Chapter Three
Damp sand gripped the soles of Isaac’s boots, the hush of the night tide still cloaking the shore.
A sliver of sun crested the palm-lined ridge behind the harbor, streaking the sky with thin bands of golden light.
Already, heat clung to his neck, heavy and incessant as though the island were trying to hold him back.
He folded his arms tight against his chest and scanned the harbor.
Beyond the bobbing masts and taut rigging of docked ships, the Tempest waited—sleek, formidable… and far too idle for his liking.
They should be underway already, heading north to chase the next whisper of Thorne’s whereabouts.
Instead, they lingered here, wasting precious hours on cargo they didn’t need.
The crisp brine of the Caribbean carried on a soft breeze, one that barely stirred the flags drooped above the water.
Dockworkers moved with sluggish rhythm, calling to each other in a muddle of languages as crates scraped against the gangplank of a wide brig docked beyond the Tempest. The steady clamor grated against the stillness in him, tightening the knot already wound in his chest. Silas and his men should have returned by now.
A burst of laughter rang out from the merchant ship as someone dropped a crate with a splintering crash.
Isaac’s jaw tensed. He dragged a hand across his face and strode toward the docks, the sand crunching underfoot.
This—restless waiting, straining against the leash of his obligations—this wasn’t why he’d joined the Navy.
He was built to move. To hunt. To act on instinct.
And yet here he stood, like a ship run aground.
“Let’s take on some cargo. It’ll give us extra funding for the mission.” Silas’s suggestion had seemed so reasonable when darkness still cloaked the island and the crew stood idle waiting to sail.
He came to a stop and stared into town with narrowed eyes.
How long could it possibly take to procure a few crates of rum and sugar on a spit of land hardly wider than a cannon shot?
The longer they delayed departure, the more the island worked its way under his skin—its heat, its ease, especially its distractions.
Unbidden, the curve of a smile flashed across his mind, and his heart gave an erratic thump as memories of the governor’s beautiful daughter pressed for his attention.
With a scowl, he shook the thoughts free.
This wasn’t the time to indulge in daydreams about a woman.
With a steadying breath, his eyes traced the bluffs beyond town, scanning for any sign of progress, any hint of the cargo’s arrival.
A flicker of movement on a hillside caught his eye as a woman climbed a narrow path alone.
Deep green skirts clung to her hips, the color vivid against tanned skin where the morning light caught the bare line of her shoulders.
She moved like she belonged to the island, barefoot and radiant, a basket slung over one arm, bright flowers tucked behind her ear.
Dark hair streamed behind her in a breeze he could not feel.
She paused and turned, as if she felt the weight of his gaze, and his breath caught.
Miss Montclair. As if his very thoughts had conjured her. He blinked, half expecting the vision to dissolve into mist.
It didn’t.
After a wistful glance toward the Tempest, she continued, swinging her basket next to her.
Isaac stood quiet as she neared the top of the hill.
He took an involuntary step toward her before catching himself.
It would be foolish to follow. Irresponsible.
Silas could return at any moment, and he needed to be ready to sail the moment the cargo arrived.
Yet, he couldn’t draw his eyes from her retreating form.
The path she followed curved inland, the same direction his first officer had taken earlier with a group of sailors to visit a sugar mill.
Isaac shifted his weight as she vanished from view, swallowed by the trees.
His jaw tightened. He could walk a short way.
Just far enough to check. If he happened to find Silas—and a reason for the delay—all the better.
His boots left shallow prints in the sand as he climbed the beach and made his way to the trail.
The sun pressed higher overhead, heat soaking into his shoulders as he followed the narrow path toward the ridge.
Behind him, the familiar harbor sounds fell away, replaced by the hush of the hillside and the dry rustle of palm fronds above.
Isaac reached the crest of the hill and paused.
The path split with one well-worn branch following the land as it flattened into a lush valley, the distant silhouette of the sugar mill rising against the hazy sky.
The other fork of the trail wound steeply upward, disappearing into thick jungle and rocky outcrops.
Miss Montclair strolled just ahead, basket swaying at her side.
A few bright blossoms peeked over the rim with what looked like a folded blanket resting beneath them.
She didn’t hesitate as she began the steep climb of the rugged trail.
His gaze travelled up the wild mountainside.
