Alex held an object in her hands—the funerary cone of the Librarian of Alexandria. “I came to return this.”
“My father knows … That is, he knows I wanted you to have it, not what it is—the disc.”
“You figured it out.” Alex smiled at her, approving.
“ ‘What you seek, you already have.’ It was a game of sorts, wasn’t it. The disc was in our hands all along, hidden behind the ancient plaster.” She studied the round side of the cone where the inscription was etched. “But to gain the knowledge, and learn what it meant we had to risk all.” She looked up at her new friend. “We do choose our destiny. To the librarian the astrolabe was her life’s work, her secret to share and protect. But it was also nothing compared to her life, her love, her family. She knew what the real treasures were. Whatever mystery she protected, this prophecy”—her eyes met Alex’s—“it did not rule her life.”
The duchess ran her fingers over the etched plaster on the cone hiding the ancient disc beneath it, contemplating. Finally she spoke. “You have a fondness for words and meanings, do you not, Olivia?”
Olivia nodded.
“Your surname is Yates. Isn’t that from the Old English geat, meaning gate?”
“Yes. Yateses were known as the gatekeepers. Why?”
Alex handed her the cone back. “I think that means, Olivia, that this disc is yours to guard.”
Olivia stared at the duchess, worried and astonished. “But … what should I do with it?”
The duchess put a hand over the artifact and the other firmly on Olivia’s shoulder, her gaze direct, her voice solemn. “Hide it someplace no one will ever find it.”
While Olivia absorbed that, Alex pulled a small box from her pocket and handed it to her. “Samuel said he bought this for you. He wanted you to have it.”
Blinking with surprise, Olivia opened the small box, then pressed a hand to her stomach. Inside was the flawless diamond Samuel had purchased weeks ago. He’d known even then. He’d loved her, protected her, waited for her. And she’d failed him.
“What have I done?” Olivia whispered, agonized.
“It matters not what you have done, Olivia. But what will you do now?”
Olivia dared to hope. “Can you catch him?”
Alex huffed. “Am I not Captain Alex Stafford?”
Olivia pressed her lips, worried. “Actually, you are Her Grace Alexandra, Duchess of Worthington—”
She waved that away. “Once a Stafford, always a Stafford. And I know the wind better than any of my brothers. We could catch him today”—Alex paused—“if you’re sure.”
“Yes!” Olivia suddenly felt strong again. “Oh, yes!”
The duchess was true to her word. They spotted the Avenger in what the duke and crew noted as record time. Alex directed a sailor to sound the bell, and from the distance the same bell pattern was repeated back. The Avenger would wait for them.
In their rush, Olivia hurried to the ship in her professor gear, then cursed her stupidity. She needed every womanly wile available to win back Stafford. Fortunately, Alex had a dress she could borrow. She’d have to wear her professor shoes under it for now, but with any luck Stafford’s gaze wouldn’t get beyond her bosom.
As the Avenger came closer, Olivia’s stomach flipped and her heart pounded until she stood clinging to the rail somewhere between giddy and woozy.
“How do I look?” Olivia asked when Alex came over.
Alex raised a finger thoughtfully, then lowered it. “Beautiful and unique,” she said, grinning widely before returning to the helm.
Olivia spotted Stafford across the water. He raised a hand to his sister and the duke. He hadn’t spotted her yet. She ran toward the couple and waved as well, calling out.
He put his hand down and didn’t move.
Her mouth went dry.
Stafford? She swallowed hard, doubt filling her. What if he will not understand?
She grabbed the duke’s arm, worried. “Is he going to come here?”
The duke turned, then startled, raised a finger to tell her something. His wife grabbed it.
“She looks lovely, does she not, husband?”
The duke raised an eyebrow. “Indeed.”
The duchess changed the subject. “He does not seem to be lowering a boat, Olivia. I’m sorry. We’ll send one over to him instead.”
Olivia grasped the rail, injured. “He does not want to see me.” She whirled away. Well, either he was a complete mome, or he wanted her to come to him. He loved her! How dare he treat her like this? She straightened her shoulders. She would bombard him with words until he did understand. And kisses. Definitely. Stafford liked kisses.
