by Lynn Patrick
“You’re a dreamer. You don’t have even one of your feet firmly planted in the real world,” Bryce said, making Caitlin shift uncomfortably. Hadn’t he said virtually the same thing to her? “It was hard to take you seriously.”
“I can’t help the fact that I’m a different person than you are, but that doesn’t make me irresponsible.” Ned turned away, walked to the double doors, and looked out as he softly added, “Do you know how damn hard it is to live up to being Bryce Winslow’s brother? White Winds belongs to me as much as it does to you and our parents—but not so as anyone would notice.” He faced Bryce, his expression resentful. “You’re the hardworking, responsible one, so you make all the decisions. You give all the orders.”
“It’s my job, since I run the company.”
“Well, you don’t run me. Not anymore. Not since you chose to believe that—”
Recognizing the pain crossing Ned’s features, Caitlin felt a lump form at the back of her throat. Knowing firsthand how hard it was to convince Bryce of anything different from what he saw as the truth, she felt sorry for Ned. It was obvious that he loved his brother just as much as Bryce loved him. And they were both hurting.
“I had to get away for a while, Bryce. It started out innocently enough. I sailed into the West Indies to let off steam.”
“But you became a smuggler instead.”
“In Martinique I met this American woman on her way back to the States. We got…close. That’s when I first heard of Jean Moreau. She’d been his mistress, but he was up to something that scared her, and she wanted out. The day after she flew home, Moreau found me in a bar and nearly took off my head because he heard I’d helped his woman get away.” Ned grinned ruefully. “I was a little under the weather, but I did well enough for myself.”
“It sounds like you enjoyed fighting him.”
Caitlin gasped when Ned admitted, “I saw your face every time I punched the Frenchman.”
“Don’t put me in Moreau’s league.”
Ned seemed to ignore the order as he went on with his story. “When the fight was over, Moreau said he needed someone like me working for him. I knew he was into petty smuggling. I figured, why not? You’d painted me black for years. Maybe it was time I lived up to my reputation.”
“So you went to work for that scum. And you say you’ve grown up?”
“It was a stupid move, Bryce. I admit it. There was no thrill in running cigarettes and small appliances from one island to another. I wasn’t hurting anyone, but I still felt as guilty as hell. And I quickly learned that the smuggling was a cover-up for another operation. Believe me, it’s a great deal more serious than petty smuggling.”
“I figured as much,” Bryce said with conviction. “Some kind of stolen coins, right? Why did you stay in?”
“To protect you and our parents, as well as the men on my ship and their families.”
“You’ll have to explain that one.”
“Give me a chance. For once,” Ned added pointedly, beginning to pace. “After a couple of runs Moreau figured he could trust me, so he let me in on his secret. There’s a cave that runs deep into the sugarloaf side of that island of his.”
“That’s where I saw Moreau’s smugglers coming from when they kidnapped me!” Caitlin exclaimed, rising out of her chair.
“You’re lucky they didn’t kill you,” Ned said with such surety that a chill ran through her. “I saw Moreau order one of his men beaten severely because he was scared and wanted out. Moreau said he knew too much. If the man wanted out, it would be permanent. And that went for the man’s wife and kids as well. The Frenchman doesn’t like loose ends.”
“My God, and you continued to work for that scum!” Caitlin exclaimed.
Bryce wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the shelter of his body. “Let Ned finish.”
“Moreau had found the treasure some Portuguese named Salazar had buried inside the cave.”
“I’ve heard about the Portuguese captain,” Caitlin said. “He sailed these waters a couple of hundred years ago. Supposedly Salazar sank a Spanish galleon, then took the treasure from the ship and buried it somewhere in this area. But everyone thinks it’s just another pirate tale, a legend that grew with the mystique of the islands. No one believes that the treasure is real.”
“It’s real, all right,” Ned told her. “I’ve recently seen it with my own eyes. The gold doubloons and silver pieces of eight are nothing compared to the emeralds and jewel-encrusted goblets. And there’s a set of gold-and-emerald necklaces, bracelets, and rings that must have been meant for the Spanish queen.”
