Written in the Stars Page 11

  A ten-foot-long shark swam directly behind her. The thick body with tiger-like markings and a blunt snout told her it was a tiger shark. She felt paralyzed, unable to move.

  Innis carefully inched her away from the potential danger.

  He took her hand and squeezed hard, indicated they should surface—their air was running low anyway—and after the close call, she was having some difficulty breathing normally.

  Innis had possibly saved her life.

  She and Innis shared so many memories of the summer she’d been sixteen. Of her diving with her parents, while he salvaged with his father. Of a summer romance cut short when the impending hurricane forced her family to sail back to the Carolinas.

  All those years since seemed to melt away.

  When they broke the water’s surface, Innis wrapped his arms around her and without warning, kissed her full on the mouth. A stunned, grateful Cordelia kissed him back but, still worried about the shark, quickly broke away.

  Innis grinned at her, and her pulse fluttered as Leandre pull her up to the deck. The first mate winked at her, and behind him, Brigitte wore a satisfied expression, as if Innis had been part of the luck the cook had wished on her.

  Her cheeks flooded with warmth, but, breathless, Cordelia couldn’t help her happy smile. Innis was handsome, charming, and he’d just saved her from a possible shark attack. Plus there was the high of finding the wreck on the first dive. Who wouldn’t smile?

  “Are you all right?” Innis asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine, thanks to you. If you hadn’t been there…”

  “Of course I was there. I’ll always be there for you.”

  Now Cordelia grew uncomfortable as she always did when a man sounded like he meant to get serious about her. It wasn’t that she didn’t want someone in her life, but that she wanted the kind of relationship her parents had cherished. A soul mate. The problem was recognizing him.

  Was he standing before her now?

  The way Innis was devouring her with his eyes made her pulse thread unevenly. She took a big breath and ducked her gaze to her weight belt and the fetish, bright against the dark mesh of the ditty bag.

  Relieving herself of her gear, she handed it over to one of the crew. After which, she went straight to her mother, who stood near the door leading to the captain’s quarters. Her expression carefully neutral, Mom twisted her hands together as if keeping herself from hoping too hard.

  “This is it, Mom.” Cordelia grinned. “We found one of the canons. It fit the description Dad had in his notes.”

  Her mother’s lips parted and spread wide, as did her arms. Cordelia walked straight into them for a celebratory hug.

  “So, what’s this with Innis kissing you?” Mom whispered in her ear.

  Cordelia kept her voice low. “He was just congratulating me.”

  She didn’t want to worry her mother by telling her about the shark. Let Mom think it was part of the excitement of a successful dive.

  When she turned around, Innis was heading straight for them, his pale brown eyes lit with something that reminded her of victory. Because he was certain they’d found the Celestine, or because he got to kiss her again?

  Her pulse raced as she wondered what it would be like to let him do more than kiss her, to pick up where they’d left off years ago, when they were still young and innocent.

  Innis stopped before them, sweeping his hair from his forehead with an open hand. His smile crooked, he then brushed a wet strand of hair from her cheek before looking at her mother.

  “You should have been with us, Madelyn.”

  “Very kind of you, but I no longer dive.”

  Cordelia slipped her hand in her mother’s and laced their fingers together. Mom hadn’t gone in the water since her father’s tragic last dive.

  “A shame,” Innis said. “But you’ll get to see the site anyway. I took plenty of digital photos, and I’ll be adding video footage to chronicle the entire underwater excavation. You’ll get to see every detail.”

  “That would be wonderful!” Mom said, squeezing Cordelia’s hand. “We can incorporate it into the exhibition later…” She hesitated a second. “…if this turns out to be the find that Clive thought it was, of course.”

  Innis grinned. “Ah, my dear Madelyn, I would venture we have reason to celebrate.”

  “I wouldn’t be doing that all too soon,” boomed a deep, familiar voice from behind him.

  Cordelia looked over Innis’s shoulder and gasped when she saw the man standing on the rail. Beard-stubbled, a large emerald in his right earlobe, his dark, shoulder-length hair windswept as if he were about to fly, he stood spread-legged, arms crossed over his broad tan chest. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. He was wearing nothing but a pair of tight, knee-length black pants that showed off his assets. Her heart thundered. He looked every bit the modern-day pirate he’d appeared to be in magazine articles and in television interviews like the one she’d seen the night before.

  Morgan Murphy had found their site after all.

  “What are you doing here, Murphy?” Innis demanded. “Lost your way again?”

  “Actually, I’ve found it, Foley. I’m here to warn you to stay away from my family treasure.”

  Cordelia nearly choked on that. “Your family treasure?”

  He jumped down from the rail, and in three long-legged strides stood staring down at her from eyes that gleamed, brilliant as the emerald earring. “You must be Cordelia Ward.”

  She backed up a step. He was so much bigger in person than on video, not only in size but in potency. Power seemed to roll off the pirate. She sucked in a breath. Not that he had any power over her, of course.

