Wild Bells to the Wild Sky (26 page)

Chapter Eleven

L
ily Francisca Christian
stared down at her feet. How she longed to kick off the shoes that pinched her toes and roll down the stockings that felt so strange against her skin. Lifting her heavy skirts, she would run barefoot through the surf. She could feel the West Indian sun warm against her face, drying the sea spray as she splashed through the waves and licked the salt from her lips.

Lily sighed as she heard the rain splattering in wind-blown sheets against the diamond-shaped panes of glass in the window. She shivered, unaccustomed to the coolness, and snuggled
deeper
against the velvet cushions in the window seat. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she drew them against her chest and rested her chin on top.

An unladylike position. Honoria Penmorley would have declared with a haughty, dismissing glance. Indeed, Honoria Penmorley would never have been found sitting thusly. Honoria Penmorley was a lady. But Lily Christian and her brother and sister were half-wild children who'd been raised without any thought to civilized behavior. Basil would have chuckled at that, Lily thought as she
remembered
the hurtful words she had overheard Honoria Penmorley speak to Valentine Whitelaw in the great hall the day before. But Mistress Honoria Penmorley had known a moment's discomfort, Lily remembered with a sly grin, when she had entered the room and greeted the woman in perfect French, then continued to converse in Spanish, throwing in a phrase or two of flawless Latin and Greek just to put Honoria Penmorley on her mettle.

Lily hugged herself, thinking of Valentine Whitelaw's smile and how he had winked at her conspiratorially before returning his attention to his genteel and now flustered guest. Even Thomas Sandrick, who had accompanied them to Ravindzara, had hidden a slight grin behind his hand, politely pretending not to have noticed Honoria Penmorley's flushed face.
Lily
wrinkled her nose in distaste as she thought of the many times Sir Rodger and
Honoria
Penmorley had visited since the
Madrigal
had docked at Falmouth over a week earlier and her captain and passengers had arrived at Ravindzara. Thomas Sandrick and several of the other gentlemen aboard the
Madrigal
had ridden with their captain to his home. Liam O'Hara, however, had left the ship's company with the intention of sailing home to Ireland, a wealthier, if no wiser, man than before. The
Madrigal's
crew awaited their captain's return to Falmouth within the week, when they would continue their journey along the south coast of England, bound for London this time.

Lily's thin shoulders slumped dejectedly. If only they could have sailed forever aboard the
Madrigal
. With the wind filling her sails and the stars above, they could have sailed around the world, never making port until they returned to the island.

She had not always been so fond of the
Madrigal
or her captain. She had no memory of Valentine Whitelaw saving her from drowning that day on the island. He had dived into the surf after her and brought her safely to shore. Tristram, however, remembered everything that had happened. He had recounted the tale to her when she regained consciousness. Of course, by then, the
Madrigal
had already set sail and whether she wished to leave the island or not had been decided for her by Valentine Whitelaw.

Tristram had thought she was dead when Valentine Whitelaw carried her out of the surf. She had reminded him of one of those bodies they'd found floating in the bay, he had confided to her, touching her arm just to make certain her skin had lost that clammy feeling. He told her how he had struggled to free himself from the Turk, who really wasn't as bad as they'd originally thought. Tristram had shuddered when he told her about the blood trickling from her head, and how Dulcie and Capabells had started howling. When Valentine Whitelaw had placed her on the sands, Cisco had flown down to land on her shoulder. Tristram's eyes had grown wide when he'd told her how he thought the captain was going to wring Cisco's neck when the parrot had started giggling and talking about blood, and every time the captain had given an order, Cis
c
o had mimicked him. He had been afraid the captain wasn't going to let Capabells
-
-who'd attacked the Turk again when he'd gotten too close
-
-and Cisco
-
-who'd never stopped giggling-
-
aboard the
Madrigal
when she'd sailed. Of course, Tristram said with a wide grin, Cappie had jumped into the boat before anyone had invited him, scolding the
coxswain
when he'd tried to take up his oars. And Cisco had landed on Valentine's shoulder when the captain had started to carry her to the boat, Tristram told Lily, awed still by the
remembrance
of what Valentine had vowed he was going to do to the parrot feather by feather.

