Once Upon a Midnight Sea

by Ava Bradley

  "Ollie has the helm." Her gaze rose to his almost hesitantly. "I will need to plot our course through the islands."

  Realizing he occupied the chair she needed, he stood. Christian pushed the drawer back and moved the stool back to its place before the chart table. He eased into the corner of the tiny room as Adriana stepped inside and took one of the rolled up charts from a cubbyhole.

  He was about to step around her and leave when Adriana shifted the stool in such a way he couldn't pass.

  He studied her profile as she spread the chart across the table. It didn't look like any map he'd ever seen, but Adriana seemed perfectly comfortable with it. Her delicate features and the slightly upturned slope of her nose deceptively veiled the deep intelligence lying beneath her innocent appearance. Christian reminded himself she was a smart adversary, but her cleverness now seemed a benefit.

  "This continuous leg you spoke of, when shall we encounter it?"

  She glanced up. Her eyes flicked back and forth as she studied both of his. God, she was beautiful. Those full lips pursed together again, but not tightly as she had done when she'd been furious with him. Her tongue flicked out and moistened them, sending a jolt of arousal spearing through him like a lightning bolt. Suddenly the room was clouded with her scent and the powerful presence this tiny nymph evoked.

  She glanced back to her chart, as if his presence had utterly no effect on her. "From Hutchison's we sail to Grand Bahama. The leg will take an entire day. If possible, we will try to make Playa Delfin."

  Places he'd never heard of. She could be leading him anywhere. Had they not already been heading to a prison, he might suspect as much.

  "We'll resupply at Hutchison Island?"

  She didn't look up. "Mr. Dupree will see to it."

  "I've been studying the ship's diagram. I'm quite confident with her rigging," he said, then felt stupid for it.

  "Mr. Dupree shall drop anchor and leave you to take watch during the day, and Ollie will help if you need it. You shan't be required to command her."

  "Won't that waste valuable time?"

  "It will add a day to our voyage." Adriana looked up at him. "Knowing her sails and knowing how to sail her are two different things. It takes years to learn the sea. You cannot sail her without an experienced captain by your side."

  "I have you." As soon as the words passed his lips, Christian regretted them.

  Adriana frowned, clearly not amused. "Had this been any other situation, even I would not captain her alone. This voyage marks the first time I have ever owned the helm without Mr. Dupree or my father on deck." Her scowl turned to a look of disdain. "Fear not, after I and my staff have disembarked you will get your chance to sail her–to the bottom of the sea if you wish. But while we are aboard, I won't allow you to sink us."

  Christian bit back his retort as Adriana turned her attention to the map. Even if he weren't too queasy to fight with her, he no longer wanted to. In the erotic storm clouding the tiny captain's cabin, he could concentrate only on her flowery scent, the soft white skin of her neck. He fought the urge to reach out and free a shiny tendril of hair caught in the lace edge at the collar of her dress. It would not incite a favorable reaction.

  Adriana retrieved a blank sheet of paper and a pencil and placed it beside the map. He placed one hand on the edge of the table and leaned over. She glanced at his hand as though it were a snake that might bite her. After a long breath, she began making notes on the paper.

  "What are these?" He traced his finger over strange circles drawn around the chain of Caribbean islands.

  "Depth indications." Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. Christian got the feeling she wanted him to leave, but was afraid to say so. "They mark known shoals, sandbars and reefs."

  For a long moment neither spoke. His presence clearly had her uncomfortable, but Christian couldn't bring himself to leave. It was too nice being in her company when she wasn't yelling at him.

  "Why do we not go this way?" He reached out and traced a line from the tip of Florida to the largest islands on the map. Cuba. His finger was near her hand. He expected her to move away, but she remained as still as a butterfly. "Straight along, to here."

  He continued moving his finger across the map until his hand hovered above hers, his finger pointing to the second largest island. He relaxed, letting his fingers brush over the back of her hand. A tingle erupted at the tips of his fingers and raced up his arm, electrifying his entire body. He expected her to snatch her hand away, but instead she looked at it where they touched.