“I don’t understand,” Caitlin said. “If Moreau found Salazar’s cache on his own island…”
“Hibiscus belongs to the St. Vincent government. If Moreau reported the treasure openly, he’d only get a share. He was greedy and determined to do anything to have it all.” Ned frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “I had to stop him before he killed someone.”
“But why the charade?” Bryce asked irritably. “Why didn’t you just go to the authorities with what you knew instead of scaring your family half to death and putting yourself in danger?”
Ned turned an incredulous expression on his brother. “You’re a good one to talk. Pretending you were a pirate. Kidnapping a beautiful woman. Why didn’t you go to the authorities?”
Caitlin’s pleasure at being called beautiful was instantly banished by Bryce’s insistence on arguing with his younger brother.
“I did go to the authorities, dammit! But I didn’t know enough of what was going on to convince them that there was a serious situation. You, on the other hand, had that option! But with your usual disdain for authority you had to do things your own way.”
“I couldn’t exactly turn Moreau in without the treasure, which is heavily guarded, or at least not without more information than I had on his network of fences and buyers,” Ned told his brother angrily. “For one, my credibility factor was a little tarnished. And second, I didn’t have the proof. So I decided to play Moreau’s little game until I had all the information I needed.”
“Playing is the operative word here. What was the point of playing dead?” Bryce questioned. “Why didn’t you just call us and say you weren’t coming back for a while?”
“Because I figured that if you got wind of my nefarious deeds, you’d probably see it as your responsibility to come down here and find me so you could drag me borne.”
Caitlin felt Bryce stiffen, and she recognized the truth to Ned’s words. It was obvious that Bryce took his responsibilities seriously, and somewhere along the line he’d decided that his younger brother was one of them. And poor Ned had been so desperate to step out from his older sibling’s shadow, he’d been willing to take on Moreau and his men alone—just as Bryce had chosen to do in the end. Perhaps the brothers weren’t as different as they thought they were, but now was probably not the time to point that out, Caitlin decided.
Trying to calm them both down, she asked, “Ned, why did you call yourself Eddie Teach?”
“That was Ned’s little touch of whimsy, as I said before,” Bryce told her.
Then she turned toward Ned with a hopeful smile when he said, “We used to play sea captains when we were kids.”
“I used to pretend I was Admiral Nelson,” Bryce continued, recapturing her attention, “while Ned always insisted on being Blackbeard, so he could sink my ships. It didn’t matter to him that Blackbeard died forty years before Nelson was born. I guess he couldn’t resist playing the scourge of the Caribbean just one more time.”
Ned, too, directed his explanation to Caitlin, while seeming to ignore his brother’s sarcasm. It quickly became obvious that he was furious with Bryce.
“But, of course, Bryce had to foul up my plans. I merely tried to hide behind a different identity, hoping my family would think I’d taken off for parts unknown. That was the only rumor I spread, but obviously it was exaggerated. Who knew that the rumors of my death w
ould precede me—and that my brother would try to find my ‘murderers’?”
“Isn’t that a shame, Caitlin?” Bryce walked past them both to stare out the double doors, pretending a casualness she could tell was studied. “I spoiled his game.”
“Don’t be so condescending!” Ned snapped directly at Bryce’s back. “My men and I have had one hell of a time playing through our charade with Moreau while trying to protect you and your crew too. I tried to catch up to the Sea Devil more than once to let you know what was going on, but you always had a way of disappearing on me.”
Bryce faced Ned and glowered at him so fiercely, Caitlin was unable to interrupt as she wanted to.
“Sorry, but I’ve been too busy trying to bring your murderer to justice to notice.”
“And you’ve been going about it in a most unusual way, if I do say so.” Raising a coal-black brow, Ned turned his speculative blue gaze on Caitlin. “That’s certainly a crime in itself, involving innocent people the way you have.”
“And what about your crew?”
“I didn’t force any of them to stand by me—neither when I was stupid enough to get mixed up with Moreau, nor when I decided to trap the Frenchman in his own scheme,” Ned insisted. “And what about your men?”
