War of Hearts, A Historical Romance (23 page)

“Haven’t lost a passenger today, and I ain’t
gonna start with you.”

“Thanks,” Sarah replied. Jonathan joined her
as well as four others. The boat was pushed away from the
Vixen
with an oar and two men started a steady pace, pulling
them closer to land.

Sarah turned her attention back to the ship,
her eyes seeking out Tristan. She found him standing by the
railing; wind was whipping through his glorious blond hair as he
watched her go.

Sarah felt eyes watching her and she
reluctantly looked way. The motion in the small boat was more
pronounced and she felt sick as nausea washed over her yet again.
Her hand clutched her queasy stomach and she drew in deep breaths,
trying to calm herself.

Jonathan chuckled at her, “You’ll feel
better soon; land doesn’t move as much.” Sarah nodded, dipping her
hand into the cool water and splashing it on her face and neck.

The men rowed as far as they could and the
small crew hopped out, dragging the boat as close to the beach as
possible. Sarah gratefully grasped Jonathan’s arm as he helped her
out of the shifting boat and into ankle deep water. Her dress was
getting soaked, but she didn’t care. She waded onto the land and
sat in the sand with relief.

She was tired from mopping, but walking the
short way through first the water, and then sand, seemed to sap the
rest of her energy. She still felt a bit dizzy but was pleased she
hadn’t hurled. Ignoring her now wet dress, covered in sand, she sat
and watched the small boat make trip after trip. She knew she
should check on the ill, but she trusted Wit. She could see them
further up the beach near the trees. If anything were urgent, he
would yell for her. The soothing sound of the sea, and the
caressing breeze lulled her to sleep.

***

Tristan oversaw the remainder of the
supplies and food moved to the beach. Some of his men would stay on
board to secure the ship. He was anxious to be with Sarah. He
didn’t trust his men completely to be around her alone. Hell, he
didn’t like the idea of any man being near her. The thought
surprised him; he hadn’t felt so protective over his other
conquests. A conquest? Is that all she was to him? He turned his
head as a shadow moved next to him. “Go ahead; I’ll keep an eye on
Vixen
.”

Tristan hesitated just for a second before
nodding in agreement. “Thanks, Zack. I can always count on
you.”

“Of course, I’m loyal to the end,” Zack
replied, his smile not quite meeting his dark eyes.

The short journey to land was uneventful.
Tristan’s gaze swept the shoreline, taking in all of the activity,
or lack thereof. His men seemed to be enjoying their reprieve on
the small island. Tristan had stopped here several times before. It
was too small to be inhabited, but would be a great place to hide
away for a bit.

His eyes drifted over to Sarah, her still
form was curled up on the sand and he started toward her in
concern. Kneeling next to her, he brushed the loose strands of hair
from her face. She looked more peaked than he recalled, and his
brow creased in worry.

Her eyes blinked open, revealing the
distinctive green that reminded him of spring. “Are you
alright?”

She nodded, pushing herself up to a sitting
position.

“I guess I was more tired than I thought.”
Her eyes flitted over to the section of beach for the infirm.

“They are fine. It is you I’m worried
about.”

“I’m fine, now that I’m on land. I would
make a dreadful pirate though,” she joked, trying to reassure him.
It did not work.

“You need to eat. I’ll work on our shelter,
and then you will rest.”

“But…” Her rebuttal was cut off with a
glance, and she watched him move down the beach to talk to his men.
A plate of bread and cheese was soon delivered and she nibbled at
it, trying to settle her stomach.

She had hoped being on land would help in
that aspect, however she still had the sensation she was moving.
She took a bite of the mild cheese and chewed slowly. A thought
tickled at the back of her mind, that perhaps it wasn’t
seasickness. A number of ailments that caused nausea swam through
her mind. None of them were reassuring.

She watched as several men joined Tristan
and used axes to hack out pieces of wood from the forest to build a
shelter. She knew they could all stay on the ship if they wanted,
but she needed a break. Overhearing the other newly freed men, they
were happy as well to be off a ship and on land.

