Tiger Eyes Page 11

  “Why don’t I believe that?”

  He glanced down at her. His eyes glowed amber in the firelight and his voice was low. “I give you my word, Gabby. Not a hand.”

  An odd shiver tickled along her spine at the seriousness in his voice and the amber swirl of his eyes. “You mean that, don’t you?” she asked, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice. “I should think it wouldn’t matter to you one way or the other.”

  “Why? Do you think I’ve become some sort of monster since you left?”

  “No. Of course not.” Embarrassed heat filled her at the irritation laced through his words. “But after what I did, you should hate me.”

  “Perhaps I should. But I don’t.” He shrugged. “And even if I did hate you, I still wouldn’t let anyone harm you.”

  “Thank you. I think.” She managed a smile as she curved into the hard planes of his body with ease. It had always been that way. They always seemed to fit together so perfectly, and this was no exception. Her nervousness faded a bit as she let her head come to rest in the curve of his arm.

  They sat there together, watching the red-gold flames as they danced and leapt, palm fronds popped and crackled as they became ash. It was warm and cozy there, and somehow, she didn’t think it was entirely because of the fire.

  A crick in her neck made her lift her head and as she gazed up, it was to see Diego dozing, his chin resting against his chest, his breathing deep and even. The dark shadow of beard glinted in the firelight like black satin. Even asleep, he radiated animal sensuality.

  “I was a fool,” she murmured, snuggling against him and draping her arm over him. “And I made such a terrible mistake five years ago. Such a terrible mistake.”

  His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, and she wondered how many other women had lain beside him, listening to that same steady, reassuring thump. How many had there been in the last five years? Most likely quite a few. She could clearly recall the tavern in Port Royal, where she saw him for the first time. As he crossed the smoky, crowded taproom, female eyes of every walk of life followed him. At four inches above six feet, Diego Santa Cruz was a giant amongst men, and drew attention without any effort on his part. His size alone gave most pause, as he was no skinny giant, but one broad across the shoulders and chest. One who moved with surprising grace and agility.

  It had taken only but that one glance and a smile and Gabby’s twenty-year-old heart was forever lost to him. She gave him her virginity, but he stole her heart. When he asked her to marry him, she was certain she could never want anything else as much as to be his forever.

  But then, as their wedding loomed near, the panic set in. She loved the seas. Didn’t want to surrender her ship. Hadn’t her father instilled in her the love of the oceans, the love of adventure sailing offered? Was she ready to surrender those loves? Though Diego swore he would never ask her to sacrifice that love, so many others seemed convinced that would change once they were married. So many who took it upon themselves to warn her. Before long, they had her convinced as well.

  The night before they were to be married, as he celebrated with Iñigo and the other men under Iñigo’s command, she slunk down to the harbor, to her beloved Galatea, and did what came as natural to her as breathing.

  Slipped silently out to sea, with the tide carrying her from Port Royal. From the entrapment of marriage.

  From the one man she would forever love.

  A gentle nudge to her side brought her jerking upright and wincing as a sharp pain rippled through her neck. “Bloody hell…” she groaned, reaching up to rub the pulled muscle.

  “Gabriella?”

  “You know her?”

  The male voice was familiar, the female one was not, and when Gabby forced her eyes open, she paused in her rubbing as she gazed up at Captain Iñigo Sebastiano. He grinned, tilting his dark gray hat with its long, sweeping white plume, back from his forehead. “I’ll be damned.”

  The woman standing beside him was tall and slim and definitely not smiling. Her eyes were the silver-gray of old pewter, and she rested both hands on the handle of the saber at her left hip.

  “Diego said to let you sleep, that you’d been up most of the night, keeping watch over your fire.” The woman’s voice was surprisingly soft, and her stern expression softened as well. “But now it is time to go. Unless, of course, you wish to stay.”

  “Wish to…” Gabby rubbed her eyes as her sleepy brain tried to make sense of the woman’s words and the fact that she and Iñigo stood before her in the first. Then it dawned on her that Diego no longer sat beside her. “Where is he?”

