Courtney was standing there, surrounded by a mist of smoke, the glowing, throbbing light from the fire forming a blood red halo around her. She was staring down at Davey Dunn's body. In her right hand she held a knife but the blade was pointed straight down, as if she had no strength to lift it.
Miranda's gazed flicked to the staircase leading to the upper floor.
She slid a foot sideways a few inches but if Courtney noticed, she made no sign. A few inches more...a full step...still no notice.
Miranda bolted for the bottom stair. She heard a faint whisper of steel, and it seemed to take an eternity before she felt its bite at the side of her throat. She staggered against the wall, a hand clawing up and curling around the hilt of the knife. Her jaw sagged and she stared at the jets of blood...her blood...spraying the floor. Her hands clawed the wall, trying to pull herself forward but her legs refused to follow. Her head tipped forward, dragged down by the weight of her hair. Something white fell on the stair in front of her. Papers. They were spattered crimson and she tried to gather them up again but her hands would not move. She heard voices. Shouts. She saw tongues of flame reaching up through the cracks of the floor...then nothing.
~~
Adrian fought his way up the smoke-filled staircase to the main floor and weaved his way blindly through the maze of burning bales. He heard shouting up ahead and recognized Rory’s voice, but he could not see through the hot, stinging clouds of smoke. The air was so dry it scorched his lungs. He could feel the flames chasing after him, licking at his arms, his legs, his hair, and he remembered a vivid scene from a nightmare—of flesh melting off bones and dripping in pools of fiery gore.
“Courtney!” It was nothing more than a gasp torn from his throat.
“Adrian? Adrian!” It was Rory. “Good God, man, hurry! The ceiling is about to go!”
“Nooooo! Courtney!”
“She is outside! She is safe! Adrian!" Rory grabbed him by the shoulders and half carried, half dragged him out the door. Seconds later they heard an explosion and were propelled through the air on a blast of hot air. In the next instant there were hands tearing at both of them, peeling the burning scraps of clothing from their bodies.
“Was there anyone else inside?” Rory asked, his hands cupped around his mouth to direct the shout in Adrian’s ear.
“Around back. Matt and the boy...Duncan...but they got out.” The gray eyes halted their frantic search at the edge of the road. A small, pale shape was huddled in the dirt beside Davey Dunn.
Adrian climbed shakily to his feet, shrugging off the helpful hands as he walked toward Courtney. As he came closer, he realized Dunn was dead. Blood was smeared on the shapeless white smock she wore and he prayed unashamedly that it was Davey Dunn’s blood. He noticed her hands: the wrists were raw from rope burns, and he could not help but recall the same marks on her when he’d first seen her in his cabin on the Falconer. Since then he had promised to protect her. To love, honor, and protect her. To keep her safe.
“Courtney?”
The green eyes were swimming with tears. They streaked down her cheeks and dripped onto the front of her smock. She was staring at the spectacular horror of the fire, and he had to repeat her name three times before she blinked and brought him into focus.
“She killed them all,” Courtney whispered hoarsely. “Verart, Seagram, Davey, Garrett, Duncan—"
“No. No, Courtney!” Adrian dropped to her knees beside her and his hands went to either side of her face, cradling it gently, tilting it to his, turning her so she looked at him and not the fire. “Your father is alive. Matt is alive too...and the boy.”
“They are? Alive?”
“Yes!” He kissed her fiercely. “Yes. They are alive. Oh, my darling, yes.” He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her temples.
“Matthew?”
“Yes. Yes, he is alive.”
The emerald eyes looked up into his solemnly. “She does not love you, you know. She loves him. She loves Matthew.”
Adrian stared at her a moment, then slowly grinned with comprehension. “I know she does. And I know that Matt loves Deborah, too, so...where does that leave us?”
“Together?” she dared to whisper.
His hands tightened; his fingers ran into the auburn curls and he brought her mouth to within a breath of touching his. “Only if you promise to stop running away from me.”
Courtney leaned forward. "Only if you promise never to let go of me again. Not ever."
"A promise I will happily keep," he vowed, gathering her into his arms. "Starting now."
Epilogue
Between the line of thick green foliage and the sparkling sweep of azure water lay a stretch of blindingly white sand. The sun was directly overhead, a fiery orb that caused the surface of the sea to shimmer like silver and the trees to droop in the heat. Now and then a gull circled, screaming mock commands at the row of sweating men who were laboring to put the finishing touches on a house seated halfway up a slope that overlooked the wide deep-water bay. The men laughed and joked among themselves as they worked. Most were stripped to the waist and were tanned nearly as dark as the island natives. The latter gathered curiously each day to watch the progress on the huge white house. This day like every other, they chattered and chewed leaves, pointing at various pieces of furniture being offloaded from the ship anchored out in the bay. Their children ran along the beach and swam in the surf; they caught crabs and clams to filled a big pot that would later be set over a fire and the contents cooked for the evening meal.
