“Yeah, the guy. The one who stole your coherency.”
Images of the blond guy on the scooter and on the ferry intermixed with her dream guy at the helm of the pirate ship. Too similar to be a coincidence? “Just a hunky guy who was probably on vacation. Someone I may never see again.”
“Really? Damn, I heard real interest in your voice and hoped he was a local you could connect with.”
Before replying, she took a gulp of coffee. “Might be a local. He was in the captain’s—”
The garden gate clanged shut.
Aleen jerked around toward the window and set down her coffee on the tiled counter.
“In where? Why did you stop talking?”
“Hey, today’s Monday, right?” Lifting onto her tip-toes, she stretched over the sink to get a better angle on the garden space between her cottage and the big house.
“All day. Why?”
“Because no one from the Master Gardeners scheduled time to work on the gardens today.” She hurried across the floor to peer out another window.
“You do live on the grounds of a historic manor house in Easton’s Point. There are bound to be—”
“The grounds are closed on Mondays. Hey, gotta go. Someone is traipsing through the yard…” Movement caught her eye, and she spotted a tall guy with wavy blond hair walking the edge of the gardens. A gasp escaped and her fingers tightened, pressing the phone harder against her ear. “I don’t believe it.”
“Believe what? Why’d you say that?”
With her cheek smashed against the window, Aleen watched the interloper.
The tall man stopped and now stood with hands on hips, moving in a slow circle and scanning the garden and walkways.
Although she had her suspicions, Aleen waited until he turned to face her cottage. Then instant recognition hit. The golden-haired guy from the moped…and the ferry…and her dream last night. In flashes, like a slide show, she remembered her muddled dream of windswept seas, a sloop with tattered sails, and a long-haired pirate at the helm. Her mouth dried, but she forced herself to come up with a response to satisfy Mitzi. “I need to chase away this guy.”
He pulled a tape measure from one of his cargo shorts’ pockets, hooked it on the clapboard of the main house, then walked slowly backward.
“What guy?” A big sigh sounded through the phone. “I absolutely hate missing out on all the good stuff. Are you okay?”
“Nothing I can’t handle. Talk soon. Bye.” She punched end call and slid the phone onto the counter on her way out the side door. “Hold down the fort, Captain.” Once outside, the chilled air made her rethink her choice of a short-sleeved blouse.
The guy had disappeared from the immediate area.
Aleen walked to the front of her cottage and glanced toward the driveway. An older model pickup was parked close to the restraining chain, blocking her carport. Another strike against this trespasser.
Footsteps sounded on the crushed shell walkway, and she spun. “The grounds of Bayside Manor are closed today.” She aimed for a commanding tone but failed miserably. Up close, this guy was even more handsome than she remembered. At least, she wasn’t drooling.
“Hey, it’s Daisy Girl.” The guy stopped about ten feet away and jammed his hands in his pockets.
“Huh?” Aleen clamped her lips tight to keep in any more stupid sounds. The guy was more roguish, if that was even possible, dressed in Topsiders, cargo pants, and a black skull-and-crossbones T-shirt. She noticed the crinkle lines at the edges of his brilliant blue eyes.
The tanned man stepped closer and grinned. “From the island. And I spotted you on the ferry too, but you got lost in the crowd.”
Ah, the story of her life—practically invisible. The reminder that his first sighting had been of her bikini-clad backside made her blush. Still didn’t change the facts. Aleen squared her shoulders. “I remember, but the Manor grounds are still closed.” Should she be nervous about being alone with this stranger, especially one who had no trouble ignoring posted rules?
“Sorry for the intrusion. Let me start over.” Smiling, he approached and extended his right hand. “My name’s Braden Williams.”
Aleen bit her lower lip, but accepted his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Aleen MacRae.” At the moment their hands clasped, she felt warmth flooding her fingers. With a jerk, she released her grip, tingling sensations running along her skin. Immediately, the scent of fresh air and summer breezes wafted her way. Definitely a man of the sea. Just where I foretold your future lies. Whispers of her great-aunt Zsofika’s prophecy trickled through Aleen’s thoughts. The memory flamed heat into her cheeks.
