“I believe so. He will stop at nothing.”
Rina eyed him carefully. “And you? Will you also stop at nothing?”
The captain looked away for a moment, then said in a low voice, “I want the treasure, but despite what you may have heard about me, I am not in the habit of killing innocent people.”
He turned to look her in the eyes. “Kane, however, is far from innocent.”
Rina nodded, then dropped her gaze at his intensity.
“So you—we,” she corrected, “have the cutlass. What about the rest?” She noticed Tremayne didn’t challenge the we.
“This—“ He held up the pendant. “I believe to be the key for the lock.”
Rina reached for the necklace, turning it in her hand. “It’s just a locket.” She prised at one edge and it popped open. “There’s not even anything inside it. How can it be a key?”
Tremayne flipped through the journal to the page with the drawing of the locket, and showed her where Mellick had identified it as The Key.
Rina frowned. “So, you have the key and the cutlass. What about the cup and the coin?” She leaned forward to lay down the locket and pick up one of the coins from the chest. “Is it one of these?”
“I don’t think so.” The captain took the coin and examined it closely. “These are just ordinary coins. I think we’re looking for something special.”
“Special how?”
“Good question.”
“And the cup?”
With a heavy sigh, Tremayne placed the items back in the chest. “I don’t know. It’s possible Kane has it. I have no information about it.”
Rina was beginning to wonder if there was anything about this so-called treasure that Tremayne did know for certain.
“And once you retrieve all of these relics, what then?” she asked.
“It’s not simply the relics,” he replied. “There is also a map. Kane is in possession of half of it, but the other half is missing. I believe the map will direct us how to use the relics.”
Rina blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “It seems this Mellick was more than careful. Given the intricacy of this puzzle of his, I’d hazard to call him downright paranoid. How are we ever to decipher what this all means?”
Tremayne’s mouth curved in a sly smile. “Well, that’s part of the challenge, Smith. Nobody ever said treasure hunting was a simple venture. Regardless, that is why we’re headed to South Carolina.” He hesitated, watching her reaction. “There is a seer there who I hope will put us on the right path.”
She barked out a laugh. “A seer? Surely you don’t put faith in such nonsense!”
He grimaced slightly. “Do not mock what you do not know, Smith. It may sound like nonsense, but it’s been proven to me too many times for me to be contemptuous.”
“Contemptuous?” Rina stiffened. “I wasn’t being contemptuous. Only skeptical.”
The captain stood abruptly, leaning forward over his desk. “It matters not. We are going to Charles Towne. Unless, that is, you have a better idea?”
She frowned, but could not come up with an alternative plan. “Fine,” she muttered. “But I want to study the journal on the way. Perhaps I’ll find a more logical plan of action.”
“Very well,” he said, placing the journal and chest back in the drawer, then pointedly reached for the key hidden in the cup on the shelf. “I’d prefer you not use the dirk again,” he explained. “I’d like to save the lock.”
Rina flushed and nodded.
Jonathan straightened after locking the drawer and returning the key to the cup. “Now, Smith, I think it’s time you share some information yourself.”
Ah ha. She knew he wanted something from her. “What kind of information?”
“As you said,” he replied, “I want to know what your father said about any of this. Did he tell you where he got the cutlass?”
Rina exhaled in frustration. “He told me it was a gift from his commanding officer—a lie, of course. I didn’t understand why he kept it locked away instead of on display, but it makes perfect sense, now.”
Tremayne ran his hands over his face, an aggravated growl low in his throat. “I didn’t even know he was looking for it,” he muttered. “He seemed to doubt the existence of the treasure as fancy.”
“Apparently, I wasn’t the only one he lied to,” Rina said bitterly.
He stood, his chair sliding back as he began to pace, one hand on the hilt of his dagger. “So, he didn’t tell you about Mellick, but perhaps he mentioned the cup or the coin? Or even how to find the missing half of the map?”
