Don't Tempt Me (13 page)

"About?" He sat beside her to put his flippers on.

"The necklace." She glanced across the water. "Do you think it's really out there?"

"Absolutely. We're convinced that's what Jack was going back for when the gunpowder exploded."

She cocked her head. "Then why didn't you tell the Historical Society about it at the meeting? From what I read in the diaries, I'd say they'd be just as interested in the necklace as the powder horn."

"We have our reasons," he answered evasively.

She studied him a moment, then laughed. "You're hoping to keep it, aren't you?"

He frowned. "Wish to, yes. Plan to, no. We accepted weeks ago that recovering the necklace will mean giving it up. We just don't want to give the Galveston Historical Society free access to the diaries in order to prove its significance."

"Then why do the excavation? I mean, think about it. What if the necklace really does have magic? Not that I believe in such things, but what if you're giving up all that good luck?"

He looked out across the water for a long time before answering. "Jack Kingsley died trying to save that necklace from sinking with the ship."

"So?"

"I've done some reading on the paranormal and what I've learned is that sometimes what keeps a soul from moving to the next plane is an unfinished task. Perhaps Jack's spirit is still trying to rescue the necklace, and won't leave the cove without it"

"So if you recover it for him, you'll free his spirit?" she asked, studying his eyes. "Do you really believe in, you know ... ghosts?"

He stood. "Are you ready to go see the ship?"

She laughed. "Let's see, in this case changing the subject would mean yes."

Taking up his dive light, he moved to the end of the dock. "The water will be really murky for the first forty feet. So once we get in, put one hand on this chain." He pointed to a chain that disappeared into the water at an angle. "It'll lead you right to the ship, which sits pretty much smack-dab in the middle of the cove."

"Got it." She slipped her mask in place.

Adrian did the same, inserted his mouthpiece, and stepped off into the water with a big splash. When he reappeared, she jumped in beside him, going under with a whoosh of bubbles.

They swam to the chain, then started down through the brown haze. As Adrian had said, the water remained murky until they reached forty feet, then it cleared drastically. It also dropped in temperature.

Adrian turned to check on her and she signaled for him to lead the way. Just enough sunlight filtered through to illuminate specks of suspended silt and an occasional school of fish that darted through their light beams like flashes of silver. With a pang she realized how much she missed diving in the Caribbean, which was as different from diving off the coast of Texas as the sun from the moon.

For one thing, it was warmer. She'd expected the water to be cold at sixty feet, but not this cold! And the closer they swam to the ship, the colder it got.

The bow of the vessel appeared suddenly in the twin beams of their fights. Her eyes widened in surprise at its remarkable condition. Since it was a wooden ship, any parts not covered in mud should have completely disintegrated within a few short years. Instead, the top portion of the forecastle rose out of the cove's bottom, like a visual echo of how she must have looked while riding the waves.

So this was Jack Kingsley's ship, she thought as they reached it. And wow, wasn't she gorgeous! Jackie had always thought no ship in the world could be more beautiful than her own, but the
Freedom
had a grace and strength she could feel in her heart.

They swam over the main deck, sweeping it with their lights. Gray silt covered everything that wasn't buried completely in mud. She lifted her light and saw that one mast remained, jutting up at an angle with its rigging swaying in the current.

Suspended in the chilly water over the ship, she tried to imagine that night, piecing it together from all she had heard.

When Jack learned that Marguerite had been beaten and locked in her room, he'd raced to Pearl Island, intent on saving her. But to sail right into the cove had been foolhardy, even for a seasoned blockade runner.

Reaching the quarterdeck, Jackie turned to survey the ship from where Jack would have stood. What had gone through his mind in that instant when he saw the flash on the balcony, then heard the boom of the cannon? The impact would have shuddered through the whole ship. Had any of his men died with the first explosion? Had they screamed out in pain?

The night had been stormy, with lightning splitting the black clouds and the wind playing havoc with the sails. A rational man would have ordered his ship to come about and fled the cove. But Jack had been far from rational that night. His refusal to abandon the ship proved that.

Floating toward the wheel, Jackie reached out and took hold of it, sending up a small cloud of silt. Realizing that his hands had held this very wheel sent a shiver racing through her.

Why, Jack? Why risk so much for a necklace? Did you really love Marguerite to the point you couldn't let go of even that small piece of her?

The water temperature dropped again, and a buzzing started inside her head, growing in volume. With the sound came a rush of emotion that tore through her. She clasped her ears, but the buzzing grew louder.

In a frightening flash, she knew what Jack had felt that night: anger, grief, and desperation so profound it cut her heart in two.
Oh God
, she thought as the water pressure squeezed her chest until she couldn't breathe.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.

A hand grabbed her arm and she remembered Adrian was there, but her mind remained focused inward, fighting the anguish.

Alarmed, Adrian shook her until she finally looked at him. He hand-signaled:
Okay?

She shook her head:
No.

He made a fist:
Low on air?

No.
She waggled her hand with fingers spread, then pointed up with her thumb.
Something's wrong. Up.

He checked his dive watch to see if they were safe for a fast ascent, then signaled back:
Okay
. But when she started up, he didn't see any bubbles escaping her mouth. He grabbed her weight belt and pulled her back down. To make a straight ascent from sixty feet, she'd have to exhale the whole way up or her lungs would burst.

