Under the Moon Gate (23 page)

Then his eyes grew dim, and he reached for her hand. Her hand turned cold in his.

“Sun, sun,” he said, struggling to speak, so she did her best to shield his eyes from the glare.

“Please forgive me. Goodbye,
Liebchen
.”

She screamed and pulled herself away to get to a phone.

By the time she’d returned from calling emergency services, he had crawled away and was lying face up, dead eyes staring into the sun, smiling, under the moon gate.

It was too soon. She needed more time with him.

Patience was crying in her sleep, and something was pounding in her head. The police, were they pounding at the door?

“Patience, Patience, open this door. Let me in. Let me in now or I’ll break down the door.” The pounding was getting louder, and suddenly Nathaniel was there and she was in his arms.

“Just a dream,” he soothed, smoothing one hand rhythmically up and down her back and gently stroking her hair with the other. “You were having another bad dream. I’m here now, sweetheart.”

Almost hypnotized by the motion and the soft words he murmured, Patience leaned closer into him.

“Under the moon gate. Under the moon gate,” she sighed. “Kiss me.”

And he did. Even though he knew she was half asleep, barely conscious. He kissed her, not just because he wanted to, but because he
had
to.

When she blinked, she looked up at him.

“The door. I locked the door.”

“I broke it down,” he smiled crookedly. “Sorry. I thought you needed me.”

She did, she thought. She did. More than she wanted to admit.

“The blood,” she said. “You’ll need to clean up the blood, Nathaniel. There’s so much of it.”

“Blood? Are you hurt?” Anxiously examining every inch of her shaking body, he could find no blood.

“In the study. It’s in the study. I can’t go in there.”

“It’s the dream again. I was just in the study, and there’s no blood there.” He held her tighter in his arms. “What did you mean when you said ‘under the moon gate’?” Nathaniel asked.

“The moon gate at the entrance to the garden. My grandfather built it for my grandmother right after their wedding. She planted the garden for him as a wedding present. He said it reminded him of home, of his past, but that the moon gate was also a symbol of his new home here in Bermuda and their future together.”

Nathaniel was deep in thought. “Do you suppose, Patience, that he buried the gold under there? It makes sense.”

“Under the moon gate? He’d never have buried anything there, because he’d never dig it up. Desecrating it would be sacrilegious to him. That was their sacred spot. He died there, crawled there so he could be closer to her in the end.”

“Yes, but you said he didn’t finish it until after they were married. Maybe he meant to bury something there and cover it over.”

“But why would he bury it in a place he would never access?” she said, puzzled.

Patience bit her lower lip and twisted her nightgown. Then she broke into a smile. “Nathaniel, what if it is true what you said? What if he did bury the gold under the moon gate? He’d never have dug that up. So that would mean he never intended to use it. And we know the move against Bermuda was never actually made by the Nazis. Maybe he left it there because he changed his mind about what to do with it.”

She was desperate, he knew, to believe the best about her grandfather.

“Maybe. Maybe it happened just that way,” he said. “But if we’re ever to find out, we’re going to have to do some digging ourselves. So get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow. You’ll have to bundle up. Even though it’s warm outside, you always get so cold. You don’t have enough meat on your bones. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning, and then we’ll get started.”

“I’m not going to help you dig under the moon gate.” She frowned.

“I don’t expect you to,” he countered. “You’re a featherweight. The shovel probably weighs more than you do. You’re going to settle yourself into a nice comfortable lounge chair, under a warm blanket, with a nice thick history book or a racy romance, and watch me dig.”

“You make me sound like a frail little old lady,” she pouted. “I’m not a featherweight. I’m stronger than I look. But I’m not going to help you nail the lid on my grandfather’s coffin or sully my family’s reputation.”

“That was never my intention,” Nathaniel objected, and, trying to get her mind off more serious matters, he added, “But I
could
knock you over with a feather.”

He picked her up and whirled her around the bedroom. “That book you’re reading weighs more than you. Featherweight, featherweight.”

She beat her fists against his chest.

“Take that back.”

“Featherweight,” he teased, tossing her onto the bed. Then they took one look at each other and moved together.

“Oh, Patience,” he sighed, and kissed her as she came into his arms.

“Nathaniel.”

He gave her a deep kiss, and she brought her arms around his neck.

“Hold me, just hold me,” she murmured.

“You’re scared, aren’t you? Of what we might find.”

“Yes. A little. Although I don’t really think we’ll find anything.”
And if you find the gold, after you find it, you’ll leave. I’m scared of that most of all.

He rubbed his lips against hers and nuzzled his face in her neck.

“Whatever we find, Patience, I won’t let it hurt you. I would never hurt you.”

If you leave me, that will hurt me.

“And what about my family?”

“They’re a part of you,” he whispered.

Nathaniel brought his hand up to her face and stroked her cheek. “Patience, about what’s happening between us—”

“I’ve already forgotten it,” she said, as she turned away so she wouldn’t have to face the hurt and confusion in his eyes.

Chapter 23

The next day dawned bright and beautiful. Today was going to be the day, Nathaniel thought, if his luck held. The weather portended excellent prospects. Part of him didn’t want to find the gold. But his reluctance wasn’t going to stop him.

After Patience came out of her bedroom, wearing shorts and a body-molding T-shirt, Nathaniel fixed some tea and baked some biscuits. He broke apart one fluffy biscuit, smothered it in marmalade, and fed it to her.

