Epilogue
One month later
Savannah, GA
Samantha swallowed, her feet rooted in place. Blue sky stretched overhead and clumps of Spanish moss draped from the branches shading the large crowd gathered in front of her. Heat prickled across her skin, a flush rising above her lace neckline.
“I now pronounce you man and wife.”
The words echoed in her ears as the scene around her faded away until only one thing remained.
Christian stood there, clasping her hands in his with a crooked grin across his lips.
His formal grey morning coat suited him—better than his navy uniform—and she’d spent the better part of the last half hour trying to keep her eyes above his waistline.
Because white breeches clung to him like a second skin, showing every magnificently sculpted part of him.
His boots squeaked as he closed the distance between them and bent his lips to hers. He gave her an entirely appropriate quick kiss and began to pull away. She tightened her fingers around his.
Not so fast.
Samantha lifted onto tiptoes and tugged him back.
He winked and drew one hand away to sweep his hat off.
When their mouths met, he held the hat in front of them.
A few onlookers let out whoops, and a few more released hearty “boos” at being denied the chance to witness.
She grinned against the crush of Christian’s lips.
His tongue swept inside her mouth and she stumbled into him, her knees weak.
He let out a soft growl. “Careful, Red. I’m a man, not a saint.”
The pastor coughed behind them.
With a throaty giggle, Samantha broke the kiss. Christian placed one more on her forehead before swooping the hat back on and offering her his elbow. They passed through the throngs of people until they reached the street.
He stopped and turned to her. “Hello, wife.”
“Hello, husband.”
Husband and wife.
A warm blossom bloomed in her chest. She reached up and ran a finger across his lips. “Dare I ask why you’re smiling like that?”
Bending, he plucked a violet sprig of salvia. “Can’t a groom be happy on his wedding day?”
He tucked it into her neckline above the swell of one breast, the color a pretty contrast to the sapphire-blue taffeta gown and its white lace trim. She glanced up at the sun. Already so warm. Thank goodness for the short cap sleeves.
Setting one hand on Christian’s arm, she frowned. “You must be sweltering.”
He only grinned and nodded behind her. Isaac strode toward them, the bright gold buttons of his navy uniform glistening in the sun.
“Many congratulations.” He bowed. “You look stunning, Mrs. Thompson.”
She gave herself a little pinch. The morning had floated by like a dream, each part seeming too good to be true. Mrs. Thompson. She tested the word on her tongue. Christian gave her a little nudge and she started as Isaac chuckled.
“Thank you. I’m so glad you could make it before your voyage.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
“What time do you leave?” Christian had tensed ever so slightly.
Isaac turned toward the river, a few blocks down. “We’ll sail at noon. I’m sorry I’ll miss the luncheon. If we don’t make good time, someone’s going to owe the governor of Tortuga a lot of money. And if Thorne returned to the Caribbean, chances are someone on that island will know.”
Christian gave a tight nod. “Be safe.”
When his friend walked away, Samantha squeezed his arm. “Are you alright?”
“It’s hard. Knowing he’s still out there. Knowing my best friend has been tasked with bringing him in.” He shifted his hat. “Is it wrong to hope he doesn’t catch him?”
She chewed on her cheek, trying to find the right words.
He drew her closer and set his hand over hers. “I’m sorry. Today is about us. We should be enjoying this to the fullest.”
Her nose scrunched. “But your feelings matter too.”
“Later.” He pulled her hand free and lifted it to his lips. “You have the rest of my life to worry about me. For now, we have a wedding luncheon to go to.”
He guided her across the street. She looked back with a frown. They walked toward the river. Away from the carriage.
When she stepped up off the street, her calf protested and she stumbled.
“Hold on.” She drew to a stop and hitched her skirt up “I have a gift for you. I can’t wait any longer.”
His brows drew up. “My God, Red. Not here. I’ll admit I cannot wait either, but let’s not give the town something to gossip about.”
A blush flamed across her cheeks. “Very funny.”
Christian barked out a laugh as her boot became visible. “Should have known you weren’t proper beneath those skirts.”
She pulled a package free and rubbed her aching calf. “I needed somewhere to put this.”
He took it from her and ran a finger over the embossed paper. “This day is already gift enough.”
His finger slipped beneath the ribbon and tugged it free.
Polished brass shone in the sunlight and his eyes widened.
It had taken her a month to find a compass similar to the one he had lost, and another week for a jeweler to set the coin in the lid.
The tarnished gold of the medallion glimmered beneath his fingertip.
“One from the cave.”
