by Nora Roberts
Not if he could help it, Ky determined as he shone his headlamp over the sea floor. When the search was over and they’d salvaged what could be salvaged from the sea, it would be time to salvage what they’d once had—what had perhaps never truly been lost. If they could find what had been buried for centuries, they could find what had been buried for four years.
He couldn’t find much without tools. Most of the ship—or what remained of it—was buried under silt. On another dive, he’d use the prop-wash, the excavation device he’d constructed in his shop. With that he could blow away inches of sediment at a time—a slow but safe way to uncover artifacts. But someone would have to stay on board to run it.
He thought of Kate and rejected the idea immediately. Though he had no doubt she could handle the technical aspect—it would only have to be explained to her once—she’d never go for it. Ky began to think it was time they enlisted Marsh.
He knew his air time was almost up and he’d have to surface for fresh tanks. Still, he lingered near the bottom, searching, prodding. He wanted to take something up for Kate, something tangible that would put the enthusiasm back in her eyes.
It took him more than half of his allotted time to find it, but when Ky held the unbroken bottle in his hand, he knew Kate’s reaction would be worth the effort. It was a common bottle, not priceless crystal, but he could see no mold marks, which meant it had been hand blown. Crust was weathered over it in layers, but Ky took the time to carefully chip some away, from the bottom only. If the date wasn’t on the bottom, he’d need the crust to have the bottle dated. Already he was thinking of the Corning Glass Museum and their rate of success.
Then he saw the date, and with a satisfied grin placed the find in the goodie bag on his belt. With his air supply running short, he started toward the surface.
His hour was up. Or so nearly up, Kate thought, that he should have surfaced already if he’d allowed himself any safety factor. She paced from port to starboard and back again. Would he always risk his own welfare to the limit?
She’d long since given up sitting quietly in the cabin, going over the makeshift chart Ky had begun. She’d found a book on shipwrecks that Ky had obviously purchased recently, and though it had also been among her father’s research books, she’d skimmed through it again.
It gave a detailed guide to identifying and excavating a wreck, listed common mistakes and hazards. She found it difficult to read about hazards while Ky was alone beneath the surface. Still, even the simple language of the book couldn’t disguise the adventure. For perhaps half the time Ky had been gone, she’d lost herself in it. Spanish galleons, Dutch merchant ships, English frigates.
She’d found the list of wrecks off North Carolina alone extensive. But these, she’d thought, had already been located, documented. The adventure there was over. One day, because of the chain her father had started and she’d continued, the Liberty would be among them.
Fretfully, Kate waited for Ky to surface. She thought of her father. He’d pored over this same book as well—planning, calculating. Yet his calculations hadn’t taken him beyond the initial stage. If he’d shared his goal with her, would he have taken her on his summer quests? She’d never know, because she’d never been given the choice.
She was making her own choices now, Kate mused. Her first had been to return to Ocracoke, accepting the consequences. Her next had been to give herself to Ky without conditions. Her last, she thought as she stared down at the quiet water, would be to leave him again. Yet, in reality, perhaps she’d still been given no choice. It was all a matter of currents. She could only swim against them for so long.
Relief washed over her when she spotted the flow of bubbles. Ky grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder as he pushed up his mask. “Waiting for me?”
Relief mixed with annoyance for the time she’d spent worrying about him. “You cut it close.”
“Yeah, a little.” He passed up his tanks. “I had to stop and get you a present.”
“It’s not a joke, Ky.” Kate watched him come over the side, agile, lean and energetic. “You’d be furious with me if I’d cut my time that close.”
“Leave it up to Linda to fuss,” he advised as he pulled down the zipper of his wet suit. “She was born that way.” Then he grabbed her, crushing her against him so that she felt the excitement he’d brought up with him. His mouth closed over hers, tasting of salt from the sea. Because he was wet, her clothes clung to him, binding them together for the brief instant he held her. But when he would have released her, she held fast, drawing the kiss out into something that warmed his cool skin.