“Wow.” Frowning, Braden flexed his hand and narrowed his gaze, then dropped it to his flexing fingers. “That was bizarre.”
“Static electricity, from all that wind yesterday.” A reasonable explanation. In the back of her mind, Aleen could hear Zsofika scoff, “Static schmatic. A connection like that is destiny.”
“Well…” His gaze searched her face. “Aleen—hey, that’s pretty, like the direction alee.” A wide smile exposed even teeth.
Her own smile dimmed. Like I’ve never heard that before. “Thanks.” This guy was not charming his way around the rules. “Sorry, but you’ll need to come back when the gardens are open for visitors. That’s Wednesdays through—”
“Yeah, I read the sign.” He gave a dismissive wave then turned to gaze back at the main house. “But I just needed five minutes to check out some dimensions and the lot layout.”
“So, you woke up this morning and just decided to start out your week by trespassing?” Before she could stop herself, she’d planted both hands on her hips. Maybe that sounded a bit too rude.
He flashed a smile, and his gaze skittered over her stance. “Minor detail. Besides, this is a public place.” He arced a hand between the structures. “Did you know this land was once owned by a pirate?”
Great, another treasure hunter. How many times had she heard a similar story? An entire mini-tourist trade flourished in downtown Newport, claiming ties to all things pirate. “Don’t tell me you’re working off one of those tourist maps.”
“Wrong, Daisy Girl. I’m not referring to any of those over-hyped locations.”
One point in his favor, even if he had used that horrible nickname. Her gaze narrowed. “The name’s Aleen.” If a pirate had once owned the land, then the Preservation Society would have commissioned a plaque with that proclamation and erected it on the front lawn.
Besides, she should know about that historical tidbit if it were true…and she didn’t.
“The famous pirate Thomas Tew was born right here in Newport. When he returned from one of his raids in the early 1690s, he was treated like a well-respected member of society.” Braden smoothed a hand over his hair that danced in the light breeze. “I’ve been studying some old family journals, and I’ve calculated this is the place where his house once stood.”
“You’re claiming to be related to Thomas Tew?” She cocked her head to one side and crossed her arms. Was this guy a phony, or had he even taken the time to check his facts? One way to find out. “Related through a son, or a daughter?”
A wide grin crinkled the skin at his eyes. “Trying to trip me up? Never said which family journals I’m studying. Actually, I’m a descendant of Paulsgrave Williams.”
The family name was one she recognized as being prominent on Block Island. The same place her Scottish ancestors had been offloaded from prison ships, meant to live in exile. The island was small, only seventeen square miles—maybe their ancestors had been acquainted. As a child she’d heard a slew of pirate stories, and since joining the museum staff, she’d glanced at most of the documents while performing her tasks. Now, she believed a good portion of the stories were greatly exaggerated to enhance the tourist trade that fed the local economy. “Although I wasn’t born here, I’m well aware of the area’s history. I happen to work at a local museum.”
“Then you of all people should
know.” Shaking his head, he spread out his hands, palms up.
You of all people? Her backbone stiffened. “About treasure, gold coins, gems, doubloons…” She shrugged. “After all these years, not much hidden treasure has been uncovered. Does that mean those precious treasure maps must have gone down with the ships?”
His eyes lit and his grin widened. “Maps are overrated. Journals are better, sturdier than a single sheet of paper. Matching them with ocean charts of the area presents a whole new picture.” He tapped a finger on his temple. “That’s my advantage—I’ve cross-referenced the sources and I aim to locate the treasure.”
Worse than a treasure hunter. The guy was an adventurer, and those types were just not grounded in reality. This conversation was going nowhere. “Sorry, Mr. Williams, but I have to get to work. You’ll need to leave.”
“Name’s Braden.” He saluted her before sauntering toward the gate. “I promise to prove these are the facts, Aleen. See you later.”