“I wouldn’t have had to involve them in any of this if you hadn’t been so irresponsible in the first place!”
“I already admitted that I was wrong! But I was trying to rectify the situation on my own. I wanted to take care of myself and my own mistakes for once. I resented your finding it necessary to fight my battles for me when we were kids, and I hate it now!”
“If you hate it so much, why don’t you act—”
“Stop it, both of you!” Caitlin shouted. She stepped between them, earning the angry stares of both men. “Ned isn’t dead, after all. That’s the important thing. Or is it, Bryce?” she asked, knowing that it sounded as though she were taking the younger brother’s side. “Can’t you just tell him how devastated you were at his supposed death and try to mend your relationship instead of making it sound like you’re disappointed to find him alive?”
“I do not wish my brother was dead,” Bryce informed her tightly.
“Well, that’s a comfort, anyway,” Ned muttered, backing off to sit on the bunk’s edge.
Caitlin faced Bryce, hoping that he would listen to reason. “You make it sound as if it’s a preferable alternative to working things out with him.”
When Bryce retorted, “You don’t know anything about it,” Caitlin’s hackles rose.
“Oh, don’t I?” she asked angrily, balling her hands into tight fists so she wouldn’t try to strangle the man. “I seem to remember that you were just as set on your own opinions when you dealt with me. You only believed what you saw as the truth, no matter what I said or did!”
“How was I supposed to believe anything you said when you kept feeding me those wild stories? If I’d been gullible, I would have believed you took off for outer space when Atlantis sunk.”
“I was merely exercising my imagination, since you were being so irritatingly smug!” Caitlin told him, her words rising over the choking noise coming from the bunk area.
“My, my, seems the lady knows you well, brother,” Ned muttered as he got himself under control. “And she wants to be with you, anyway?”
Caitlin crossed her arms in front of her. “I’m beginning to wonder.”
Bryce glowered, first at Ned, then at Caitlin. “Maybe you’ve made a mistake, too, Caitlin. Ned’s the one who’s always appreciated imaginative stories and romantic daydreams. Maybe you’ve gotten involved with the wrong brother.”
Wide-eyed, Caitlin tried to say something, but all she could manage to do was open and close her mouth. Furious at Bryce’s pigheadedness, she shoved him out of her way and headed for the door, irritated further by Ned’s laughter.
“Don’t leave, Caitlin,” Ned choked out. “Not now, when things are just getting interesting. Perhaps my brother has done me a real favor in finding you, no matter how unusual the circumstances.”
“At the moment you’d have to force me to walk the plank rather than be involved with either of you!” Caitlin yelled as she stomped out of the cabin.
“Well, brother, what do we do now?”
Bryce stared at the open door, already feeling the loss of the woman he loved. “I thought you had things figured out.”
“I do, but I don’t insist on making all the decisions myself.”
“Your point is taken.” Bryce studied his brother and wondered if he and Ned would ever manage to understand each other fully. “We could leave Moreau and his men marooned on the island while we go pick up that treasure of his. Then we head for St. Vincent to turn over both the treasure and my illicit cargo to the authorities.”
“Sounds good to me.” Ned sighed. “I don’t relish languishing in some West Indies jail.”
“Between the treasure and your testimony, they’ll go light on you, Ned,” Bryce told his brother, wishing that he could say the same for himself. His own crimes had been more serious, and he wondered how long he’d be locked away.
“I hope you’re right, Bryce,” Ned said, rising and leaving the cabin for the open deck. “It’s far too often that you’re mistaken about things that concern me.”
Following his brother with a heavy heart—for it seemed that in one day he’d alienated two of the people he loved most—Bryce was gratified to note that the fog seemed to be lifting. Unable to miss the way Caitlin turned away from him and immediately pretended absorption in Lars’s ramblings as he passed her, he strode directly toward Anselm, who held the submachine gun on Moreau and his smugglers.
“Round them up.” His order was followed by a nod in the general direction of the island, which was becoming visible little by little. “We’re marooning the bastards on the spit of land out there. If they want to leave before the authorities come pick them up, it’ll be on their own power. We’re taking their launches.”
