by Lynn Patrick
Ignoring the gibberish as well as the man’s undying trust in his captain, Caitlin asked, “Lars, isn’t it a little early for you to be drinking that stuff?”
“Never too early when you’re sad. Sad, glad, mad, bad,” the old sail maker singsonged to himself, shuffling toward the galley, his usually straight shoulders hunched. “Time to make breakfast. Maybe a tot of rum will improve the scrambled eggs.”
Wondering why the old man was feeling so sad this morning, Caitlin thought about following to find out, then scolded herself for being too soft. She didn’t have time to be concerned about anyone’s problems but her own. She had to concentrate on regaining her freedom, getting away from the man who threatened to capture more from her than he already had.
Wouldn’t that be a diverting tale Bryce could share with his mate? Caitlin thought angrily, remembering how Anselm had laughed after seeing her locked in Bryce’s embrace. She was sure the black man already thought they were lovers, as no doubt did the entire crew! Wouldn’t Anselm be amused if she fell in love with his captain?
Love?
What in the world was she thinking about? She was certainly attracted to the man, but that was as far as her stupidity went. Her emotions were definitely not involved.
Even so, Caitlin had a hard time hiding her agitation from the crew as they greeted her cheerily while gathering for breakfast a while later. And a knot formed in her stomach as she thought of what she was about to do while she served the crew their rum-doused scrambled eggs, burned bacon, and dry toast.
At what should have been daybreak if the sky hadn’t been darkened by gray storm clouds, they’d anchored off one of the small, deserted Grenadine Islands. Caitlin had formed her plan after overhearing Perry say he hoped the fishermen who usually set up camp on the other side of the island had had enough warning to find adequate shelter. Counting on the fact that these local fishermen would still be around, Caitlin planned on swimming to the island, trekking to the other side, then bribing one of the men to take her to Hibiscus or any other inhabited island.
But to do that she had to slip off the ship unseen. She wondered where Bryce was as she put out the last platter of scrambled eggs. Caitlin practically moaned aloud when she decided he must be on deck. How was she supposed to escape with his watchful eye on her?
Just as she was about to admit defeat before she’d even begun, she heard his voice.
“It’s going to be a nasty one,” Bryce was telling Anselm as the two men entered the room.
“This storm is going to delay our plans, mon.”
“Delay but not cancel. We’ll find Ralph as soon as it’s clear. Then we’ll get that bastard Moreau.”
Stiffening upon hearing Moreau’s name, Caitlin turned around and headed into the galley. She knew Bryce saw her, that his green eyes followed her every step of the way. Good, let the captain think she was helping the old man clean up, while in reality she’d be making her escape. Lars sat in a corner singing into his grog, oblivious of her presence as she walked through his domain. Glancing at the old man, she felt a pang of regret at leaving him, then hurried up the narrow companionway to the deck and her bid for freedom.
Bryce shoved the plate of half eaten, strangely flavored scrambled eggs away from him. He didn’t have much of an appetite, anyway. He was too tired to eat, since he hadn’t slept well again. How could he when his body had burned for Caitlin? And every time he had managed to fall asleep for a short while, it had been only to dream of her.
Had she thought of him at all during the night?
Obviously she was uncomfortable in his presence, or she still wouldn’t be hiding in the galley with Lars. She’d been in there for at least ten minutes now.
“What’s the matter, my friend?” asked Anselm in a low murmur that the rest of the noisy crew couldn’t hear. “Lost your appetite? It must be love, huh?”
“Love? Don’t be ridiculous!” Bryce bellowed, the sound cutting through the various conversations in the room. Silently the men turned to stare at him, and he noted more than one amused, knowing expression. “I don’t love this food,” he muttered, trying to cover his embarrassment. “It’s swill! I’m going on deck for some air.”
But as he passed the macaw’s cage, Captain Flint provoked him further by squawking, “Perverted pirate! Captain’s a perverted pirate!”