  “Diego?” Iñigo extended a hand toward her. “He said there were a few things he needed do before you left.”

  “I cannot imagine what.” Gabby accepted his large hand, and allowed him to pull her to her feet. “Forgive me my rudeness,” she said, turning to the dark haired woman with the odd silvery eyes, “but who are you?”

  Iñigo chuckled, which earned him a glare from the woman. “Oh, yes… Fiona, this is Gabby Markham. Gabby, this is Fiona. My wife.”

  Smiling came more easily with the realization that they were truly leaving the island. That realization washed over her, filled her with a giddy sort of happiness, one that left her wanting to embrace both Iñigo and his wife. Then common sense prevailed and she restrained herself. “You cannot know how pleased I am to make your acquaintance.”

  “Yes. I imagine you are.” Fiona’s voice was flat and unfriendly, and she glanced up at her husband. “I am going to go see what is taking so long. The tide will change soon and we need go now.”

  Iñigo nodded and Fiona stomped off toward the cave, leaving Gabby to give him a puzzled stare. “Your wife certainly is the friendly sort, isn’t she?”

  He sighed, his hands coming to rest on the hilt of his own sword. “She knows who you are, Gabby. And I’m afraid she is still angry on behalf of the woman who came after you.”

  Of course someone came after her, but still, she flinched, even as she said, “That’s silly. Even he is no longer angry.”

  Iñigo arched a thick, dark brow. “Is that so?”

  Despite his knowing grin, she refused to feel embarrassed. Instead, she squared her shoulders. “Yes. We’ve discussed it. All is well again. Considering our circumstances, it would have been of utmost foolishness to remain adversaries when we had only each other to rely upon.” She shrugged, glancing over her right shoulder to see both Diego and Fiona striding toward them. Diego must have said something amusing, for Fiona suddenly threw her head back and laughed. The melodic tones reached the beach and Gabby had to bite back a scowl as Diego joined in.

  When she turned back to Iñigo, it was to find him grinning at her, which gave her the most uncomfortable feeling he could read her thoughts. Still, that didn’t stop her from asking, “What?”

  “I said nothing.”

  “You don’t have to say anything, to suggest something.”

  He shrugged. “I suggest nothing.”

  “Good. There is nothing to suggest.”

  Before Iñigo could respond, Fiona and Diego reached them. With both men standing side by side, it was painfully obvious how long she and Diego had been cut off from civilization. Where Iñigo was clean-shaven (save for a neatly kept moustache), Diego sported a month’s worth of black beard. Though they were almost the same height, Diego looked almost gaunt compared to his friend, a result of subsisting on fruit and fish, and little else.

  “You will, of course, allow Farruco to tend to your wound,” Fiona was saying to Diego as they started off down the beach, to where a longboat awaited them.

  Diego sighed heavily, but nodded. “Yes. Of course. A waste of time, though. Gabby did a fine job of tending to it. She nursed me through the worst of it, you know.”

  “I didn’t.” Fiona cast Gabby a look that was not quite so angry as before, but still could hardly be considered friendly. “Here, Diego, let Iñigo help you.”

  Diego shook both of them off,
stepping into the longboat quite easily. “I am neither an invalid nor a child, Finn. I am quite capable of climbing into this damn boat.”

  Fiona’s skin, an odd coppery shade, reddened further as her hands fell to her sides. “Of course.”

  Gabby held back her smile as she climbed into the boat as well. Fiona had not offered her any assistance, and Gabby hadn’t expected her to, but she was pleased all the same when she sat down without the slightest hint of a stumble.

  Diego sat across from her on the wooden plank, and smiled. “Are you sure you wish to leave?”

  She cast a glance at the island that had been their home for so many weeks. “I will not miss it in the slightest.”

  “Nor will I.”