She shook her head, “He never said anything—“
“Think! Maybe you know something and you don’t even know you know it. Did he keep a journal himself? Or perhaps you have correspondence. He might have been working with someone.” He whirled about, a mixture of excitement and hope on his face. “Did he have a lockbox? A place he kept important items?”
“No, nothing—“
“There has to be something!” he snapped. He paused, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to stay calm. Rina actually felt a bit guilty. He’d shared so much information with her, and she really had nothing to share in return.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I went through everything thoroughly when I sold our home. There was nothing. No mention of treasure or cups or maps. If my father knew anything, he didn’t keep a record of it.”
Tremayne sat back down, running his hands over his face in defeat. For a moment, Rina began to worry. If she had nothing to offer, would Tremayne abandon her? Would he finally follow through on his threats now that he had no reason to keep her around?
Then she realized, he couldn’t.
Because he’d told her his secrets. And in order to keep them, he’d have to keep her.
Apparently, the captain had reached the same conclusion, because he fixed her with a piercing gaze. “Baines is the only person outside this room who knows what I’ve told you,” he said, voice tense and warning. “I intend to keep it that way.”
“Of course.”
“If I learn you’ve spoken of this to anyone else—“
“You won’t.”
His stare burned into her, and she leaned toward him. “I promise, Captain. I won’t tell a soul. You can trust me.”
At that, he blinked and looked away. “I don’t trust anyone.”
“You trust Baines.”
“Yes, well . . . he’s earned it.”
“I will, too,” she said lightly, trying to break the uncomfortable tension. “I’ll solve the puzzle and lead you to the treasure.”
He smirked, glancing at her sideways. “Just like that?”
She grinned. “Just like that,” she said. “You’ll find I’m very useful.”
Tremayne leered, his gaze drifting over her slowly. “Aye, I’m certain you are.”
Rina snorted, rolling her eyes. “Of course, just when I start to actually like you, you find it necessary to revert to being a barbarian.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “You like me?”
“Not anymore.” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
Tremayne barked out a laugh. “Oh, Smith, I think you do,” he said, standing to round the desk. “You know, if you’re ready to renegotiate our arrangement . . .” He glanced pointedly toward the bed.
Rina laughed, too amused to be offended. “No, thank you.”
“No?” He raised a brow, stepping toward her. Her stomach flipped.
“No,” she said, voice cracking.
Tremayne’s smile grew as he leaned over her chair. Rina froze as his cheek brushed hers and his lips grazed her ear, warm breath eliciting an uncontrollable shiver.
“If you change your mind,” he whispered, “you know where to find me.” She gasped as he stood abruptly and turned to leave the room. His low chuckle echoed down the hallway as he made his way to the deck, and it wasn’t until the sound faded that Rina’s breath steadied.
&
nbsp; She swallowed, her head spinning slightly. Tremayne flustered her, and she was not used to being flustered. She didn’t like it, at all.
She was beginning to wonder if perhaps she just might be a little bit out of her depth when it came to Jonathan Tremayne.
Jonathan kept an eye on her for the rest of the voyage and enlisted Max to do the same, but Sarina was true to her word and said nothing about the treasure to anyone else. Not that there was anyone on board she was friendly with anyway.
Except Jamie Ceron, of course. Jonathan frowned at the man as he stood near the bow, arms crossed. He had no doubt that Ceron was an honorable man, but he didn’t want anyone to know his business unless it was absolutely necessary. And at the moment, it wasn’t necessary.
Max, however, had ears all over the ship, and Jonathan was relatively certain that Sarina had not breathed a word of the treasure to even Ceron. Apparently, the idea of vengeance, along with her own share of the treasure, was enough to keep her quiet.
Jonathan smirked. At least something was.
He reached into his pocket for his spyglass, lifting it to his eye. The coast was barely visible in the distance as the sun sank below the horizon.
South Carolina. Home.