Only Choco had remained behind on the island. She hadn't even had a chance to say good-bye to him, Lily thought sadly. Then she grinned mischievously when she thought of the Madrigal's crew trying to catch their
tigre enojado
. Not that they had even tried, for the jungle cat was the one pet of theirs that Valentine Whitelaw had declared he was not going to take aboard his ship. And Lily knew he had been right. Although Lily's concern had been for Choco rather than the crew, who would have had to sail with a caged beast aboard. Choco's home was on the island, just as theirs had been. He would be happy nowhere else.

Tristram had really believed she was going to die, Lily remembered in amazement. His voice had wobbled when he spoke of how she hadn't opened her eyes for two whole days and nights, and then she'd been delirious for over a week. The
captain
had been scared, too, Tristram said, impressed by the attention Lily had received. The captain hadn't even left her side when his men had started to salvage what they could from the wreck. Tristram's voice had risen excitedly when he'd described the chests of gold and silver the crew of the
Madrigal
had brought up from the bottom. they had celebrated all night long, dancing and laughing and singing those funny songs of theirs.

They had even held a
wrestling
match, Tristram had begun to tell Lily when she had interrupted him to ask if he'd told this Valentine Whitelaw about their treasure chest in the cave. Tristram had looked at her in surprise. Of course he hadn't said anything, it was their secret, he reassured her. But Lily hadn't liked the guilty expression on his face and had questioned him further. Tristram had to admit to her that Valentine Whitelaw had asked a lot of questions about their life on the island. Since the captain was Basil's brother Tristram thought they could have trusted him with their secret.

Lily reminded Tristram of the promise they had made Basil always to keep the chest and its contents a secret. And had he so soon forgotten what had happened to their possessions in the hut? They'd been stolen by Valentine Whitelaw's crew. Tristram had quickly told her that the captain promised him that everything was still theirs and he was just keeping it safe until they returned to England.

Her feelings still smarting from having been tricked by Valentine Whitelaw, Lily had decided it wiser to keep the secret to themselves, besides, Valentine Whitelaw and his crew had found their own treasure. What good would it do to tell him about the cave now, she was to tell Tristram later, when they were almost to England and her opinion of Valentine Whitelaw had undergone a dramatic change. She did not wish to anger him by telling him that they had kept the cave a secret from him when they'd told him everything else about their life on the island. And if she admitted the truth to herself Lily did not want to fall out of favor. She feared she would if he knew their secret now there was nothing he could do about it-
-
especially since she had lied to him.

Actually, it had been Tristram's fault, Lily reminded herself. He had let it slip that Basil had kept a journal and had written down everything that had happened on the island. That piece of information had certainly raised an eyebrow or two around the captain's table that night when Tristram had so innocently mentioned it. Lily could remember almost choking on her food. Basil's journal had been the most important part of their secret and Tristram had blurted out its existence to strangers.

Her sudden uneasiness had drawn Liam O'Hara's attention. He had always watched her aboard ship, guilt from having been the one who'd shot her making him very solicitous of her health. But Lily suspected he was more concerned about his own skin and what his captain would have done to him should she have died. Thomas Sandrick, who'd been sitting beside the captain, had eyed her curiously, offering her a sip of wine to bring the color back into her cheeks. She could remember ignoring him, a stony expression on her face, resentment at her predicament still souring her disposition. Later, she had come to like Thomas Sandrick. Since he was little more than a passenger aboard the
Madrigal
himself, his time was his own and he spent the long hours of their voyage reading or walking the deck. Although he was often lost in thought, he was always interested in her recollections. He spoke in the same quiet
manner that Basil had. S
he suspected that his mild-mannered appearance hid a very sharp mind, for she had questione
d him upon many subjects and he
seldom did not have an answer. Liam O'Hara, on the other hand, seemed to have an opinion on every subject, yet one seldom learned anything from him.