She saw some crew members adjusting lines to control the sails. Is it long enough? she wondered. She hurried to the man and seized the rope. If Stafford wasn’t coming to her, she would go to him.
“Olivia!” Alex ran to her. “What are you thinking? Stop!”
“I know what I’m doing. It’s math. I believe I have the trajectory correct.” She pushed away a sailor who looked ready to stop her.
“Olivia—”
Olivia jumped. And swung—feet out, stomach clenched.
After the initial exhilarating rush, her skirts caught the wind and flew up blindingly. Only then did she realize the danger of the rope slipping between her burning palms, the possibility of drowning in icy depths, and the disadvantages of swinging in a dress.
Fortunately, her math was perfect.
“Good lord, she’s insane.” The duke watched from the side. “Poor bastard.”
Alex whacked her husband. “She’s brilliant! And he’s lucky.”
“Are you sure this is what he wants?”
Alex nodded, confident. “I didn’t tell Olivia, but my brother was sailing very slow.”
Across the water on the other ship, Samuel waited. Hopeful at the sight of Olivia. Relieved. Then she took matters into her own hands—again.
“What the hell!” He hurried to the next deck. “All hands!”
Olivia swung with perfect ease across the water. Perfect ease and a decent amount of speed aimed directly at him. Thunderstruck, he stared at the legs revealed by the skirts flying backward from the energy of her jump.
“I’ve got you!” At least he thought he did … until her feet crushed into his gut. He stumbled back, grabbed her bottom, and nearly managed to stay on his feet. Nearly.
Samuel tripped backward over a coil of rope and landed on his buttocks. Again. It was dark. And fluffy. Ruffles tickled his face. He couldn’t move.
Finally there was light. He looked up into a concerned liquid silver gaze—dazzled.
“Eyes like two stars.” He closed his eyes, content.
“Samuel! Samuel!” She slapped him lightly. No response.
Olivia scrambled to move her skirts and give him room to breathe. She had not meant to swing directly into him, but he’d moved! Now he was babbling and having trouble remaining conscious. This would not do. She’d practiced her speech, worked through the logic of all her arguments, prepared a list of her qualities and accomplishments as a reminder, should she need to sway his opinion.
None of that mattered. He lay unconscious.
Her heart welled up and her eyes followed, until a tear plopped on his cheek. She wiped it off him, gently, uncaring that the crew stood around them quietly waiting to see if she had finally killed their captain.
Olivia blinked, and a wave of tears gushed onto his face, into his brown curling lashes, over the sun-kissed skin. She bent sorrowfully and kissed his beautiful lips, pressing her cheek against his. “I’ll take care of you, Samuel. I promise.” She wrapped a hand under his head to cushion it from the hard deck. “I promise.”
“By drowning me?”
The words were whispered so softly that Olivia almost didn’t hear them. Then he moaned and his eyes fluttered open again.
“Oh, Samuel! Why did you walk right into me? You must stop that. You’re injured now, and I must st
ay and make sure you don’t have a trauma to your head. I read about it in Andersen’s books.” She looked up to find Andersen there, and Kelley, Cook, and all the crew. Behind them Elizabeth waited, a gentle smile on her face.
“It’s not my brain you have injured, love.”
She smiled tremulously, relieved he would live.
He tried to move and she quickly helped him sit up, kneeling next to him, ordering Kelley to get him some water … and maybe something stronger. She would have done it, but she didn’t want to leave him. It seemed a lifetime since she had seen his face—the harsh angles, the stubborn square jaw her hands could not keep from caressing.
“What brings you here, Professor?” Samuel asked.
“I had to come, Samuel.” She took the hand where he still wore the iron ring. “I am yours. I love you.”
He scrutinized her, but she didn’t flinch.
“You’re certain?”
“Yes. Oh yes! I love you. I love you, Samuel. Most intensely.” It was much easier after she said it the first time.
