Hours to Cherish (19 page)

A scream rose in her throat as their light illuminated a scene preserved in this watery prison. They had come to a bedchamber, sealed with the sinking of the ship until their appearance now. A chamber where passengers had come for safety from the impending battle. The skeletons dressed in decayed remnants greeted them in various stages of decomposition and posture. It almost appeared that one of the skeletons beckoned them with an eerie smile to join him as he wavered in a drunken dance by the porthole.

Cat was ready to bolt in panic, heedless of decompression, heedless of breathing period. Clay caught her hand, forcing her to precede him slowly out of the hatchway.

With dim light filtering through their coral blanket, and the vision of macabre skeletons no longer facing her, Cat ridiculed herself for her panic and determined that Clay not think her too squeamishly female for the task ahead. The
Santa Anita
was her dream come true, she couldn’t turn it over to him.

She forced a calm smile into her features, pretending that nothing was wrong. Turning from Clay, she decided to take a closer look toward the aft, a section that had apparently taken the fire of an English cannon.

Clay sternly caught her hand, his eyes intense jet. She shook her head, attempting a protest. Clay jerked her hand once more, then tapped furiously upon his diving watch. Cat stared down at the minutes past, wondering if she could wish more time into existence. But Clay was never lost to euphoria or panic. He didn’t intend to give her a chance for any more stalling. He began a slow ascent, dragging her with him.

They paused for their first decompression stop just above the coral ledge. Minutes that seemed like ages passed with Clay eyeing her sternly and clutching her hand all the while. It wasn’t until they reached the sandy ledge just thirty feet below the surface that either realized there had been other divers near. And what Cat saw sickened her far more than the pathetic bones in the wreck. She immediately felt a boiling rage creep into her bloodstream. The nurse sharks had been savagely attacked. Even as she watched, a number of the creatures ripped through the water in spasms and throes. Every one of them had been hit with a high-powered spear gun.

Horrified, Cat stared on, wishing desperately she could do something to still the agony of the fish. She wasn’t in love with sharks—any sharks—but neither could she agree with senseless slaughter of the sea creatures. Why? she wondered. Why on earth would anyone inflict such a cruel massacre upon nurse sharks?

She suddenly felt her hand being wrenched none too gently. Clay was pulling her toward the surface, and before she knew it, she was breaking surface. She spat out her mouthpiece as Clay emerged beside her. “Why were you dragging me like that? Didn’t you see what had happened?”

“Of course I saw,” he grated harshly in return. He waved his arms over his head toward the
Sea Witch II
, a signal for help. “I dragged you up, you little fool, because while you were floating there gaping, every shark in the vicinity was congregating! That blood will be pulling in the real predators by the hundreds.”

Cat shut up, stunned. He was right, of course.

In just seconds Sam pulled the
Sea Witch II
up beside them and hurriedly helped first her, and then Clay, from the water.

As soon as they were on deck, Clay furiously spun on her. “That upset you, huh, Mrs. Miller? Good. Because you have your precious Jules you insist upon defending to thank for the incident. That nice decent man is so determined to keep you from claiming the
Santa Anita
that he isn’t at all adverse to the idea of turning your diving waters into a feeding frenzy!”

“Y
OU’RE INSANE!” CAT CROSS
-charged furiously, fumbling to remove her tank and doing a poor job of it owing to her state of agitation. “I know you don’t think much of Jules, Clay—and I’m sure it’s a form of jealousy, since you seem to think that I’m a piece of property he was rude enough to intrude upon—even though you were nowhere near! But to accuse him of being lethally malicious! You’re pushing things way too far!”

“Am I, Cat?” Despite her determination to resist him, Clay spoke while forcefully turning her around to assist her with her weight belt and tank. “You’re blind!” he told her, angrily jerking a strap. “And you’re in for one rude awakening.” Clay turned to Sam, caught as he so often was, silent in the midst of their arguing. “Did you get a look at that boat, Sam? Did you recognize anything about it?”

“Yeah, I got a look at her,” Sam said, his eyes darting from Clay to Cat. “And I’ve never seen her before.”