Twice the barge that had been ferrying supplies from the ship had tipped, spilling the contents into the surf. Each time the children who were playing on shore would abandon their crabbing or their game of pirates and run into the clear water to help with the salvage. Three of the youngest were usually the last ones splashing into the water, hampered by shorter legs, but nonetheless determined to dive and fetch what they could off the sandy bottom. The very youngest was a girl with fiery red hair and sea green eyes, who, if she could not wade in as deep as the others, or if the waves were too strong for her to fight her way through, would simple stand in the shallows and trip one of her brothers, then snatch up the booty and run to shore.
"Just like her mother," Adrian murmured, his lips pressed against Courtney's ear.
She tipped her face up to his and smiled. "She has already said she wants her own ship one day, something I never quite achieved."
Adrian laughed. "Aye, but you are the most beautiful first mate a captain has ever had."
She dug an elbow playfully into his ribs and turned to watch the children again. The eldest, Alan, had been born eight months after they had sailed away from Gibraltar. A year later, William had come squalling into the world, and ten months later, Marguerite.
True to his word, Adrian had arranged a swift annulment for the marriage that never was between himself and Deborah. Not a day passed before she and Matthew Rutger stood before a minister and exchanged their vows, with Dickie Little on crutches beside them, proudly holding the baby, Lori, in his arms. Shortly after, the four had departed for Pennsylvania, where Matt's skills as a physician soon earned him employment in the navy again, but this time as a teacher and recruiter determined to put qualified doctors on board ships who were committed to using the bone saw only as a last resort.
Duncan Farrow, in his guise as the respectable businessman, William Longford, had lingered in Norfolk only long enough to heal his shoulder and sign the papers that made Adrian a full partner in all of his businesses. He slipped out of port on his newly built ship, the Marguerite and sailed south, promising to let Courtney know where, if, and when he decided to drop anchor again. His last night in port, they had gathered for a final meal and as a parting gift, he had given Courtney a large, well-worn leather box containing, among other things, twelve thick journals.
"It is all there, daughter. Everything about your mother from the moment we met, every thought I had, every deed I did down through those long bloody
years. I have kept a few of her letters, but the rest are here, for you. There is also the matter of two large sea chests which I know not what you want done with them, but when you read the journals, you will know where they can be found. Leave them buried or dig them up; use what they hold to twinkle up a Christmas tree or take them out into the ocean and dump them; I care not."
"Where will you go? When will I see you again?"
"My only desire was to see you safe and happy, and that, I can see, has been accomplished. The need for revenge is all burned out of me and now I just have a mind to follow the edge of the horizon and see where it leads. As for when you will see me again," he paused and tucked a finger under her chin, "it may be sooner or it may be later, but you'll not be rid of me that easily."
He was gone the next day and within the month, Adrian and Courtney left Norfolk behind as well, sailing south into warmer waters. Rory Ballantine had been the only one standing on the dock to bid them farewell. He had already resigned from the family business by then, and had taken his new position as manager of the Wm. Longford Import and Export Company. In just under six years, he tripled the profits, mainly due to the new trade ventures Adrian established in the Indies. Longford Rum had fast become one of the best known brands in spirits, the label designed with a scarlet wolf's head on a black field.
Their explorations of the West Indies had brought Courtney and Adrian to this particular stretch of tropical heaven and as soon as Courtney had set eyes on the beach and tall swaying palms, she had looked at Adrian, and he had looked at her, and they had both known they were home. They cleared land for a house and fashioned it after the open, airy buildings suited to the climate, with tall open windows and wide doors, a shaded veranda that circled the entire upper storey. Importing the wood, making tiles for the roof had taken nearly two years, but now, with the final pieces of furniture arriving and carpenters putting the final touches on the rails and shutters, it was finally time to move out of the makeshift huts and into their new home.
He slapped her lightly on her bottom and gave her a final kiss. "I had best get up to the house or the workers will all be sleeping under the shade. How are you feeling, Irish? Well enough to christen our new bedroom tonight, I trust."
She ran a hand over the gentle swell of her belly and smiled. "Well enough to leave you splayed out and gasping for mercy."
"Interesting," he murmured. "Still issuing challenges after all these years."
She reached up on tip toes and kissed him soundly on the smirking lips. "Hone your sword, Yankee, for there will be no quarter given tonight."
He growled and scooped her up into his arms. "In that case, my lusty wench, fair play is forfeit and I shall be putting the rest of the afternoon to good use weakening your defenses."
He turned and carried her up the beach, and behind them the natives chattered, laughed, and pointed. The children resumed their game of pirates, with little Marguerite leading the charge into the trees.
~~~~~~~~
Author's note:
I hope you enjoyed The Wind and the Sea. Swashbuckling adventures on the high seas have always been a favorite of mine, in books as well as on film. My first movie star crush was on Errol Flynn and I only hope my love for the genre has shone through in these words.
My other high seas adventures include Bound by the Heart, Across A Moonlit Sea, and The Iron Rose.
I am thrilled to have been able to give The Wind and the Sea, Bound by the Heart, Swept Away, and China Rose a second life via the digital medium. Keep an eye out for new adventures coming soon.
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