by Mary Martin
"That could never happen." Before she could protest, he had swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the bed.
"Rayne! We'll be terribly late for Wells's party."
"Merely an hour, madam," he offered with a light kiss and a rogue's smile. "We don't wish to be the first ones to arrive, now do we?'
Starlin favored him with a dubious look, even as his fingers moved swiftly over the fastenings of her gown.
"Heaven help me if I should ever seek to be a part of your clever planning again."
His lips moved across the perfumed softness of her throat. "Let me see if I might change your thinking."
"That's terribly unfair, applying such heavenly persuasion," she whispered near his ear, shivering in anticipation of his lovemaking.
"I never play fair."
"I discovered that long ago."
She pulled his head back down to hers.
Malcolm Wells's home was situated in the middle of a swampy bayou, an island unto itself that suited the attorney's need for absolute privacy.
To reach his home, which Rayne found even more secure than his castle at Sontavon, one had to take a boat and wind through the swamps. The waterway was not the most appealing that Starlin had ever seen, but it was interesting, teeming with wildlife and unusual vegetation.
Starlin and Rayne arrived at Wells's dock shortly after sunset and were greeted by several men in pirate costumes. Ben ton was acting the part of their pilot, and would be remaining behind with the boat to ensure their safe departure.
Starlin met Rayne's eyes with a questioning look. The men all looked of disreputable character. What were they walking into?
Horse-drawn rigs transported them toward the house. The long road was especially dark. Starlin could hear all sorts of creatures scurrying about in the marshy forests. From behind her mask, she could barely make out the towering forms of huge willows lining the road on either side. After they had gone about a mile, she heard the sound of music and voices drifting over the swamp.
Lights were ablaze in every room in the house as they approached the looming structure. It was not a crude design, as she'd anticipated, but a two-story dwelling with double French doors leading out onto wide verandas. The doors were thrown wide on this exceedingly warm night, and Starlin could see that the house was filled to capacity with guests in costume dress.
Rayne said little to her on the drive for fear of being overheard, but once they'd departed from the buggy and the vehicle had rumbled off, he leaned over to whisper in her ear.
"Do not wander around on your own. Stay as close to me as possible—no matter what."
"Have no fear. I shall dog your every step," she replied. This was one time she planned to do exactly as he said, without protest.
The upper portion of her face was completely obscured behind a purple satin mask that enhanced her soft, alluring eyes. Her gown was of such a deep purple to almost appear black. It was soft and clinging, an enticing creation that Mammy Juno had slaved over for three nights in order to have it completed in time. She told Starlin that it was a copy of a high priestess's gown, and had even placed a delicate shell necklace about the young woman's throat, claiming it would ward off evil and protect her from harm.
Starlin favored Rayne with an admiring glance. He was dressed to complement her costume: dark, clinging breeches and shirt open to the waist, and a voluminous black cloak thrown back over his broad shoulders. The severe color and the black half mask gave him the appearance of a fierce brigand. She knew that no one would dare harm her tonight if she stayed near to him. He took her hand and drew her along behind him toward the side of the house.
"We'll slip in through those doors over there," he told her, "and out the very same way. I'll let you know when it's time to leave. Bloody hell, but I hate taking you in there." He hesitated as if considering leaving her behind.
"You can't wander around without a lady on your arm," Starlin said quickly. "No one comes to a party like this alone. It would look suspicious."
He grinned. "All right, then, my adventurous vixen. Shall we make our entrance?"
Once inside the large parlor, they had little trouble losing themselves within the crowd of people. There were so many guests that it was difficult to keep track of Rayne.
At one point, she thought she heard Malcolm's familiar voice behind her, yet did not dare to turn around and look.
Rayne circulated freely, appearing to drink far too much, although in truth he was slipping the glasses of champagne to Starlin, who disposed of them wherever possible.
