Mystery in the Moonlight (24 page)

Damned lucky, Bryce thought. This group of smugglers had been larger in number and better armed. Thomas had been wounded; another man had been knocked unconscious. It was a wonder that someone hadn’t been killed. Already guilt-ridden about involving his crew in a personal vendetta, Bryce felt even worse now that someone actually had been injured.

“I still think we should have left you with a doctor.”

“It wasn’t necessary, sir. Perry’s had training in how to treat most minor ailments.”

“I’d hardly call a gunshot wound a minor ailment, even if it is a flesh wound.”

“I feel as fit as a fiddle.” Thomas grinned. “And I’ll be ready to fight again when we run into another one of Moreau’s boats. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss all the fun here tonight.”

“You certainly deserve to celebrate,” Bryce remarked as they both made their way to the central part of the deck.

Illuminated by hanging lanterns and candlelight from colorful tapers set on a refreshment table, Anselm and most of the crewmen were listening to Carlos play his guitar to the accompaniment of another sailor’s set of calypso drums. The men clapped in time to the music, obviously enjoying the pulsating rhythm. Off to one side, Lars did a shuffling dance.

Bryce smiled. He didn’t know exactly whose idea it had been to have a celebration, but he’d readily agreed to the suggestion. Shorthanded as he was, not knowing Moreau’s next move, he’d do well to keep the ship out of sight and let the crew take it easy for the evening.

Not that anyone had followed them to this island. After the battle on the cruiser Bryce had sent its crew away in launches and left their boat to drift, hopefully to destroy itself on some island reef. Then he’d moved the
Sea Devil
out swiftly, using full engine power. They’d been shadowed by another sailing ship for almost an hour, one that looked suspiciously like the craft that had belonged to Ned. But the
Sea Devil
had been faster, and Bryce and Anselm had watched the radar closely to make sure that there was no further sign of pursuit.

They were bound to run into Moreau or his henchman, Teach, one of these times, however. Moreau must be enraged. Counting the last skirmish, the “pirates” had caused the Frenchman a substantial financial loss. Bryce wished he could question his informant on St. Vincent that very evening, perhaps speculate on what Moreau’s next move would be, but he knew it would be better to wait. He wanted to be ready for the final, dangerous encounter.

Thomas needed to recover, and they all could use a break. Grinning at the sight of Lars whirling in a circle as the music ended, Bryce saw Caitlin come up from the galley with another plate of sandwiches.

“Hey, let’s dedicate the next song to Caitlin O’Connor,” said Carlos. “It took some courage to attack that smuggler the way you did,” he told her.

“The rest of you are the real heroes,” Caitlin assured the deckhand as she set the food on the gaily decorated table. She seemed embarrassed, almost as though she were uncomfortable. “Dropping a rope is hardly in the same league with hand-to-hand combat.”

“Ah, but you are too modest, milady,” Anselm commented. “We appreciate your helping us win.”

“Well, I knew you were the good guys,” she said seriously.

“That’s why she knocked that roughneck flat on the deck—twice,” said Carlos, teasing her. “Once with the rope and once with her karate kick. She practices foot-to-foot combat.”

Everyone laughed good-naturedly. Even Caitlin appeared to loosen up. Bryce noticed spots of pink blooming becomingly in her cheeks. The color matched some of the multihued ribbons and beads she’d woven into several narrow plaits that decorated her sun-kissed hair. Exposing an expanse of smooth, tanned skin with her off-the-shoulder dress, the blue one he’d purchased for her on St. Lucia, she looked positively stunning.

“How about some rum punch to celebrate our victory?” asked Perry, holding a glass toward Caitlin.

“No thanks.” She shook her head and laughed, making the beaded strands in her hair sparkle in the soft light. “I had more than my share of Lars’s rum a couple of days ago. I’ll stick to lemonade tonight.”

Watching her interact with the group, Bryce couldn’t help contrasting this outdoorsy, confident young woman with the shy flower he’d first met in the bar on Hibiscus. If nothing else, her captivity seemed to have done wonders for her manner and appearance.

