Alexandra widened her eyes. “Whathappened?”
“My father heard about the debacle and foundthem in an inn just before Cornelius was to compromise her. I don’tknow all the details but there was a sword fight between the twomen with Cornelius blinded in one eye.”
“The Duke of Westbrook, Cornelius’s fatherwas so enraged, he banished his son from England and refused himhis inheritance. Years passed, the old duke on his deathbed, havingsecond thoughts of his legacy, bid his son to return and all waspardoned. The duke died shortly thereafter and Cornelius assumedhis role as the Duke of Westbrook. Cornelius came to my father andbegged forgiveness for his rash deed in the past. Ever since, he’sbeen wonderful to our family treating the Rutland children, as hisown.”
“An extraordinary story.” She stumbled overa plank sticking out of the sand and sank to her knees, clearingaway seaweed. “We can put the milled piece to good use.”
She clutched her chest.“Santanas.This is the stern of theSantanas.” She rose and movedfarther down the beach. “I do not want anything to remind me ofthat voyage.”
His stride longer, Nicholas overtook her. Hestopped at a craggy outcropping of limestone, grabbed a hold of aSapodilla limb, and heaved himself atop. He peered over the edge.“Don’t come any closer, Alexandra.”
Too late. She already hauled-up beside him.“Oh, dear God.”
Bloated half-eaten corpses, littered theshore. Crabs covered the bodies, competing with vultures, devouringwhat sharks had left of theSantanascrew.
ChapterEleven
His hopes high, Nicholas swung his telescopeover a galleon armed with fifty cannon and a lesser hulk withtwenty-four cannon. Spanish flags flew from their masts. His heartsank. No need to light the signal fire.
Since discovering the remains of theSantanastwo weeks before, polite civility had eruptedbetween them, each working independent of the other, a silentacknowledgement of keeping a kindred relationship.
Once when he had dared to take her in hisarms, she put up her hand.
“No.”
“Alexandra, I keep thinking what if we areon this island forever.
“There’s the conundrum. What if we arerescued?”
Nicholas exhaled. “I’m attracted to you. Iwant to—”
“As I am to you. But one of us has to thinkwith a clear head.”
“I have complete respect for you, Alexandra,and—if your wish is to be left alone then I will honor it.”
“Besides, I’m not worthy of yourstatus.”
“I don’t give a damn about it.”
“Then I’ll have a care for you. If yourespect me, then do not go against my wishes.”
It had been difficult curbing his desire forAlexandra. She had grown distant, building walls of an impenetrablefortress, and damn if he hadn’t grown aloof, holding fast to thebulwarks of his pride.
Life was pure hell.
Nicholas had carried the casks of flour,wine and other foodstuffs up to the house, storing the barrels inthe lean-to. Half of their gains had to be thrown out, spoiled fromsaltwater immersion. He fished, dove for lobster and conch tosupplement their diet. While diving, he had discovered oysters,yielding one huge pearl, the iridescent quality of immeasurableworth. He had thought about giving it to Alexandra and maybe he’dstill give it to her.
Now he cut bamboo, joining ends with aflexible material that leaked from a rubber plant and served as awater tight glue. He had two scores of bamboo rods left to fit tocomplete his secret project. The undertaking had been a monumentaltask he couldn’t wait to test out. It relieved them of many hoursof grueling labor. With his limited skills, even he was impressedand couldn’t wait to show his invention to Alexandra.
“Nicholas,” Alexandra shouted.
The sun had practically set, leaving streaksof red, mauve and indigo in its trail. He wiped his brow andvaulted over a pile of bamboo.
He arrived at the doorway and she stood on achair and waved a book, her eyes sparkling. “I was dusting andslipped my hand into a hole carved in the beam.”
“A book?” What was so exciting about a book?He was hungry.
She stepped down from the chair and placedtwo platters of bread, roasted fish and a spicy bowl of conch stewon the table. He seated her.
