But he’d never imagined a morning like this one. The culmination of a dream. He had at last come across something in his research that had set off a light in his mind, and that light had burned so brightly that he hadn’t been able to wait. He hadn’t even been able to wait to tell Sam, to give her a clue, even knowing how much it would mean to her. She had been with Jem and some first timers and bubble watchers out on the Sloop Bee. With beginners, it would be some time.
And this…oh, God! With the right information, the answer had been so simple, and once he had realized it, he hadn’t been able to wait.
Sam. Sam should have known. Sam should have been with him. Sam, with her ever-trusting, encouraging smile. Sam who never found fault, who believed, who laughed and teased and made life easy. She should have been here with him now. He couldn’t repay her for not being here, not even with every single bit of treasure he found.
He simply hadn’t been able to wait to test his theory.
His dreams had sent him flying across the waves. Intrigue and fascination had brought him here, near the Steps.
The Seafire Isle Steps.
The Steps, of course, were a mystery in themselves. They began a mere thirty feet below the surface in the water northwest of Seafire Isle; they deepened with the ocean floor for another twenty-five feet, then simply disappeared. Just like stone steps in other areas of the sea that were supposed by some to lead the way to Atlantis. Others thought them a doorway in the wicked mystery of the Bermuda Triangle. He was quite certain that there were logical answers for every mystery beneath the sea. Just as there was a logical answer to the mystery of the Spanish galleon Beldona, the prized ship of King Philip, which had sailed the golden corridor between the New World and the old so many years ago. Historians had thought for years that she had gone down in one of the vicious storms that raged across the seas, a hurricane of deadly proportions.
There was an answer to everything. An explanation.
Just as there had been an explanation for the fact that a skeleton had stared at him with burning eyes….
He could still see them blazing. Eyes of fire.
Nitrogen narcosis, he warned himself. He was seeing things. But the eyes did truly seem to burn. He bent low, studying them more closely….
There was something different about the skeleton. He should have been able to place his finger on it. He should know the truth about the ship.
His ship, as he thought of her.
The Beldona. He had found her! Sonar had missed her, radar had missed her. Shifting currents and restless sands had hidden her beneath a coral shelf.
Suddenly something about the skeleton caught his eye. He leaned closer, laughter bubbling in his chest.
Whoa, he thought. Stay calm! He warned himself.
But once again, far beneath the surface, he couldn’t wait.
The magnitude of his discovery suddenly hit him. No, he couldn’t wait. This was pure vindication.
He couldn’t wait to tell her. Couldn’t wait to share these secrets, deeper than any he had ever imagined. He’d discovered the past, and so much more. Many people had mocked him for being a dreamer. Very few had believed. And now…the laugh would be on them.
She would know that he’d been right to fight for the discovery. Maybe the time had come when he could divulge a few of his own secrets. Maybe this would make the time right.
He closed his eyes.
Or did he?
Because he was seeing things again.
The sea was playing tricks on him.
It was as if she was suddenly with him.
She couldn’t be. But he could see her.
He could see her, hair waving like a banner, eyes as brilliant as those orbs of fire that had so shocked him. In his mind he could hear her throaty laughter, feel what they shared.
He blinked.
She remained.
She was there with him, her eyes glittering behind her scuba mask.
No…
He blinked again, this time closing his eyes tightly. He had known better—much better—than to dive alone, especially this deep. But it didn’t matter now. He knew the truth. He had solved the mystery, and there was so much more to it than they had ever begun to imagine….
He had to regain control.
He opened his eyes again.
He was alone.
Bubbles surrounded him. His own, he assured himself. He was all alone.
Alone with a bunch of dead men.
Nitrogen narcosis…
He needed to go up. Now.
Because he needed help, of course. Needed Sammy and Jem, and probably others, too. But for now his ecstasy was like something ready to explode inside him. He wanted to share his sheer joy.
They would have to guard the secret until they were safe. There was so much more than just the treasure involved. If the wrong people knew what he had discovered…
He was going to need help. The truth was going to have to come out, and once that was done, they would be able to bring up the treasure.
By God, the treasure!
He turned, listening again to the sound of his own breathing, a continual hiss and heave against his ears in the confinement of the cabin. He tried to assess the magnitude of what he had found.
He was startled from his thoughts when something suddenly fell against him. He shifted his light around.
Another dead man. But this one…
Once again a scream rose in his throat.
It was swallowed by the depths…. And then he felt…something.
He turned. Saw.
Terror greeted him in the form of razor-honed steel. He wanted to scream and scream and scream….
Blood flowed, joined with the water. Miles beyond the ship, sharks sensed the blood and began to swim toward the Beldona with predatory interest.
Bubbles rose from his regulator. And then they ceased.
His unseeing eyes stared out at the shadowy phantoms inside the cabin of the long-dead ghost ship.
He had solved so many mysteries, had so much to say, but…
Dead men tell no tales….
1
T here she stood.
Samantha Carlyle.
It had been a long time. Yes, a long, long time since he had seen her.
Hank had never actually described her, but from the moment he saw her, even from a distance across the water, he knew it had to be her.
Hank had described her with great enthusiasm without describing her at all. In his scholar’s mental, metaphysical lust, if there was such a thing. It didn’t matter. Adam had never mentioned in his correspondence that he could easily imagine Samantha Carlyle now because he doubted if she had changed a bit in the nearly five years since he had seen her.
She was one of those women who was simply riveting. Looking half-naked in a two-piece cobalt suit that was actually rather decent, considering how little women’s bathing suits consisted of these days. It didn’t matter. It was what was inside the suit that made it so compelling. She was tall, regal, legs wickedly long, slim, shapely. Honey-gold tanned. Rounded buttocks, flat stomach, skinny waist. Breasts…enough to create mysteriously shadowed cleavage against the constraints of the bikini bra. Good collarbone, nice long throat…
His eyes slipped down again.
Breasts. Very nice.