  “And you must be that pirate, Morgan Murphy.” Cordelia remembered the confidence he’d had in the telecast interview—he exuded even more in person. “Keep your distance from my family treasure!”

  Wedged between the two men, she struggled to regain control of herself. Her heart was pounding and her birthmark seared her wrist, a sure warning of trouble. She stepped closer to Innis, certain that he and his armed crew would keep her safe.

  Murphy arched an eyebrow at her. “If you want something out of this treasure hunt, you’ve chosen to align yourself with the wrong man.”

  “And what would make you the right man?” she demanded, denying the chemistry that confounded her.

  “Nothing,” Innis quickly said. “Get back to your own boat, Murphy, and head out of here, or I’ll have my men throw you off!”

  A quick look beyond the rail told Cordelia that Murphy had pulled his boat smack up against Foley’s Treasure. Three tough-looking crewmen of the Sea Rover stood at the rail, seemingly ready for a fight. Innis’s salvage crew appeared equally ready and willing to take them on.

  “We’re in international waters,” Murphy reminded Innis. “And the treasure is under law of find. Finders keepers.”

  Cordelia was too familiar with the law of “finds.” A finder obtained not only possession, but also ownership of the property when a discovered shipwreck was beyond the reach of the original owners. This applied to the Celestine. Or rather, it had.

  “At least part of that mother lode is mine by law,” Cordelia said. “It belonged to my ancestors, and I’m here to collect my family’s inheritance.”

  Murphy cocked an eyebrow at her. “I suppose you can prove that.”

  “I have a copy of the original manifest—”

  “As do I. That proves nothing.”

  “How did you get it, Murphy?” Innis’s face flooded with angry color. “And the map, too. You must have gotten your hands on that or you wouldn’t know where to look.” He flashed an accusing look at his crew. Then to Murphy. “How did you steal the map from us?”

  “Steal?” Murphy drew himself up and took a step closer so they
were face-to-face, nose to nose. Innis stood six feet, but Murphy was even taller. “A fine accusation from a man who makes his living finding things that belong to other people and then holding them hostage until he’s paid to give them back.”

  “I go by the book. You know very well salvage is a legitimate business.”

  “Pirating isn’t,” Cordelia added. “You aren’t wanted here, Morgan Murphy.”

  As if suddenly remembering her, Murphy grinned and winked as if he didn’t believe she was serious. Cordelia’s mouth went dry, and she had as much difficulty breathing as when she’d caught sight of the shark. Her wrist was practically on fire now, and her Posey ring seemed to tighten…tighten…tighten around her finger.

  “I’ll get off this boat, Cordy—”

  “Cordelia.”

  “Cordy,” Murphy insisted. “And, I’ll find the mother lode before you do.”

  Innis pushed between them and right into the other man’s face again. “Not bloody likely.”

  “Don’t underestimate me.”

  “Nor me!”

  Cordelia gave her mother a frantic look but got no help there. Mom seemed hopelessly mesmerized by the argument.

  “All right, enough!” Cordelia shouted.

  Both men snapped to, giving her their full attention.

  “Did anyone ever tell you how amazing you are when you’re assertive?” Murphy asked. “More.”

  He was trying to get under her skin. And succeeding. Rubbing her burning wrist against her thigh, Cordelia forced herself to keep a neutral expression. “Arguing is a waste of energy. Who gets what will be decided underwater.”

  “Playing this out below the surface sounds good to me,” Murphy said.

  Innis stepped forward. “Cordelia, let me handle this—”

  She put a hand on his chest to stop him, her focus on Murphy. “Whatever we find will have historical significance. Such treasures belong in a museum where they can be appreciated by everyone.”

  “And when I find the mother lode and collect the treasure, maybe I’ll even create my own museum to show it off to the public.”

  Of course. He wasn’t only after the money but the glory that would accompany such an incredible find. Irritated by the media-loving, rogue treasure hunter—a slightly nicer title than pirate—Cordelia refused to let him bait her again.

  Seeming disappointed, Murphy bowed his head, first to her, then to her mother, then bounded to the rail and jumped from one boat to another. He nearly did fly and landed lightly on the other rail. One look back—a wink at Cordelia—and he jumped down to the deck.

  Cordelia stared after him, her mouth agape.

  “Well, wasn’t that something,” Mom said, sounding a little dazed.

  “Don’t worry, Madelyn, we won’t let that pirate or his crew steal Ward thunder.” Innis wrapped a possessive arm around Cordelia’s shoulders. “We have more divers than he does. We won’t ever leave him or his men alone in the water to steal what isn’t his.”

  Ward thunder.

  Her father’s dream.

  That was right. Cordelia wasn’t going to let anyone steal that from him. Or from her mother. Or from herself.

  She watched the Sea Rover move a hundred yards away from Foley’s Treasure and drop anchor, then realized she was focused on the boat’s captain. Something about Morgan Murphy got to her. No doubt it had simply been the excitement of the hunt followed by the shock of his sudden appearance.

