A Pirate's Possession (8 page)

“Then don't tell him!” she argued, anxiousness rising in her voice.

“I won't lie to my friend, Claire. Not for you or anyone else.”

“Even though he lied to you about this treasure?”

Vincent nodded. “Yes.”

Claire slapped her palm onto the table. Her hand tingled, but it was nothing to the rage brewing inside her. Nate had money, clearly he didn't need the treasure to put food on his bloody table, and yet he was going after the one thing Claire needed. She couldn't let him get away with that. She wouldn't.

“What has he ever done for you to earn this kind of loyalty?” she demanded.

Vincent's back went straight. “He's stood behind me since the day I met him. He's treated me as an equal, unlike most, who tend to look at my size and see nothing but half a man. Nate keeps to himself, I'll grant you that, but he's never faltered. When he says something, you know you can count on it.”

“Count on it?” Claire spewed. “The man lies, Vincent. He's lied to me, to you, and likely to everyone else he's come across. He can hide it behind his charm, but at his heart he only cares about himself.”

“I'm sorry, that's not the man I've sailed with for six years.”

Claire balled her hands into fists and shoved away from the table. She nearly tripped over her own restless energy, which seemed to consume the room. What could she say, she wondered, that would make a difference to Vincent? That would convince him to lie to his friend in order to help out a stranger?

The truth, she thought, with a tightening in her belly. If Vincent valued honesty that much, then the only thing Claire could think of that would make any difference was the truth. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Well, some of the truth, at least. Claire had learned the hard way not to lean on anyone, as they usually betrayed her in the end, but looking at Vincent, at his large brown eyes and the sincerity that bloomed within them, seeing the way he'd refused to betray Nate, Claire was tempted to lean on him.

“Tell me why this matters to you.”

“Look at me!” she cried, waving her hands at her clothes. “Isn't it clear why I need this treasure?”

“Claire.” Vincent's smile was sad. “If I thought it was only money you were after, I would give you some of mine. But I think this is about more than a map and treasure.”

Perhaps she was tired, or simply too weary of always fighting. Regardless she found herself softening toward Vincent. Sighing, she sat back down, emotions weighing heavily in her chest.

“When you and Nate were together at the orphanage, you loved each other, didn't you?”

Claire shifted in her chair. “You get right to it, don't you?”

Vincent smiled. “You and Nate have a lot in common. Neither one of you is forthcoming with information. While asking directly hasn't helped where Nate is concerned, I thought I could try it with you.” He shrugged. “The worst you can do is tell me to shut up.”

“I assume you've heard that a time or two?”

“More than I can count, my dear,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

She liked him. Granted she'd only met him, but there was an easiness about Vincent, a natural way about him that inspired trust. It was that, and the fact that she'd been so long without someone caring about her, that eased her wariness. She didn't trust easily, and she wouldn't give Vincent everything, but what harm could come from talking to him a little? Besides, making Vincent understand was her last hope to getting the rest of the map.

“I loved him as much as a young girl of fourteen knows how.”

“Fourteen?” he gaped.

“I knew him a few years prior to that, but it wasn't until I was fourteen that I realized I loved him.”

“I'm assuming he felt the same.”

“You'd be assuming wrong.”

Vincent angled his head. “Nate is not a man prone to displays of emotion. On deck, he's constant. Whether we're engaged in battle or floating still, his demeanor is always the same. But tonight was different. I'd never seen him so riled,” he added with excitement.

Claire had been wondering what Nate needed a ship for. Now, she knew. If Nate engaged in battles, he was likely a privateer. Most merchant sailors didn't engage in battles often and most didn't have new sloops.

“That was his anger you saw.”

“And that's foolishness talking, but,” he said, holding up a hand to ward off her reply, “I won't argue. At least not tonight.”

His grin was catching and Claire felt her mouth curve.

“You are persistent.”

“Comes from being raised with five sisters.”

“No brothers?”

Vincent's smile turned to a frown.

“One. He left when I was a young boy. He wanted nothing to do with me. I didn't measure up, so to speak.”

Claire remembered Vincent's comment of only ever being seen as half a man. That his own brother had felt the same must have been devastating to Vincent.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “But he was wrong. From what I've seen so far, I'd say your brother missed out on knowing a very honorable man.”

To her horror, Vincent's eyes gleamed with tears. “My dear, I've never heard nicer words. Thank you.”

Warmth spread through Claire. She hadn't expected it, certainly hadn't gone looking for it, but she felt in that moment she'd made a friend.

“My mother died when I nine. She took a bad cold, which led to fever and a cough that wouldn't go away. I didn't know what it was, but I knew when she got to coughing, coughing so badly it wouldn't stop, that she was very sick.” Claire took a trembling breath. It wasn't easy to talk about, even this many years later. “She died the day before my tenth birthday.”

“I'm sorry.”

Claire sniffed. “We buried her on my birthday, near the garden she loved so much. Later that night my father did his very best to try to give me a birthday. He cut a piece of cake from one that had been brought by a neighbor and he sang to me, though he cried through most of it.

“The days were awful after that. We were both so sad and lost without her. We went about our life as best we could but we soon fell into a pattern of picking at our food and staring at nothing. At day's end we'd sit in the parlor, but there were no words said, and hours later we'd go off to bed, again in silence, only to repeat everything the following day.

“The whole first year after her death was like that. But then, the day after the anniversary of her death, he brought home the map. Vincent, it all changed after that. He had a purpose in his eyes again, and seeing the life come back to him was all I needed. At first I didn't care about the map or the treasure because that wasn't what was important. All I'd wanted was my father back and the map had given me that.