If only that were true. She held in a sigh as she watched him saunter away, enjoying the sight of his easy-rolling gait. Remembering the zinging touch of their handshake, she recalled her great-aunt’s description of Fate’s Touch, a MacRae family legend that prophesized forces of nature came into play when a couple who were fated to be together touched. Executing a crisp turn, Aleen squared her shoulders and strode back to the house…she refused to get tangled up in Zsofika’s wild predictions.
Chapter Three
Ninety minutes later, Braden breezed into the Rhode Island History Museum, stepped into line, and waited his turn at the welcome counter. Until this morning, he hadn’t realized the number of museums that existed in the Newport-Providence area.
“Morning, sir. Just one today?” A brunette with the name tag reading “Suzanne” smiled and waited.
“Hi, Suzanne. Can you tell me if a pretty lady named Aleen works here?”
“She does, back in the Maps and Charts room.” The woman narrowed her eyes. “Is she a friend?”
Excellent, maps are just what I need. “A recent acquaintance.” Giving her a broad smile, he handed over a five-dollar bill and took his admission receipt. “Thanks.” He started into the museum.
“Um, down at the end of the hall and turn left.”
Without turning, he lifted a hand to wave. “I’m a great navigator. I can find her.” How lucky was this circumstance? Aleen worked with the exact documents he needed to prove his claim. The fates must be shining his way today. He sped his strides, pulled open the correct door, and looked for the slim, strawberry-blonde lady who intrigued him. The desk in the corner was empty. “Excuse me?”
“Be there in a sec.”
Never one to wait long for what he wanted, Braden followed the sound of her voice around tables, a flat wooden architect’s cabinet, and spotted her bent over a bottom file drawer. Aleen sure had nice curves.
With a flourish, she grabbed a thick file folder, turned, and shoved the drawer closed with her knee. “And how can I…” She lifted her head, met his gaze, and her smile dimmed. “Oh, hello again.”
Not to be deterred by the change in her attitude, he flashed one of his best smiles. “Isn’t this fortuitous? Maps and charts, just like we were discussing earlier. Hey, you could have mentioned this is where you work.”
Her brows furrowed over the bridge of her nose. “Why would I?”
“Because I told you I’d prove my claim.”
“You were serious about that?”
When treasure was the subject, he was dead serious. “I’ll need the museum’s oldest map of Newport.”
She set her papers to the side of the desk, turned to the keyboard, and clicked several of the keys. “Any particular portion of the peninsula?”
“Preferably the earliest settlements, from around the time of the original charter would be great.” He leaned a hand on the desk and tilted his head for a look at the monitor. Didn’t hurt that this position let him whiff her fresh spicy scent—like grapefruit, or maybe an herb. An unexpected scent for such a traditional-looking lady.
“While I’m searching, could I ask you to fill out a request slip from that basket?” She jerked her head to the side. “The information is gathered for demographics only.”
“No problem.” He grabbed a pen from her pencil cup and filled in the blanks. This lady lived by rules. Although having pens with flower petals instead of erasers showed a flash of independent spirit. A grin tugged at his lips.
Aleen held a finger near the screen, scribbled notations on her pad, and turned.
“Here’s this.” Braden used the flowery end of the pen to scoot the slip across her desk. “Not taking any chances about shorting out the electronics in here.” He waited until she lifted her gaze and then gave her a broad wink.
Her body went rigid before she dipped her knees and grabbed a pair of thin gloves from under the counter. “I’ve located a couple of maps that may be what you’re looking for. Please follow me.”
“Gladly.” As he followed her through the aisles, he couldn’t help admiring the view. Although he wasn’t sure why, because Aleen was attractive in that girl-next-door way. Not his usual type at all. A trim body with curves in all the right places meant she obviously took care of herself. He bet she hated how her hair came loose from the clasp holding it at her neck and trailed a couple of tendrils by her ears.
In the far corner, she waved a hand at a scarred wooden flat file. “The oldest documents are stored here. The ones you might need are in the drawer marked 1700 and are EP-07NW and EP-08N.” She extended her hand, fingers down, and paused. “Please wear these cotton gloves at all times when handling the documents.”