“I could get used to this, sailor.” She laughed, and he realized she’d been doing more and more of that lately. He hoped it was because she felt good, natural, with him and had begun to trust him and stop suspecting him. He had come here for the gold. That hadn’t changed, but somewhere along the way perhaps she had captured a piece of his heart. He hoped the reverse was true, as well.

“And I could get used to you, in those shorts,” he said, raising an eyebrow and looking at her appraisingly, “and that T-shirt.”

“You like the way I look?” She smiled.

“More and more each day,” he replied softly.

After breakfast, they were headed outside when the doorbell rang.

“Damn,” Nathaniel fussed. “Who the hell could that be? We can’t afford to be disturbed. Whoever it is, send them away.”

“Calm down, Nathaniel. It’s probably just some delivery person with more food or a condolence note.”

Nathaniel listened, even peeked around the corner as Patience answered the door. Standing before her was a tall, lanky man, attractive with his curly blond hair, dreamy blue eyes, and poet’s face. He had the look of a Greek god—Apollo incarnate in a banker’s suit.

“Patience Whitestone?” he queried.

“Yes, that’s me. May I help you?”

“No, but I hope I can help you,” he said, bringing from behind his back a magnificent arrangement of yellow roses and presenting it to her. “Guaranteed to lift your spirits.”

“Yellow roses!” she gushed. “My favorite! Are they for me?”

“Of course.” His smile revealed perfect teeth.

“Yellow roses are so hard to get in Bermuda, especially this time of year. Who sent them? Is there a note with the arrangement? Let me get you something for your trouble.”

“Oh, no. I think you misunderstood. I’m not the delivery boy. And there’s no note. I’m delivering them in person. They’re from me.”

“Do I know you?” she asked, puzzled, trying unsuccessfully to place him.

“Not exactly, but your grandmother did.”

“My grandmother?” Her shock was evident. “But my grandmother is…”

“If you will just invite me in, I’ll explain.”

“Of course.” She was obviously flustered but thought this man was no threat as she ushered him in and closed the door behind him.

“Let me just get a vase to put these in. They’re lovely. I’ll be right back.”

Holding the mammoth arrangement in front of her, her view was blocked, and she collided with Nathaniel.

“What the hell are those?” Nathaniel demanded.

“Yellow roses.”

“I can see that, but who sent them?” Nathaniel allowed suspicion to fill his words.

“A friend of my grandmother’s.”

“And does this friend have a name?”

“I…well…I didn’t think to ask.”

“You didn’t think to ask?” he repeated. “Where is this person now?”

“He’s sitting in the drawing room.”

“Really.” He fixed her with a glare. “And are you in the habit of letting strangers into your home?”

“I let
you
in, didn’t I?” she replied sweetly.

“You think that’s funny?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“I don’t think it’s funny when you let a stranger in the house, a stranger who might be connected with our stalker or may be the stalker himself,” Nathaniel fumed.

“Oh, I hadn’t considered that. He looks harmless.”

“You hadn’t considered… No, of course not. Now I will have to deal with him.”

“Nathaniel, lower your voice. He’ll hear us. You’re being rude. He’s just given me roses. No one has ever given me flowers, except Grandfather. I need to get them into water.” Her voice nearly broke, and he thought he detected a tear in her eye.

Damn it all! Why hadn’t he thought of giving her flowers? Women loved flowers. And there was a whole garden of them right outside the door. The least he could have done was pick one of them for her. Imagine that. No one had ever given her flowers before.

Nathaniel strode into the drawing room, spoiling for a fight.

The man he was ready to do battle with stood up from the couch.

“Who are you?” Nathaniel demanded, sweeping the man with a glance. Damn, the man was…
pretty
. That was the only word for it. He had the kind of dreamy looks women swooned over.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he said, offering a hand that Nathaniel refused to shake. “I’m Hamilton Farnsworth, from London.”

“What are you doing here?” Nathaniel asked gruffly.

“I’m here to call on Patience,” he answered, unflustered.

“Why?”

“I’d rather discuss it with Patience. It’s a private matter.”

“Private?” Nathaniel was steaming. “I’m her cousin, and you can discuss it with me.”

“Nathaniel!” Patience protested, sailing into the room with the vase of flowers. “Get away from my guest and try to control yourself.”

“I’m perfectly in control of myself. I was just about to show this man to the door.”

“Just take a seat and let me handle this.”

Nathaniel grumbled as Patience placed the flower arrangement on the sideboard.

“Allow me to introduce myself,
again,
” the man said pointedly, turning on his charm as he reached for Patience’s hand. “I’m Hamilton Farnsworth of the London Farnsworths.”

She held out her hand, and he kissed it. Patience blushed.

“You’re even more beautiful than your grandmother led me to believe.”

Nathaniel sat down on the couch, slouched, and rolled his eyes.
This guy is a major bullshit artist
.

“How did you know my grandmother?”

“We corresponded for a time, and then she invited me for a visit. But by the time I could get here she had already passed away.”

A cloud of sadness passed over Patience’s face.

“What was your business with my grandmother?” she asked.

“You,” he stated simply.

“Me?” she asked, confused.

“We corresponded about you. Didn’t she tell you about me?”

“No. I don’t understand.”

“I knew this was going to be difficult,” the man said. “You see, your grandmother intended that we…I mean… How shall I put this delicately…”

“Just spit it out,” Nathaniel growled from his place on the couch. “We don’t have all day.”

“Nathaniel, please!” Patience pleaded. “Behave yourself.”

Nathaniel crossed his arms and glared at Hamilton.

“I think she had in mind some sort of arrangement,” he began.

“An arrangement? What sort of arrangement?”

“A flower arrangement, obviously,” Nathaniel sputtered.