Her pulse quickened as she remembered his body covering hers, the sound of coins tinkling in her ears.
“It’s perfect.” Warm lips pressed against hers.
She melted into the kiss, her heart beating a frantic tune. Pushing her hands beneath his jacket, she tugged his shirt free. With a groan, he pulled away and glanced around them.
“What was I saying about gossip?” He slipped the compass in his jacket pocket and his lopsided grin returned. “I have a surprise for you as well.”
Eager anticipation danced across his face and she couldn’t help but smile. “I don’t need a gift.”
“Trust me, you’ll love it.” He swiveled her around. “Close your eyes.”
She did and he guided her up the street, made a turn. Another turn. They stopped.
“Keep them closed.” A moment later, her feet swept out from beneath her and she cried out as he picked her up.
He began to climb down stairs. “Almost there.”
When they reached the bottom, he set her down and covered her eyes with his hands. He led her a few more steps. Seagulls screeched and the breeze picked up.
The docks.
He dropped his hands.
She squinted in the bright sun. A sleek schooner floated in front of them. The planks on deck had been polished so smooth they gleamed. A pretty white stripe had been painted above the waterline and crisp white sails were reefed. A gorgeous vessel.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “What do you think?”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s yours.”
Tears welled in her eyes. “But I made a promise.”
He pulled her into his embrace and pressed his lips to her forehead. “That promise was made to a lieutenant.” Swiveling his head back and forth, he grinned anew. “And I don’t see any lieutenants here.”
She blinked up at him. “I could never see you as a pirate.”
“Who said anything about pirating?” He wiped one tear away and kissed her again. “But adventuring . . . adventuring sounds like a grand idea.”
Her heart jumped into her throat and she threw her arms around his neck. “Do you really mean it?”
He ran his hands down to her waist. “I meant what I said that morning in my room. I’ll never ask you to sacrifice your happiness. Not for me. Not for anyone.”
She pulled back and twisted toward the ship once more. The freshly painted nameplate caught her eyes and she let out a half laugh. Red Siren.
Christian noticed the direction of her stare and nuzzled into her hair. “I hope you don’t mind her name. I’ll never forget the day when a certain red siren swept in and brought me to my knees.”
“Served you right for calling me a wench.”
His teeth grazed her neck. “As long as you’re my wench, I see no problem there.”
She giggled and pulled away. “Can we go aboard?”
He swept his hand out. “After you.”
With long steps, she raced up the gangplank. Once onboard, she ran her fingers over every surface she could touch. Smooth railings. Tightly woven ropes. Warm iron fastenings. Christian followed a few paces back.
At the helm, she gripped two spokes and let her eyes fall shut. The river’s gentle current pressed against the hull. She tested the wheel and her lips curved. A responsive rudder. A breeze pushed past them and the ship let out a soft sigh.
Christian’s hands closed over hers and she lifted her lids. Warmth spread up her arms as he positioned himself behind her. “I never thought it would be possible. To find someone that shares my love of the sea.”
She twisted to meet his sparkling green gaze. “And I didn’t dare imagine I’d ever find a man who would let me.”
He leaned down and caught her lips with his. “Good thing I found myself a lady of the sea.”
The contact of his body pressing against her back sent a little thrill up her spine and she leaned her weight into him. They stood that way for a while, staring out over the water. A quiet current of energy ran through the ship and Samantha let out a happy sigh.
Adventuring. So many places they could go. Islands to explore, goods to barter. All with the man she loved at her side. For the first time, she could see her future clearly. Together, they would chart their own legacy.
Christian pulled his hands free. “Shall we go below?”
She followed him down the steps and stared at the carved doors leading to the captain’s quarters. Each one had been engraved with a figure. The two were locked in battle, swords crossing over each door. A man in a cocked hat and a woman with wavy hair flowing behind her.
Reaching out, she ran a reverent finger over the man’s face. “It’s us. This ship holds our past.”
He opened one door with a smile. “Not just our past. Today. Tomorrow. The rest of our lives.”
Inside, the citrusy scent of wood oil filled her nose.
A large desk was centered before the big windows with two chairs.
Shelves stretched along a wall, one already full of shells.
But most impressive of all, tucked into the other wall, a huge captain’s bed, turned down with fresh linens.
She smiled and strode to the desk, where a map was laid out.
Tracing her finger along the coastline, she met Christian’s gaze. “Where to first?”
He joined her and inspected the map. Pointed to Bermuda. Tapped on Florida. Ran his palm over the Caribbean. Swept his hand away. A moment later, his fingers tangled in her laces and her dress began to loosen.
“First stop? The bed.”