  "It appears a shorter distance than following the islands, without having to cross this gap here. Would that not save us the trouble of a three day journey without the sight of land?"

  She pulled her hand away. "That is Saint Dominica." Her voice resumed its sharp edge. "Its people are on the verge of an uprising."

  Christian watched her bosom rise and fall as she took a deep breath. When she continued, her voice was gentler. "I would not want to land there on what are considered her best days. It is a place of witchcraft and black magic."

  Adriana swiveled to face him. Her eyes had taken on a watery-blue hue swimming with emotion. "I believe it is an evil place. There are those who disagree with me, but thankfully Mr. Dupree is not one of them. I will never willingly go there."

  She was afraid. The courageous little vixen suddenly didn't seem so formidable. Though her intense potency intrigued him as no other woman ever had, a part of him fell transfixed by this glimpse of the fragile woman beneath. He wanted to take her in his arms and sooth that fear away.

  "Then I won't ask it of you."

  He read intense relief in her face. A twitch of a smile touched her lips. Then just as quickly it vanished and she turned back to the map. "Neither route is less dangerous. To go by way of the islands is slightly longer, but to go this way–" her finger traced the path he suggested, "–is more difficult. We still have only three capable of captaining the ship. We will find places to anchor at night if we follow the inner passage."

  "I trust you will get us there the safest and best way possible."

  She turned back as though shocked. "Do you?"

  "Is that so hard to believe?"

  Adriana chewed her lip as she considered him. He felt like a bug toyed with by a curious child.

  "I did not believe you trusted me."

  His suspicions ignited. He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, choosing his words carefully. "Have I reason not to?"

  Adriana glanced away. He sensed at any moment she would adorn that wretched glare and start shouting. She surprised him yet again when she didn't.

  "I promised I would take you to French Guiana, and I will."

  "Then I trust you to keep your word."

  Their gazes locked and held. He had seen such bright anticipation in a woman's eyes many times before, when she was expecting him to kiss her. Christian leaned closer. Adriana's breath caught.

  "What will you do when you get there?"

  He stopped.

  "If you trust me, then surely you can tell me your plans."

  He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

  "I am merely curious." There she was again, that mischievous little vixen. Her brows lifted a nearly unperceivable notch. "Do you even have a plan?"

  "As I said, I intend to break him out."

  "How?"

  New anger flared. "By paying his fare with your necklace, if I have to."

  "Paying whom?"

  Damn her arrogance, the infuriating she-devil tried his patience in a way few could. "There has to be someone in a position of advantage who can be bribed."

  "And how will you find this person?"

  "If I don't find him, then I'll have no need for your necklace, will I?" Christian turned away as the contents of his guts began to boil. He ground his teeth, forcing his calm to remain. "My father is housed on Devil's Island. It is the smallest and most exposed of the three islands, reserved only for
political prisoners. I plan to sail in at night and search the island for him."

  "There are no guards on this island?" She shook her head, as if he were a lunatic. "Surely you are misinformed."

  "The vicious currents separating the islands guard them well enough. There are patrols, but the guard's headquarters are on Isle Royal, between Devil's Island and St. Joseph where the main prison stands."

  "It sounds like a courageous plan, but foolhardy. What if you encounter other inmates? Do you think they will simply stand aside and let you remove your father? I may not be as knowledgeable as an experienced thief in the ways of other thieves, but I do not believe these men will simply let you walk away without giving them a thing."

  "You forget, heiress, my father was first a thief but is foremost a political prisoner. He is kept with other non-aggressive prisoners like himself who are mostly old men. The inmates who survive six years in the main penitentiary are released to the island and forced to remain as colonists for the duration of their sentences."

  "And are forbidden from ever returning to France," Adriana's gaze slipped away. "Yes, I know of the legend of Devil's Island."

  Christian surged forward and braced his hands on the table, trapping her in between. Mere inches from her lips, he heard the slip of breath she caught.

