Treasure

The day was hot and the work went slowly. First, the purser was making a careful inventory of Flint's legacy under Mowett's watchful eye. The chests, gold bars, and sacks were then being set in small boxes, nailed shut, and carried on litters by four men. Pullings oversaw the boxes being settled into the boats and rowed out to the Surprise. As sailing master, Allen was responsible for the distribution of stores in the hold, for misplacement could seriously affect the sailing of the ship. The men hoisted the heavy boxes up and he saw to the safe stowing of each of them. To prevent anyone from being overcome by the temptation to take more than his fare share, Royal Marines were posted in the cave, on the beach, onboard the ship, and with the men on every boat being rowed out.

In the end, such precautions had been unnecessary. Almost immediately after the first excitement, Rose had gone off by herself, walking far down on the eastern shore, but not before she had repeated to some of the men that evil spirits would deal with anyone who took what was not his fair share. The warning along with the grisly sight of the guarding skeletons was enough to frighten the greediest of the crew, for sailors were notoriously superstitious.

From where he was directing the loading of the jolly boats, Tom kept an eye on her and wondered if she would object to him keeping his share of the money. He had stopped what he was doing and stood watching her, squinting in the bright glare of the sunlight on the sand and water, and the men grinned at each other to see the unguarded looks of worry and affection mingling in his expression.

Last night, he had found her sitting up in the dark, tense and uneasy and just waiting for morning. In this place, memories haunted her, and she ought not to have been left alone. Although he had gone to her with the intention of kissing her and perhaps loving her as quietly as he could manage, he had held her in his arms: she had clung to him for comfort, for protection, for redemption. Clueless as to what to do or say, he had merely held her and it had been enough. A little pang of regret troubled him that they had not taken the opportunity to make love, for such opportunities rarely presented themselves. For the most part though, he treasured the hours that they had slept alongside one another despite her restlessness.

This reverie was broken when he saw her leave the sandy beach, cross the grassy area, and disappear among the trees and foliage. Where did she think she was going all alone? For a full five seconds, he stared after her before the weight of comprehension hit him with a staggering blow and left him momentarily incapacitated. Of course! The clever minx! But she should not have to go alone.

Turning to one of the midshipmen, he addressed the boy in his formal lieutenant's tone. "Pass word along to the captain that Mrs. Stirling has wandered off alone and I have gone after her. Tell him that she seems to be heading uphill."

"Aye, sir," said the lad, and Tom hurried to the place where he had last seen her, for it was far along the shore. Once he had gained the trees, he found a little trail, nearly overgrown, with visible evidence that someone had just passed. It was easy to follow her, for the foliage was not dense, yet it was overgrown enough to clearly show broken branches and trampled leaves where she had walked.

The little trail began to wind uphill and was steep in some places. He increased his place, hoping to catch up with her sooner rather than later. In his mind, knowing that he could walk much faster than she could weighed against her knowing the way when he did not. "Rose!" he called to her, but got no response. Onward she went and he followed as the trail went gradually upward with momentary steep inclines. He thought he could hear her ahead. "Rose!" he called in a powerful quarterdeck voice.

A pause and then, "Tom?"

"Rose!" He broke into an easy trot. Close now, she was just up ahead and stood waiting for him, elegant brows drawn together in a frown.

"You should not have followed me," she said seriously looking ready to argue or even fight if she had to.

"And you should not have attempted such an errand alone when you are in such distress," he replied with quiet authority. "Especially when I wish only to shoulder a little of your burden."

Her defensive posture eased and her hunched shoulders lowered while a guilty flush stained her cheeks and neck. "Yes, you are right. There are so many secrets to protect that I find it difficult to share them with anyone."

"That is past now," he remarked, taking hold of one of her hands. "I realize you weren't able to speak of this in the dark of night, but creeping off without a word was cowardly."

Anger and hurt flashed and she glared at him; with one jerk, she pulled her hand free. "That is all you see," she accused. Then a deep sigh escaped her. " By the goddess, Tom, you must see that I could not have them there, peering over my shoulder. Not the captain. Not even Stephen."

"And not I?" he ventured.

"That is not what I said," she snapped. "Do not twist my words about. I know very well you would not have let me go without the captain's leave."

A certain amount of truth rang in her words. "You may be right," he began, but before he could speak further, she cut him off.

"I cannot recall anyone calling me a coward before."

These words surprised him and it took a minute to formulate a reply. "No, for you certainly have a lion's courage and have protected the little boys as well as you could. As for me, well, you need not protect me from the truth. It is better for me to share this than for you to endure this alone. And in this instance, letting the captain know where you were going would have been the right thing to do. You should have an escort, for we do not know what dangers there are."

"There is no danger to me on this island." She shook her head, sighed deeply, and set her hands on her hips in a familiar gesture of frustration that he had often seen when she was upset. "Have you not realized there may be a time when your loyalty will be tested? When you'll have to choose between doing what is best for me and doing what is right in the Royal Navy?"

"I may be swept overboard and lost at sea any day of my life," he tried to tease. "I make no decisions based on what may or may not occur in the future. The gods know what is going to happen, you said it yourself."

"You should not say such things." Her face had gone pale and she looked deeply pained, as if her nerves had been stretched past their limit and were in danger of snapping.

At once he regretted making light of it as he remembered how many of her loved ones she had lost. He studied her expression, seeing how all this tore at her, and he was sorry for her. "My sweet Rose," he continued on more gently. "Let us not quarrel at this difficult time. It's nearly over. Your troubles, I mean. I shall come with you to help."

She nodded a little and reached up to embrace him. Forgetting what they were about, he would have stood there indefinitely to preserve the feeling; however, she drew away soon after and began leading him upward on the trail.