  His gaze held hers as he almost purred the words and, for a fraction of a moment, Gabby didn’t want to leave, but wanted to go back and recapture those few magical hours they’d spent making love in the cave. As heat climbed into her cheeks, she averted her gaze, looking back at the white sandy beach as Iñigo took the oars to slice them through the water and carry them away from the island to the ship anchored just beyond the breakers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was a calm night, with a gentle wind blowing in from the east. The warm air wrapped about Gabby like a tender embrace, and she sighed as she leaned against the quarterdeck railing. The island was still visible, though about the size of her fist, and as twilight stretched across the sky, it wouldn’t be long before it was merely a darker mass in a sea of darkness.

  After they came aboard the Serena, Gabby was shown to a small cabin, and the order was given for water to be heated. She soaked until the water grew too cool for comfort, and took an oddly great delight in scrubbing both her hair and her body.

  Since they were very nearly the same height, with the same rather deceptively slender build, Fiona offered Gabby a gown, though she didn’t seem particularly pleased about it. Still, Gabby thanked her anyway, and when she finished her bath, slipped into the clean garment, wanting to cry from the sleek softness of it, and the delicious perfume of clean fabric wafting down over her head. Though she normally shied away from such feminine garments, she reveled in this one now.

  Footfalls sounded behind her and she turned to see Diego coming toward her. Gone were the straggly beard and unkempt moustache. Though he was clean-shaven, he radiated the same feral air as he did on the island, and her heart quickened at the sight of him. He still limped, but his black breeches were neither stained nor torn, and his white shirt was almost blinding in its cleanliness.

  His sleeve brushed her bare arm, reminding her of her ladylike apparel. She was most unaccustomed to gauzy gowns, as she lived in breeches and tunics like her men. Her hair, free of tangles and snarls, had been tamed into a fall of loose dark curls that brushed her shoulders and danced on the breeze.

  “Did Farruco pronounce you healed?” she murmured as he brought one booted foot up onto the bottom rung of the railing and leaned his forearms against the top.

  “Not quite healed, but well on my way. And he commended you on your care. Apparently you’ve the makings of a fine ship’s surgeon.”

  “No, thank you. I’d rather stay at the helm, if it’s all the same. I nearly retched each time I cleaned your wounds.” An unfamiliar, giddy sort of laugh teased her lips. Why did she feel so dizzy, as if she might swoon? It was uncomfortable and yet, a bit amusing at the same time. Her belly fluttered as if alive with a million butterflies all trying to break free, and as she cast a sidelong gaze up at him, those wings intensified their beating. It was like seeing him for the first time all over again.

  He sighed softly, looking out at the silver trail caused by the Serena’s wake. “Not exactly my most preferred way to pass several weeks, but nonetheless, not the worst, either.”

  As he spoke, he turned to give her a slow smile and her heart tripled its beat. The sudden rush of blood to her head made her giddier still, and her instinct was to tighten her grip on the railing, lest her knees betray her and crumple right out from beneath her.

  “No, I don’t suppose it was the worst,” she said as he turned completely sideways to rest on one elbow as he gazed down at her. His eyes glittered like black opals, though she knew they weren’t black at all. They were like topaz, a beautiful warm mix of gold and brown. “Tiger eyes,” she murmured without thinking.

  “What was that?”

  His voice cut through her fog and she cleared her throat. “I…uh…that is… It is lovely out here. I’ve missed being at sea.”

  “We are heading to St. Phillippe. If you like, I can take you to Port Royal.”

  A tempting offer, the thought of being at sea with him for at least another three weeks. But no. It wouldn’t be wise. Her feelings twisted and fought with her head far too much. Regretfully, she shook her head. “No. I thank you for the offer, but I will find my own passage to Jamaica. Or perhaps I will simply go home.”

  “Where is home these days?”

  “London. My brother and I own Markham now. Well, my half-brother, that is.”

  “Half-brother?”

  She nodded. “Did I never mention him? His name is William. His mother was my father’s wife, but my mother was his great love.” She offered him a wistful smile. “Perhaps I should be ashamed of that, but I’m not. Theirs was a tragic love, but wildly romantic as well.”

  His eyes softened. “You never struck me as the starry-eyed romantic, Gabby.”