“I worry about you, Ky.” For one last moment, she held on fiercely. “Damn it, is that what you want to hear?”
“No.” He took her face in his hands and shook his head. “No.”
Kate broke away, afraid she’d say too much, afraid she’d say things neither of them were ready to hear. She knew the rules this time. She groped for something calm, something simple. “I suppose I got a bit frantic waiting up here. It’s different when you’re down.”
“Yeah.” What did she want from him, he wondered? Why was it that every time she started to show her concern for him, she clammed up? “I’ve got some more things to add to the chart.”
“I saw the buoys you sent up.” Kate moistened her lips and relaxed, muscle by muscle.
“Two more cannons. From the size of them, I’d say she was a fairly small ship. It’s unlikely she was constructed for battle.”
“She was a merchant ship.”
“Maybe. I’m going to take the metal detector down and see what I come up with. From the stuff we’ve found, I don’t think she’s buried too deep.”
Kate nodded. Delve into business, keep the personal aspect light. “I’d like to send off a piece of the planking and some of the glass to be analyzed. I think we’ll have more luck with the glass, but it doesn’t hurt to cover all the angles.”
“No, it doesn’t. Don’t you want your present?”
At ease again, she smiled. “I thought you were joking. Did you bring me a shell?”
“I thought you’d like this better.” Reaching into his bag, Ky brought out the bottle. “It’s too bad it’s not still corked. We could’ve had wine with peanut butter.”
“Oh, Ky, it’s not damaged!” Thrilled, she reached out for it, but he pulled it back out of reach and grinned.
“Bottoms up,” he told her and turned the bottle upside down.
Kate stared at the smeared bottom of the bottle. “Oh, God,” she whispered. “It’s dated. 1749.” Gingerly, she took the bottle in both hands. “The year before the Liberty sank.”
“It’s another ship, maybe,” Ky reminded her. “But it does narrow down the time element.”
“Over two hundred years,” she murmured. “Glass, it’s so breakable, so vulnerable, and yet it survived two centuries.” Her eyes lit with enthusiasm as she looked back at him. “Ky, we should be able to find out where the bottle was made.”
“Probably, but most glass bottles found on wrecks from the seventeenth and eighteenth century were manufactured in England anyway. It wouldn’t prove the ship was English.”
She let out a huff of breath, but her energy hadn’t dimmed. “You’ve been doing your research.”
“I don’t go into any project until I know the angles.” Ky knelt down to check the fresh tanks.
“You’re going back down now?”
“I want to get as much mapped out as I can before we start dealing with too much equipment.”
She’d done enough homework herself to know that the most common mistake of the modern day salvor was in failing to map out a site. Yet she couldn’t stem her impatience. It seemed so time-consuming when they could be concentrating on getting under the layers of silt.
It seemed to her that she and Ky had changed positions somehow. She’d always been the cautious one, proceeding step by logical step, while he’d taken the risks. Struggling with the impotence of having to wait
and watch, she stood back while he strapped on the fresh tanks. As she watched, Ky picked up a brass rod.
“What’s that for?”
“It’s the base for this.” He held out a device that resembled a compass. “It’s called an azimuth circle. It’s a cheap, effective way to map out the site. I drive this into the approximate center of the wreck so that it becomes the datum point, align the circle with the magnetic north, then I use a length of chain to measure the distance to the cannons, or whatever I need to map. After I get it set, I’ll be back up for the metal detector.”
Frustration built again. He was doing all the work while she simply stood still. “Ky, I feel fine. I could help if—”
“No.” He didn’t bother to argue or list reasons. He simply went over the side and under.
It was midafternoon when they started back. Ky spent the last hour at sea adding to the chart, putting in the information he’d gathered that day. He’d brought more up in his goodie bag—a tankard, spoons and forks that might have been made of iron. It seemed they had indeed found the galley. Kate decided she’d begin a detailed list of their finds that evening. If it was all she could do at the moment, she’d do it with pleasure.