He hoped it had done her some kind of good. His conscience had been bothering him since Caitlin had saved him from being knifed. Having come to know and appreciate her while she’d been aboard the
Sea Devil
, he’d only needed to witness her quick-thinking act to finally believe in her innocence.

Moreau’s mistress surely wouldn’t have tried to rescue her lover’s enemy, thereby aiding their attack on one of the Frenchman’s boats. As additional evidence in her favor, none of the men on the cabin cruiser except Jenkins had seemed to recognize her. Caitlin was probably what she’d always claimed, a tourist who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And that made Bryce one misguided fool of a kidnapper.

So what was he going to do with the woman? Fully realizing that the proper thing was to get her to safety as soon as possible, Bryce couldn’t help feeling reluctant to part with her.

Admiring the way the candlelight flickered over Caitlin’s smooth skin and caressed the soft curves outlined by her flowing dress, he remembered the night when she’d told him she loved him. Could more tender feelings have influenced her to save his life? She’d certainly made passionate love with him once. Had he told her how beautiful he thought she was then? Perhaps he should take her to his cabin now and…

And what? Brows knitting with concentration, Bryce willed any erotic images away. He was one
besotted
fool of a kidnapper!

Wouldn’t Caitlin jump at the chance to leave the
Sea Devil
? Hadn’t he threatened her, made her scale fish, and forced her to do the roughest work of a deckhand? No wonder she’d continually talked about getting away. The least he owed her was to get her off this blasted ship. It would only be for her own good.

Forcing himself to face the sticky problem at hand and to forget about his attraction to a woman he’d probably never see again once she set foot on land, he decided it would be best to talk to Caitlin as soon as possible. The party was winding down, and she might slip off to go to bed. He needed to tell her that he would take her to stay with his friends on St. Vincent first thing tomorrow morning.

Approaching her as she joked with Lars and Perry, Bryce placed a hand on her elbow. “I have something important to tell you, Caitlin,” he stated. “Let’s have a walk.”

“Walk?” Her large blue eyes widened further at his touch, but she let him guide her away from the group. “On a ship we can hardly go very far.”

“It
is
a little confining.”

He noticed the blush on her cheeks. A reaction to the firm grip of his fingers? But he didn’t want to think about the physical affect he might have on her—or the devastating one she could have on him. He ignored the delectable texture of her skin under his hand. Frowning, yet noting how the silvery light of the new moon played over her, Bryce led his former captive toward the prow of the ship.

“I don’t feel confined as long as I’m not locked in your cabin.”

“You won’t have to worry about that anymore,” he said softly. “But my locking you up was for your own safety.”

“Oh, right. I’m sure there were a lot of dangers to avoid on Mustique,” Caitlin remarked, sounding sarcastic. “And what was the name of that other island? St. Lucia?”

“I was trying to protect you from incidents like the scrape we just had with the smugglers.” Bryce looked away from her toward the starlit sky. Thank God she hadn’t been hurt. “I never knew when we might run into them.”

“And then when we did, I got out of the cabin, anyway.”

Bryce glanced down. Though her face was shadowed, he could tell there was a smile on her pretty lips. Was she being smug? “I appreciate your decking that guy for obvious reasons, but you could have gotten yourself killed.”

“So could anyone else. Thomas can attest to that.”

“But everybody else had a reason for being there. You’re only aboard the
Sea Devil
because I’ve held you here against your will.”

“Fighting’s not part of a captive’s job description, huh?”

Her long lashes fluttered over her blue eyes, and Bryce steeled himself against the desire rising within him. Her face in the moonlight reminded him of that first night on Hibiscus when they’d kissed. He let go of her and leaned against the rail as the ship softly rocked with a wave, calling forth memories of the way their bodies had rocked together in the cave.