After awhile a couple standing next to her began talking excitedly about the Devil's treasure. The Cambridges, they said, had decided to seek it out once again and had enlisted a crew and planned a careful route. Within a short time the news had circulated throughout the entire room. Rayne's plan had succeeded.
Starlin had stepped out of the parlor to dispose of another glass of champagne when she saw Malcolm hurrying down the hall and into the study.
Starlin hurried down the hallway to pause before the door. What was he up to? She leaned over to try to peek through the narrow key hole only to sense someone standing directly behind her. She froze in motion.
"See something that captures your fancy?" said a gruff voice from over her shoulder.
Starlin weaved drunkenly and feigned a convincing hiccup.
"I think we'd better see what the boss has to say about you."
Before she could turn around, a hand went over her mouth and a huge arm wrapped about her tiny waist. Her angry struggles were useless. He squeezed her so tightly that she nearly swooned. Deciding that she might fare better if she did, she closed her eyes, let her body go slack in his arms. She felt her attacker nudge the door with the toe of his boot. It was quickly opened. She was dragged into the room and tossed roughly onto a leather couch. As she sprawled willy-nilly, she flung her arms across her face and slumped into a corner of the plush cushions. She forced herself to remain still when she heard Wells refer scathingly to Rayne.
"That drunken fool who's been rambling about the Devil's treasure since he got here has unknowingly given us all that we need to bring our association with the Cambridge family to an end at last. With the
treasure in my possession, I'll be able to retire from this pirating business and live quite splendidly in Europe. And don't you dare fail me this time, Foster," she heard Wells say. "You have the crew ready to go first thing in the morning. They'll be heading into the Triangle and we'll follow."
Footsteps drew near her. She opened her eyes to mere slits to peek between her arms.
"What are you doing bringing some soused female in here like this?" Wells queried sharply.
Starlin didn't move a muscle.
"She appeared to be gettin' a bit too nosey, Boss. Found her trying to look through the keyhole."
"Hmph," Malcolm grunted. "There's one of them females at every party. Always wandering off in search of a little private party of their own."
"Wouldn't mind doing a bit of that myself with this one," Malcolms' thug snickered.
"Forget it, Foster. You've got to see that the ship and the men are ready, instead. Heard talk all over out there of Cambridge going after the treasure. The stupid fool doesn't know it yet, but I'm the only one who is going to get his hands on that find. I've earned it."
Starlin did her best to keep her face hidden while quietly listening. Malcolm Wells came closer.
"She looks a pretty little thing, doesn't she?" he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
"I saw her first," Foster protested.
"Perhaps you might have her, after all—as incentive, shall we say." Malcolm laughed. "And when you tire of her, simply leave everything to me. She'll not say much and risk her reputation. Her kind knows when to keep her mouth shut."
Wells bent over her, and Starlin could feel his hot gaze roaming up and down her body. "She won't find the party dull where you'll be taking her, eh, Foster?"
Fo
ster snickered.
"You'd best get out of here before anyone discovers that she's gone. Of course with all of that talk that drunken idiot is circulating in there about the treasure expedition, every fool and his friend will have his mind on the treasure ... not his wife." He strode away from her. Starlin listened while he left the room.
The man, Foster, ran a caressing finger along her arm.
"You were looking for a private party with some fun, huh? Well, I'm sure gonna give you one, sweetie. And you'll be the belle of the ball."
One minute Rayne had seen Starlin standing nonchalantly in the hallway; the next, she had vanished. He wandered several times through the crowds of people but did not see her. Trying to appear calm, he walked out into the hallway and glanced about. Nothing.
A terrible feeling gripped him. Wells was behind her mysterious disappearance, he felt certain of it. Unholy fire blazed in his eyes.
As Rayne slipped unseen from the house and circled stealthily around the veranda, he thought he heard a shrill yell drift out through one of the windows. Before he had time to react, a man swearing profusely came bursting through a door onto the veranda, a thrashing, kicking virago imprisoned in his arms. He dragged her a foot, and she kicked him in the shin. Then he grabbed her again. He kept one hand across her mouth. She must have bitten his hand, for he released her and stood shaking the offended limb. The woman sprinted ahead of her attacker.