Eventually, the ground leveled off to a grassy meadow overgrown with hundreds of wild rose bushes. The blooms were dark blood red and perfumed the sunlit air with their fragrance. At the edge of the treeline stood a small, rough building, little more than a shack and seemingly abandoned for several years. Rose went into the doorway and paused as she looked inside. There was a table still standing, some chairs, and a few other items. Had she known this place in her youth? What memories, foul and fair, lived within her memory?

Leaving the doorway, they went left and around into the woods and back. It was slightly cooler and breezier up here then on the beach and a bit less humid, but still warm and sunny. Under the canopy of trees, it seemed dark and cool.

"Here." She picked her way carefully around the massive roots of a tall pine, and at the same time, they both saw a careful pile of stones between two of the mounds where the roots had pushed up through the soil.

"Is this it?" asked Tom in a hushed tone, but she didn't reply and instead stood staring at the stones with her fingers curled into tight fists.

He got down on one knee and began to shift the stones. Rose joined him, setting the stones aside one by one. There were not many, and they uncovered a small hole. In it was a weatheredbox a bit worse for wear but intact. They glanced wide-eyed at each other, and Tom reached to lift the box out. Carefully, he pried off the lid bit by bit. Finally, he was able to pull it off, and they both looked in.

Several thick packets were stacked there, wrapped in sealskin and tied with leather thongs. Rose took one and untied the knot. Her hands shook as she unwrapped the sealskin and unfolded some of the parchment. Scanning the words quickly, she realized that she had found her treasure and she sat down on the ground with a great sigh.

"This is it," she said in a low voice. "This is what we came for."

"Don't open any more. Let us put it away," he said, and as she folded the parchment, he took up the sealskin. Once it was wrapped, instead of forcing the slightly warped cover back onto the box, he tucked it back into the box and set the cover on top.

Rose was sitting on the ground with one leg stretched out on front of her and the other tucked under her, so he settled beside her. "It's over, Rose," he said softly. "You're safe."

She blinked a little, smiled a little, looked at him in wonder. "Tom…" she whispered.

He reached out and touched her face, brushing at a smear of dirt on her cheekbone. "My dear, lovely Rose."

At his touch, she drew in a trembling breath; her expression was soft and warm and filled with ardent affection. Emotion seemed to overwhelm her and tears formed in the corner of her eyes.

"No, no, let's not have any tears," he murmured, then leaned to kiss her. His mouth caressed hers gently, and then he stopped to look at her. The fear and anxiety seemed to have dissipated completely and now she looked at him with breathtaking sweetness and something more. Taking hold of her heavy braid of red hair, he untied the dark ribbon and slowly began to unravel it. He smiled at her as he ran his fingers through the thick tresses as they were freed from the braid, and her breathing became more rapid. "Tell me if I move too fast for you, my sweet," he asked softly.

A little nod and her wide eyes watched as he reached to unbutton her loose white shirt. His fingers brushed against her collarbone and over her shoulders as he pushed it off. Underneath, she wore another shirt, but this one was fitted. Now that the loose shirt was off, he could see the outline of her breasts underneath and he felt his mouth go dry. He knew that this was no place to lie with a lady, not on the forest floor; unfortunately, he dared not take her back to that shack for fear of rousing unpleasant memories. No choice really: he pulled off his own shirt and, after brushing away some of the pinecones, spread it over the ground, which was soft and springy with the fallen pine needles. Her shirt joined his and then he turned back to her.

There was no mistaking her assent and the desire in her expression, but she was heartbreakingly vulnerable and his need was nothing in comparison to that first night in Kingston. Thus, he was determined to take his time. Amid slow kisses, he slipped off her shoes, the loose trousers, fitted shirt and finely woven drawers she wore, until his eyes and hands ran over her naked body as she lay back on the white shirts.

A vague thought took shape as he explored each of her soft curves, the thought that he had been near the mark when he imagined her nerves had been stretched to the breaking point. Unlike the fiery woman who had made bold love with him only a few days ago, today she allowed him the mastery and merely responded pliantly to whatever he did. He was aware that she must be nearly exhausted after so much worry and fear, and he hoped that he could please her now, make her forget her troubles and help her to relax and afterwards sleep a little.

Even as he trailed kisses down her throat and stroked her hip and thigh, he knew that she was at last free of the death sentence and could give herself freely. That no bar now stood to their engagement and that the extraordinary difficulties she had endured had been overcome. He had some knowledge of what she liked and how he should touch her, and he took time and care to make love to her. It took longer for her to relax and warm to his ministrations, and he knew he had been right, that she had been pushed very far and had worn herself to the bone. Strong she was, and fierce, but also soft and vulnerable. He loved and admired her more than he could express even to himself.

Slowly and gently, he loved her under the spreading limbs of the pine tree without any concern about keeping quiet. Arching up to him, wrapped around him, the lady found the blessed release she had needed and cleansing tears flowed from the corners of her eyes. The comprehension they shared allowed him to see that she was not weeping in sorrow but rather in joy. The whole experience, both with the evidence that freed her and the act of joining with her beloved, performed a catharsis on much of the terrible fear and pain she had suffered. Purged of the fruits of her father's crimes, she was finally able to share herself without reserve.

Her Tom had been true and loyal through everything and had proved himself a fine, gentle man, as well as a gentleman, over and over. The deluge of emotion overwhelmed her and afterwards as they lay spent in each other's arms, she sobbed as though her heart was breaking. Tears came to his own eyes as he held her tightly against him, for his own tender heart was affected to see her grief and pain. Completely exhausted in body and mind, she eventually slept deeply in the cool shade, and he dozed as well, feeling that all was finally well in the world.