“You see!” Cat hissed. “Sam would recognize a boat that belonged to Jules—”

“Hold on, Cat,” Sam said. “I didn’t recognize the cruiser, but I think I have seen one of the divers. You can tell for yourself anyway—she’s still anchored dead ahead of us. What happened, anyway?”

“We found her,” Clay said tensely. “We found the
Santa Anita
.”

“You found her!” Sam shouted incredulously. “And you two are bickering over a boat.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Clay explained. “Those divers were down there slaughtering nurse sharks, literally chumming the water enough to call out a great white all the way from the coast of Australia. At best, someone is trying to destroy our salvage operation; at worst, they want us entirely out of the picture—dead.”

“Jesus,” Sam breathed.

“Get out the signal flags, will you, Sam?” Clay asked. “I want to make sure Peter and Ariel are back aboard the
Sea Enchantress
.”

Little chills of fear rippled along Cat’s spine; she had forgotten all about their co-divers. Thank God their signals were immediately answered. The Gruutens were safely aboard the
Sea Enchantress
.

“Shall I tell them you found the
Santa Anita
?” Sam asked Clay, hands by his sides, holding the flags.

“No!” Clay said tensely. “Not with that other boat in viewing distance. Just tell them we’ll rendezvous at six for dinner on the
Witch
.”

Sam did as directed and turned questioning eyes back to Clay. “What now?”

“A beer,” Clay said. “And a little planning. We need to register our claim, but we should bring something up first—a plank, anything we can have carbon-dated.”

“That’s it?” Cat demanded.

Clay turned to her, as if suddenly aware of her presence. “What do you mean, that’s it? Now that we’ve seen her, I can start thinking about the best ways to bring the most up. We’ll never float her, Cat, you do realize that—”

“I’m not referring to the
Santa Anita
!” Cat flared furiously. “A pack of idiots was down there killing nurse sharks with illegal spear guns and you’re not going to do anything? You can still see their damned boat! Don’t you think you should do something? Find out who they are—”

“Cat!” Clay lashed back, his voice a whip crack. “I know who the boat belongs to, and the owner isn’t going to give a damn if I go lecture him on the cruelty and danger of indiscriminate killing! If there is anything that I am going to do, it’s keep a good eye on the movements of that cruiser. And its inhabitants, before I take a dive.”

Cat grit her teeth for patience before speaking. “I’m telling you, Clay, it isn’t Jules. Those divers are probably a pack of idiot tourists who shouldn’t have been certified in the first place.”

“Sure, Cat,” Clay said with ill-concealed disgust, “whatever you say. You refuse to see anything until it slaps you right in the face. Well, you can just stand there all day deciding on how you’re going to reprimand those terrible ‘amateurs’ for slaughtering those sharks. Sam and I have work to do. You’re invited to attend the session if you can break away from your outrage. We can make some solid plans now that we know how the
Santa Anita
lies. …”

His words trailed away as he turned and walked through the cabin doors, leaving Cat with the choice to follow or not. Sam shuffled his feet a little uneasily, glanced at Cat, smiled a trifle apologetically, and followed Clay.

Cat stared after the two of them, still steaming. How could Clay believe Jules to be not only spiteful but dangerously so! “Men!” she muttered with disgust.

Clay was wrong. Very wrong. And as usual he was taking nothing she had to say into account. “Damn him!” she hissed. Just last night he had told her he loved her, that memories of her had kept him alive. He had asked that she love him again. He had made love to her through the night, demanding that she be his while still promising that in the end, were it her choice, he would rectify things with another man. This morning he had begun to explain his past, and then had become more autocratic than a sergeant major!

Cat stared after the closed cabin doors. Her steaming anger simmered to a very low boil. “Do you know, Mr. Miller,” she murmured, “there is nothing more I want out of life than for the two of us to actually have a chance to make it. But you gave your list of demands—and you forgot to ask for mine! And the first thing on my list is that you learn to listen to me and trust in my opinion at least once in a while—on matters other than history and the sea!”

Cat could hear her husband’s voice, velvet and authoritative, from where she stood on deck. He was discussing flotation of the
Santa Anita
’s wide range of cannons by air bags.