“Baines!” he called, his first mate appearing at his side almost instantly. “We set off at dark. I want to be on shore before the moon rises too high and gives us away.”
“Aye, Captain.”
He turned to walk with Max toward the bow. “Instruct Crawley to move the ship further out into open waters as soon as we’re away. We will rendezvous again tomorrow night after sundown.”
“Aye,” Max said again. “Captain, there is the matter of Miss Talbot.”
“What of her?” he asked, distracted by the crewmen adjusting the mainsail. “Look alive, men!” he shouted. “If ye damage the sail and we’re unable to evade the Crown, we’ll all be dancin’ the hempen jig!”
A chorus of “Aye, Cap’n!” rang out in response, but Max leaned in, catching his eye. “She means to come along.”
“What? Who?” Jonathan asked irritably.
“The wench.” Max fought to keep from rolling his eyes. “Miss Talbot. She means to go ashore with us.”
Jonathan gaped for a moment, then burst out laughing. “You’re jesting with me.”
“’Tis no joke,” Max replied. “She told me she wants to hear from the seer herself.” His cheeks flushed slightly at the mention of Charlotte, but Jonathan ignored it.
“Of course she does,” he grumbled. “Where is she?”
“In your quarters, I believe.”
“Ready the dinghy. I’ll only be a moment.” Jonathan turned on his heel and stalked belowdecks, bursting into his room without warning. Sarina jumped in surprise, a small bag at her feet. Jonathan noticed the journal peeking out the top.
“And what exactly are you about now, Smith?” He grabbed the bag and rifled through it, finding the chest tucked in the bottom amidst some spare underthings.
“Give me that!” she snapped, a flush stealing up her neck as she ripped the bag from his fingers and dropped it on the chair behind her. “I simply thought you’d like to bring them along. I assumed the seer—“
“Yes, well, it appears you assume quite a bit,” Jonathan retorted. “What is this I hear? You actually think you’re going ashore?”
Sarina bristled. “Well, of course I am. I want to hear what this seer has to say.”
“You’ll do no such thing!” he growled. “It’s utterly preposterous. You’ll stay on board where you belong.”
She stared at him blankly. For a moment, Jonathan wondered if she was going to explode, or burst into tears. To his surprise, she did neither.
“Utterly preposterous?” she repeated slowly, mimicking him. “Not very pirate-like, Captain. You’re doing it again.”
He glared at her. “Doing what, for heaven’s sake?”
She shook a finger at him, her eyes narrowing in concentration. “You know what? I believe it happens whenever you’re annoyed with me.”
“Well, then it should happen a lot,” he mumbled. “Now, what on earth are you on about?”
“Your accent,” she replied, spreading her hands palm up like the words explained everything. “It changes when you’re particularly irritated, it seems.”
“I have absolutely no idea—“ he began, cutting off abruptly and clearing his throat. “Yer daft, wench.”
Sarina bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Am I?”
A knock at the door interrupted the rather strange conversation, and Jonathan snapped, “What?” while attempting not to appear relieved. Max poked his head into the room, eyeing them both warily.
“It’s time, Captain,” he said.
Jonathan nodded. “Aye. Good.” When Sarina bent to pick up her bag, he added, “You are not accompanying us.”
“Oh, yes I am.”
“No. You’re not.”
Max watched the two of them with amusement.
“Look,” Sarina said, dropping her bag on the floor and planting her fists on her hips as she fixed Jonathan with a determined glare. “We can go back and forth like this all night. You can forbid me to come aboard, Ye’ll do what I say, wench and all that nonsense . . .”
“It isn’t nonsense!”
Sarina continued without stopping. “But we both know it won’t do a bit of good. If you leave me here, I will find a way to get off this ship. If you tie me up in the hold, I’ll escape somehow and steal a dinghy and row myself ashore. I’ll swim if I have to. You know I will.” She leaned forward, and Jonathan wondered if she was standing on her tiptoes to appear a bit taller.
