Mystery in the Moonlight (21 page)

Tired from her ordeal on the uninhabited island, and upset by the tension between herself and her erstwhile lover, Caitlin had just as coolly accepted his offer. Actually she’d been happy to obtain a clean, dry bed. It wasn’t until later, when she’d retired that night, that she’d discovered Bryce had locked her in.

Had he thought she’d be crazy enough to jump ship in the middle of the open sea? Now, with the vessel anchored near civilization, such fears might be justified. But why lock her up at night?

Had Bryce done so because of his continuing mistrust? The kind of suspiciousness that had led him to accuse her of making love with him to gain her release? Even if she’d never considered running away, such mistrust would make her want to try.

And his accusation that she’d be willing to trade her body for freedom was ridiculous, anyway. Caitlin gave herself only when and to whom it suited her. Wasn’t Bryce able to sense that?

If he’d been the least bit tender with her after their night of lovemaking, had allowed her to be open with him, she was sure they could have established a new level of communication. And she might have learned what Bryce was really about. Although the
Sea Devil
seemed to have mysterious dealings going on, Caitlin had her doubts about the crew and their captain being serious criminals.

“Captain aboard now?”

Suddenly hearing the familiar voice, Caitlin pressed close to the half open window. Perry and another black crewman had appeared on the deck a few yards from her viewing place. She tried to push the narrow window open farther to hear more. But the two men launched into the fast, abbreviated version of English the islanders often used, and she was able to understand only a few phrases here and there.

“Too much work, mon,” remarked Perry as he started untying a rope attached to one of the sails. Then he muttered what sounded to Caitlin like “danger” and “chasing another of their bloody boats.” Whose boat? Were they about to set off again?

The other seaman singsonged back to Perry. Caitlin thought he said something about a lost cousin being the reason he was on this journey.

“Relief to return home…and to safer work,” agreed Perry. Grinning at his companion, he added remarks about “the captain’s mission” and that “the criminals should pay.” Then he spoke in clearest English. “The authorities ought to thank us for catching a crew of smugglers and dirty murderers for them, eh?”

Smugglers? Murderers? And the crew of the
Sea Devil
was going to catch them? Before Caitlin could call to the men from the window, Perry and the other deckhand moved toward the prow of the ship, disappearing from her view. With a sigh she turned back to face the locked door.

The noises and shouts outside proved that the
Sea Devil
was indeed being prepared to sail. Did coming to Mustique have anything to do with the rendezvous Bryce had had with the man on that smaller sailboat earlier today? What had been the purpose of the meeting? Then again, what was the purpose of any of Captain Bryce Winslow’s strange pursuits? What side of the law was he on?

Thinking about the conversation she’d just overheard, the types of men who made up the crew, Caitlin once again questioned whether she was living among criminals. Perry and his friend had discussed smugglers and crime as if they had nothing to do with such things. And she had to admit that they hadn’t scuttled any other boats since the night Bryce had captured the cabin cruiser off Hibiscus Island and kidnapped her.

Not that the kidnapping hadn’t been wrong.

But it was obvious that Bryce must think he had a good reason for keeping Caitlin. He’d more than once accused her of being Jean Moreau’s mistress. Why should he care? Was Moreau the criminal? Had the men on the cabin cruiser been smugglers, and was Moreau connected with their operations? Was catching smugglers Bryce’s “mission”? Her mind whirling with a million questions, Caitlin wished she could interrogate Bryce’s crew. But the men would probably refuse to explain anything. Loyal to their captain, they owed no explanations to his prisoner.

Moving over to the bunk, the frustrated young woman slumped down on it and sighed. Even if Bryce turned out to be something less than a criminal, she would still be angry with him. After getting to know her better, didn’t he realize that Caitlin O’Connor wasn’t the sort who became a villain’s mistress? Why hadn’t he believed her the many times she’d denied having anything to do with Moreau?

