Under the Moon Gate (30 page)

“Lead the way.” Nathaniel grabbed some of the packages, and when he put his arm around Patience’s shoulder as they walked toward Bermudiana Road, she tried to push it off, with no success.

“What’s up? You won’t hold hands, and you won’t let me put my arm around you. Can’t you cut me a break?”

“Patience?” An older, fashionably dressed woman in front of them signaled.

“Judith,” she acknowledged, guiltily.

“How are you doing, dear?” the woman asked kindly.

“I’m fine, thank you. We were just, Nathaniel suggested that—”

“I forced her out of the house to get some fresh air. I thought she needed a break.”

“Of course she does. Nathaniel, it’s so nice to see you again. It’s comforting for Patience to have her family looking after her in her time of need. You do remember me from the committee meeting?”

“Of course. And it’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Overbrook. Thank you for your concern for Patience.”

“Well, dear, we’re so happy to see her back at the meetings. Patience, your ideas for the celebration are lovely.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Well, if there’s anything I can do, please call.”

“I will,” Patience assured her.

As Judith Overbrook walked away, Patience hissed, “You see? Everyone is talking about us. They think you’re my cousin. How will that look if we’re holding hands, or touching, or—”

“I couldn’t care less how it looks,” Nathaniel said boldly. “You sure do know a lot of people.”

“They’re friends, Nathaniel. Well-meaning friends. Let’s duck into the restaurant before anyone else sees us.”

“Don’t I get any credit for being charming?” Nathaniel teased.

“A little.”

After the restaurant owner expressed his condolences and Patience spoke with several other businessmen and acquaintances she knew in the lunch crowd, she and Nathaniel settled into a table at the back of the room.

“It’s good and dark in here,” Patience observed, looking around at the sleekly polished wood tones of the maritime decor. “Private.”

“Why, what did you have in mind? Do you want to be alone with me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just want to be left alone. Don’t you see?”

He reached across the table to stroke her hand.

“Trouble is, Patience, I can’t leave you alone.” Nathaniel got up from the booth and sat beside her on the upholstered bench seat, kissed her lightly on the lips, then more urgently, flustering and exciting her. “I can’t stop touching you. I don’t want to stop. Let’s get out of here, Patience.”

“I thought you were hungry,” she whispered trying to catch her breath.

“I am,” he said, looking straight at her until she blushed.
It was time, way past time
.

PART FOUR

Destiny and Revenge

Bermuda 2013

Chapter 27

It was time. Soon she would see. And he would finally get what he deserved. What he had been waiting for all these years. Revenge and reward. And wouldn’t they both be sweet? “William Whitestone” got what was coming to him, and now Patience would pay for the sins of her grandfather. History was repeating itself. He didn’t feel sorry for her. Not one bit. In fact, he hated her.

He had plotted and he had planned, and all his hard work was about to pay off. How would he do it? He’d thought long and hard about that, hidden away in his cramped quarters while she pranced around Marigold House without a care in the world. The pampered, spoiled grandchild. Well, things were about to change.

Would he shoot her? Too impersonal. Then it would be over too fast. Drowning would be easy, but too good for her. Accidental fall? No. Torture left a nice taste in his mouth. Slow and painful. Apparent suicide? She was so distraught over the brutal death of her grandfather and the tragic death of her grandmother so soon after. She had always been fragile. No wonder she couldn’t go on living. Maybe he’d even force her to write her own suicide note.

He’d enjoy watching her beg and plead for her life, but there would be no one to hear her screams. He needed to make her suffer, the way he had suffered.

But first, of course, he would collect his due. After all, what would she need with money after she was dead?

He’d have to get her alone. But that sea captain barely let her out of his sight. He would have to lure the man away with a warning that Patience was in danger and demand that he meet him at a designated place in town. That would leave pretty Patience defenseless. Yes, it would be better to do it in the house where he had killed her grandfather. They’d start in the study. That would be fitting.

He needed a drink now. It would make the years of neglect and disillusion easier to swallow. Time to take the bus into town. No one knew him, so he could have a drink anywhere. He’d enjoy some fish chowder, washed down by a Dark ’n Stormy™. Prices were high in Bermuda, so he couldn’t afford to splurge. Not yet. Killing William Whitestone had been satisfying, but in his rage he hadn’t thought the plan through. He’d killed the man before he could arrange to squeeze more money out of him afterwards. Things would be different with Patience.

She and her sea captain were up to something. He knew they were. He had caught wind of it when he rifled through the papers on the boat, but the man had come back before he could make sense of what he was seeing. He’d had to leave before he was ready. Something about gold, a fortune to be had. He knew that Whitestone was an important man. And rich. And some of that money rightfully belonged to him.

He had tried to frighten Patience with phone calls, which had worked, up to a point, until the sea captain started answering the phone. And he didn’t scare easily. He was living with her in the house now, and that complicated things. So, no more threatening calls or notes to the girl. She was frightened enough.

He had set the stage brilliantly. She was primed. She would do anything he wanted now. He knew she would. It was time for action. He would make his move tonight. It would have to be tonight, before he lost his nerve. A little rum on the brain wouldn’t dull his instincts or dampen his pleasure. She was a pretty little thing. Too bad she’d end up bloated and beaten, washed up on some beach. No, he couldn’t afford to feel sorry for her. It must be the liquor that was going to his brain. No one had ever felt sorry for him. And when she was dead, he’d finally be at peace. With her demise, he could bury all the demons of his past.

Chapter 28

Nathaniel’s brain was raging. He had to stomp down his anger before he saw Patience or she would suspect something was wrong. He remembered bringing her home from the restaurant with a mind to finally take her to bed. He’d had the overwhelming urge to be close to her, closer than the space across a restaurant table permitted.

