you know his whereabouts? I certainly have wished him in hell often enough, even though he was the father of my children. But there was never any love between us. Thank God he never found me after he left me there in that hotel room. I think he may have been in touch with my son. I fear that he was. Otherwise, why would my son have possession of your trunk with documents that could compromise you? I don’t, for a minute, believe my son’s story about how he came to find the trunk at the bottom of the Atlantic. I will go to my grave hating that man and hoping he never hurts Nathaniel.

I know what you must have thought of me, how my relationship with Nighthawk must have looked to you back then. But there was a purpose in everything I endured. I did what I had to do. I made my choices for my own reasons, hoping that some good would come out of it for the world.

So, my dear William—I hope I can take the liberty of calling you that, because that is how I think of you whenever I think of you, which is often. And I thank God you came to me when you did. You were the answer to my prayers.

Eternally, Gratefully Yours,

Simone (My real name. I’ll bet you never knew. I reclaimed it when I came to America.)

So, his grandmother was the Yvette in William Whitestone’s journal, a British spy and Nighthawk’s mistress. It all began to make sense—the French lullabies, the secrecy surrounding his heritage, and now the proof in her own handwriting.

Would he share the letter with Patience?

Then she’d know his provenance was just as evil as hers. He wasn’t quite prepared to do that, not while there was still a threat against her.

She would banish him from her life and he couldn’t protect her.

Chapter 21

Bermuda 2013

The blood of William Whitestone was on his hands. He could still feel it seeping out of the body of his enemy. He had tried to wash it off dozens of times, to remove all traces, but still it remained to haunt him.

The man called William Whitestone had cried clever tears and uttered words that had almost taken him in. He had looked at William Whitestone with contempt, prepared for the fear, but he was staggered by the love and understanding that shone back at him from the eyes of the nearly dead man. Whitestone had invoked the name of his wife and his child, but he had ignored his victim’s pleas and shown no mercy. He had waited too long for revenge.

But the girl, Patience, had come home unexpectedly, and he’d had to finish it sooner, much sooner, than he had planned, or risk being caught.

Then the damn sea captain from America had sailed in on his strange pirate ship and threatened to ruin everything. What was his connection to Patience, and why did he have to show up here now? He’d have to be dealt with. They both would. And he was looking forward to it.

Chapter 22

When Nathaniel answered the door at Marigold House the next morning, Cecilia breezed in, pulling him into the foyer.

“Where’s Patience?” she asked.

“Still asleep.”

“Good. Because we need to talk.”

“To you, anytime, sugar,” he said, trying to get a rise out of her.

“Why, Cousin Nathaniel, are you flirting with me?” Cecilia purred.

“Do you want me to?”

“Under any other circumstances, you’d already be in my bed.”

He raised one eyebrow.

“But I sense you are attracted to Patience. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

“What makes you think that?” he asked warily.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way your eyes follow her whenever she enters a room and ache with longing when she leaves it.”

“Am I that obvious?”

She smiled and nodded. “Whatever you’re doing, you seem to be good for her. She’s laughing and smiling again. You’re helping her heal. But if I find you’ve hurt her, in any way, I’m going to have to boot your adorable buns back across the Atlantic. After I’ve skinned you alive. I’m just here to warn you to be careful with her.” Cecilia had turned serious. “You strike me as a man who likes women, lots of women. Patience is special. She’s in a very fragile state now, with the loss of her grandparents. I’m the only one looking out for her now. And I won’t have anyone taking advantage of her vulnerability.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Nathaniel asked. “Has she always been so fragile?”

“It’s called mourning,” Cecilia said sarcastically. “She’s had a lot of experience with it lately. So, yes, she is fragile, and she is breakable, and if you mess with her mind or anything else, you’ll have to answer to me. It would be a mistake to underestimate her, though. Because she’s a hell of a lot stronger than she looks right now. In fact, she’s one of the strongest women I know, very anchored, very true, and extremely intelligent,” Cecilia emphasized. “She can handle herself in most any situation. But when it comes to men… She’s very romantic, old fashioned. She hasn’t had much experience. She’s a dreamer. And at the moment, she’s all dreamy-eyed over you. I wouldn’t want to see her dreams shattered.”

“She’s a beautiful woman. I’m sure she’s had her share of men.”

“Now, that’s where your thinking is off course, sailor,” Cecilia explained. “Patience doesn’t have a vain bone in her body. I doubt she thinks of herself as attractive. But anyone can see what a great beauty she is, just like her grandmother was. And she carries herself like a princess. Most men don’t get her. She’s proper and refined, and that tends to put some guys off. I guess she told you she was raised by her grandparents, so she is a little old-fashioned. She’s a rare and complicated woman. Certainly, many men would like to possess her. She’s the best catch in Bermuda. She has looks and money on both her mother’s and her father’s side. Quite a lot of money, in fact.” She stared at him suspiciously. “Are you after her money,
Cousin
Nathaniel?” Cecilia asked pointedly.

“I have enough of my own,” he answered smoothly, not skipping a beat, but almost choking on the guilt. He
was
, after all, chasing her gold, or rather, her grandfather’s gold.

“Well, then, what’s your game? What are you really after? Because I’m not buying this cousin business.”

“That’s between Patience and me. Our business doesn’t concern you.”

“I’m making it my concern,” she challenged.

“If men are lining up at her door, why haven’t I seen any of these suitors?”

“Patience posted the
No Trespassing
sign herself. They’re just respecting her wishes.”

“If they really cared about her, they would know that the last thing she needs is to be alone right now,” Nathaniel pointed out.

“Agreed. That’s why she’s lucky to have you here.”

“When you said she hadn’t had much experience…” He broached the subject tentatively.

“What are you asking me?”

“You know what I’m asking. Has she ever…been with a man?” He held his breath.

Cecilia eyed him carefully.

“That’s getting rather personal. Are you sure you shouldn’t be asking Patience that question?”

“I’m asking you.”

Cecilia hesitated only a moment, apparently deciding she could trust him.

“If you thought not, your instincts would be correct.”

Nathaniel’s stomach stopped pitching and settled before he focused on Cecilia.

“What about you? What’s your story?”

Cecilia was only too happy to talk about herself.

“Patience and I couldn’t be less alike in that department. I’ve been married three times.”

“At your age?” He was incredulous. “What happened?”

“The first time I married too young. The second husband left me cold. He was not hot enough for my blood. The third husband was too hot. He left me for a younger woman.”

“Have you given up on men, then?”

“Heavens, no! I’m like Goldilocks. I’m looking for a man that’s not too hot and not too cold. I’m looking for
Mr. Just Right.”