“I’m not trying to joke around, Caitlin. I’ve made a big mistake by keeping you. I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t suspected you of being in with Moreau. But I’m in an odd situation. The
Sea Devil
’
s
not what she seems. We aren’t really pirates.”

“I know that.”

“We aren’t smugglers or thieves, either,” he said, wondering why she didn’t seem surprised. “And I’m going to have to rectify my mistake in keeping you. Moreau will be looking for you now, and it’s my fault. That’s why I’m going to take you to safety on St. Vincent early tomorrow. I thought you might want to get your things together tonight.”

Caitlin frowned. Did Bryce really want to get rid of her the first chance he got? Suddenly the warm, lovely night seemed tainted. The enticing whisper of the ship rocking on the water sounded like sharp slaps. The inviting sky looked cold and far away, its stars distant diamonds that were impossible to touch.

“Wait a minute, Captain. You’re planning to cart me off to St. Vincent? Without bothering to ask me whether I want to go or not? That sounds like I’m still a captive.”

“It’s for your own safety.”

“I’d like to make my own decisions about my safety, if you don’t mind.” She gripped the rail next to him with both hands. “And when I leave, maybe I’d like to go somewhere other than St. Vincent.”

“You can’t go back to Hibiscus. That will be playing right into Moreau’s hands.”

“I won’t mention anything to him about you,” Caitlin asserted. She cautioned herself not to show him how upset she was.

“He knows you’ve been with me and may force you to talk. I’ve gotten you into a dangerous position.”

“But I’m a paying guest on Moreau’s island.” How much time had passed since she’d left Hibiscus? “Or I was. And there’s my friend Babs. She must be worried sick about me.”

“I’ll send someone with a message for your friend,” he said, assuring her gruffly. “Meanwhile you’re just going to have to stay on St. Vincent. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Oh?” The intense expression on his face made Caitlin hopeful. Could his personal feelings be involved in this desire to get her to safety? Her heart beat a little faster. “Before I go anywhere, I think I deserve to know more about what I’m not supposed to tell Moreau.”

“I don’t want him to know my name or the places we’ve been.”

“But what have you been doing in those places?” If nothing else, she intended to make him tell her the truth about his activities. “And why have you been chasing boats around and holding their crews at gunpoint? Did you steal their cargoes?”

He looked startled and his eyes narrowed. “I plan to turn the contraband over to the authorities once I complete my mission.”

“Your mission?” she echoed, attempting to lead him into saying more.

“You need only know that I’m basically an honest man.”

“I want to know the purpose of your mission,” she persisted.

But he avoided the topic. “About your staying on St. Vincent, I have friends there—”

He wasn’t going to tell her. Emotionally frustrated and tired of experiencing days of his avoidance and mistrust, Caitlin exclaimed, “Phooey on St. Vincent! I want to hear about Ned!”

“Ned?”

Bryce was obviously surprised. Her outburst had also gotten the attention of some crewmen who’d left the gathering to stand near the starboard rail. After they’d politely turned their stares away from the couple, she went on more quietly.

“I’m not going to St. Vincent or anywhere else until you tell me about your brother, Bryce Winslow.”

“How did you find out about Ned?”

“I eavesdropped on a few conversations while I was stuck in your quarters. What else did I have to do?”

Bryce scowled. “It’s more likely that you eavesdropped on a drunken Norwegian’s ravings,” he said irritably.

“Lars didn’t mean to say anything. Don’t be angry at him. I’m sure I would have learned about your ‘mission’ sooner or later.” She moved closer to Bryce and lowered her voice, “Do you really think Moreau killed your brother? Is Moreau’s smuggling that serious a business?”

“There’s got to be something bigger involved, but we haven’t figured out what yet.”

“Maybe Moreau’s a spy,” suggested Caitlin in a hushed tone.

“Leave it to you to get imaginative, milady,” he said grimly. “Actually my informants think Moreau’s dealing in antique coins. But I have no proof of anything, not even Ned’s death. The damned authorities won’t help because they have no record of a murder.”