“Only his excitement extended to me. Soon we were weaving stories about that treasure and the adventures we'd have looking for it. Vincent, that map gave us life, and when we talked about it, I believed we'd find the treasure.”

“But Nate had a piece of that map tonight. How much of it did you have then?”

“More than half. The problem was the right side—the part I now have,” she added, tapping her chest, “was missing. Without that piece ...”

“You couldn't be sure where to look.”

“We were guessing. Good guesses, we weren't silly enough to go off completely blind, but yes, without the rest we couldn't be sure.”

“But it was enough to get you both excited?”

Claire laughed. “I think my father would have looked with even less than what we had.” She sighed because that was the sad truth. Once her father had found the map, he'd been unstoppable.

“You know the treasure came from Nombre De Dios, but do you know what happened to it after that?” she asked.

“Only that the
Santa Francesca
sailed from Nombre De Dios with a treasure that had no equal. It was supposed to be the richest load to ever leave Mexico and it left in the middle of the night, the day before it was set to, all to protect it from pirates.”

“Exactly. And it was found three days later, its hull cracked open on the rocks near Cartagena. No treasure was found, not even so much as a coin in the water.”

“So pirates got to it first,” he said.

Claire shook her head. “It wasn't pirates,” she sneered. “Pirates wouldn't have bothered with a map. With what was on the
Santa Francesca
, they wouldn't have trusted each other with burying it.”

“You say that as though you've had entanglements with some.”

“I have. I've seen, more than once, the ravage and blood-shed pirates leave behind. They're vile, the lot of them.”

Vincent frowned, seemed to consider, then shook his head. “Then who took it, if not pirates?”

“Nobody.”

“Nobody? Somebody had to have taken it or it would have been with the ship.”

“Not,” Claire said, holding up her finger, “if the idea had always been to crash the
Santa Francesca
.”

“Holy hell. To what purpose?”

Claire leaned over the table. The same excitement she'd once shared with her father—the one that had vanished as time wore on and hopelessness had crept in—once again coursed through her. She may not have found the treasure, but she'd spent enough time to have figured some of it out.

“Think about it, Vincent. Even though the
Santa Francesca
left at night, she'd still be a target. Pirate and privateer ships cross these waters all the time. She'd be spotted easy enough, especially by those hungry enough to hunt her down. But if she ran aground, then what? The treasure could be transferred to any vessel and nobody would be the wiser.”

Vincent frowned. “But if the treasure could be on any vessel, then doesn't it stand to reason that it's long gone? I mean, there's no way of knowing where it went or on what ship it left. Is there?” he asked, angling his head.

“I've researched the area. There were three ships in those waters about the same time. Unfortunately, they scattered in three different directions, and though I've looked in the most likely places, it was too broad an area to do a thorough search. With this”—she tapped her chest again—“I won't have to guess any longer.”

Vincent shook his head. “Claire. There are no guarantees.”

“I know that. If anybody knows that, it's me. But I feel it and my father did, too. This map leads to the treasure.” And with any luck at all, some clue as to what had happened to her father.

“How is it you had a father and yet were in an orphanage?”

Claire sighed. When her father had first put her in the orphanage, she'd been angry. As the weeks turned to months, her anger had grown with each passing day that he didn't come back for her. But then, after first one year, then two, her anger had been replaced by the fear that she'd never again see him.

“My father, when he realized he'd need to go past San Salvador to search, left me at the orphanage. He promised to come back for me once he found it.”

“San Salvador? That's where you and Nate are from?”

“Yes.”

Vincent nodded, then squeezed her hand. “But your father never came back, did he?”

“No, he never did.”

“Claire, I'm sorry and I understand your desire to find the treasure, but—”

“No you don't. You don't know what it's like to be left behind. I have no family, no money and”—she once again pointed to her clothes—“no dignity. I can't hold my head up, I can't simply be Claire Gentry. You told me the treasure couldn't only be about the money and you were right. Yes, I have plans for the treasure, for what it can provide. But besides that, I can't buy myself a home, I can't let my hair grow again, and I can't ever be a lady. I can't do anything but live hand to mouth and hope nobody discovers I'm a woman!”

Vincent allowed her the time to gather her emotions before he continued.

“And the reason Nate knows of the treasure?”

Claire sighed. “I told him about it. Not at first, but later once we'd become close friends. I didn't have the map, you see, but I'd looked at it enough times to have it committed to memory and I shared that with Nate. He promised me we'd find it one day.”

“And you think he's been looking for it all this time?” Vincent shook his head. “He hasn't. When we were on Blake's ship, Nate never went off looking for any treasure.”

“You said he's had this ship three years?”

“Yes.”

Claire sneered. “And in those three years you're telling me he hasn't looked?”

Vincent's frown was her answer.

“Among my many regrets, I wish I'd never told Nate about the map,” she said.

She met Vincent's gaze, prayed he'd understand why the treasure was so important to her. But as his silence grew, so did Claire's fears that Vincent would stand behind Nate.

“I'll help you,” he said finally.

Claire's heart filled as fast as her eyes.

“You will? Really?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, she turned around, dug the map out of her undershirt. When she faced Vincent again, she had the paper clasped between her fingers. In a move she wasn't prepared to halt, Vincent snatched it out of her hands.

“You said you'd help me!” she sputtered.

“I will. I am. But you've said yourself you need money. Nate has that and a ship. Who better to help?”

Claire couldn't believe her ears. Vincent was betraying her trust? Already? At least Nate had waited years to do that.