She heard a groan and turned to see a
tired-looking Wit flop down next to her. “Don’t see why we’re
abandoning a good ship.”

She smiled at him. “We aren’t abandoning it.
Tristan thought it would be a good place to meet up with
Gabriel.”

“And you?”

“I think the men will heal faster being out
in the fresh air.”

“How can air heal people?” he scoffed.

“It can heal their soul,” she replied.
“Which is just as important, if not more, than their bodies.”

Wit snorted. “I’d rather be on the sea than
lookin’ at it.”

“You can head back, it’s not too far.”

“Arms are too tired. Made four trips
already,” he grumbled.

“Perhaps you need some more air,” she
teased.

Tristan returned later and offered her his
hand. “Your shelter is ready.” She took it and stood up slowly.
Nodding goodbye to Wit, she followed Tristan into the tree
line.

He led her to a small lean-to covered with
an old sail. He pulled back the flap to reveal a small area barely
large enough for one. She tried to hide her smile, knowing the
effort he and his men put into it.

“It’s very…sturdy.”

“I thought I would keep you secreted away.
Besides it’s only for a little while.”

Sarah turned and wrapped her arms around
him. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here with you.” She
lifted her face up to meet his lips as they descended down onto
hers.

A shot resounded through the stillness and
Tristan cursed, moving her from him. “Stay here!”

She stood in shock, watching him run toward
the beach. Who would be firing? It couldn’t be another ship; they
would have been alerted. The wind carried the sound of men’s shouts
toward her. Hesitating for a second, she took off after him. The
sandy ground pulled at her feet and she fell, landing on her hands
and knees. Looking up, she could see most of the men shouting and
waving at the
Vixen
. Confusion settled over her, until she
realized the sails were up and the ship was slowly moving away.

She could see men scuffling on the deck and
she screamed out as another shot erupted and a body fell into the
water. Forcing herself to her feet she pushed her way to the front.
She looked frantically for Tristan and spotted his golden head in
the water. Using powerful strokes, he swam quickly toward the
injured man. The water around him was turning darker and Sarah
prayed for their safety. Her eyes darted between the two men slowly
making their way back to shore and the man on the
Vixen
holding the pistol. Sunlight glinted off the barrel as he leveled
it to the water and took aim.

“Noooo!” a gut wrenching yell tore from her
throat as the pistol discharged again.

Someone grabbed her arm. “Get back!” Wit’s
rough voice ordered.

“No,” she repeated, no other words coming to
her mind.

Wit shook her roughly. “Listen! That ship
has much bigger guns to worry about than that pea shooter.”

“But Tristan...” she sputtered, as he
dragged her back toward the trees.

“Tristan can take care of himself; nothing
is gonna happen to you on my watch.”

“Your watch? You’ve been spying on me?” she
asked with a hint of anger.

“Tristan was worried for your safety. He
wasn’t sure all of his men would accept his change in allegiance.”
Wit explained.

Sarah shook her head. “I can’t deal with
this now. I have to get to Tristan.” She turned to head back to the
beach and stopped short, seeing him in front of her. He was soaking
wet and had a grim look on his face. His sleeve was tinged with
blood and Sarah immediately started tugging it up his arm.

He stilled her hand. “It is not my blood.”
His eyes rose to meet Wit’s. “Fredrick is dead.”

Wit’s face was impassive; only his clenched
hands relayed his pain. This was a man who had seen death before,
too much before. Sarah’s hand went to her mouth; she hadn’t known
him well but knew he was one of Tristan’s confidants. Her heart
ached almost as if she was feeling his pain. She couldn’t help but
to feel that she was to blame for this. For the loss of his ship,
for the loss of his friend.

Tristan, exhausted mentally and physically,
sat on the sand, holding his head in his hands. He was the perfect
picture of despair. Sarah dropped to her knees by his side.

“Tristan, it will be alright.”

He looked up at her with an incredulous look
on his face. “Alright? Did you not see our ship just sail away? Or
the men slain trying to stop them? Do you not realize we only have
enough food and water for two or three days?”

“But the
Sea Maiden
...”

