I had a childish urge to shut them, but I instead squared my shoulders. “Do you think my heart could ever be yours after what you’ve done?”
Ambrose sighed softly and actually came to a stop. “I can’t change what I’ve done, Jamie. Neither can you. We can only go forward.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you killed the squire.” My voice was bitter, even as I felt hot tears sting my eyes.
“I did,” Ambrose said with another sigh. “I have to admit that was a miscalculation on my part. Because I never thought I’d care about you like I do. But the plan was already in place, and I was not about to let the squire have what’s rightfully mine.”
I blinked at that. “What do you mean?”
Ambrose’s smile suddenly changed, looking both sad and delighted at the same time. “By the powers, Jamie, you really had no idea the whole time, did you, lad?”
I simply waited. Ambrose sighed and removed his hat to brush his dark hair off his sweaty forehead. “I suppose it matters not now. Captain Locke’s treasure has always been mine, by right of birth and parentage.”
“Parentage?” I asked softly.
Ambrose nodded and gave a sweeping bow with his arm and his head. “Captain Miles Ambrose Locke, at your pleasure.”
My mouth dropped as the connections finally came together in my mind. “Charles Locke was your father.”
“Aye,” Ambrose said with a soft laugh in his throat. “Not much of a father. Rare that a pirate ever is, I would wager. But he knew about me, and would come by from time to time. When he buried the treasure, he sent the map off to me, though I was nothing but a lad myself at the time.”
“Then how did George Conley come to possess it?” I asked.
“Conley was a bastard and a thief,” Ambrose said smoothly. “Never amounted to anything more than what he could find at the bottom of a glass. But I knew him. He had been an old shipmate of my father’s, came through the inn my mother owned a few times when my father would come ashore. He became one of her long-time lodgers after my father died. When he had no more money for ale, he stole it, along with most of the inn’s valuables, and then the slippery scoundrel disappeared. It took me years to track him down while building up my reputation and fortune as a gentleman. But he still had the map in his possession when I did. He was never of a mind enough to go after it himself. Always was a coward and a drunk, with no more courage than a field mouse.” Ambrose rubbed at his chin with his hand as he said this.
“He was on death’s door when I finally found him, but then your squire friend had to get involved. And I realized that instead of risking my own livelihood in pursuit of the treasure, I could simply offer my services to Squire Harrington when he became desperate enough to hunt for the island himself.”
“Was it you who smashed the antiquities shop?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him.
Ambrose threw back his head and laughed. “Not personally. That was Duncan and Reed and Madsen. Under my orders, of course.”
“And you sent the black spot to George.”
“I did. I had to speed things up, he was taking his time to leave this earth. Always been a parasite and a coward. If they couldn’t find the map, I knew you or the squire would have it. So I bided my time and waited. I found the map, and I found you. A full deck of treasures.”
I gritted my teeth, my heart aching as I realized that the kindly old squire who had been so good to me had been manipulated into seeking out Ambrose’s help by the pirate’s own hand. “Miles Ambrose,” I said, “you’re a prodigious villain and imposter. I don’t dare to assume you feel any guilt for what you have done. But may the deaths of all those men and the squire hang about your neck like millstones, and may the devil take whatever bit of a soul you may have in your black heart.”
Ambrose chuckled softly. “You do not know what you do to me, Jamie Davis. Even cursing my name, I still want to take you into my arms.”
My heart ached ferociously in my chest at his words. Despite his sins, some part of me still wanted Miles Ambrose, silver tongue and all. But whether or not his words rang true now, I could not say. The squire and Mister Kearns were dead at his command, and Silas was his prisoner. His betrayal still hurt like a knife to my gut.
“Now,” Ambrose said, slapping his thighs as if brushing them off. “The map, if you would be so kind.”
I searched around until I found the familiar tree with its gash. I reached inside, drawing out the oilskin packet, and Ambrose made a soft sound of appreciation in his throat. “Smart as paint, you are, Jamie, my lad.” He held out his hand, but I held the packet firmly.
“It stays in my hands until you let Silas go.”
Ambrose stared at me for a moment, then shrugged. “Suit yourself, lad, I have no objection. But if you run off again, you know Mister Cross will pay for your actions.”
I was not concerned for myself at this point, but Silas was another matter. I nodded. “I give you my word.”
“And your word does mean something,” Ambrose said with a sincerity that I hoped was actually true. “Come, let’s return to camp and prepare for tomorrow.”
Chapter Twelve
Thefourofusreturned to the fort where tools and supplies had been made ready. The sun was already on its downward descent, and heading out into the jungle so late would have been a fool’s errand. So we settled in for the night, Silas and I making dinner for the crew, who were in general good spirits once again. By the fall of darkness, most of them were quite drunk. I curled up on a mound of empty sacks, my hands once again tied behind me. Bosun came and perched on my shoulder, leaning in to give my face a nuzzle, but I shrugged him off. He gave an indignant squawk and fluffed his feathers at me before waddling off to search for bugs.
Silas was tied nearby, just his hands this time. He had assured Ambrose he would not attempt to run while I was still under the pirates’ control. The idea of Silas ‘running’ with his one leg sent hearty guffaws through the drunken group, and I admired Silas’s ability to ignore their jibes. I curled up and fell into a troubled sleep.
