Henderson led her below, where they found that his cabin was warm and his bunk exactly the right size.
*** *** ***
In the morning Christopher, James, Mr. St. Cyr, and Ian O'Malley left the cove to trudge back up the ridge to search for the gold. Honoria stayed behind at the camp, eating hard biscuits and shriveled oranges, feeling worried and unhappy.
She knew why Christopher had allowed Manda to be made a hostage, and why he'd taken Diana in return. He did not want this expedition to turn into a battle.
Honoria understood how precious Manda was to Christopher, though he'd never said such a thing out loud. But it was plain what they meant to each other by the looks they exchanged, the easy way they spoke, even in disagreement, as though their words only finished thoughts they'd begun together. Honoria envied the easy fondness between them, something she'd never had with James and was only beginning to have with Christopher.
James, likewise, would do nothing that might bring danger to Diana. James loved his wife with fierce intensity that gave Honoria hope for her older brother. Manda was safe as long as Diana remained on Christopher's ship.
But James did not understand what Honoria knew--that Christopher was truly a gentle man. He might have a fierce growl, but Christopher restrained his strength every time he touched Honoria, making certain he didn't hurt her. He mitigated his snarls with caresses, and he let Honoria do as she pleased despite his claims to the contrary.
Christopher intimidated those who did not know him, but those who did believed in him. Which was why Honoria knew his men would do nothing to interfere with James or harm Diana.
Honoria idled about camp, took off her shoes and waded in the waves, scooped up shells, and tried not to fret. She rubbed her nose with the sunburn cream, put on a hat against the blazing ball of sun, and tried to find shade as the day heated.
Just as the sun reached its zenith, the four men returned. They were dirty and tired, and grime creased their faces.
But Christopher was smiling, though Mr. St. Cyr was impassive as always, James trying to remain cool, and Mr. O'Malley looked awestruck. They had found the Mexican gold.
*****
Chapter Twenty-Three
"Right where I left it," Christopher said.
Sunlight played on the gold of his whiskers and his self-satisfied smirk. Christopher seemed relaxed, as though pleased he'd be turning over all his gold to James. James, if anything, was the more tense of the pair.
The cache lay in a cave near the top of the cliff, Christopher explained, the opening to it a small hole beneath an outcropping. A short tunnel sloped from that entrance, then another hole dropped straight into the cave, which had been carved out of the cliff by an underground stream. The caskets would have to be lifted out with ropes and pulleys then carried back down the hill.
The presence of the large amount of gold brought a quiet excitement to the group. Honoria could almost feel the treasure waiting in the damp cave, like an entity, watching them.
The two crews assembled the ropes, winches, and pulleys, working together without rancor. Honoria insisted on trudging up the hill with the first party, and Christopher, to her surprise, did not object.
Christopher and James had already removed the undergrowth and a half dozen large, fungus-covered rocks from the entrance by the time Honoria reached it, panting from the climb. She squirmed forward to where Christopher and James crouched, peering inside, and looked past Christopher's well-muscled shoulder into a damp, rather smelly hole. They'd lowered a flickering lantern inside, but she could see little but the circle of damp rock around the light.
"If the chests are wood, they'd have rotted away by now," she said.
Christopher turned his head, which brought his lips near enough to her for a quick kiss.
"The caskets are metal," he said. "Tin and brass. Probably rusted and corroded by now, but still whole."
"Have you gone inside yet?"
"We need to widen the entrance a little," Christopher said. "Someone will have to go in and help dig from the inside out. Someone small."
All eyes turned to the Irishman, Mr. O'Malley, who was the smallest man on either crew. O'Malley blenched. "Don't much like caves," he said, and shuddered. "Did I mention that bloody English soldiers threw me into a hole like that once? For three months."
James and Christopher only looked at him, and Mr. O'Malley went still more pale.
"Don't make him," Honoria said. "That's cruel. I'll go."
"No, you won't," Christopher and James said at the same time. One spoke with a neutral English accent with overtones of French, one in a heated Southern drawl.
"Do you have another crewman smaller than me?" Honoria asked. "I'm not afraid to climb down there. Digging won't be any more difficult than in my garden at home. The soil is loose and damp, not hard." She demonstrated, scooping a little away with her fingers.
"Honoria," Christopher began, his voice a growl.
She met his gaze. "Are you afraid it will cave in?"
"How the hell should I know? I don't know anything about caves--I was born and bred on a ship. That's not the point."
"No?" Honoria asked, lifting her chin. "The point is, I should obey you without question, is that it?"
"Yes."
"Our vows never said that."
Christopher scowled. "Back to that argument, are you? The vows mean that your husband knows best and that you should listen to him."
"Hmm, I don't remember saying those words at all."
"Then I think you and I need to have a little talk."
"We have had them," Honoria said. "We both know how our little talks usually end."
Christopher's eyes flickered, and his scowl became a small, private smile. Was he recalling the time she'd slathered oil on his body in Alexandra's spare bedroom? And the rather rough and tumble--and very slippery--lovemaking they'd had after that? Or the occasion a few nights ago, when he'd helped Honoria undress and sponge off her body in their cabin? Things had gotten a bit wet and soapy, and Honoria's voice had been hoarse the next morning.