He barked out a laugh, “The
Sea
Maiden
was supposed to have followed us to the Island. We
should have met up with her at sea. She is lost as well. Everything
is gone.”

“Listen, you may have given up hope, but I
have not. The
Sea Maiden
will come, and we will sustain
ourselves as well as we can until then.”

“And how can you be so sure?”

“You said it yourself. Gabriel is the best
Captain there is. If you have any faith at all, have faith in that.
Now your men need a leader. Get on your feet and lead!”

Tristan looked into her face flushed with
anger and determination. She must despise him. After all, it was he
that used her for his own pleasure. He had promised safe passage
for her men, and due to his own short-sightedness, he had doomed
them all. Could he face his men and give them false hope?

At one point in his life he would have no
qualms of doing just that; had he grown a conscience? He looked up,
seeing Wit and the faces of his men watching him expectantly. The
only sound was the rustling of leaves as the wind caressed them and
the waves crashed onto the beach.

Finding an inner strength, he stood. “There
has been a change of plans; it appears our stay may be
indefinite.”

“What about the
Sea Maiden
?” a voice
called out.

“Her status is unknown; we can’t count on
her.”

Jonathan stepped forward. “I can count on my
brother,” he spoke as the men added their own thoughts.

Tristan held his hand up and the men’s
grumblings subsided. “Until help arrives, what food and water we
have will be rationed. We need men to build shelters and gather
wood. Get to it.”

“Sir?” a voice called out to him. Tristan
looked over at the pox-scarred man; he barely had enough strength
to stand, but stand he did. “It may seem folly; however, I want to
thank you and the miss for rescuing me.”

“Hmmpf, you were rescued only to die on this
God-forsaken land.”

“If it is his will, however, I believe he
has other plans for me. If I do die here, it will be as a free man,
not as some vermin that the British tossed aside.” He wobbled a bit
and Sarah went to his side. Tristan watched, deep in thought as
they moved slowly down the beach.

“You should be resting,” Sarah scolded.

“And miss all the excitement?”

She shook her head. “I could live happily
with a little less excitement in my life.”

“But you chose this, did you not? Why did
you save us?” he asked, settling down on the sandy blanket to
rest.

“When all this ruckus began, it wasn’t my
fight. Not until it fell on our doorstep. I still did nothing, even
when my parents were killed. When I lost my brother, it all finally
made sense to me. That it is my fight, and not choosing a side,
is
choosing a side. So I finally stepped up, to do whatever
I could. When I heard about the prison ships, I knew I had to help.
How did you end up on the ship anyhow? You don’t look like a
soldier.”

“Well as you said, I chose a side. Now it
seems a bit silly. However, at the time, I thought what I was doing
was right. When the British took over New York, it really didn’t
affect me at all. I had a shoe shop and business was booming with
all the brass in town. Then the fire happened. They demanded not
only my house, but my shop as well to house the military. I
refused, and ended up in a warehouse of some sort for a while. When
it grew too crowded of unruly citizens, and what poor chaps they
hadn’t run through on sight, I was moved to the prison ship. Hadn’t
seen daylight in months. So being on this here island is a
pleasure.”

Sarah shook her head. “I’m sure it is. You
need to rest.” She stood and checked on the other men. Most were in
good spirits; the only ones grumbling were Tristan’s men. And they
were mostly angry with themselves for being duped.

Fatigue was catching up with her and she
made her way back to her enclosure to rest. She looked for Tristan
as she walked, but did not see him. She pulled back the sail flap
and lay down to sleep.

She woke to the feeling of something moving.
She sat up with a start, only to find Tristan hunched over in the
small space next to her. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded and regretfully pushed herself up
to a sitting position.

“I will get us out of this; ships come by
occasionally. We can get help,” he insisted.

“Tristan, I’m sorry about the
Vixen
.
I can’t help but feel responsible. You were only trying to help
me.”

Tristan shook his head. “Don’t give me so
much credit. Sarah, I’m an ass. I had no interest in changing my
allegiance, or saving anyone. I only cared about myself, and I used
you for my own gain. I wanted you, so I did whatever I had to do to
get you.”