Charlotte had been but a girl of fourteen then and had swept into the room wild-eyed and frantic, only calming once she held Jonathan’s hand in her own. She never left his side during the first days when the doctor doubted he would survive, and even when it appeared he’d turned a corner, she was never away from him for long.
Then, she’d approached Max one morning as he stood looking out over the creek, lost in thought. She’d eyed him carefully, hands on her hips, then said simply, “Give me your hand.”
Max was barely eighteen himself, but when his fingers touched hers, he knew there would be no other for him . . . knew it even before she looked down to trace a line on his palm, then meet his gaze with a soft smile.
“I’ve been waiting for you for quite a while,” she said. Max had the strangest urge to apologize, but before he could, she added, “and I fear I will have to wait a while longer.”
“What do you mean?”
Max could feel each of her fingers as if they burned into his skin, her eyes dark and intent as she stared into his.
“I must ask for your vow, Maxwell Baines.”
Max knew he would promise her anything, but still he asked, “What vow?”
Charlotte’s eyes glazed over for a moment before she focused on him again. “You must protect Jonathan,” she said. “You must stand by his side at all costs.”
Max had been confused at the request. He and Jonathan had been friends since he’d first set foot on the Arrow, and they’d formed an alliance in those early days. They looked out for each other. Indeed, their friendship had been what had saved Jonathan from Kane’s sword. Max knew Jonathan would do the same for him if the situation were reversed.
“Of course,” he said quickly.
“You don’t understand, Max,” Charlotte had added, her voice taking on an urgent tone. “I am asking you to put Jonathan before yourself—his needs before your own. It will require great sacrifice on your part, perhaps even your own life.
“I cannot see it clearly, but your destinies are intertwined,” she continued. “But for all to be as it should be, you must not leave his side, no matter how much you may long to.” The last words were spoken wistfully, a sparkle of tears appearing in her eyes. “No matter how much we both may long for it.”
“I don’t understand . . .” Max’s words had drifted off as he looked into her eyes. In that moment, he knew he would give her whatever she asked. “All right,” he said. “I promise.”
And Charlotte had smiled sadly before releasing his hand. “It will be all right,” she said. “We just have to be patient.”
Max hadn’t known then what exactly she meant, but when Jonathan became captain and named him first mate, he began to understand. When late one night, over a jug of rum, Jonathan had revealed his plan to kill Kane—to find the treasure—it became even clearer.
And each time he’d returned to Charles Towne, only to leave Charlotte behind when every fiber of his being fought against it, he truly comprehended what his vow entailed.
And still, he kept it. Because he’d promised her, and he never faltered in his duty.
He turned to look at her briefly, even years later awed as he always was by the curve of her cheek, the soft radiance of her skin. She caught his eye, blushing slightly.
“So, Jonathan said we’re headed to Savannah,” he said after a while. “To a blue door.”
Charlotte tipped her head in acknowledgment.
“Was there anything more?” he asked.
Charlotte smiled at him. “You have what you need.”
Max nodded, trusting her as he always did, and they turned down the trail leading to the creek. “We haven’t had much time to talk,” he said. “How have you been?”
“Fine,” she replied. “You know how it is here. Nothing changes, really. Time moves, but rather slowly, it seems.”
Max raised a tentative hand to stroke her fingers. “I wish . . .”
Charlotte shook her head, leaning into him slightly. “If wishes were pennies I’d be the wealthiest woman in South Carolina,” she said. “We both have our destinies to fulfill. Our time will come.”
“Are you certain?” he asked, looking into her dark eyes. “Is it wrong for me to keep you waiting like this? I often feel like the most selfish man alive—“
“There is not a selfish bone in your body.”
“I should release you. Free you to find a husband, have children.”
Charlotte stopped short, eyes flashing as she turned to face him. “You sound like my father.”
Max walked away a few steps, his back to her. “Perhaps he is right. He only wants the best for you.”
“I choose what’s best for me,” Charlotte said, crossing to look him in the eye. “I choose you.”
“And what do I have to offer you?” he asked. “No home. No name. No fortune of note . . .”
“Max, you know I want none of those things” she said, lifting her hands to cup his face. “But perhaps it is you who has regrets?” Her smile fell, her eyes searching his. “Do you wish your freedom?”
His hands covered hers. “Never,” he said. “There is no other for me, Charlotte, not in this life. And although I may regret I have but a few stolen moments with you, it is no hardship for me to stand at Jonathan’s side. You know he is like a brother to me.
“And I will wait forever for you, if that is what must be.”
Charlotte smiled. “Then you must trust me. This will all turn out for the best.” She glanced over her shoulder briefly, then popped up on her toes to kiss his lips lightly. Max wished she would linger, but she stepped back with a smile.
“Besides,” she said. “I may be an old maid, but I’m not that old. Barely one-and-twenty. There is still time for a husband.” She ran her hands down his arms to take both of his, a mischievous smile on her face. “And a family.”
Her grin was infectious, and Max found himself matching it. “You’re sure you still want me, then?”