Bryce froze. His men snorted behind him, and someone had the temerity to laugh. Who the hell— Caitlin. Only Caitlin O’Connor would have had the nerve to teach the damn bird to ridicule him after she’d unfairly accused him of taking advantage of her. Well, she wasn’t going to get away with it.
“Caitlin!” he yelled, turning and stalking toward the galley, ignoring the growing amusement of his crew. He burst through the doorway. “Caitlin, where are you?”
But the galley was empty except for Lars, who slept in the corner, softly snoring. She must be on deck. He took the stairs two at a time, trying to imagine what tasks he could give Caitlin for making him look ridiculous in front of his men. But he’d already made her do just about everything a green sailor could do, Bryce realized as his feet hit the deck, which was beginning to rock in the wind that blew in chilly gusts.
And he had to admit that she’d met every challenge with spirit.
Thinking about it, Bryce began to feel guilty about the way he’d punished Caitlin for not giving him the information she swore she didn’t know, anyway. Maybe—just maybe—she’d been telling the truth from the start. Maybe she wasn’t Moreau’s mistress, after all.
His anger deflated as quickly as it had risen. And yet Bryce wondered if he weren’t guilty of wishful thinking. Not wanting to analyze why he suddenly hoped he’d been a fool all along, he strode aft, yelling, “Caitlin!” into the wind, knowing his voice wouldn’t carry very far.
Where the hell was she? Bryce checked his cabin and the chart house to no avail. He was about to go below when Perry and Anselm came up the companionway.
“Did Caitlin come back down this way?” Bryce asked them.
“No, my friend.” Anselm grinned at him. “So she wasn’t in the galley. No wonder I didn’t hear any yelling.”
“This is no time for jokes. She’s not below, and she’s not up here, either,” Bryce said, unable to stop his brows from drawing together in a worried frown. “I wonder if she could have fallen overboard.”
“Or jumped,” Perry suggested.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“She was up here early this morning. Thomas and I were talking about the fishermen who sometimes set up camp on the other side of the island. Then I realized that Miss Caitlin had been listening. And she was staring out at the island…well, like she wished she were there instead of here.” The deckhand paused a second and looked out toward the hilly, rough land before adding, “I hope she didn’t try swimming, thinking the fishermen would take her back to Hibiscus.”
“Damn! The woman is stubborn enough to try something like that,” Bryce exclaimed, looking across to the island as though he could spot her. But all he saw were the palms and flowering bushes bending in the wind. Had she gotten up and over the hill already?
“Perry, lower the launch,” Anselm told the deckhand, who immediately complied. Then he squeezed Bryce’s shoulder reassuringly. “We’d better go after her before she gets herself into trouble.”
“You sound like you’re worried.”
“Well, my friend, I think we both may have misjudged her, and I, for one, would not like the responsibility of her being hurt on my conscience.”
“Neither would I.” Bryce didn’t like the way the island looked so dangerous and forbidding, surrounded as it was by black storm clouds. As if to further his worry, it started to rain. “I’ll go after her myself.”
Bryce thought Anselm might object, but the man merely nodded his head and said, “Hurry.”
Luckily the launch already had a fully equipped emergency pack in the storage area under one of the seats, so all Bryce had to do was jump in
, start the engine, and take off. He didn’t even waste any time pulling on a slicker to protect him from the drenching rain.
He had to hurry. He couldn’t let anything happen to Caitlin or he’d never forgive himself.
Caitlin sat in the mud, allowing the rain to wash over her. What did it matter? She had been soaked to the skin since she’d dived over the side of the ship, anyway. Besides, she was too winded and exhausted to pick herself up, so she might as well rest for a moment. She’d done great getting over the crest of the hill, even though it had started to rain when she was only halfway up. Going down was supposed to be the easy part, unless the strap on your sandal broke, of course. Then you got to slide, down after falling on your rear.
What great adventure! she thought disgustedly, reaching above her to get the offending piece of footwear that had remained firmly stuck in place in the mud while she’d slid right over it.