On a more personal level Caitlin was also upset over Bryce’s behavior after they’d spent the night in the cave. Romantic emotions aroused by their passionate lovemaking had been crushed when Bryce had treated her so coldly afterward. It was as if he’d regretted their tryst, as if it had meant nothing to him. Had he merely been tempted by her state of undress…or had he thought she’d provoked him?

Although usually shy around a man like Bryce, Caitlin had to admit that she’d openly desired him. Perhaps her obvious passion had prompted Bryce’s response, his soft caresses and smooth words. He’d been so attentive and warm that night, she’d even fancied herself in love with him.

But she couldn’t have fallen in love with Bryce Winslow, she thought worriedly. Couldn’t she regard the incident as a momentary attraction—as he probably did—and try to forget all about it?

Deciding that she might as well rest until she was released from her unwanted imprisonment, Caitlin stretched out on her stomach across the bunk and punched the pillow a few times, then realized she was visualizing it as the captain’s face. She flipped over on her back with another long drawn-out sigh.

Wasn’t she supposed to be trying to forget about him?

Of course, that wasn’t going to be easy to do, since she was trapped on the same ship with the man. How long would it be before she was released from the
Sea Devil
? A few days, a few weeks, perhaps longer? Muttering, Caitlin turned over to punch the pillow again. Until she was free it would be impossible to forget about Bryce Winslow.

“We should reach St. Vincent in a few hours, my friend,” Anselm said as he and Bryce headed toward the ship’s helm. “Don’t worry, we’ll get another of the bastard’s boats. He’s got to make another run, and your friend on St. Vincent should have the information by now.”

“Yes, I guess you’re right,” Bryce admitted slowly, thinking about the danger they all would face again. “But Ralph’s acquaintance on Mustique didn’t trust us. You could tell that from the way he stared at me when I questioned him.”

“Why shouldn’t he be wary? He’s made his own illegal purchases.”

“True.” But Bryce could have sworn he’d seen the light of recognition in the man’s eyes, despite the fact that they’d never met before. He told Anselm, “I wonder if that character was right about this supposed go-between, Eddie Teach, carting Moreau’s merchandise to an aristocratic fence, an Englishman on St. Vincent? If Moreau really is making a fortune by selling antique coins, where are they coming from?”

“Maybe he found one of those buried treasures, the kind greedy people dream of.” Anselm chuckled.

Bryce grinned crookedly. “It sounds a trifle farfetched. There were no coins in those boxes we took off the cabin cruiser, only cigarettes and small appliances, the usual smugglers’ contraband. And Ralph’s contact has a very convenient memory. He could tell us the name of the go-between but couldn’t remember much about the guy’s description or the name of the dealer on St. Vincent.”

“Something made him nervous, my friend.”

“
I’m
getting nervous. This situation is apparently far more complicated and dangerous than we’d thought. I don’t want any of my crew hurt,” Bryce grumbled.

“Everyone has his own reasons for coming on this trip. Most of us had friends or relatives with Ned.”

“The blasted authorities should have taken some responsibility. There has to be something big involved. Why else would a man have been killed?”

“The authorities still claim they have no record of any death, no proof of any activities other than petty smuggling. It’s up to us, mon.”

“
If
we can implicate the man who counts. I’m beginning to think we’ll never get to Moreau himself. Never find out the truth about Ned’s death. Damn!” Bryce stopped and frowned as he spoke to his mate. “I was sure we had the perfect bargaining tool in Caitlin. But how could we know that Moreau would refuse to do anything about his mistress? I couldn’t believe it when Ralph relayed his message yesterday. Instead of offering to negotiate or threatening us, the devil tells us to keep her.”

“Maybe she really knows nothing about his activities, like she’s been saying all along,” offered Anselm. “Or perhaps she’s not as close to the Frenchman as we’ve thought…”

“Whatever. In the meantime we’re going to have to keep her. She knows far too much about us and could give the information to Moreau. I wonder if the Frenchman has some kind of trick up his sleeve.”

Anselm nodded. “The man’s a sly one. We were sure Ralph would be followed, but except for the two-masted he sighted during the first hour, there was no sign of another ship.”