Her mood had lifted a bit since she’d caught three good-sized bluefish while Ky had been down at the wreck the second time. No matter how much Ky argued, she fully intended to cook them herself and eat them sitting at the table, not lying in bed.
“Pretty pleased with yourself aren’t you?”
She gave him a cool smile. They were cruising back toward Silver Lake harbor and though she felt a weariness, it was a pleasant feeling, not the dragging fatigue of the past days. “Three bluefish in that amount of time’s a very respectable haul.”
“No argument there. Especially since I intend to eat half of them.”
“I’m going to grill them.”
“Are you?”
She met his lifted brow with a neutral look. “I caught, I cook.”
Ky kept the boat at an even speed as he studied her. She looked a bit tired, but he thought he could convince her to take a nap if he claimed he wanted one himself. She was healing quickly. And she was right. He couldn’t pamper her. “I could probably bring myself to start the charcoal for you.”
“Fair enough. I’ll even let you clean them.”
He laughed at the bland tone and ruffled her hair until the pins fell out.
“Ky!” Automatically, Kate reached up to repair the damage.
“Wear it up in the school room,” he advised, tossing some of the pins overboard. “I find it difficult to resist you when your hair’s down and just a bit mussed.”
“Is that so?” She debated being annoyed, then decided there were more productive ways to pass the time. Kate let the wind toss her hair as she moved closer to him so that their bodies touched. She smiled at the quick look of surprise in his eyes as she slipped both hands under his T-shirt. “Why don’t you turn off the engine and show me what happens when you stop resisting?”
For all her generosity and freedom in lovemaking, she’d never been the initiator. Ky found himself both baffled and aroused as she smiled up at him, her hands stroking slowly over his chest. “You know what happens when I stop resisting,” he murmured.
She gave a low, quiet laugh. “Refresh my memory.” Without waiting for an answer, she drew back on the throttle herself until the boat was simply idling. “You didn’t make love with me last night.” Her hands slid around and up his back.
“You were sleeping.” She was seducing him in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of the ocean. He found he wanted to savor the new experience as much as he wanted to bring it to fruition.
“I’m not sleeping now.” Rising on her toes, she brushed her lips over his, lightly, temptingly. She felt his heartbeat race against her body and reveled in a sense of power she’d never explored. “Or perhaps you’re in a hurry to get back, and uh, clean fish.”
She was taunting him. Why had he never seen the witch in her before? Ky felt his stomach knot with need, but when he drew her closer, she resisted. Just slightly. Just enough to torment. “If I make love with you now, I won’t be gentle.”
She kept her lips inches from his. “Is that a warning?” she whispered. “Or a promise?”
He felt the first tremor move through him and was astonished. Not even for her had he ever trembled. Not even for her. The need grew, stretching restlessly, recklessly. “I’m not sure you know what you’re doing, Kate.”
Nor did she, but she smiled because it no longer mattered. Only the outcome mattered. “Come down to the cabin with me and we’ll both find out.” She slipped away from him and without a word disappeared below deck.
His hand wasn’t steady when he reached for the key to turn off the engines. He needed a moment, perhaps a bit more, to regain the control he’d held so carefully since they’d become lovers again. Even since he’d had her blood on his hands, he had a tremendous fear of hurting her. Since he’d had a taste of her again, he had an equal fear of driving her away. Caution was a strain, but he’d kept it in focus with sheer will. As Ky started down the steps, he told himself he’d continue to be cautious.
She’d unbuttoned her blouse but hadn’t removed it. When he came into the narrow cabin with her, Kate smiled. She was afraid, though she hardly knew why. But over the fear was a heady sense of power and strength that fought for full release. She wanted to take him to the edge, to push him to the limits of passion. At that moment, she was certain she could.
When he came no closer to her, Kate stepped forward and pulled his shirt over his head. “Your skin’s gold,” she murmured. “It’s always excited me.” Taking her pleasure slowly, she ran her hands up his sides, feeling the quiver she caused. “You’ve always excited me.”