“What about your dreams of academic fame?” He still hesitated. “You finally have everything you ever wanted.”
“Everything is nothing without you, Samuel. I want to explore the world with you, not just read about it. With you I can be who I truly am—both Professor and Lady Olivia.”
She leaned in to kiss him, but a large, firm hand stopped her. A flash of panic seared her stomach. He shook his head.
Olivia’s heart pounded. She was too late.
Then he reached up toward her nose and—ripped!
She shrieked, touching her lip in horror.
“How about Lady Professor”—he tossed the mustache overboard—“and Mrs. Stafford.”
“Ohhh.” Her eyes lit up and she jumped him, knocking him back onto the deck. “Yes, Mr. Stafford. That is a perfect solution. You are the most brilliant man in the world.” She smacked kisses all over his face. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said, wrapping her in his arms possessively and silencing her with a long passionate kiss until both of them were oblivious to the loud approving cheers of the crew.
Epilogue
Eight months later …
The woman finished writing out her orders and handed them to a waiting messenger. Her entourage and several carriages of trunks where ready for the long voyage.
“You’ll return to America?” the man waiting on her asked.
“Yes. For now. Moreau failed us, but I know Lady Olivia has the disc somewhere. I’m certain of it. When it’s time, I will force her hand.” She touched the medallion above her breast, caressing the metal. “Hers and all the others.”
“What next then?”
“We continue,” she said. “There are many leads yet. Clues and stories we must follow up. South America, China … there is no place my arm cannot reach.” She was determined. This was her life’s purpose. “We are close to gathering all we need, my friend. Do not lose faith. It is within our grasp. And soon.”
He nodded and took her hand, holding it reverently a moment before releasing. “I don’t doubt it. Not with you leading us.” He stepped away. “Safe journeys.”
“Safe journeys,” she repeated, more from habit than sentiment.
She knew better than most, that safe was not part of the equation when you were devoted to discovering the secrets of Lilith.
The rising sun peeked through the trees as Olivia completed her task.
She patted the ground over the grave site of her family manor outside Ashford and carefully laid some flowers over the freshly turned earth. “And that, my dear pet, is some place no one will ever find you!”
She brushed the dirt off her hands, still kneeling over the grave, when her husband startled her.
“Hipparchus. Loyal and beloved hound,” he read aloud. “When did we get a pet?”
“Yesterday.”
“And you killed him already?”
Olivia looked up at him innocently. “He had it coming.”
Samuel laughed and helped her to stand. “Why’s that?”
“The stars just were not aligned, Samuel.” She redirected him. “More important, when are we to sail for Boston?”
“I thought we’d wait. You’ll miss your opportunity to speak with your father.”
“He can manage without me,” she said. “I heard rumor of an island haunted by lost colonists. I thought we should investigate.”
Samuel wasn’t listening. He returned to the topic of their dead pet. “Wasn’t Hipparchus the one who invented the astrolabe?”
“Why yes, some do credit him with designing the first astrolabe.”
“Uh-huh.” Thoughtful silence. “Anything you want to tell me, Professor?”
“There will be plenty of time to talk, Stafford. Now is a time for action!” She leaned into his chest, tempting. “Let’s hurry back to bed before my father awakes, or a servant comes knocking, or your crew needs feeding, or someone in your family needs saving.”
“I love you too, Olivia Katharine Hastings Yates Stafford.” He kissed her shoulder. “Adventuress.” He trailed lips up her throat. “Killer of venomous asps.” He pecked her chin. “Translator of ancient glyphs.” He nibbled her ear. “Puzzle master extraordinaire. And”—he ran his hand over the curve of her belly—“mother of future warrior professors.”
Olivia wrapped her arms around her husband and kissed him thoroughly in the golden morning glow before closing the garden gate and leading him back inside. She decided not to tell him he’d missed one honor …
Gatekeeper of ancient prophesies.
Siren’s Secret
© 2009 Patricia A. Cerrone
ISBN: 9780843960877
LEISURE BOOKS
Ed♥n
Siren's Secret Page 32