“They could have lost track of him in the storm,” Bryce said, wondering if the two-masted sailing ship could have been the one that had belonged to Ned. Moreau might be using it now.

While Anselm went on to the chart house Bryce gave directions to the crewman at the wheel. Standing beneath the straining dark sails, Bryce watched Mustique grow smaller as the ship glided swiftly out of the island’s bay. There was a strong west wind that evening. Perhaps the exhilaration of fast sailing, flying along on the open sea, would soften his foul mood. Maybe he could stop focusing on the dead ends he’d encountered lately, forget the guilt that was nagging him.

Though he joked about it often enough, Bryce was uncomfortable with his role as a pirate. Hardworking and responsible since he’d been a boy, he was accustomed to conducting legitimate seafaring business, not chasing down boats, holding men at gunpoint, and stealing smuggled cargo. Did it make any difference that he planned to turn the contraband over to the authorities once the mission was over? Would that make the
Sea Devil’s
undertakings any less illegal?

Damn Ned and his confounded irresponsibility! Indirectly his younger brother had been the impetus for Bryce’s foray into piracy, even driving him to become the kidnapper of a woman who might be innocent of any connection with his prey.

Would the complications never cease?

Bryce thought back to his meeting with Ralph. Already doubtful of Caitlin’s relationship to Moreau but knowing that his current plans depended on it anyway, he’d had mixed emotions when he’d heard the message Ralph had brought. Though he’d outwardly expressed his disappointment over not being able to use Caitlin as a bargaining tool, Bryce had to admit that he’d also been secretly relieved that he wouldn’t have to give her up. Then the relief had faded into guilt-edged anger—at himself.

Bryce scowled fiercely. He had to formulate a new plan for dealing with Ned’s murderers. He didn’t have time for a woman at the moment, especially an exasperating, confusing, disarming woman with a guileless demeanor and a suspicious identity.

But how could he forget about her? Even now it was so easy to draw up visions of their night in the cave— Caitlin’s soft lips, her warm enveloping flesh, the passionate fire that had seemed to burn just for him in her evocative blue eyes. He’d almost think he was falling in love…

“She was a lovely lad-e-e-e,” Lars half sang, half howled, as he wove unsteadily past the captain, around the wheel, and to the railing where he collapsed against it. “And I loved her very wel-l-l.”

The old man had bought several bottles of rum when he’d accompanied Anselm and Bryce in the launch to Mustique that afternoon and had obviously already sampled a large portion of his purchases. The man at the ship’s wheel looked curiously at the inebriated cook and then at Bryce.

“Er, does this mean we won’t be having an evening meal, Captain Winslow?”

“You’ll get something to eat,” Bryce assured the crewman brusquely. “If Lars is too drunk, his assistant can do the work.” Glancing around the deck as he rifled his pockets for the keys, he quickly located the items and called to a nearby deckhand. “Thomas! Take these keys and let Caitlin out of the captain’s quarters. Tell her to get to work right away in the galley. The men will be needing some decent food soon.”

Plopping more cheese on the sizzling ground beef, Caitlin let the stuff melt for a few minutes before placing the cheeseburgers on a large serving platter. Then she arranged the platter in the center of the crew’s dining table along with bread and hot sauce and a pot of beans. There were no real hamburger buns, no mustard or catsup or pickles, but cheeseburgers were the fastest meal she could come up with under the circumstances. Bryce had better not complain about it, she thought resentfully. After all, she’d never been hired to be the cook.

But Bryce didn’t show up for dinner. As the men started to gather for the meal, smiling and giving her complimentary remarks, Caitlin felt a little better. At least the crew seemed to appreciate her quick work.

“Looks delicious—and very North American,” Raymond de Silva told her as he seated himself. “Where’s Low Tide Lars? Is he all right? Sometimes he gets a little tipsy, but he very rarely ties one on like this.”

“A couple of the men put him in his quarters. I should go check on him,” Caitlin said, deciding to do so immediately.