Christopher's own voice was a bit throaty when he said, "Don't play the innocent with me, Miss. You'll pay for it, later."
"That is a risk I will have to take. And it's Mrs."
His look turned dangerous, and Honoria's heart pounded with excitement. She never thought verbal sparring with a man would be so satisfying. But then, that man was Christopher, who kissed like fire and awoke in her things she'd never known she could feel.
A shadow fell over them. "If you are finished with your interesting discussion," James said, "I say let her down there, Raine. If she gets dirty and cries, it's her own fault."
Honoria rose to her feet, every ounce of ladylike haughtiness coming to the fore. "Really, James. It is most rude to listen to a private conversation."
Her brother gave her his most fearsome Captain Ardmore look. Honoria gave him one right back.
Christopher cleared his throat. "I would hand you two pistols and let you count off paces, but we don't have time. St. Cyr, get some ropes, the strongest you can muster. My wife wants to go exploring."
*** *** ***
They lowered her in a harness they created from stout ropes. Christopher held the lead rope himself, with St. Cyr to back him up. He would not let James touch the rigging at all.
Honoria kissed Christopher on the lips, for luck and in gratitude, then put her feet into the hole and let them lower her inside.
She did not go a very long way down. She thought the harness unnecessary, but Christopher insisted they be able to pull her out at a moment's notice.
Honoria knew in her heart that if Christopher had thought the venture terribly dangerous, he'd never have given in. He'd have tied her up and carried her back to the cove, never minding how much she argued.
The cave had an earthy smell overlaid with the odor of rotting vegetation, the air marvelously cool after the blazing heat of the outdoors. Tree roots poked through the dirt around
the opening, but the rest of the cave had been carved out by nature from solid rock.
Christopher had lowered in a few lanterns before her--candle lamps, not oil--and their feeble flickers glistened on water-damp walls that bore patches of moss and red fungus.
When Honoria's feet touched the ground, the lower edges of the entrance tunnel were level with her eyes. She'd been instructed to use the spade and pick they'd lowered to widen the opening of the entrance tunnel so that larger men, like Christopher and James, could get in and finish the work.
Honoria ignored the tools for the moment and turned to study the cave. The caskets, brass and glinting in the candlelight, were piled on the floor and up the walls. There must be forty or fifty of them, waiting to be discovered.
She moved to the nearest chest and touched its lid. The iron lock still rested in its hole, but the hasp had rusted through.
Christopher's voice came sharply through the hole. "Honoria, where are you going?"
"I want to look at the gold." Honoria lifted one of the lanterns and shone it on the casket. The innocent brass glinted back at her. She carefully checked for spiders then put her hand down and opened the lid.
She caught her breath. The candlelight fell on rows and rows of glittering golden ingots, throwing light back at her and dazzling her eyes.
The gold had not been minted but molded into the tiny bars for transportation. There had to be hundreds of the things in this chest, and so many chests filled the cave.
Napoleon must have been sickened by its loss. The war in Spain was going badly for him now--what the emperor would not give to have this much gold back.
James would never let him have it, however. James did not approve of tyrants, excepting, of course, himself.
Honoria suddenly understood the gold's power. It had beauty in itself; its presence weighty. Men murdered each other for gold, adored it, sought it, hoarded it. With it they purchased women by buying them jewels, clothes, and houses--security. Whoever possessed gold possessed power.
And Christopher was about to give it all away.
A strong tug on the harness brought her back to herself. "What are you doing?" her husband called.
Honoria dropped the lid back into place and made her way to the hole before Christopher could drag her to it. "It's here," she panted up at him. "Really here. All of it."
"Thank you for the report," Christopher growled. "Now, start digging or I'll haul you out by your backside."
"Yes, dear," Honoria said, sarcasm dripping. She picked up the spade and began knocking damp earth away from the opening of the tunnel.
She heard Christopher chuckle. "I like this. My wife on the end of a tether."
"You would," Honoria said darkly.
After a half hour of tiring digging, the tunnel was wide enough to satisfy Christopher. Honoria rubbed her aching arms as her husband slithered down into the tunnel and dropped to the floor at her side. He still held the rope.
"Your face is dirty," he said. His eyes twinkled in the lantern light.
"I see no reason for you to be so happy," Honoria said, still massaging her arms. "You are going to give away all this beautiful gold."
Christopher opened the casket she'd peered into, and the reflection of the gold lit his face. He stared at the ingots for a long, sober moment, then he banged the lid shut.
"Too much gold is a curse, my wife," he said. "I shall be glad to be rid of it." And he winked at her.
She stared at him, a deep suspicion stirring in her mind.
But Honoria had no chance to ask Christopher what he was up to, because James climbed down into the hole with them, and any secrets had to remain secret.
*** *** ***
Once Honoria had been helped out of the hole, where she sat gratefully on a boulder to rest, Christopher's and James's men began the laborious process of lifting each casket from the cave. Only one chest could be moved at a time, because of the size of the tunnel and the fact that the caskets, though small, were heavy.
