Mystic Memories (22 page)

“We will see who is the bigger fool tomorrow.”

Blake woke up to a terrible pounding pain in his head. With his eyes still closed, he rubbed his temples to soothe the tremendous ache, but to no avail. The insides of his eyelids felt like gritty sand scratching at his eyes. Disoriented and in agony, he could not recall where he was or what he had done since leaving the
Valiant
. As his fuzzy mind cleared, he realized he was in the dark and narrow berth of his temporary quarters. How he came to be here was a mystery to him.

The sudden knock at his door sounded like a cannon fired next to his ear.

“Go away!” he growled, then groaned at the intense throbbing in his head caused by his own voice.

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“Jimmy? Augh . . .”

“Aye, sir. Are you all right?”

“Yes. No. Ah, hell. Just open the goddamn door.”

The boy obeyed, letting in the tiny amount of lantern light. “May I get you anything, sir?”

“Bring me something for my headache. No, wait. Send Keoni down with it. I want to speak with him.”

“He left with Mrs. Edwards, sir. About four hours ago.”

“What?” He sat up and immediately regretted it. Holding his head for a spell, he remained still, muttering at his feet. “Did he say where they were going?”

“To the mission, I believe, sir. To see the priest.”

“God-damn-son-of-a-bitch!” roared Blake, launching to his feet. “Get the gig ready. I’m going ashore.”

“Again, sir? You just—”

“That’s an order!”

Trembling in his boots, Jimmy responded, “Aye-aye, sir,” then dashed off.

Blake scratched the stubby growth of whiskers on his cheek, then looked down at his rumpled clothing. He looked more like a ruffian than a respectable captain of a merchantman. But he had no time to dawdle with cleanliness.

Four hours. My God, the deed could already be done.
He stumbled up on deck, wincing at the bright sunlight.

Leaving Mr. Bellows in charge, he managed to take himself down into the boat, anxious to get to the mission and put a stop to the wedding. Battling the lingering effects of over-indulgence, Blake was a powder keg ready to explode. He kept a close watch on his temper, though, reminding himself that Jimmy should not be made to suffer for anger and resentment that needed to be directed at the proper parties.

At the
Valiant’s
hide house, he borrowed the roan stallion tethered outside the door and tore off at breakneck speed. The six-mile run cleared his head but did little to sweeten his sour disposition. Entering the gates of the mission, he raced his mount to the steps of the church, swung down from the saddle, and marched up to the doors, throwing them wide.

“Keoni! Cara!” He strode down the center aisle, glancing around the empty sanctuary.

“
¡Silencio, por favor, señor!
”

Blake turned to see the
mayordomo
standing in the back corner. “Where are they?” he demanded in Spanish.

“
¿Quién?
”
Who?

Struggling with his poor translation, Blake managed to ask about the woman who had accompanied him earlier in the week and a tall
Kanaka
. Although his words seemed to have been understood, he received only the response of a shrug and shake of the head. To his relief, the two had not yet arrived or visited the priest. Then where were they?

Thanking the
mayordomo
, he stormed out of the church, stopping at the fountain to cup his hands under the flowing water. He would go to the village next, he decided, bringing the water to his lips. There was nowhere else they could have gone.

Sweat trickled down his back. His temples pounded. Bending at the waist, he dunked his entire head into the cool water, then lifted it out. Gripping the rim of the circular trough, he let the water sluice over his face while his thoughts went back to Cara and Keoni. The idea of the two of them sharing a marriage bed disturbed him more than he cared to face right now. He was out to save his
Kanaka
brother from making a misguided mistake, not Cara. She was not the one he was trying to protect.

Oh, no?
questioned a little voice inside him.

I want nothing to do with her.

You are wrong, Blake. Dead wrong.

She is a witch, a sorceress—

A mystic.

The word echoed through his mind. He didn’t quite understand it or deny it. Yet the idea of Cara being a mystic seemed oddly appropriate somehow in the jumble of confusion surrounding her.

Lifting his head, he ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back as he straightened and walked back to the exhausted roan at the wooden trough for the animals. He thought of all the times Cara had proved her mystical gift of insight. He remembered her descriptions of visitations by an angel named Gabriella. Even if she were indeed touched by the divine, he still did not know what to make of the strange images he’d seen in the cave.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of motion near the gate. He turned to see one horse and two riders coming into the square. His dark-skinned friend rode in the saddle, grinning broadly and waving. Cara peered around the man’s broad shoulders, her smile as broad as the
Kanaka
’s. What had they been up to all these hours alone? he wondered, then banished the thought, preferring not to know.

He remained rooted, waiting for them to approach. Their horse stopped in front of him. Keoni murmured something to Cara that Blake could not hear, then helped her slide down from the horse. He swung his leg over and landed lightly on his feet next to her.

Placing a protective arm around her shoulders, he faced Blake. “Are you here to witness the ceremony?”

“There will be no ceremony.” Blake kept an even tone, controlling the urge to let his fists fly and knock some sense into his foolish friend.

“You are my captain, not my keeper.”

“I am your brother.”

“Then you will not stand in our way.”

Blake looked at Cara. “Did you agree to this?”

She nodded, her dark eyes bringing back the memory of her sleepy gaze.