As she pulled the sandal free of the oozing muck, Caitlin lost her balance and managed to fall backward and slide down a few more feet. Mud coated her back and hair in the process. And retrieving the thing hadn’t even been worth the trouble, she realized when she had the chance to inspect it. The sandal was ruined, beyond repair.
Sighing despondently, she threw it over the incline that dropped sharply from the path. Then she removed the other sandal and did the same with it. She’d probably be better off going barefoot, anyway, since her soles were already callused from going shoeless most of the time she’d been on the ship.
Finally getting to her feet, Caitlin admitted that her escape scheme hadn’t been well planned. She’d worn only shorts and a T-shirt and had brought no extra protection against the elements. But then, she’d left in a hurry while Bryce was eating his breakfast.
Now she was tired, filthy, wet, and cold, and had no hopes of feeling any better in the near future. From where she was, standing high over the water’s edge, she couldn’t spot any kind of craft. Of course, there could be some small boats pulled in under the trees, she told herself, trying to find some motivation to go on.
What else could she do? She certainly couldn’t return to the Sea Devil, even if she wanted to. It had been hard enough swimming to shore, and the sea hadn’t been half as rough as it must be now. So on she went through the pouring rain, carefully picking her way down the hill, using surrounding trees and shrubs for balance, hoping against hope that there would be someone at the bottom who could take her to safety.
But with the rain beating down on her head, and the mud oozing up through her toes, Caitlin’s spirits were lower than they’d been since this “adventure” had begun.
Basically aware of nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other and trying to keep rivulets of muddy water from streaming into her eyes, Caitlin was almost startled into falling when she heard her name.
“Caitlin O’Connor, stop right there!”
“Bryce!”
Once the fact registered that he was really there, she didn’t waste any time in trying to get away from him. Cursing soundly, Caitlin increased her pace, not bothering to hold on to anything as she practically ran downhill. She slipped and slid yet somehow managed to keep her footing.
“Don’t be a fool!” Bryce yelled. Caitlin glanced over her shoulder and realized that he was gaining on her. Her adrenaline surged when he added, “There’s no place for you to go, Caitlin, no one to help you but me.”
She sped up, running to nowhere.
But a moment later, when the realization that Bryce probably was the only other person on the island hit her, Caitlin felt the adrenaline drain away. It was as though she were moving in slow motion. Her legs grew as heavy as her heart. Her breath came shallow and with difficulty. Looking behind her as she rounded a corner was her undoing. Stumbling as she tried to veer to the right when she realized she couldn’t go straight, Caitlin was unable to keep herself from falling.
Down, down, down she went, straight toward the edge of the incline. Desperate, she reached out for something to save her and caught herself by grabbing on to some vegetation as her lower body shot out into nothingness.
“Caitlin! Hang on!” Bryce yelled.
Feeling as if her hands were on fire and her arms were being pulled out of joint, she hung on. Caitlin had no idea of how far down was, but she had no intention of finding out, at least not this way. She fought for a toehold, but her bare feet were slippery with mud, as were her hands. In spite of her determination to hang on and right herself, she was sliding down the greenery inch by inch.
Just as she decided to look down to see how far she was going to fall, Caitlin felt a firm grip, first on one wrist, then on the other. Looking up through the rain, she saw Bryce, his dark hair plastered to his head, rivulets of water running off his beard. She tried to help him lift her by bracing her feet against the hillside, but all she managed to do was make his job more difficult. He almost dropped her.
Caitlin hung by one arm, suspended over a long drop. Then he regained his leverage by grasping that wrist with his other hand.
“Hold still and let me do it!”
For once Caitlin was happy to comply with his orders. Considering the circumstances, she was even happy to see him. Wet and angry, Bryce Winslow was absolutely the most handsome man she’d ever seen. And at the moment he seemed more hero than pirate. Caitlin decided she’d even admit she’d been wrong in swimming to shore and that she’d even thank him for coming to her rescue, until they were safely back on the path.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?” Bryce demanded furiously, immediately banishing her good intentions. “Are you really so stupid that you thought you could escape in the middle of nowhere?”