This was no simple run for errands. Curiosity drove him forward and he hurried her way.
A loose stone shifted beneath his boot and tumbled down the slope with a sharp clatter.
She spun, eyes flashing. They softened a moment later as she recognized him. “Lieutenant! Are you following me?”
Isaac cleared his throat as a hint of heat crept across his cheeks. “No. Of course not. I’m searching for my first officer. He went to a sugar mill and hasn’t returned yet.”
“Oh.” Her voice came out flat, tinged with something close to disappointment. “Mr. Duval at the mill is notoriously slow. It might take him half a day to fill an order. You’ll want to take the other path.” She pointed toward the valley.
He nodded. “Thank you.”
A brief moment of silence stretched between them, neither moving.
He pressed his lips together and lifted his gaze to the steep rocks above her. “Where are you going?”
She flashed him a bright smile. “To my favorite place in the whole world.”
He arched a brow. “The whole world? I thought you said you hadn’t traveled much?”
Her grin didn’t falter. “Have you ever explored a Caribbean island before, Lieutenant?”
He shook his head. “Not willingly. I prefer to keep my feet on the deck of my ship.”
“A pity. You’re missing out.”
He chuckled and wiped sweat from his brow. “I’m skeptical, especially in this heat. Not much can top the rush of wind out on the open seas.”
She shrugged. “I guess you’ll never know. Unless…” Her eyes sparkled. “Would you care to join me?”
A thread of amusement crept into his voice. “I still don’t know where you’re headed.”
Her smile deepened, warm and enigmatic. “If I tell you, it would ruin the surprise.”
“How do I know you’re not leading me to a pirate’s den?”
She laughed, the sound clear and vibrant among the trees. “Oh yes, the pirates. I forgot to mention them.”
A heartbeat passed as he weighed her invitation. He turned toward the valley. “I should really go find my men. Perhaps I can convince Mr. Duval to speed things up.”
The playful edge in her expression slipped away, and she gave a single nod.
“Of course. I must warn you from complaining to him. He will go even slower if you aggravate him.” She glanced at her basket.
“I wish I had a loaf of bread to give you; it’s his favorite and might have swayed him. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait it out.”
Wonderful.
At this point, it would be better to cancel the order and leave empty-handed.
He inclined his head. “Thank you for the advice.”
“Good luck, Lieutenant.” Her gaze lingered on him a moment longer, hesitant and reluctant, before she turned and started climbing.
He frowned as she pulled herself up to the next rock. No woman should be traveling such a precarious route. “Is that safe?”
She twisted her head. “Safer than—” Her words cut off with a sharp yelp as the ledge beneath her hand gave way and she pitched backwards, her basket tumbling to the ground.
He lunged forward, boots skidding on loose rocks as he scrambled up the slope. One hand shot forward to brace against the small of her back, steadying her as she grabbed for a handhold. They stood frozen, her pulse racing beneath his palm.
He swallowed, ignoring the sudden rush of heat through him. “Are you alright?”
She caught her breath, fingers digging into the stone. “Yes. You distracted me, that’s all.”
“You could have been hurt.” He didn’t move until her weight was fully balanced again. Then he knelt to retrieve the fallen basket, plucking wilted flowers from the dusty ground.
When he stood, she held her hand out for it. He hesitated, looking back toward the sugar mill. “You shouldn’t be alone out here.”
Her brows drew together. “And you sound like my father.”
“It’s a dangerous island. He’s right to worry about you.”
She snorted. “You forget I grew up here. The pirates stay in town or on their ships and the locals all know each other. It’s not as bad as you think.”
Visions of his last visit flickered through his mind, sending a shudder down his spine.
He should hand her the basket and turn away.
He wasn’t her keeper, nor her protector.
Yet his fingers closed tighter around the basket’s handle.
If what she said about the mill was right, he had ample time.
Knowing that, it wouldn’t be right to leave her.
When she reached for the basket, he waved her forward. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m coming with.”
Her eyes gleamed bronze in the sun. “You won’t regret it.”’
They climbed the rocks, Isaac trying to keep his gaze low to avoid staring at her bare feet and the slender line of her ankles. The stone was warm beneath his boots, slick in places with moss, and the sun filtered through the canopy above in shifting, golden shards.