“Nicholas.” Her knees buckled and she sankto the ground. Hands shaking, she opened the locket. Gazing back ather was the miniature of a pretty woman. No doubt, the gold locketLady Jane Winthrop Dabney had given to Captain John Sharp, and withit, his dream of a life with her extinguished. Alexandra’s gazedrifted over the sad remains of the sea captain. To think he haddied alone.
Nicholas approached from behind. After amoment of silence, he said, “I’ll bury him. There can’t be happyendings all of the time, Alexandra.”
Like Nicholas and her.
She stood and unclasped the locket fromCaptain Sharp. “Maybe someday we can return Lady Jane’s locket andthe diary to her. It is the decent thing to do.” Tears burned hercheeks with their heat and quiet power. Nicholas turned her aroundand she put her arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. Shecried for the darling sea captain and for Nicholas, the man she’dhave to leave behind if they ever reached the shores ofEngland.
* * *
With his machete, Nicholas hacked throughthe brush, an endless task for wherever he cut, the growthreappeared. To erase the tragedy of Captain Sharp and his ownindiscretion about children, Nicholas diverted her attention withan outing. He pulled Alexandra up on a high craggy cliffoverlooking the beach that lay like a shepherd’s hook of gold. “Mysenses are heightened on this island. I see that which is far offwith but a glance, I hear the crack of stone or branch on highprotecting myself from falling branches and rocks. I smell thecoming of the storms while they are still days away. The soup youmake tastes as fine as any I’ve ever eaten back incivilization.”
Nicholas swept up his cocked hat and jammedit beneath one arm. His nose twitched, the air was pregnant withthe smell of salt. “The folly of looking for treasure is anexercise in uselessness, Alexandra.” They had been talking abouthis sister, Abby. How he missed her, how he worried about her. “Sheis probably dead by now.”
“Like you, Nicholas, she survived. You mustcount on that, live with that thought.”
His eternal optimist.“How do youknow?”
“I don’t. But if there is a just God, thenshe is safe.”
He took a swig of water from the calabashand offered it to her. “How can you treat your life like that?” Sofar, he’d survived, but if his father or siblings hadn’t…that yokeof guilt would be the price he’d have to bear.
She shrugged. “We can’t control the wind,but we can adjust our sails.”
She was right.
He took a deep breath. If his family didsurvive, what did they think happened to him the night of hisabduction? Would there have been any witnesses? He was certain ifthere was a trail, they’d be looking for him.
“My intuition says the treasure is here.Captain Sharp did not come all this way and not have his treasurewith him. I can use that money to get justice for Molly and myfather.”
She wanted justice as much as he wantedvengeance. If they got off this island, he’d do everything in hispower to have her stepmother prosecuted for her crimes. But withoutwitnesses, the charge would be impossible. Molly was dead. Howconvenient for her stepmother. And to prove Alexandra’s heritage?Like blowing thistledown against a hurricane. Yet maybe aSutherland servant would know.
“Just tell me why, and I’m not talking aboutthe treasure. For what purpose have we had to go through thisstruggle?”
“Sometimes trials are to make us stronger,to act as a bridge to another part of our life. Samuel always said,‘Birth is the day molded into a sculpture, happenstance is an oilpainting and experience is a mosaic of them all.”’
They came to an end of an animal path with acliff a quarter mile straight up. They would have to climb. “Areyou ready for a new experience?”
She grasped thick strangler vines andNicholas followed behind her. “I have to say the view from here isfantastic.”
“Leave it to you, Nicholas to point thatout,” she laughed and hitched herself over the top of a ridge.
She lay there panting when Nicholas heavedhimself up beside her. Her scent beckoned him. His mouth was bonedry, sweat ran between his shoulder blades like warm rain.Temptation lay one foot away. He looked down on the ocean wherewaves slammed against rocks in a surge of spray.
Alexandra shielded her eyes from the sun andlooked at him. “Who else could have plotted against yourfamily?”
“There could be any number of persons. Anangry tenant.”
She tossed a stone off the cliff. “An angrytenant would not have money.”
“Lord Eaton, the father whose son I killedin self-defense. He definitely has the financial means.”
“And the motivation,” she added.
She picked up another stone and examined it.“Have you ever had a hint of enmity from Duke Cornelius?” Alexandrasaid.
“Nicholas shook his head. “Never have I seenany animosity, only kindness, bestowing us with gifts and all thethings he did for me are countless.”
“Yet he never married? Doesn’t that troubleyou?”