  “Because I’m not. Their story did not end happily, though I was fortunate my father claimed me as his right from the beginning. It is also fortunate that I shared his love for the seas, while William saw it as dirty work.”

  She shrugged, her smile fading. “I became the son William was not, but unfortunately, my father could leave me only my financial interest in Markham. I own the Galatea outright, and receive a stipend of Markham’s profits, but William owns controlling interest. I’m not at all certain how he managed to do this, but my father was quite the miracle worker, you know, and I don’t think he trusted William overmuch.” Another shrug. “Not that it matters to me. I prefer not having to deal with all of the rubbish that comes with property ownership and running the company. I am quite happy to sail my ship and watch my bank account fatten. William can’t sack me. He can’t even touch my ship. Although, since I haven’t a clue where the Galatea is right now, that is moot, I suppose.”

  Her eyes stung with unexpected tears. Her ship. She hadn’t realized how much she missed it until that moment. But miss it she did. Much as she loved being at sea on any ship, it couldn’t compare to being aboard her ship.

  “Perhaps Carmichael has it. He might have returned to Jamaica to file a claim.”

  “Perhaps. I wouldn’t put it past him to claim salvage on it. I only hope he isn’t fool enough to sail near Eleuthera. He’d be no match for the wreckers.” She pressed her lips together as fresh anger flared in her belly at the thought of her precious Galatea destroyed because Carmichael fell prey to those who made their living from the ships they lured to their shores and then stripped. “If that happened… When I find him, he will be sorry.”

  Diego reached out his free arm to cup his hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps you’d best concentrate on finding a new ship, first. It’ll be difficult to chase Carmichael down without one.”

  She groaned at that. “Never mind a ship. I’d need a crew as well. And there aren’t many willing to serve a woman. I can only imagine where mine has scattered. Surely they’ve found other crews to join, I’ve been gone so long.”

  “Fools, all of them. No loyalty at all.”

  Gabby looked up to find him gazing down at her, a teasing smile pulling on his lips. “Diego, no…”

  “What? I’ve done nothing.”

  “I know what you’re thinking.” She wanted to step back, to put some distance between her. “And trust me, you don’t want to do it. It’s simply the full moon, and the water, and the—”

  “And the beautiful woman standing before me.
”

  She almost shivered at his low growl. “No. Didn’t we agree that what happened on the island was a mistake?”

  “True. It was a mistake, but it was a rather pleasant mistake as well.”

  He brought his hand to her cheek and his fingertips swept over it with feather lightness. A flutter of desire rippled through her, despite her best efforts to ignore it. “Diego…”

  He caught her face in both hands, tilted her head back as his fingers reached into her hair. Panic rose up as the tension thickened between them, and she wanted to pull away as strongly as she wanted to melt into him.

  “Gabriella,” he whispered, and her eyes drooped at the promise laced through that one almost breathless word.

  Her lips pursed and lifted, but no kiss pressed into them. Instead, Diego’s warm lips swept over her forehead, he whispered something in Spanish she didn’t understand, then released her. The dull thud of her heart matched his retreating footsteps, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone, disappearing down the flight of stairs leading below deck.

  Her fingernails bit into the palms of her hands as she balled them into fists. She wanted to go after him, to fall into his arms and let whatever would happen, happen. Yes, making love with him had been a mistake. But it was a rather pleasant mistake, indeed, and one she was almost willing to make again. Almost.

  Diego retreated to the peace of his cabin, sank into his chair at the small table, a bottle of rum in one hand and a tankard in the other. Perhaps not the wisest choice for trying to put Gabby from his mind, but the only feasible one at the moment.

  He filled the tankard halfway and was about to take a drink, when someone rapped on the door. Swallowing an oath, he rose, crossing over to pull it open.

  Fiona, or Finn, as he knew her, stood in the shadowy corridor. Like Gabby, she wore a simple linen gown in vibrant shades of blue and coral. Unlike Gabby, her hair was pulled up and away from her face, making her look very much like the cabin boy he’d originally believed her to be.

  “What brings you here?” he asked, leaning against the door as he peered down at her.