to this island?” Blue eyes met mine, sparkling in the dappled sunlight.
“I don’t know.”
This was an ancient place, rich with the history of indigenous people long gone. Massive boulders marked the land with symbols of religious worship, and trenches in the earth indicated the worn tracks of humans from another time. Who had come and gone here? How had my father learned about it? Had he stumbled upon the island during his travels? Perhaps those answers had been in his letter.
A fingertip stroked along my cheek, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked up to find Ashley rubbing a smudge of dirt from my face.
I daresay his emancipation from English nobility suited him. He would always carry himself with the bearing of a lord, but his posture had lost its uncomfortable rigidity. Since leaving England, he moved freely and naturally in his skin.
“I hit something!” Priest bellowed from the bottom of the pit. “Bennett, get your arse down here.”
I was already moving, tumbling down the embankment and ripping my trousers in my hurry. At the bottom, I stumbled toward Priest and knelt near his pickax.
“That’s timber.” I clawed away dirt and clay and ran my hands over the wooden surface beneath. “Man-made. Some sort of hatch. Throw me an ax!”
Three hours later, we broke through a wooden fortification that stretched six-feet wide and two-feet deep. As the last of the shelf was ripped away, everyone gathered around, breaths held, the very air silent and waiting.
I expected to descend into a cave the likes of a royal palace that overflowed with treasure chests, carved silver, gold jewelry, baubles, Chinese porcelain, ivory, rich fabrics, and rare paintings. We all anticipated that.
But instead, we uncovered a shallow grave lined with dozens of identical sacks of the same size and shape. Sacks of seed? Bullets? Or something much greater?
No one moved as I slid into the hole and tore open one of the bags.
“Gold doubloons.” My lungs crashed together, my heart laughing. I scrambled to the next sack. “Pieces of eight.”
Priest and Ashley jumped in, helping me open bag after bag. They were all filled with coins, gems, and pearls. The value was unfathomable.
On a squeal of laughter, I turned to Priest, threw myself into his arms, and crashed our mouths together.
My father hadn’t just left me enough treasure to make every man aboard Jade wealthy beyond retirement. He’d gone through the painstaking task of converting his spoils into a currency that was ideal for easy transport, dividing amongst the crew, and using as trade in exchange for property and goods. He’d thought of everything.
My boisterous pack of sea tars clamored over the coins, howling with glee and singing about the land they would buy in the colonies and all the rum they would pour down their gullets.
Priest kissed me enthusiastically, saturating my lips with the salty taste of sweat and sea. “Your father was a genius.”
“He was so selfless and brave, and you would’ve adored him.”
“Bennett, come here.” Ashley stood amid the treasure, holding a shallow box the length of his arm. “This was beneath the sacks.”
My pulse hammered as I slipped out of Priest’s arms and made my way there.
“We’ve gone through everything.” Ashley handed me the wooden object, his smile teeming with anticipation. “There’s only one of these.”
I set down the box, my hands trembling as I opened the lid. It appeared reasonably airtight, safe from the elements. From within, I removed a wide, flat package wrapped in leather. The edges felt like an engraved frame.
It took forever to unwrap it, my fingers tearing through layers of protective cloth and tough hides. At last, I cleared the coverings and found myself staring down at two familiar faces.
“God confound me body and soul.” I fell to my knees, my hand shaking too violently to touch the canvas. “I don’t believe it.”
The oil portrait blurred behind a sheen of searing tears. Priest and Ashley held the painting as I wiped my face and chased the moisture from my eyes. Then I soaked in the image with my heart in my throat.
A young Lady Abigail Leighton perched upon a bench that was entirely too elaborate for its woodland surroundings. Edric Sharp leaned against a tree at her side, wearing a flowing shirt of silk, knee-high jackboots, and a cutlass that glinted in the sun. At his feet lay a sleeping hound dog.
“I’m wearing those boots.” Priest crouched beside me, his hand stroking my hair.