She looked at him with frantic eyes and signaled again:
Something's wrong. Up. Up!

Okay. But slow!

She nodded and clutched the regulator to her mouth, breathing in short bursts, alarming him further.

Do you need to buddy-breathe?

No. Up! Up! Up!

Okay.
When she squeezed her eyes shut, he jostled her, then pointed at his eyes.
Look at me
, he commanded, hoping to give her something to focus on as much as needing to monitor her through eye contact.

Nodding, she kept her eyes fixed on his as he wrapped an arm around her and swam toward the chain that led back to the pier. His heart raced as he wondered what was wrong. He could tell she was getting air, but she wasn't exhaling properly, and the look in her eyes spoke of pain.

Or panic.

He thought of his sister Rory, who suffered from panic attacks. When one hit her, she doubled over and couldn't breathe. Could Jackie be suffering from something like that? If so, they could be in serious trouble. Underwater was no place to lose control of one's breathing.

Thank God, she was an experienced enough diver to shut down the natural instinct to struggle against him and swim straight up.

As they moved away from the ship, he felt her body start to relax but only a little.

He stopped at forty feet, just below the level where the water turned murky, not daring to go any higher. With one arm wrapped around both her and the chain, he grabbed her hand and pressed it to his stomach. With his eyes locked on hers, he breathed deeply in and out, willing her to do the same.

Slowly, the tension left her body and her breathing steadied.
Okay?
he signaled.

She nodded weakly.
Up.

He checked his watch, then held up two fingers, asking if she could handle two more minutes. She closed her eyes in dread, but nodded. Aching for her, he cradled her close, letting the water rock their bodies. Slowly, she went limp, her legs brushing his, her head tucked against his chest.

When the time was up, he deflated both their vests to keep them from ascending too quickly, then nodded. She exhaled and disappeared into the murky level above. He made his own ascent, and surfaced with her near the dock.

The instant she broke free of the water, she tore the regulator from her mouth and took a gulp of air. She'd had enough presence of mind to reinflate her vest so it kept her head above water. He took a moment to inflate his own vest, then pulled his mask off and swam toward her. "What happened?"

"Nothing," she gasped. "I'm fine!"

"What the hell do you mean you're fine?" he yelled, his heart still pounding.

"I just wanted to come up."

"So I noticed." He stared in disbelief as she swam for the ladder with long, fluid strokes, then removed her flippers and climbed to the pier.

Okay,
Adrian thought in total confusion.
Nothing's wrong. She's fine. And pigs fly.

He took off his own flippers and followed her up. When he sat beside her with their legs dangling off the side of the pier, their tanks beside them, he watched her struggle to catch her breath.

"Care to try again?" he asked.

"Try what again?" she said, panting.

"To tell me what happened down there."

"Nothing happened, I just ... I don't know, felt claustrophobic or something."

"Has that ever happened to you before?"

"No." She managed a breathy laugh, her teeth chattering. "I can safely say nothing like that has ever happened to me before."

"So, what set it off?"

"I, um ... " She wrapped her arms around herself, her body visibly shivering. "I have no idea. Christ, it was cold down there."

"It wasn't that cold." He pulled her against him and rubbed her arms as he looked out across the water, thinking it through. "Unless you bumped into Jack."

"What?" She gaped at him.

"You know, ghosts? Cold spots?"

"Then you admit it was cold."

"Only cold to you. Which makes sense if Jack was reaching out to you and not me."

"Give me a break." She shivered. "You think just because he's my ancestor, I'm connected to him somehow?"

"Not at all. You don't have to be related. Allison told me Scott had a similar experience the first time he dove around the ship."

Her expression turned incredulous as she searched his eyes. "I'm supposed to believe a person who's been dead since the mid-1800s can reach out to people at will?"

"It's possible." He wiped beads of water from her face. "Remember when I told you that sometimes when I'm standing on the balcony, I can imagine Marguerite standing there, too? Well, it's more than that. I can feel her."

"F-feel her?" Another shiver went through her and he rubbed her back to warm her.

"No, that's not quite right It's ..." He searched for a way to explain it. "It's as if I can feel what she's feeling, her emotions. And not just faintly. I'm talking actually feeling an overwhelming sense of grief and fear and longing. Maybe what you felt down there wasn't claustrophobia but Jack Kingsley's emotions from the night he died."

For a heartbeat her face remained blank, then she snorted. "Yeah, right. I told you, I don't believe in ghosts."

"Of course not," he agreed, straight-faced.

"I will say this, though." She pinched her nose to clear away the salt water. "Are you sure you want to mess with whatever is out there?"

"Ah, so you're admitting there is something out there."

Rather than answer, she burrowed against his chest for warmth. He wrapped both arms around her.

"Truthfully" ---he sighed ---"we're not sure of anything, but we think this is the right thing to do. Hope so, anyway."

"Hope so?" She tipped her head to look at him, her face mere inches from his. If he lowered his head a tiny bit, he could close his mouth over hers. "That's not very reassuring."

"Sometimes instinct and hope are all you have to go on." For a moment neither of them moved, and he wondered if she ached for the kiss half as much as he did. Seeing beads of water on her cheek, he raised his hand and brushed them away, then trailed his thumb along her lips. Her mouth opened on a sigh as her eyes became heavy-lidded. His body tightened as her breath warmed his hand.

One kiss,
he thought, longing to lean closer.