“Then marry him, if you must.” He watched her face register surprise. “But it will not gain you passage on my vessel. Keoni will stay here with you. I will find another cook.”

“You can’t mean that,” she said in disbelief, stepping toward him.

“I do.” Damning himself for feeling hurt by a betrayal he had unwittingly instigated, he couldn’t bear the thought of them together intimately. He had to stop this impulsive wedding.

“You bastard!” she seethed in a low, contemptuous tone, then slapped him. His head jerked to one side. But he showed no emotion, which appeared to infuriate her all the more. Keoni came forward, gently grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her back against him.

“I’m staying with her,
kaikaina
. I will collect my things in the morning.”

Masking his disappointment as well as despair, Blake stared at his
Kanaka
brother, the one man he would lay down his life for. Over the years they had talked about the day that would come when they might part company, leaving one to settle down with a family while the other continued to sail the seas. He had always expected a woman would come between them. He just never thought that woman would be someone he wanted as well. A mystical woman neither of them should have.

“Is this how you want it to be?” he asked Cara, noticing unshed tears shimmering in her eyes.

Her lower lip trembled. From anger, he suspected. He was a bastard. She was right. Again. Only this time, she didn’t need second sight because it was plain as day, even for him.

“Blake . . .” she pleaded.

His gut twisted, waiting for her to admit she had been using Keoni to get herself aboard the ship. Now that she no longer had her passage secured, would she confess her deceitful trap and release the
Kanaka
from his commitment to her?

“Is it him you want?” Or
me
?

“I—” She faltered, then glanced over her shoulder at the
Kanaka
. “I can’t do this to you, Keoni. I won’t be responsible for having you kicked off your ship.”

Then she turned back to Blake and moved closer. For a moment, he thought she might slap him again. But she raised her hand to his cheek where a reddened imprint was certain to be outlined on the skin. Tenderly, she cupped the side of his face. “I want you, Blake. God help me, but I need you—”

“I know. For passage to Boston.”

She slowly shook her head. “There’s more to it than that. You have to feel it, too. The night we spent together . . .” He glanced uncomfortably toward his friend, then grabbed her arm above the elbow and led her a short distance away. He kept his voice low. “You planned for that to happen—”

“Planned?” she echoed quietly, her expression filled with sadness. “How could you even think I would intentionally stage an attack by a rattlesnake that nearly cost your dog his life?”

“Very well, then—I say you used the unfortunate circumstances to your advantage, allowing me to claim your body so I would feel bound to you, unable to leave you. I heard your words as you were toying with my mind. If you think my lust for you will assure a place in my berth until we reach Boston, then you are no better than a vulgar whore who takes money for her services.”

Cara reeled back, stunned by his accusation. What she had considered an exquisite moment between them, he had diminished to a manipulative prostitution of her body. Damn him! She wished she could slap him again, but she’d already done it once. And it not only hadn’t done a bit of good, it horrified her to think she had stooped to physical violence, something she’d never done in her life.

“You sound as if your mind is made up.” She let out a long and defeated breath. “No matter what I say now, I’ll never be able to convince you that I had no ulterior motives the other morning. I wanted you to make love to me. That’s all. Nothing more. I didn’t think about the ramifications, which now, I realize, was my second mistake.”

“And your first?”

“I made the mistake of
believing
in you.” Her throat tightened. She rapidly blinked back the damn tears that seemed to be the only constant in her life lately. “I honestly believed you wanted to help. Not me, but Andrew. You know what that kid is going through right now, Blake!” She stared at him in challenge, her heart and throat aching with emotion.

“Keoni told me how much you missed your parents those first few years with his family. You kept wishing they would come looking for you. Now you’re putting Andrew through that same hell because you can’t put aside your feelings about me, about us! You are condemning that little ten-year-old to a life exactly like your own—lost and alone.”

Taking a much-needed breath, Cara swiped away the tears running down her cheek, her voice growing louder. She didn’t care if Keoni overheard. Let him hear!

“You don’t have to do this to him, Blake. He
has
parents who love him and want him back. And I am the only one who has made it this far, the only one who knows where he is. If you don’t take me on that ship, he hasn’t got a snowball’s chance in hell of getting back to his father and mother.”

She stepped up to him, raising her finger to his face. “And one last thing—I am
not
a frigging whore. But if that’s what you want, and that’s what it takes to rescue Andrew, then you got it. No phony wedding required. I’ll work my way to Boston. In your bed. On my back.”

“That’s enough, Cara,” growled Blake.

“It better be enough,” she shot back, adding a different meaning to his warning. Her finger poked him in the chest to make her point. “Because all I’ve got for barter is my body.”

Leaving him slack-jawed over her crass proposition, she started to drop her hand and storm off, but his fingers caught her wrist.

Her heightened agitation shortened her breathing. She glanced down at his viselike grip, then up at his stony face. If he chose, he could snap her delicate bones in the blink of an eye. She knew he wouldn’t, but his steely-eyed gaze and flared nostrils told of his battle for self-control. Brutality was more than familiar to him and to most mariners of the early 1800s. Violence bred violence. For Blake, his horrid past could have easily turned him into a monster, but it hadn’t.