Chapter 23
23
W hen the Prosperity sailed into sight and was moored off the shore where they stood, Isabella hadn’t been able to think of a good reason why she oughtn’t go aboard. Of course, all the obvious reasons to embark were undeniable—she and Maribel had been robbed and abandoned on a deserted beach in a foreign land. Her feet hurt, she was hungry and thirsty, and she still had a nasty ache pounding inside her head. Atop all of that, dusk had fallen, and with it, the November wind brought a chill.
Once they’d been hoisted aboard via the familiar boatswain’s chair, she had been given the same cabin, but other than that, nothing was the same at all. She and Maribel had left their clothing behind in the tent, aside from a clean shift and a few necessaries she’d stowed in her satchel.
As usual, Gibb had been hospitable and courteous, though it was still unbelievable that he was there at all. It was beyond Isabella’s comprehension that he would been wiling away his time in eastern Spain so soon after announcing his engagement.
Also as usual, Cookie had prepared a delicious meal, but this time, since the lady’s maid had been promoted to companion, Maribel had agreed to join the captain’s table for dinner.
“So, you believe Marcus and Flavia lived near Platja de la Devesa?” asked Gibb.
“Yes.” Isabella finished her last sip of wine. “I pieced together a tablet that mentioned Platja de la Devesa. Our camp is there, or it was there. I imagine the wind has blown our tent away. That is, if it wasn’t looted beforehand.”
“Then we ought to have a look for it on the morrow. Did you do any excavating?”
Isabella paused for a moment. The captain was planning to go ashore tomorrow rather than sail home to his fiancée? “No, I wasn’t there long enough to survey the grounds, let alone start digging.”
Gibb pushed his chair way from the table. “I have the map open on my writing table. Why dunna ye show me where you set up camp?”
Gowan, Archie, and Mac all stood with Isabella.
“Would you mind if I took Miss Hatch on a turn about the deck?” asked Gowan.
Gibb waved them off. “Go on, then.”
Isabella wasn’t surprised that the other two men took their leave as well. Rather than move beside the captain, she opted to stand on the opposite side of his desk. “I had initially planned to establish an excavation and stay for a time. You are aware the weather here is temperate?”
“It is,” he said, sliding his finger from Valencia down the long expanse of shoreline.
Deciding now was the time to press him about his engagement, she cleared her throat. “I am not one to pry, but I’d imagine you are most anxious to return home.”
“Not especially,” he said as if he were talking about the weather. “I’m not planning another voyage to America until spring, though I may start transporting whisky and cotton cloth to the continent.”
“How long were you planning to stay here?” she asked.
“Initially a month or so—mayhap surprise my kin with a visit to Stack Castle on Christmas.”
Good Lord, she had misjudged this man considerably. “How can you do such a thing to your poor fiancée?”
The captain straightened, his expression utterly baffled. “I beg your pardon?”
“It was only in the headlines of the Gazette — Brother of the Duke of Dunscaby Engaged .”
“Engaged?” Gibb threw his head back and laughed from his belly. “Och, what a bleeding mess that was—however, I wasna the one cornered into making a proposal.”
Isabella drilled her finger onto the map. “But the newspaper reported that you had spared some poor woman from scandal because you were found alone with her at the duke’s town house in London.”
“I was there for my mother’s birthday celebration, and ye’re right about one thing. There was such a newspaper article released by the Gazette the following day. However, they got it wrong—and Marty made certain the eejits published an apology in the very next issue.”
The fact that the duke had forced the newspaper to issue a retraction gave her no peace of mind whatsoever. “Excuse me, but what happened to the poor lady who was scandalized?”
“My brother Philip was the man who offered marriage.”
She blinked. Twice. “So, why not you?”
Those thick blond eyebrows shifted outward with the widening of his eyes. “There are several reasons, the first being it was Philip who caught Miss Radcliffe after she stumbled into his arms.”
“Oh,” she replied, somewhat baffled. “And the other reasons?”
“The situation at the time appeared very suspicious to me, and I was convinced it was a marriage trap. Aye, Miss Radcliffe acted as if she dinna intend to walk into a corridor without a chaperone, trip, and happen to fall into Philip’s arms. But the lassie’s mother was too fast on her heels, pointing her finger and accusing my brother of compromising her daughter.”
Shaking her head, Isabella clutched her hands over her chest. “Good Lord.”
“So, Philip did the right thing.” Gibb rested his hip against the writing table. “I canna say that I would have acted with such haste had it been me.”
“How awful for him.”
“That’s what I thought, until Philip admitted it was a relief.”
“Truly? Did he know Miss Radcliffe? Was she a friend of the family?”
Gibb shrugged. “He kent her name.”
Even though this news changed things considerably, Isabella wasn’t content to let it lie—not yet. “You mentioned that you wouldn’t have acted with such haste. What would you have done if the woman had tripped into your arms?”
The captain casually rested his hand on the hilt of his dirk. “Aside from let her fall?”
“You wouldn’t have let her fall. I know you better than that.”