It was pitch-black, but Rayne knew immediately who she was. Starlin! There was no other female who found trouble so easily, or confronted it with such daring.
Forming a quick plan, Rayne swung himself up onto a low-lying branch hanging directly over their path. Unseen, and deadly quiet, he waited.
Starlin ran past on flying feet. The man gave quick pursuit. As he drew near, Rayne tensed to spring forward. Silently he pounced upon the stunned Foster and knocked him to the ground.
Rayne took pleasure in clipping the man soundly on the jaw. Foster gave a strangled cry and crumpled to the ground without having so much as seen what he had run into.
Spinning about, Rayne caught a fleeting glimpse of Starlin wasting no time in scurrying off in the direction of the boat dock. Rayne went after her.
Keeping well off the road, Starlin slowed her pace and took to the shadows, avoiding the departing guests who were returning to their boats.
She screamed when a man grasped her arm, but was silenced by his hand.
"Going somewhere without me7' Rayne drawled.
He dropped his hand.
"Oh, Rayne," Starlin said breathlessly, "I am glad to see you. Wells and his cohort are plotting just like you said they would. I was looking through a keyhole in one of the rooms because I thought I heard something going on ... and you'll never guess what happened?' she said, wide-eyed.
"Let me try," he said, lifting one eyebrow.
Starlin ignored him, grabbing his hand and pulling him along behind her toward the dock.
"No, we don't have time. Let's just say that Wells bought our story about the treasure and he's gearing up for the confrontation."
Rayne gave a little smile behind her back before murmuring, "And a great time was had by all at the party."
When they reached the boat dock, Benton was waiting. He was playing dice with Malcolm's men. And they were all taking pulls from a big jug of rum. Benton was loaded, and doing a lot of talking. It made Rayne nervous. He would have liked to have drawn his gun, and shot the jug to pieces in Benton's hand. As it was, he could not afford to make a scene. He approached Benton and said loud enough for everyone to hear, "The lady isn't feeling well. She would like to go home."
Without drawing undue attention to themselves, they took their boat and headed back along the waterway, disappearing into the mists.
Starlin awoke at dawn the following morning. She glanced over at Rayne, who appeared to still be sleeping soundly. At the smell of frying bacon drifting upstairs from the kitchen, she wrinkled her nose and put a hand over her mouth. Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed several times. She tried lying perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle. Then with a smothered groan she dashed for the chamber pot. She was violently ill. When it was over she collapsed onto the floor with a sigh of relief.
Rayne was beside her, a damp cloth in his hand and concern for her in his expression. He hunkered down next to her and gently wiped her moist brow. He drew back to study her pale features, dawning awareness in his eyes. He smoothed back the tangled hair lying plastered to her forehead, and then his hand moved downward to lightly touch her abdomen. His eyes met hers.
"You are with child."
Starlin hesitated. "Yes," she sighed.
"How long were you going to keep your condition from me?" he inquired, his expression hardening.
"I—" Starlin began, but fell silent.
Rayne strode away to drag her trunk from the corner and began gathering up her clothes.
"What do you think you are doing?" she asked.
"You're leaving here—today. I want Benton to go with you."
"With me, where?"
"Back to Antare, at least until I've snared Wells." He snapped open a carpetbag and began tossing in her toiletries. "I can't trust Benton to stay away from the bottle and —"
"What you really mean is you have no use for anyone from the Cambridge family any longer. We've served our purpose," Starlin said in a tight voice.
"This is one time you'll do as your told, without argument."
She ran to the bed and grabbed Carl's book of carefully composed sonnets from under her pillow.
"This is what you were after all along, wasn't it? And now that you have it, you no longer need me. Your precious family treasure is still safe—no Cambridge will ever go near it again." She threw the journal at him in a rage.