“No one else will do.”
At that, Max raised a brow, looking around quickly before pulling her down the path into the forest. He led her deeper into the trees, then drew her into his arms.
“In that case, perhaps I need to give you something to remember me by,” he said, dipping his head to nuzzle her neck.
Charlotte giggled. “Just what did you have in mind?”
“Just a few things I’ve learned from Jonathan about claiming a lady.”
Charlotte grimaced. “Please, do not mention my brother at a time like this.”
Max chuckled. “Point taken.” He pulled her closer and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. Charlotte’s fingers trailed up his arms before linking behind his neck, and he leaned down to kiss her once . . . twice . . . before sighing deeply and taking her mouth more possessively. As always, in Charlotte’s arms he felt right—like coming home after a long voyage.
She was his home, after all. No matter where he traveled, she was what steered his life. His true north in the midst of a vast ocean.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping for breath, he held her close, whispering promises of love and hope and a future.
And she whispered them right back.
Waiting for sunset was torturous.
To Rina, it seemed the sun would never sink below the horizon. She stood with Jonathan and Max in the underbrush where they’d hidden the dinghy, eyes scanning the beach for any signs of life. Jonathan’s father had provided horses for the journey, accompanying them nearly all the way before taking their mounts back home, bidding them all goodbye with a firm nod, and a “God be with you.” They’d made it the rest of the way on foot, Rina’s heart racing the whole way.
She thought she might expire on the spot when a pair of soldiers on horseback approached, hoof beats muffled in the mud. She gasped when they passed close by their hiding spot, and Jonathan took her hand, squeezing it tightly in warning. She clung to him, barely daring to breathe until the men rode out of sight down the beach.<
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“It’s all right,” Jonathan murmured, his lips close to her ear. His breath tickled her skin, and she shivered, eyes fluttering closed briefly. She realized she still gripped his hand and released it abruptly, stepping away and nearly stumbling out of the brush.
Jonathan reached for her, his large hands closing on her hips to steady her.
“Easy,” he said, voice low, his eye glittering in the dwindling sunlight. “Don’t swoon on me now, Smith.”
Rina’s skin felt hot, her mouth parched, and she licked her lips to moisten them. His gaze dipped, following the motion, his own mouth curving into a smirk. He met her startled eyes, his fingers tightening on her waist, and Rina’s breath caught, dizziness sweeping through her.
So much for her plan not to get close to him. Actually, at that moment, she really couldn’t recall her reasoning behind that decision. It seemed a bit silly, when being close to him felt so, so good.
A throat cleared. “Sun’s going down,” Max said with a pointed look as he tossed away the branches camouflaging the dinghy. “Perhaps you two could continue this discussion later?”
Jonathan pulled away, focus lingering for a moment before he turned to help Max drag the dinghy down to the water. Rina scanned the beach, following behind them and taking Max’s hand when he offered it to help her into the boat. He froze, turning his head in surprise, and she followed his gaze to see Charlotte standing on the shore a short distance away. Max helped Rina into the boat and turned to Jonathan.
“I’ll be but a moment,” he said quietly.
Jonathan nodded, and Rina settled on the bench, watching Max approach Charlotte. The two spoke in quiet tones for a moment, their voices lost amidst the crashing waves. Then, Charlotte reached up to her nape and pulled the ribbon from her hair to tie it around Max’s wrist. He lifted his hand, touching her face in almost reverence, and Rina looked away, embarrassed at witnessing such an intimate moment. She caught sight of Jonathan standing on the other side of the dinghy, gaze focused resolutely out over the water. He caught her eye briefly and cleared his throat.
“The winds are with us,” he said. “Should be a short trip to Savannah.”
“That’s good.” She examined his profile, the strong line of his jaw . . . his throat, now fully on display since he’d traded his fine suit and cravat for his usual open-necked shirt, breeches and boots. He swallowed, and in the dwindling light, she could just make out the movement of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed. He turned toward her again, and she flushed, embarrassed to be caught ogling.
She needed to get better at this.
He was silent, so she snuck a look at him, only to find him regarding her carefully. He licked his lips. “Smith . . . I . . .”
Max, of course, chose that moment to step up to the dinghy and throw in a large cloth bag with a thud. “From Charlotte,” he said to Rina. “She said it’s something you’ll find useful in the coming days.” He leaned down to push the dinghy off the shore, glancing up at Jonathan, who still had yet to move.
“Jonathan? Are you ready?”
Jonathan cleared his throat and set to aiding him in the task. They stepped into the water, giving the front of the boat a shove before getting in and settling at the oars. Sarina looked over her shoulder to find Charlotte still standing on the beach, the wind whipping at her skirts and her hair flying wildly around her head. Sarina lifted a hand to wave, and Charlotte returned the gesture before fading away in the darkness.
Rina turned back around as they made their way slowly out of the harbor and into open water, silence thick around them. Jonathan refused to meet her eyes, his own gaze fixed at some point over her shoulder. Max’s melancholy was a tangible thing, and Rina’s heart broke a little when she spotted the yellow ribbon peeking out from the edge of his shirt sleeve. The quiet dip of the oars set an easy rhythm, and before long they’d left the shoreline behind, surrounded only by dark water as far as they could see.