Lily still grew nervous when she thought of that lie she had told Valentine Whitelaw that evening. She could remember the excitement on his face when he'd asked about this journal of Basil's. His deep disappointment when she had told him that it had been with Basil when they'd burned the lean-to had pleased her at the time, but now she wished she had spoken the truth. Valentine Whitelaw still thought the journal had perished in the fire. It was too late now to change what she had said. It was of little importance, Lily reassured herself, allowing the incident to fade from her mind.

Lily curled into a more comfortable position, propping the velvet pillows behind her shoulders. Succumbing to the temptation, she unlatched the w
indow and opened it slightly. T
he cool rain against her face and the sound of the sea in the distance reminded her of being aboard the
Madrigal
and the voyage to England. Tristram and Dulcie had been frightened, even sick those first couple
of
weeks, but soon Tristram was climbing like a monkey into the rigging under Valentine Whitelaw's watchful eye. Lily had stared enviously as Tristram had climbed higher, a rope tied about his middle in case he missed his step, but he hadn't. He was Geoffrey Christian's on, the captain had called up to the proudly beaming Tristram. Even Capabells had been allowed to climb into the rigging; of course no one could have stopped him had they tried, for the monkey had seen Tristram disappearing into the tangle overhead and had scurried after him.

Once she had recovered enough from her injury to escape from the small cabin she'd been confined in, she had ventured up on deck. Being aboard ship and sailing the high seas had
brought back a rush of memories of her father and sailing aboard
the
Arion
that she had thought long forgotten. Her timbers creaking and her sails sounding like thunder as they billowed with the winds, the
Madrigal
had ridden the waves as easily as the playful dolphins racing alongside the trim little ship.

And as the days turned into weeks, Lily came to feel as if she had always belonged aboard the
Madrigal
and by the side of her captain. Lily closed her eyes, reliving the moment when she had opened her eyes for the first time aboard a
Madrigal
to find herself swimming in a sea of turquoise again, only this time she realized that she was staring into the eyes of Valentine Whitelaw. Even thinking about him caused her heart to flutter. He was the most wonderful man in the world. Lily felt the rush of heat to her cheeks. She loved him, as much as she had her father and Basil, and yet it was a different kind of love. It was not the comforting kind of love she'd felt for the other
two men in her life; this was a
love that confused her and left her feeling empty and sad. Her heart had never acted so strangely before. And whenever she was with Valentine Whitelaw, her stomach felt like it was dancing with butterflies and she knew a sudden shyness that was unnatural to her. Never before had she been
tongue-tied
. It embarrassed her even to meet his gaze, and yet she found herself trying to catch his eye again and again. She wanted to see that slow smile of his come just for her.

She could have stood for hours on the deck watching him. Dressed in a plain leather jerkin and breeches, his shirt sleeves rolled high above his elbows and startling white against his bronzed skin, his feet braced against the roll and pitch of the ship, his tall figure could always be sighted on the quarterdeck; his voice always heard above t
he wind in the sails and roar of
the sea when he gave his orders. It was strange to Lily that he should suddenly remind her so much of Choco. Valentine Whitelaw prowled his ship with such restless energy, his gaze always searching the horizon for the white flash of a sail, that she thought of Choco stalking his prey. His hair was black and shiny, glinting in the sun like Choco's velvety coat. His muscles seemed to ripple with sinewy strength, just like Choco's when he was about to spring. Sleek and swift, he moved with a quiet suddenness that caught one off guard. That was the way Valentine Whitelaw had moved the day he'd spied trouble on the mainmast.
There
was an unleashed power about Valentine Whitelaw that seemed to come of
instinct
rather than thought. That was what had sent him into the rigging before any of his men, climbing high onto the mainmast to rescue the foretopman when the seaman had slipped. Catching and twisting his ankle in a loop of rope, the sailor had dangled upside-down over the deck, his cries for help alerting the others after the captain was already halfway up the mast.