“I was giving it my best shot!” she yelled belligerently, pushing her muddy, wet hair out of her eyes. “The least you could do is give me credit for trying. But then, you don’t give me credit for anything!”
“Well, don’t try to escape again,” Bryce retorted, grabbing the hand that was still pushing at her hair and dragging her farther down the incline.
“Oh, yeah? And what if I do?”
“If I even think you’re thinking about trying to escape again, I swear I’ll punch you out to stop you.” Bryce stopped so suddenly, she lurched into his back. He turned and angrily glared at her. Caitlin sensed he could be a dangerous man, especially if he lost his temper, but she was sure that his threats against her were empty, so she glared right back. “You could have gotten us both killed with this stupid stunt!”
Realizing the truth of his words, and recognizing the worry mixed with the anger in his tone, Caitlin bit back a sharp retort and docilely followed Bryce the few yards to a rocky overhang that protected an opening into the side of the hill. It was a cave. Bryce let her go, obviously reluctantly, because he didn’t drop his gaze as he shifted the pack he’d been carrying on his shoulder, lifted a flap, and pulled out a flashlight. Then he grasped her by the wrist.
“Come on, but quietly,” he ordered in a low tone. “I want to make sure we aren’t sharing, this cave with anything more dangerous than you.”
But if there were any small beasts hiding in there, the flashlight didn’t find them. Obviously satisfied, Bryce led her deeper toward the back.
“It’s almost as though someone were expecting us,” he said, but when she peered through the dark, all Caitlin saw was a ring of stones illuminated by the beam of light. Then he flashed the light at some stacked wood a yard farther back. “Wood and a fire pit, no doubt used by the fishermen who frequent this area.”
“You mean they’re out there when they could be in here keeping warm and dry?”
Bryce shook his head. “No. They come and go. They undoubtedly went back to one of the inhabited islands when they realized a storm was heading this way.”
“Oh.” Shivering, Caitlin headed toward the wood in the dark.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I thought I’d start a fire.”
“Really. And how did you p
lan to start it?”
“I didn’t even think of that, for heaven’s sake,” she said tiredly, stopping next to the fire pit.
“That’s the problem with ridiculous escape plans,” Bryce muttered, setting down the pack and rummaging through it. “You’re never prepared. Take your clothes off.”
“What?”
“They’re wet. Take them off while I start the fire,” Bryce ordered, throwing at her a cotton flannel blanket he pulled out of the bag. “I have matches in here.”
Caitlin thought about protesting, but she was too miserable and cold and drained of energy to argue. Bryce set down the flashlight on the bag, carefully aiming it at the pit. Waiting only a second until he seemed too busy stacking some of the smaller pieces of wood to pay attention to what she was doing, she stripped off her shorts and T-shirt and wrapped herself in the thin flannel, grateful for its slight warmth.
By that time Bryce already had a fire started and was laying a larger piece of wood across the small blaze. Caitlin got a few more logs and set them next to the pit. She spread her wet clothes on them to dry. Then she sat on the ground next to the fire and extended a hand over the flames while holding the blanket in place over one shoulder and around her breasts with the other hand.
She practically moaned with pleasure as her fingertips pulsed with life from the heat. “That feels so good.”
“I’ll bet it does.”
Glancing up across the fire, Caitlin realized that Bryce was stripping his own wet clothes from his body. About to protest, she clamped her mouth shut. She couldn’t very well forbid him to get warm and dry after he’d saved her life, could she?
But she wasn’t about to watch him, either!
Her good intentions didn’t do her much good, however, for as soon as he’d stripped, Bryce stepped almost directly in front of her. She got a full view of his splendid male body before he crouched down to the flashlight, which was still aimed at the fire pit. Caitlin realized she didn’t necessarily need the blaze of logs to get warm all over. Just looking at the man was enough to make her sizzle.