“Let’s just skip all this ridiculous arguing and be on our way, shall we?” she said with a beatific smile, picking the bag up again and throwing it over her shoulder. “We’re wasting time.” And with that, she flounced past both men and headed up to the deck.
Jonathan stood motionless for a moment, trying to determine when exactly he had lost control of the situation. He realized his mouth hung open and shut it with a snap before turning toward the door. He glared fiercely at Max, whose eyes danced with merriment.
“Not a word,” Jonathan warned. “Unless you would like to be the one tied up in the hold.”
“But then who would row the boat?” he asked. At Jonathan’s growl, he held up his hands in defense, then offered a small salute. “Not a word. Aye, Cap’n.”
Jonathan stormed past him and up to the deck. He spotted Sarina chatting quietly with James and an inexplicable rush of anger swept through him. He stalked over to her and grabbed her arm roughly.
“If you insist on going, I’ll not have you delaying us,” he said with a scowl.
Sarina smiled and let him drag her away.
Gentle waves rocked the dinghy as the small landing party made its way ashore in the darkness. Rina sat across from the captain and first mate, gripping the wooden bench tightly on either side of her, a bubble of excitement tickling in her stomach. It felt good to be doing something other than laundry and cleaning, something to find her father’s killer.
Then there was the treasure, of course. And the strange puzzle they’d have to solve in order to find it. Rina couldn’t believe how her life had changed. Living with pirates, searching for treasure . . . it was like something out of a bedtime story.
She didn’t speak—warned repeatedly by Tremayne that they must be quiet and stealthy to avoid detection—but instead stared silently at the shadows of the two men pulling the oars in a slow, steady rhythm. A glance over her shoulder revealed nothing; the Black Arrow already heading farther out to the open sea. Rina turned back to look past Tremayne and Baines, searching for the shoreline.
She couldn’t make out anything in the darkness.
Then, just when she thought they’d perhaps turned around and were headed in the wrong direction, she began to discern the lights of a city in the distance. Her eyes scanned the horizon, and she realized they had entered a harbor, surrou
nded by the dark shadow of land all around them. She could barely make out rows of masts along the edge of the water, dozens of ships docked overnight at the busy trade center.
They rowed to the west of the lights, aiming for a covert landing. Eventually, the boat slid in the muck along the bottom, and Baines and Tremayne pulled the oars up, tucking them into the boat before slipping quietly into the water and tugging the dinghy closer to shore. Their boots squelched in the marshy sludge as Rina watched them, looking up and down the darkened beach, before Tremayne waved her forward. She stood carefully, tucking her bag under her arm, and picked her way over the benches to the front of the boat, peering doubtfully into the black water. Baines held out a hand to help her down, but just as Rina reached for him, bracing herself to wade through the marsh, Tremayne gave an exasperated huff, and swept her up in his arms. She gasped in surprise, clinging to him as he strode through the shallow water. He set her down none-too-gently on the muddy beach before returning to help Max pull the dinghy up the shore and hide it in the trees and underbrush.
The three set off at a fast pace, ducking through the forest, and across mud, then sand. Rina struggled to keep up, finally gathering her skirts into one hand so she could move more freely. They neared a small creek and Tremayne turned back toward her, catching her up in a firm grip and making it across in a half-dozen steps. He stepped back onto dry land, and Rina swore his arms tightened around her slightly before he set her back down—a bit more gently this time.
After a while, they neared the walled city, making their way over one drawbridge, then another.
“Walk calmly, and don’t attract attention,” Tremayne ordered, pulling back his long hair and tying it tightly with a leather thong, then pulling his hat down low over his face to hide his patch. He reached for Rina’s hand and tugged it through his bent elbow.
“What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to pull her arm away.
“Come now, Smith,” he said with a chuckle. “Now’s not the time to be shy. We’ll be far less suspicious as a young couple out for an evening stroll. With a proper chaperone, of course.”
Cutlass Page 14