Her hands were steady, her pulse throbbed as she unsnapped his cut-offs. With her eyes on his, she slowly, slowly, undressed him. “No one’s ever made me want the way you make me want.”
He had to stop her and take control again. She couldn’t know the effect of those long, fragile fingers when they brushed easily over his skin, or how her calm eyes made him rage inside.
“Kate…” He took her hands in his and bent to kiss her. But she turned her head, meeting his neck with warm lips that sent a spear of fire up his spine.
Then her body was pressed against his, flesh meeting flesh where her blouse parted. Her mouth trailed over his chest, her hands down his back to his hips. He felt the fury of desire whip through him as though it had sharp, hungry teeth.
So he forgot control, gentleness, vulnerability. She drove him to forget. She intended to.
They were tangled on the narrow bunk, her blouse halfway down her back and parted so that her breasts pushed into his chest, driving him mad with their firm, subtle curves. She nipped at his lips, demanding, pushing for more, still more. Waves of passion overtook them.
His need was incendiary. She was like a flame, impossible to hold, searing here, singeing there until his body was burning with needs and fierce fantasies.
Her hands were swift, sending sharp gasping pleasure everywhere at once until he wasn’t sure he could take it anymore. Yet he no longer thought of stopping her. Less of stopping himself.
His hands gripped her with an urgency that made her moan from the sheer strength in them. She wanted his strength now—mindless strength that would carry them both to a place they’d never gone before. And she was leading. The knowledge made her laugh aloud as she tasted his skin, his lips, his tongue.
She slid down his body, feeling each jolt of pleasure as it shot through him. There could be no slow, lingering loving now. They’d pushed each other beyond reason. The air here was dark and thin and whirling with sound. Kate drank it in.
When he found her moist, hot and ready she let him take her over peak after shuddering peak, knowing as he drove her, she drove him. Her body was filled with sensations that came and went like comets, slipped away and burst on her again, and again. Through
the thunder in her head she heard herself say his name, clear and quick.
On the sound, she took him into her and welcomed the madness.
CHAPTER 10
She was wrong.
Kate had thought she’d be ready, even anxious to dive again. There hadn’t been a day during her recuperation that she hadn’t thought of going down. Every time Ky had brought back an artifact, she was thrilled with the discovery and frustrated with her own lack of participation. Like a schoolgirl approaching summer, she’d begun to count the days.
Now, a week after the accident, Kate stood on the deck of the Vortex with her mouth dry and her hands trembling as she pulled on her wet suit. She could only be grateful that Ky was already over the side, hooking up his home-rigged prop-wash to the boat’s propeller. Drafted to the crew, Marsh stood at the stern watching his brother. With Linda’s eager support, he’d agreed to give Ky a few hours a day of his precious free time while he was needed.
Kate took the moment she had alone to gather her thoughts and her nerve.
It was only natural to be anxious about diving after the experience she’d had. Kate told herself that was logical. But it didn’t stop her hands from trembling as she zipped up her suit. She could equate it with falling off a horse and having to mount again. It was psychological. But it didn’t ease the painful tension in her stomach.
Trembling hands and nerves. With or without them she told herself as she hooked on her weight belt, she was going down. Nothing, not even her own fears, was going to stop her from finishing what she’d begun.
“He’s got it,” Marsh called out when Ky signaled him.
“I’ll be ready.” Kate picked up the cloth bag she’d use to bring up small artifacts. With luck, and if the prop-wash did its job, she knew they’d soon need more sophisticated methods to bring up the salvage.
“Kate.”
She didn’t look up, but continued to hook on the goodie bag. “Yes?”
“You know it’s only natural that you’d be nervous going down.” Marsh touched a hand to her shoulder, but she busied herself by strapping on her diving knife. “If you want a little more time, I’ll work with Ky and you can run the wash.”