  "Believe me, Miss Montague, for the men imprisoned there, Devil's Island is no legend."

  Chapter Eight

  Christian emerged from the hatch to a breeze like a velvet caress on his face. Henri and Ollie had sailed them through the night again. Christian had felt warm, balmy air like this once before, in the south of France.

  The water was a lighter shade of aquamarine, reaching out in front of him in gradually darkening bands of turquoise and sapphire until they finally matched the color of Adriana's eyes. Deep, impossibly vivid, heaven-sent blue.

  She stepped in front of him wearing a frigid scowl.

  "Miss Montague. Good morning."

  She was angry with him again. Blast it all, what have I done wrong now?

  "Mr. Dupree was up most of the night again. I beg of you, put our differences aside and help me."

  "What would you have me do?" He glanced down at her hand on his forearm. As though she only now realized she'd clutched him, she snatched it away and stepped back.

  "We shall arrive at Hutchison's Island by midday. Convince Mr. Dupree to put up there until tomorrow. It is a full day's sail to Grand Bahama and I worry he may try to set out tonight. We are ahead of schedule, it will be in our best interest to rest."

  "Perhaps he does not want to rest." Christian crossed his arms over his chest. The feel of her delicate grasp resonated in his arm. "Perhaps he wishes to arrive in French Guiana as quickly as possible. Did you ever think of that? Perhaps he cares as much about rescuing my father as I."

  Adriana narrowed her eyes. "You are a selfish brute." She turned and stalked across the deck. "Good morning, Mr. Dupree. May I help you draw the anchor?"

  "She's stuck again," he replied simply. As he glanced up, Christian saw the fatigue in his eyes. Adriana was right; the old man was dead tired.

  Adriana delivered Henri a smile Christian would have paid a million franc for. "It is a wonderful morning for a swim." She turned around and that smile turned mocking as it landed on him. "And this time it is only twenty-two feet. Would you care to do the honors?"

  Ollie shot through the hatch. "I'll do it! I'll do it!" He waved both hands in the air as he ran over.

  The muscles in Christian's neck grew uncomfortably tight. "Why don't you let out the mizzen topsail as you did yesterday?"

  Adriana seemed unimpressed with his recollection of the sail name. Had he gotten it wrong?

  "The water is too shallow to risk that," Henri answered. "We're in the reef."

  "Let me do it," Ollie persisted.

  "Now Ollie, you know you don't swim very well," Adriana said, wearing that warm smile she reserved only for him.

  "But I can do it."

  "You have already done more than your fair share of the work, Ollie. You should be below right now, sleeping."

  "Let Adriana do it," Henri agreed. "You know she likes to swim."

  Adriana tossed an accusing glare Christian's way as she yanked off her boots. "For someone who claims to resent the upper classes, you are more of a dandy than practically anyone I have ever met. You act as though we are all here to serve you." She unhooked the rope guard by the gap in the rail and stepped into its opening. "You haven't lifted a finger during this entire voyage, and I am sick to death of it!"

  She dove over the side. Christian's heart jumped into his throat. He ran to the railing beside Henri and peered over. The water was amazingly clear for several feet, but still he could only see down to the shadow of her disappearing figure. Chauncy raced back and forth at the rail, his ear-splitting yips adding to the tightening in Christian's neck muscles.

  "Good God, is she mad?"

  "Courageous is a better word for it," Henri said with a sideways glance. He picked up the dog and shushed it.

  "It seems deeper than twenty-two feet."

  "It is safe enough," Henri said. "You've got to swim again, someday."

  "I shall swim," Christian said defensively. Mrs. Bailey's shriek of disapproval shrilled against his bones.

  "Ga! A fine example of a man you make."

  Christian turned around. The woman had an uncanny habit of materializing at the worst times. She seemed to have shed her seasickness, but not her rage. She planted both hands on her hips as she stared at him in disgust. Ollie wisely headed the other way.