Cat knew precious little about the actual and mechanical labor of salvage. She doubted her presence would be influential. And she had suddenly decided that Clay had no intention of listening to her regarding the sharks and Jules. And if he wouldn’t listen, she had to prove him wrong.

Besides, the divers from the other craft did need a warning. The explosive spear guns they were using were illegal in Bahamian waters as well as discourteous and dangerous. They needed to be told that their bloody entertainment was foolhardy and possibly deadly.

Moving quietly on deck, Cat retrieved her flippers and mask. The third boat was less than half a mile away; she could swim it easily with snorkel gear, have a stern discussion with the kids—they had to be kids, surely adults wouldn’t have done such a thing!—and then return, before she had even been missed. Then she could coolly inform Clay as a fact that he had been very, very wrong.

She glanced at her watch. Almost thirty minutes had passed since they had left the water. She would wait another thirty minutes to assure herself that the waters had settled. No, she would wait even longer for safety’s sake. She wanted to prove a point, not that she was an idiot.

Cat left her mask and flippers ready near the tiller and entered the cabin, pouring herself a cup of coffee as she listened idly to the operations discussion going on. Like her, Sam had never taken part in an actual expedition before, but he seemed to understand all that Clay was talking about.

Neither man paid much attention to her as she leaned against the sink listening. Clay thinks that he has spoken and that’s that, Cat thought wryly. Cat suppressed a small smile. She could remember her mother, whom she had always thought to be such a serene woman, often agreeing with her father and then turning around and doing what she thought right anyway. It wasn’t a bad lesson, Cat thought. Her mother always proved her point quietly, never setting Jason up for any humiliation.

Except I do want a little humility out of Clay right now! Cat thought. Just this once …

Clay and Sam were still talking about tonnage and air bags and the amount of time it would take to strip the
Santa Anita
of her monetary and historical treasures. Funny, Cat thought vaguely, she had always thought merely of finding the galleon, not of the work her salvage would entail. Of course, she had always dreamed of raising the ship intact, and even without Clay telling her, she had realized that to be an impossibility. Her mind began to wander again with dreams of finding the actual treasure trove—the Aztec crown jewels.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” Clay demanded.

Startled from her pleasant reverie, Cat jumped, then flushed with annoyance. She met the incredibly dark depths of her husband’s eyes with her own raised in irritated query. How could anyone make such drastic changes? she wondered. Last night the most tender of lovers … today, the most arrogant of taskmasters. And either way, Cat thought, he had the ability to compel. He had acquired a tremendous ability to manipulate. Like a fly lured to a spider’s web, she was enticed by gentle seduction until the trap was set to spring. Even now he held her in a spell she seemed powerless to break. She could literally feel the heat of his eyes, searing her, mind and soul, yet all the while offering the intensity of a caress.

“Doing what?” she snapped, breaking the strange spell.

Clay leaned back against the booth, his eyes still holding hers as he reached for his pipe, filling it from a leather pouch and striking a match to the bowl. With just those simple movements, she could see the ripple of bow-tight muscles in the breadth of his sleek chest, the steel in his long fingers.

“Your things,” he said quietly. “Luke and Billy will be diving in the morning for a piece of the wreckage and will head back in to stake our claim. Peter and Ariel will be coming aboard the
Sea Witch
tonight so that we don’t lose any diving time. They’re going to need your cabin.”

Damn him a hundred times over, Cat thought. Had he suspected she would fight his edict over principle? Now she was trapped. She could only refuse by creating an awkward and childish scene.

But surely, she thought, these people all know that Clay and I aren’t your usual couple. They know he hasn’t been with me for years because he’s been with them.

Cat slowly took a sip of her coffee, thinking with her mind in high gear as she returned her husband’s stare. I can’t go back to what we had before, she thought with panic. We have to change. I’d rather have nothing at all than a life where he dominates and then leaves.

She set her cup down in the stainless steel sink and smiled sweetly. “Sure,” she murmured. “But no one rinsed the gear. I’ll just take care of that first. You two keep talking, since it certainly does sound like you know what you’re talking about.”