“Easy enough.” He reached to take them, and a visible spark stretched between their fingertips. That one might have been caused by friction on the carpet. What else could explain it?
“I’ll leave you to your research.”
“No, stay.” He stretched to grab her shoulder but, at the last moment, pulled back. Half the fun of learning new facts was sharing the discovery, and he’d already discovered this woman definitely piqued his interest. “What if I can’t read the plot plan?” Like that would ever happen.
Aleen glanced toward the door leading to the museum then shrugged. “Sure, until I’m needed elsewhere.”
Five minutes later, he’d donned the gloves and retrieved the maps, which were actually more like survey plats that showed the original town layout. From his shorts pocket, he pulled out photocopies of several journal pages and unfolded them. “In researching Williams’ activities, I discovered several entries where he mentions Tew. Of course, he could only have met the pirate before he turned eleven, because that’s when his mother moved her family to Block Island. As far as I can tell, he seemed to have jotted down everything he learned about the man.” Like he was studying Tew’s life choices…the same way I am.
“Eleven, huh? The same age as when I moved here.” Biting her lower lip, Aleen leaned over the map. “Hmm, my dad’s ancestors immigrated to Block Island. Even back then they were tied to the sea.”
“Ah…” He couldn’t stop a corner of his mouth from quirking into a grin. Not everyone embraced their real lineage the way he did. “Immigrated, or were deposited by prison ships?”
She stiffened and her chin jerked upward. “Actually, the latter.”
“Aleen, there’s no shame in that.” This time, he did rest a comforting hand on her shoulder and felt only her skin’s warmth through the fabric of her blouse. “Settling on barren land in the mid-1600s had to be a tough way to live. No denying that some of those exiles profited by smuggling or thievery. They did what they could to stay alive.”
“I’m impressed you’ve followed your lineage back more than three hundred years. I’m tracing my mom’s line, hoping to connect with the John Howland who was on the Mayflower.” Her brows drew into a frown and she blew out a sigh. “But I reached a dead end about two hundred years back.”
A common interest meant a re
ason for getting together again. “I might have a couple sources to help with your genealogy searches. But first, let’s look at this.” He laid the photocopy of a sketch over the plat, turning it to align with the streets. “The journal mentions a house in the area that became Easton’s Point that faces the bay with a gardener’s cottage behind it. Just like yours.”
“And like so many others in that historic neighborhood. But I don’t think the buildings in my area date back that far.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Give me some credit. I’m just pointing out that most often when a house was torn down, another was built in almost the same location. Or an existing house was added onto so that the original structure disappears into the new construction.”
“Well, that’s certainly true of Bayside. The east wing was built at least fifty years after the original house.” Aleen leaned over the plat and squinted.
“Now you’re on board here. There’s probably evidence of stables being in the far corner of the lot. If we looked, we might find a few stones that made up the foundation.”
“The streets on this plat are so narrow. I hadn’t really noticed that before.”
Braden heard her speculative tone and felt his pulse kick. He liked when he shared history and someone listened. “The major type of transportation was horseback or a small farm cart. At least on land.” He tapped a gloved finger on the plat. “See all these piers jutting into Narragansett Bay? Boats were important for transportation, too. Which leads me to my claim about Thomas Tew.”
“Back to the pirate.” Shaking her head, she straightened.
“Williams would have grown up hearing tales of Tew’s success. Thomas Tew was the first pirate to sail around the Cape of Good Hope and plunder ships belonging to the Great Mogul of India. An equivalent in today’s culture would put Tew at rock star or pro-athlete status.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened and she leaned a hand on the edge of the wooden case. “He was that well known?”
“Not only well known, the guy was mega-rich. Tew’s share as captain of his best raid was the equivalent of seven million dollars today. Hell, his crew earned half that.” He knew his words were spewing out rapid-fire, but he loved pirate lore. “Can you imagine?”
Hauntings in the Garden, Volume Two Page 2