It was all he could think about, but he’d made the mistake of stopping at the
Fair Winds,
telling her he’d be right up to the house. And that’s when he had discovered the note.

The note that was now crumpled in his pocket. Someone had left it for him on the boat where he was sure to find it. It stated in no uncertain terms that Patience would pay if Nathaniel didn’t meet him at Casey’s, in town, tonight. He thought he had walked by Casey’s earlier that afternoon. The bar was narrow and crowded. It was a good place to be if you wanted to blend into the background.

He knew he should call in the police. He didn’t have the experience to handle something like this. The stalker was certainly dangerous, and he was getting closer. But this was nobody else’s business. And the man had specifically threatened Patience with imminent death if he contacted the authorities. He didn’t doubt the stalker would follow through on his threats. Who the hell was this man who was tracking them? He certainly wasn’t discreet. He was sloppy, and he left signs everywhere. Maybe intentionally. Perhaps it was Nighthawk coming to collect his due? If it was Nighthawk, he’d have to be an old man by now, wouldn’t he? He could take an old man. But evil transcended age.

Whoever he was, he had been in Marigold House, and on the
Fair Winds
several times. He was lurking, lying in wait for them, playing with them, biding his time. And now, apparently, their time was up. No doubt he was a contemporary of Patience’s grandfather, one of a nest of agents Wilhelm von Hesselweiss had planted on the island. But Nathaniel was flying blind. He didn’t know how many of them there were, or what had become of them since the war. Surely some of them had remained on the island. It had to be someone who knew about the gold. That could be any number of people. Island Eagle and Nighthawk could not have kept the gold a secret known only to themselves. The island was too small, too insular. They would have needed assistance to bring it ashore and to bury it.

If the stalker had gotten wind of the existence of a buried treasure, Nathaniel could find out what he was after and shut him down before word got out. And as long as he was talking to the man, he couldn’t hurt Patience, Nathaniel reasoned. He wanted to get his hands on the bottom-feeder who thought he could breach his boat and threaten his girl.

So what if he was possessive of Patience? He had a lot invested in her. He may as well face it. He loved her. How had that happened? He had come for the gold, and now
she
was all he could think about. He would give anything, pay anything, relinquish every last ounce of the gold, just to keep her safe. He had never been as sure of anything in his life. If that was love, then yes, he supposed, he was in love. She would just have to deal with it.

He walked up the stone stairs slowly, trying to work out the best way to approach her. He used the key she had given him to get back inside the house.

“Patience,” he called, trying to sound nonchalant as he walked in the side door.

“In here,” she answered cheerfully, acknowledging his presence. When he entered the kitchen, she was busy at the counter, apron on, happily peeling and preparing. She’d been watching Nathaniel cook enough times that she thought she could accomplish a meal by herself. She hoped it wasn’t too much to expect. With a large carving knife, she was trying to chop onions. Ingredients were scattered all over the granite surface of the island. A cookbook was propped up on the counter. Cabinets were flung open, the faucet was running and so were her eyes.

“Patience, what’s the matter? Have you been crying?”

“Crying? Oh no, silly. It’s the onions. I’ve been peeling onions.”

“Hey, I thought maybe we should go into town for a drink or dinner or something, to finish off the day. It would do us good.”

“Oh, but we just came from town, and I thought you said… I mean…” Patience was confused. She dropped the onion and the knife to crunch up her skirt in her fists. Her heart was beating fast, her brain going fuzzy. She must have misinterpreted his advances at The Lobster Pot. She was nervous and excited at the same time. She’d thought he wanted her, and she was finally ready to give herself to him, and then he had disappeared to his boat. She’d considered waiting in the bedroom, but when he’d been gone so long she had dreamed up the idea of making dinner to keep herself occupied.

She must have misread his intentions. Why would someone so dashing and daring and handsome be interested in her when he could have anybody else in the world and probably did have someone else? A girl in every port. Wasn’t that the expression? She turned away from the counter.

“Can’t you see I’m making you dinner?” she chattered, spilling the words quickly to quell her nerves. “All on my own. I’m so excited. It’s going to be fancy, Nathaniel. I found this great recipe, and I know I can do it. We simply can’t go out to dinner tonight.”

****

He smiled. “Hey, that’s great.” That was damn near perfect. He had counted on her not wanting to go with him. He didn’t want her to go. Not for this meeting.

“Well, let me just whip into town for a while, then. I’ll pick us up a nice bottle of wine to go with dinner. I’ll be back before you even miss me.” His heart was beating out of his chest. He was doing his best to calm her down, but he couldn’t seem to gain control over his own ricocheting emotions.

“Not now, Nathaniel,” Patience protested. “Please. What if the stalker comes back?” She didn’t want to admit she was afraid. “Besides, I have a wonderful selection of wines here.” She didn’t want to let him go.

“Patience, I
need
to go into town for a while,” he said coolly.

“Well, okay,” she relented. “But will you be back before dark? I don’t think you’ve quite got the hang of the roads yet. I don’t want them scraping my dinner companion off the street.”

“What an appetizing thought. Umm, I hate to leave you alone, though. So, how about if I call Cecilia and invite her over to keep you company?”

“I can handle dinner without Cecilia. I have everything under control. Don’t worry. Besides, I want this dinner to be just for the two of us.” She blushed, and her eyelashes fluttered.

“Oh,” he choked, his heart racing. He reached out and closed his hand over hers. Her eyes were still watery. He had to remind himself that it was only the onions. He didn’t want to leave her, not now, not ever. He wanted to scoop her up for a never-ending kiss, drag her into the bedroom and toss her on the bed, but he couldn’t afford to be late to Casey’s. Too much was riding on it. On impulse, he leaned in and placed a quick, soft kiss on her lips. Patience kissed him back with a sweetness and a fire that took his breath away.