  "I declare, I have never seen a more inconsiderate rascal. Mr. De la Croix, you continue to astound me."

  If looks could kill, Christian would be lying dead on the deck at this very moment.

  "You may have noticed she dove in before anyone could stop her." He glanced over the edge again. Still no sight of Adriana. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat.

  "I saw, all right, and heard. She asked if you would do it and you refused." She looked him up and down with disgust. "As if it would ruin those fine clothes you have stolen from Mr. Montague."

  "I assure you, Madame, it is not because of the clothes. I don't swim."

  Her mouth fell open. "I do declare, now I have heard everything. You are more foolish than I thought, Mr. De la Croix. Only an imbecile sets out on a ship not knowing how to sail or swim."

  A splash brought his attention back to the water. He and Henri peered over in time to see Adriana disappear under the surface again.

  "I didn't say I don't know how to swim, I merely said I don't swim."

  "Enough," Henri growled. "I've been up all night, and this is how I'm greeted in the morning?"

  Christian's guilt tripled, second only to a burning shame boiling in his gut. "I apologize, Henri."

  Mrs. Bailey settled back, but didn't speak. Her lips pinched until they were as taught as a telegraph line.

  "Christian, be honest with me," Henri started quietly. "Are you really still afraid of the water?"

  From the corner of his eye he saw Mrs. Bailey's attention catch.

  "We can talk about this another time," Christian told him.

  "Oh please, do talk about it now," she challenged.

  "You got to get over it, son. It was nearly fifteen years ago. It wasn't even in the ocean."

  "Oui, Henri," Christian growled. "It was a lake, but I nearly drowned just the same." The incident was one of the last things he cared to recall. Since then, he hadn't missed swimming at all. It was a pastime for the frivolous.

  Adriana splashed to the surface. "Draw anchor, Mr. Dupree."

  She took hold of the rope Henri tossed over. With her wet hair pasted against her head and her green linen skirts floating behind her, she looked like some sort of ethereal sea nymph.

  Standing on deck dry and unruffled, Christian felt genuinely useless. Adriana was right, he'd hardly lifted a finger, it was the others who had spent their efforts so far i
n rescuing his father.

  Henri turned the windlass. The chain began moving as the anchor ascended. "Put the ladder over," Henri said with a flipped gesture toward the passage in the rail.

  Before Christian could move to do it, Ollie shoved the ladder off the side for Adriana. She didn't look at him as she climbed on deck, dripping with seawater. Without the fluff of all her clothing, she was more slender than he'd realized. She looked as frail as a willow sprig.

  "You poor dear, look at you!" Mrs. Bailey drew her close, soaking the front of her dress.

  "Why Mrs. Bailey, swimming is wonderful!" Adriana said brightly. She glowed with new energy, as though the water had transformed her into another person. "Really, you should try it. We are going to sail through some of the most crystalline waters known to man. Ah, I do love the tropics! Ask Mrs. Ling prepare some eggs for me, will you? I'm going to take a bath."

  She padded off, dripping a trail of water down the deck as Chauncy trotted happily along with her. Adriana didn't even know about his phobia of the water, but somehow she managed to make him look like a fool. Christian ground his teeth, refraining from quoting her own rule about bathing while at sea.

  Henri secured the anchor and shuffled down the deck.

  "Adriana says we will reach Hutchison's Island by this afternoon," Christian called after him. "She believes we should put up until tomorrow morning, and I agree with her."

  The old man stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "You do now, do you?"

  Christian nodded. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. I don't believe it will hurt to lay over for a night."

  "Lord knows I could use a full night's sleep." Henri scratched his bristled chin. "And it sure does my soul good to hear you two agreeing on something, no matter how small."

  Christian forced a smile. "We've become the best of friends."

  Henri frowned. "Don't get smart with me, lad." He threw his arm over Christian's shoulder. When had the old man become so tiny and withered? "Join me for some of Mrs. Ling's fresh eggs, and we'll let Miss Montague know she can take the helm for the rest of the day."