The big Scot’s lips twitched slightly upward with a wry grin. “Mayhap not, but I would have put forth an argument. The mother who made such a fuss was the lassie’s chaperone, after all. I’ll reckon she witnessed the entire incident.”
“How horrible for your brother.”
“I dunna think Philip cares overmuch. He said he needed to marry one day, and dinna have the time nor the inclination to look for a wife.”
“He said that?”
“Aye, he figured Miss Radcliffe was bonny and would fit the bill.”
The story grew odder by the moment. Isabella felt a bit sorry for Miss Radcliffe—after all, she must be rather clumsy, and then to have a mother who behaved like a dragon must be unbearable. “Did you not to stop Lord Philip from making a grave error?”
“Bloody oath I did. But once the eldest of the twins sets his mind on something, ’tis difficult to change it. Though he did say he intended to enjoy a verra long engagement.” Gibb tapped the map. “So, now that we have that sorted out, would ye mind pointing out where you set up camp?”
Isabella reverted her attention to the writing table and moved her pointer finger down the map’s coastline. “There.”
“’Tis close, then.”
“Yes—with luck, our clothing is still there. But?—”
“Hmm?”
She gave him a hopeful grin, even going so far as to flutter her eyelashes. “While we are here, it would be a folly if we didn’t do at least a little bit of investigating.”
“Agreed.”
“I didn’t think you’d concur so easily. Were you not in Valencia purchasing supplies for the return trip home?”
“We were.” Gibb pointed to the beach where they had found each other. “After discovering Platja de la Garrofera to be nothing but a wasteland, there seemed no reason to stay. Besides, Archie and the men were convinced they had no chance at finding treasure.”
“I doubt there will be a treasure chest anywhere.”
“I ken, but the fellas like to dream.”
“Ah…how long do you intend to stay—here—ah—with me?”
“Well, I reckon we ought to decide that after we have a wee peek at Platja de la Devesa on the morrow. But there’s one thing for certain…”
“Which is?”
“The Prosperity is not sailing back home without ye.” He thrust his fists onto his hips. “You shouldna have come here alone. I nearly lost my mind when I saw your journal in that man’s possession, and I’m sure as hell not going to allow ye to stay.”
“ Allow me?” she asked, ignoring the flutter in the pit of her stomach that was on the verge of performing pirouettes because he’d just told her he’d nearly lost his mind and he’d hastened to her rescue. But she wasn’t about to let the captain suddenly take charge of her independence. “I may be grateful to you for coming to my aid, and I may owe you a debt of gratitude. However, I am no longer a meek maiden beholden to the decisions of the men around me. I am a widow and free to do whatever I may so choose.”
“Is that right?” Gibb stepped nearer, his deep blue eyes growing darker. “If you are so able to protect yourself from scoundrels like the one I saw in the market, then tell me, why was it I found you hungry and windblown on the beach like a castaway?”
Gibb stood rooted to the floor while Mrs. Schuyler stormed out of his cabin.
God on the bloody cross, his temper had reached its boiling point, and he had naught to do but slam his fist on the table. “Fie!”
What the devil was she thinking? Had the woman completely lost her mind? She was married for all of a day and had suddenly developed a misplaced sense of independence. She might be a widow, but she was still a woman. Isabella was fortunate not to have been ravished while she so blindly hired a scout to take her to a deserted beach.
And once Gibb found her, she’d acted as if they’d never shared an embrace or a passionate kiss. Though now he had a good idea why she’d been so standoffish. The woman had thought him daft enough to make a proposal of marriage to Miss Radcliffe. Well, even though the papers had cocked up their report, Isabella of all people knew him better than that. And Philip didn’t need to propose either. Had the lassie’s mother held her tongue, there would have been no scandal at all. Lord knew Philip wasn’t the first wealthy gentleman who had been hoodwinked by a fortune-hunting mama.
Nonetheless, Isabella didn’t appear terribly happy that Gibb had not been the one to propose to Miss Radcliffe. What did she expect him to do, fight Philip for the right to marry the wee imp?
Gibb paced his cabin, shooting glares at the latch on the door. She had been the one to storm away, not he. There was no chance in hell that he would swallow his pride and knock on her door. If she desired privacy, then he’d let her have it.
Blast it all, he hadn’t expected to see her here. She knew he wasn’t one to dish out marriage proposals—he’d confessed that fact more than once when they were sailing to America.
Why did he feel as if he was the heel in all this? Aye, he’d feared the worst when he found her journal. Who wouldn’t want to find a woman—a friend in distress? But she wasn’t supposed to be here.
Truth be told, she most likely found it a bit out of the ordinary to learn he’d been doing a bit of poking around as well. But Marcus and Flavia’s story had interested him—at least, that was what he’d told himself and the men.
He faced the door and crossed his arms, trying to not to admit that he was smitten, but the bald truth kept forcing its way into his thoughts. When he was on the beach looking for signs of Marcus, he’d felt closer to Isabella. He’d dreamed about finding something to prove Marcus had lived near the beach, and when he did, he planned to write to Mrs. Schuyler and tell her all about his adventure.
But now she was here.
And that terrified him.