Always in My Dreams (58 page)

They thumped hard to the floor as the bed slats broke like broom straws. Dust motes rose and scattered. The bed frame split and the headboard groaned. They watched it warily as it teetered for a moment before it tilted back against the wall instead of toppling on them. Then they looked at each other. Skye's bright laughter exploded from her as Walker pounced. They fought for possession of a quilt that neither of them really wanted and ended up making love amid the broken slats and collapsed frame, half on the mattress, half off, and this time it was the floor that creaked, not the rickety bed.

"Goodness," Skye sighed, rolling into Walker's arms. She folded her arms across his chest and raised her face to look down on his. The lines of tension that had creased the corners of his eyes and mouth in recent weeks were absent now. The tawny eyes were no longer splintered and strained. When he lifted his hand to push back a lock of hair the movement was not edgy or restless. She leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. "You look like a very happy man," she whispered.

"Mm."

The touch of his mouth was soft, his murmur a caress. "These past weeks have been hard for you," she said. Skye had watched him chafe at the restrictions the trial had posed. His extraordinary patience was tested by the court preparation and the demands of the investors who wanted to know why Morgan Curran wasn't exposed earlier. There were those who weren't satisfied with the reparations that Walker made and wanted to have their losses completely covered. "You must be glad it's behind us."

Walker raised his hand and lightly touched the side of Skye's face. Her fiery hair was like silk against his fingertips. "No more than you."

"It wasn't so—" She stopped, abandoning the lie. "I was so afraid they wouldn't find him guilty. At night—"

He placed a finger over her lips. "I know," he said. He had held her night after night when she had been afraid to go to sleep, afraid that Morgan Curran would enter her defenseless, wandering thoughts as easily as he had entered her room. He had held her until exhaustion had claimed her body if not her mind. The shadows beneath her eyes had been fading since Morgan Curran received his unpardonable sentence two days earlier. The tip of Walker's finger traced the arch of her cheek. "I wasn't certain if you'd want to come back here. We didn't have to."

"I did."

It was just like Skye to face a thing head on. Her courage moved him. He was absolutely sure he had made the right decision about their future together. "I have my next assignment," he said after a moment.

Skye sat up now. "Assignment?" Skye was uncertain what that meant. She reached for her discarded shift and slipped it over her head. If he was going to tell her terrible news, then she wanted a bit of protection against it. "You didn't tell me," she said. Hurt, she avoided his eyes. There was nothing she could do about the slight quaver in her voice.

"I was saving it for the right moment." Standing, Walker slipped into his trousers. "I've known for a week now."

"A week." All that time, she thought. He must have been thinking how to tell her he was leaving. "When does it begin?"

"I've booked passage already. The
Eastern Star
leaves in ten days."

Skye swallowed hard and smoothed her shift over her hips.
"Eastern Star?
Then it's the Orient."

"I thought you'd be happy."

She shrugged. "It will give me time to renovate this house, I suppose. And search for the treasure. Perhaps Mama or Mary Francis will come and stay a while."

That's when Walker backed her right up against the wall. Her bottom pressed against the precariously tilted headboard as he braced an arm on either side of her shoulders. He bent his head slightly and gave her the full force of his level stare. "You have exactly ten days to find the treasure, pack your things, and say goodbye to your family. I'm not giving you a choice about this, Skye. You're coming with me."

Skye stared at him open-mouthed. Using this moment to tell him he was being high-handed was a little like cutting off her nose to spite her face. There would be two oceans to cross, time enough to let him know what she thought of not having been consulted. And it wasn't as if she didn't have a secret of her own, she thought a trifle smugly. Mary Francis had been correct about the fertility of the Dennehy women. Right now she launched herself into Walker's arms and spread kisses over his face.

"I take it this means you're happy," he said. Somehow she had managed to attach herself to him like a limpet. His hands cupped her bottom and her thighs cradled him intimately. "I guess I found the right moment."

Skye let him enjoy that thought. She would take issue with it as they were riding out the stormy waters around Cape Horn. Somehow, it seemed fitting. She buried her face in his neck and her smile against his skin. "I love you," she whispered. Skye raised her head and searched his face. Her eyes were solemn. "You won't regret this."

"There was never any possibility of that," he said.

She felt his words as a physical force. Pleasure rippled through Skye and she leaned into him again. The movement was unexpected and challenged his balance. Walker took a step backward, caught his heel on the edge of the mattress, and moved forward, bumping Skye into the headboard this time. With a grating, scraping sound it began to slide down the wall. Walker, with Skye still in his arms, managed to jump out of the way and protect his bare feet from injury. The headboard thudded to the floor.

They didn't notice that it had cracked in the center. They were looking at a hole in the wall that had been hidden for the better part of half a century. They peered inside together. A slim beam of sunlight made the interior visible and revealed a single ironbound chest. The lid was open. Yards of dusty silk draped one corner where the material had been lifted to reveal the richer treasure beneath.

Sunshine winked across the golden surface of a thousand Spanish doubloons.

"Eureka."

Neither of them was surprised that they said it as one.

The End

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The Dennehy Sisters Series

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Excerpt from

Only in My Arms

The Dennehy Sisters Series

Book Five

by

Jo Goodman

USA Today Bestselling Author

ONLY IN MY ARMS

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Mary was there when Ryder opened his eyes. She stood on the opposite side of the water hole, flanked by twin birch sentinels. Her path to the water was marked by the natural placement of large rocks rising from the bank like a stone stairway. She made no move toward the water or even to put her bare feet on the flat, sun-warmed rocks. Instead she remained very still and maintained her hold around the clothing she carried in her folded arms. In point of fact, the only clothing she wore was the bundle of fabric draped in front of her.

At first he thought she didn't move because she had seen him. But as he continued to watch her, he realized she did not have the frozen, startled posture of a frightened doe. She was not protectively clutching her clothing in front of her to preserve modesty or dignity. She merely held it. He was struck by the reverence of her posture, the respect she had for this quiet clearing he had only just discovered. Her stillness had nothing to do with him at all, he realized. She was unaware of his observation, and he wished that it might remain so. With no small measure of regret he knew he would have to make his presence known to her.
But not yet
, he thought selfishly. Not just yet.