When the hulking shadow of a ship appeared before them, Rina let out a sigh of relief. Jonathan looked over his shoulder, then nudged Max to gain his attention. The two stopped rowing abruptly and exchanged a concerned glance.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Jonathan pressed a finger to his lips, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, his words sending a chill down her spine.
“That’s not the Arrow.”
Rina sat back, mouth dropping open in horror as she looked up at the ship before them. Men rushed about the deck, carrying lanterns and shouting orders as it headed toward the harbor. She gasped when she finally recognized it as the Intrepid, Commodore Stanton’s ship.
Charlotte was right.
Max tapped Jonathan’s arm, pointing off to the left, and Rina squinted, barely able to discern the shape of another ship in the distance. Jonathan nodded and the two began to row again, tension in every stroke of the oars. All three of them kept their eyes fixed on the Intrepid as they pulled farther away, waiting for someone to shout—to notice them and spring into action. But apparently the lanterns on Stanton’s ship were enough to diminish their view of the waters surrounding them, because Sarina heard no alert—no sign that the Crown ship had spotted either the dinghy or the Arrow.
Still, she didn’t draw a steady breath until they’d reached Jonathan’s ship and her feet stepped firmly on the deck.
With quiet efficiency, the crew set sail away from Charles Towne and Commodore Stanton as quickly as possible. They had to head north and east to avoid him, circling around to approach Savannah once they were certain he was no longer a threat. Jonathan dismissed Max with a nod and turned to discuss their course with Crawley. After a short chat with James, Rina took the opportunity to escape belowdecks. She started toward the captain’s quarters, but decided she really needed some time alone with her thoughts . . . time to absorb all she’d learned about Jonathan and his family. Time to think about what was obviously growing between them and what exactly she should do about it.
Instead she headed toward the hold, seeking out the small storage room where she’d slept while masquerading as Smith. Out of habit, she quickly scanned the hallway, although there was no reason anyone would question her activities now, before shoving the door open and slipping into the room. To her surprise, it wasn’t dark inside, but lit by the soft glow of a lantern sitting on an upturned crate. Max looked up from where he sat on the other side of the crate, a jug of rum in his hands.
“Are you lost?” he asked, lifting the jug to his lips and taking a deep swallow.
“No. I . . .” She started to turn back to the door. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind some company, if you don’t mind me getting roaring drunk.” He took another gulp from the jug and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as he eyed her carefully. “In fact, you look like you could use a nip yourself.”
Rina hesitated, then realized that perhaps that was exactly what she needed. Not to dwell and think and obsess about everything, but to forget about it—if only for a few hours. She stepped back inside and closed the door behind her before crossing the room. Max reached over to push another crate toward her and she perched on it, trying not to stare at the ribbon tied around his wrist. He noticed her interest, however, and set the jug on the table as he fingered it lightly.
“She wanted me to have something to remember her by,” he murmured, his words already beginning to slur. “As if I could ever forget.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need,” he said, reaching for the jug and taking another drink before offering it to Rina with a raised brow. She took it from him, tipping it to her lips and taking a tentative sip. The rum burned going down, but she’d grown somewhat accustomed to it as of late, and she took another swallow before handing it back to Max.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the glug of rum as they passed the jug back and forth. Rina’s body filled with languid warmth, her mind growing soft and muzzy.
Finally, Max spoke.
“You want to talk about it?”
Her thoughts immediately flew to Jonathan, and she frowned. “Not really. You?”
“Not really.” He tipped his crate back, rocking on one end. He took another drink, swishing the rum around in his mouth before swallowing. When he looked at her, Rina noticed his eyes seemed a bit glazed. Of course, it was getting more difficult to tell, since there seemed to be two of him.
“It’s just that I made a vow,” he said, leaning forward and missing his knee with his elbow a couple times before making contact and bracing himself. “She made me promise, you see. And because of that promise, I can’t be with her.”
“What kind of promise?”
He waved a hand in the air. “To watch over Jonathan, of course. To protect him. As if he needs protecting!”
Rina swayed a little in her seat, gripping it slightly as she tried to focus. “Charlotte made you promise?”
Max laughed. “Who else?”
“And now you have to stay with Jonathan and you can’t be with her?”
Max snapped his fingers. “Aye.”
“But . . . that’s so . . .” Rina searched for the word, but it seemed to elude her. “It’s so . . . so . . .” She hiccupped. “. . . sad.”
“Aye.” Max sighed.
“Because you love her,” she said mournfully, suddenly overcome with emotion. She reached for Max’s arm, almost falling off her crate in the attempt. “You love her,” she repeated, a bit louder.
“Aye.”
She stood, knees wobbling for a moment before crossing to the porthole. “So now, she’s out there . . . and you’re stuck on this stupid ship!” Rina kicked the wall, then again for good measure.
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