“I’ll get you for this, Winslow,” Moreau swore, then looked from Bryce to Ned. “Both of you.”
“I don’t think you’ll be giving either of us much trouble where you’re going,” Ned assured the Frenchman while Bryce wondered if they’d all be going to the same jail.
In spite of the Frenchman’s threats Moreau and his men loaded into the launches docilely, not bothering to give the combined Winslow crews much trouble. If only the rest of the mission would go so easily, Bryce thought as the sun finally broke through the fog.
While both crews were busy transporting the smugglers Bryce, Ned, and Anselm formed their plans for Hibiscus. They’d take Moreau’s cabin cruiser as a decoy. Since the guards knew Ned and his men, they would lead the way into the cave on the pretext that Moreau had sent them. Then they’d overpower the guards and secure the treasure.
Having listened to the conversation, Caitlin insisted that they find Babs if she was still on the island and take her with them to St. Vincent. Bryce agreed. After staring at him for a moment she turned her back on him and went below. He’d never forget the way her vulnerable blue eyes had reflected her disenchantment.
After the men returned with the launches they headed for Hibiscus, the Sea Devil in the lead, Ned’s Sea Sprite following, and Moreau’s cruiser last.
Bryce hoped that Caitlin might seek him out, but she stayed out of sight. Making the break now was for the best, since he’d have to leave her, anyway, he told himself, but somehow the thought of leaving her at all left Bryce feeling hollow inside.
Chapter Fourteen
The sun hadn’t yet risen when the Sea Devil made her approach to St. Vincent, the Sea Sprite and Moreau’s hulking cabin cruiser following close behind. To take advantage of the strong, steady wind that had risen from the south, Bryce had ordered the square sails raised. Perhaps the passage had been rougher than usual, but with the addition of engine power they’d made excellent time. Now, seeing the first faint streaks of light gathering far out on the hori
zon, Caitlin wished she could hold back the dawn indefinitely.
How foolish. As if a few more hours could change the way things were between her and Bryce!
“My daddy always told me I was a good sailor,” Babs said with a yawn as she joined Caitlin at the rail. “But I declare, the last few hours have been so rough, my complexion must have turned green by now.” She laughed when she added, “I hope the damage isn’t permanent.”
“I’m sure your skin will return to its normal color once we get on land,” Caitlin assured her friend with a reluctant smile.
“Land! I’ll be so glad to put my head down on a nice, soft pillow that doesn’t rock. Although I shouldn’t complain, seeing as how Bryce was such a gentleman and all, generously giving up his cabin for us.
“He would have had no use for it last night, anyway.” Happy to have someone to talk to so that she could distract herself from more personal observations, Caitlin explained, “With Anselm on the cruiser Bryce had to take his mate’s watch as well as his own. He kept the ship on course, checking her position on radar and giving the helmsman his orders.”
“Seems you’ve learned a precious lot since you’ve been on this boat.” Babs gazed at her with new respect.
“Ship,” Caitlin automatically corrected.
“See what I mean? I never have understood the difference between a boat and a ship.” Babs yawned again. “More importantly, I don’t understand why you never came to bed. Surely I don’t take up that much room.”
“It was a nice night,” Caitlin said evasively. “I preferred bedding down on deck.”
“What? You slept on that hard ole wooden deck, prey to the whims of the elements?”
Caitlin grinned at her friend’s horrified tone. “I did have a pad between me and the deck, Babs. And the sea air is so refreshing that it makes me sleep like a baby.”
She didn’t add that she hadn’t actually slept at all throughout the night but had spent the time watching the star-filled heavens and listening to Bryce’s quiet orders as he guided the Sea Devil to her destination. It probably had been the last opportunity she’d ever have to do so, she thought morosely, even now glancing toward the bowsprit where her now clean-shaven lover stood, staring out at the island and signaling his men to take their places to lower the sails. Why had Bryce removed his beard? Not that the change made him any less handsome. It was just that his new clean-cut appearance, combined with the dress pants and knit shirt he had donned instead of his usual jeans, made him look like a different person. Well, the two of them might as well be complete strangers anyway.