  She leaned into Innis and he tightened his hold on her somewhat possessively.

  The heated exchange between him and Murphy and her had been quite stimulating while happening. But now that things had quieted down, the dream vision invaded her thoughts once more, and her wrist burned even hotter.

  Murphy might be a pirate…but a killer?

  Dread that she couldn’t shake filled her, until it came to Cordelia. She knew what she had to do.

  First find the treasure.

  Then find the dagger itself so that she could destroy it before its malevolent promise could be fulfilled.

  Chapter Eleven

  Determined that he would get the best of the salvager and his wealthy employer, a furious Morgan moved his smaller, less reputable-looking craft just far enough from Foley’s Treasure and the Evening Star to have some privacy. Just thinking about Cordelia Ward set him off, and not just because she defied him and presented an obstacle to his hunt. There was something about the woman that set his juices flowing, that made him want her to want him…

  “So what do you think, boss?” his first mate, Emmett Green, asked.

  “That we’re in for a fight.”

  Though he would get the best of Cordelia Ward yet.

  Spoiled little rich girl.

  Like her parents before her, she had the money necessary to do whatever it took to get what she wanted. The “haves” always thought it was their right to have more. Not this time, not while he was still breathing. For some reason, the thought of challenging Cordelia—Cordy—made his blood rush at dizzying speeds. He felt as if he knew her, had always desired her, which was, of course, ridiculous.

  Determined not to let her influence his goal, he said, “We have to be smarter and faster and more aggressive than that pair.”

  “Big order, considering how few men we got compared to them,” Emmett noted.

  True, being that there was Cordelia and Foley and a half-dozen men. He was two men down. One of his divers had just up and disappeared after their last hunt. Considering they’d come away with nothing, Morgan couldn’t blame him.

  And then there was Emmett.

  The first mate couldn’t dive any more. A three-pack-a-day man, Emmett had smoked until a doctor had strapped an oxygen tank to his back—not so that he could dive, but simply to help him breathe since he’d developed emphysema. Emmett wasn’t breathing in oxygen now, but there were times the old man had no choice. Morgan couldn’t fire him. Who else would give a man his age, in his condition, a job? Besides, Emmett was still useful—he took care of the equipment, managed the dives from topside, and fed Morgan and the other men three squares a day. He earned his keep.

  “At least for the time being, until we find the mother lode, we’ll have to make do with four divers,” Morgan said, including himself in the count.

  “Half the number on the Ward woman’s dive team.”

  “There’s no helping it.”

  “You could try for an investor—”

  Morgan glared at Emmett, stopping his first mate mid-sentence. Then he entered the main cabin of the Sea Rover.

  He would never beg anyone for money. He’d seen his father do it over and over, most of his life, changing him from a proud man to one always oozing gratitude, usually to some stranger. One of the myriad “haves” in this world like Cordelia Ward. Morgan would be his own man, make his own name, and then others could come to him for money. He would never make someone who had a dream beg for his help.

  As he looked over his maps and notes spread over his desk, he kept glancing out the porthole, watching the other crew’s activities as they got ready to dive. He speculated on the best moves to thwart the Ward woman. He and his men could simply dive where they were anchored and take advantage of the area cleared by Foley’s magazine. Of course that could start an all-out war. Someone could get hurt, and there were sure to be repercussions. He didn’t need that. No, he had to play it smart, keep his men just far enough away from hers to keep an uneasy peace.

  At least until he had reason to do otherwise.

  How in the world had Cordelia Ward found the Celestine’s wreck her first time out, when he’d been seeking it for years and only recently narrowed the search area after getting his hands on a century-old map he’d found in a musty island antique shop?

  While his parents Daniel and Jan
e had always maintained they were content with their lot, despite living in too small quarters, taking temporary jobs, and begging for money from backers, Morgan wanted more for himself and for them. Not just money but recognition. They’d given their lives to the search, would have kept at it if they’d ever been rewarded, if they hadn’t been cheated by a greedy backer. He had a much tougher attitude. His siblings had gotten out of the life, as well, but truth be told, Morgan lived for the hunt—well, most of what was involved, anyway.

  And now that he was so close to getting everything he’d ever wanted—everything his parents had been denied for more than three decades—he wasn’t about to let a rich newcomer snatch the prize from under his nose. Once he had his hands on the mother lode, he would be the treasure-hunting star of the media, and wealthy backers who’d made his father beg would seek him out, glad to fund him for other ventures.

  He pulled the ring from a drawer and examined it once more. Every time he touched it, it filled him with the surety that he would succeed this time. It also made him feel things he didn’t want to acknowledge.

  Emotions…and dreams that felt almost real.

  Nothing specific. Just a glimpse here and there of places and people foreign to him. A woman with dark hair, tending to one more fragile than she. What looked like a medieval castle. Men on horses. The dark-haired woman again, this time tending to a small boy.

  He got glimpses of her when awake, as well, like memories long buried.