They rigged a pulley system using the overhanging trees for anchors. Men inside the cave bound the caskets with ropes, while men above hauled each to the surface.
Christopher helped his men construct a makeshift sled of planks and ropes to help transport the gold to the cove. Three caskets fit on the sled, which one man pulled while a second steadied and slowed from behind.
The work was tedious, and by late afternoon, only half the caskets had been taken down the hill. Christopher tramped back to the cove with Honoria and the last load of caskets, and they made camp once again. James volunteered to take the first watch.
"I don't envy him," Christopher whispered to Honoria as they snuggled together in blankets by the campfire. "If the gold went to my ship, my men would at least know they'd get a share. His men will watch him hand it over to the American navy."
Honoria felt some alarm. "Do you think he'll be in danger? Perhaps we should take Diana and her children with us until he makes the delivery."
Christopher kissed her temple. "No, my sweet. If Ardmore couldn't command his men by now, he'd already be dead. He didn't get this far by allowing his crew to walk over him."
"I'd like to walk over him sometimes," Honoria said between her teeth.
Christopher only laughed and rolled her to him to kiss her.
She remembered that kiss, and the laughter in his eyes, for a long time to come.
*** *** ***
They were awakened early in the morning with rain, which soon turned into a deluge. Sleepy men scrambled for the shelter of the trees, dragging blankets and clothes with them.
Honoria waited under the trees, panting and dripping, while James organized a few of his crew to row the already retrieved caskets of gold to the Argonaut. A little rain wouldn't hurt them, James said. Honoria wondered if he meant the gold or his crew.
They watched the boat slide to the Argonaut and back three times, until most of the caskets had been loaded onto the ship. By the time the boat returned for the last haul, the rain was pounding so hard that the ships were obscured by the gray curtain of it.
The rain was less dense under the canopy of forest, and Christopher ordered them back up the hill to the tunnel.
Honoria insisted on being lowered back into the cave with him, where she'd be sheltered from the worst of the storm. Once inside, she squeezed out her rain-matted hair and watched Christopher work.
He'd shed his wet shirt and now worked bare-chested, his body drawing Honoria's attention. She looked forward to returning to the Starcross, where she could lie with him in their bunk and touch his body to her heart's content.
After they had a proper bath, of course. The cave was muddy, and Honoria longed for soap and clean water. Perhaps she and Christopher could bathe each other again . . .
She let her thoughts ramble down this delicious path as she adjusted the ropes on her waist so they wouldn't chafe. Christopher had not let her down again without the harness, which he'd tied off to a tree outside. Honoria felt rather like a dog on a lead, but Christopher made clear that she either complied or went back to the cove.
At least the rain let up above, making the men's task easier. As the sky darkened outside, night coming, the final casket rested in position beneath the opening. Christopher sent the men who'd been helping him above, then turned to Honoria. "Time to go, sweetheart. The adventure is over."
"We did not have much adventure," Honoria said, coming to him. "I half expected to find that you'd buried a pirate alive down here, so his ghost would guard the treasure."
Christopher gave her an incredulous look. "Why the devil would I do that?"
"Or set cunning traps to prevent others from reaching the gold. Like stakes coming out of the walls when the gold hunter trips on a rock."
He started to laugh. "Good God, Honoria, where do you come up with these ideas?"
"Books." Honoria put her arms around him as he lifted her.
"I've only read two books in my life," he said, "and nothing like th
at ever happened in those."
Honoria smiled and smoothed his sweat-dampened hair from his brow. "Maybe you'll write a book of your own one day. All about your adventures."
Christopher shook his head, his grin crooked. "You're an amazing woman, my wife. Kiss me."
Honoria did. It was a long, satisfying kiss, Christopher's mouth warm, loving.
"Up you go," he said.
Slightly disappointed, but knowing they could continue later, Honoria allowed Christopher to boost her upward. Above them, a sailor began hauling on her rope.
When she was halfway up the tunnel, she heard the men outside shouting. James's voice thundered above theirs. Honoria craned her head to see what was happening, fearing that Christopher was wrong, and James's men were mutinying.
But their cries were drowned by a sudden roaring sound, as though all the rain that had fallen that day had decided to rush at them in one great wave.
Mud pattered to Honoria's face, the droplets fast becoming splatters, then clods. Then mud and water rained down around her, turning to a steady fall of wet earth pouring past her to Christopher still waiting in the hole.
"It's coming down!" James shouted above the noise. "Pull her out!"
The tunnel began to collapse in on itself. Honoria watched in horror as its walls cascaded down to the upturned face of her husband.
"Christopher!" she screamed. "Grab my hand. James, pull us out!"
Honoria felt Christopher's strong fingers close around her wrist, then a deluge of water and mud crashed onto her, filling her nose and mouth, threatening to carry her back down into the rapidly flooding cave.
The harness around her went taut, and Honoria was dragged upward, her body scraping the narrowing walls of the tunnel. Christopher's hold on her wrist vanished.
"James, wait! Christopher, grab my hand!"
She felt Christopher's fingers scrabbling through mud, but she could not see him. A wall of earth rushed at her, and at the same time Honoria was yanked upward. Her shrieks to stop were drowned by the roar of the cave-in.