Rayne knocked it aside and resumed packing. "You're going," he said.
Rayne stood on the crowded dock and watched the Cambridge ship glide away from the busy wharf. He could still feel Starlin in his arms, taste the salt of her tears on his lips as he'd kissed her good-bye. He saw her standing at the rail looking back at him, and cursed the fates over which he had no control. So much had transpired since that long-ago night when he'd boldly confronted his destiny on that isolated shoreline, that night his beloved enemy had come into his life. He stood there with Ely beside him, watching her go out of his life and feeling as if he'd just lost a part of himself.
"It won't be for long, Rayne," Ely said, trying his best to cheer his brother.
Rayne forced his gaze away from the Ice Princess disappearing on the horizon.
"Of course it won't," he agreed.
Ely placed a hand on Rayne's shoulder. "It was the right decision. Riley will take the ship through the Triangle by the route you indicated, far from our confrontation with Wells. And Benton may be a lot of things, but he won't let anything happen to her. He even seemed happy about the baby—more than ..." Realizing what he had been about to say, Ely halted.
"More than I am? That's what you were about to say, wasn't it?" Rayne finished for him. "You aren't exactly overjoyed about it." To his surprise, Rayne only swung around and strode briskly away from the wharf, leaving Ely to wonder if his mule-headed brother would ever find the peace he so desperately sought.
Malcolm Wells was not an easy man to defeat. A ruthless, cunning manipulator, he welcomed adversaries and concentrated all his efforts on beating them. In the pirate Scorpio, he had found a most worthy opponent. But every man has his weakness, he thought with a devious smile, sitting at his desk in the Cambridge warehouse. After repeatedly questioning some of his crew about several of their last sea raids— and discovering that Scorpip had intervened—he had come to the conclusion that it was more than chance that both Rayne Morgan and Scorpio had appeared in Key West at the same time.
It was true of course that no one but Wells and his men knew Scorpio had foiled their recent attacks on the Cambridge ships. His fingers thrummed upon the desk top.
"Why in the world would that pirate sail into these waters and suddenly start acting on behalf of the good people of Key West? When not long ago he sought to destroy Benton Cambridge as vengefully as I did." He leaned back in his chair. "And made it quite easy for me to blame him for everything. Could it be that he has formed some sort of pact with that devil, Rayne Morgan?' He rested his elbows on top of the desk and placed his hand beneath his chin. "Or... is there something else going on here that I haven't heeded— until now?"
Within seconds, his frustrations lessened, and he was almost amused.
"Damn! But it was right in front of my eyes this entire time. Morgan was clever ... but every man has his weakness. And I would be willing to bet that Starlin Cambridge Morgan is a weakness that both Scorpio and Morgan share—quite intimately."
Wells suddenly sprang up from his chair and yanked open the door to call his secretary.
"Taylor! Get me the manifests of the Cambridge cargoes that have been lost most recently. And find out if the mayor is in his offices. I have something vitally important to discuss with him at once."
The Tempest rode at anchor within an isolated section of water bordered on three sides by thick, green jungle foliage. It was a deep pool that she rested in, her top masts and lines shrouded in dark netting that made her appear to blend into the scenery.
Rayne Morgan paced back and forth upon the maindeck in agitation, a piece of paper clutched in his hand.
"What the hell is he up to?' he growled to his brother, who was equally distressed. "Wells claims to have Starlin held captive in a warehouse at the far end of Wharf Street. If I don't go there he says he'll kill her, without hesitation."
"I think this is nothng more than a ruse to delay our setting sail for the Triangle," Ely said. "How could he possibly have gotten to Starlin when he did not know she was leaving the Keys."
Rayne looked at Ely. "I agree. However, can I take a chance with her life?"
"How long ago did you receive this note?"
"About twenty minutes ago. One of our men was at Lucy Belle's. A man approached him and handed him the note, saying that he should make certain that his captian received it."
