Epilogue

Between the line of thick green foliage and the sparkling sweep of azure water lay a stretch of blindingly white sand. The sun was directly overhead, a fiery orb that caused the surface of the sea to shimmer like silver and the trees to droop in the heat. Now and then a gull circled, screaming mock commands at the row of sweating men who were laboring to put the finishing touches on a house seated halfway up a slope that overlooked the wide deep-water bay. The men laughed and joked among themselves as they worked. Most were stripped to the waist and were tanned nearly as dark as the island natives. The latter gathered curiously each day to watch the progress on the huge white house. This day like every other, they chattered and chewed leaves, pointing at various pieces of furniture being offloaded from the ship anchored out in the bay. Their children ran along the beach and swam in the surf; they caught crabs and clams to filled a big pot that would later be set over a fire and the contents cooked for the evening meal.

Twice the barge that had been ferrying supplies from the ship had tipped, spilling the contents into the surf. Each time the children who were playing on shore would abandon their crabbing or their game of pirates and run into the clear water to help with the salvage. Three of the youngest were usually the last ones splashing into the water, hampered by shorter legs, but nonetheless determined to dive and fetch what they could off the sandy bottom. The very youngest was a girl with fiery red hair and sea green eyes, who, if she could not wade in as deep as the others, or if the waves were too strong for her to fight her way through, would simply stand in the shallows and trip one of her brothers, then snatch up the booty and run to shore.

"Just like her mother," Adrian murmured, his lips pressed against Courtney's ear.

She tipped her face up to his and smiled. "She has already said she wants her own ship one day, something I never quite achieved."

Adrian laughed. "Aye, but you are the most beautiful first mate a captain has ever had."

She dug an elbow playfully into his ribs and turned to watch the children again. The eldest, Alan, had been born eight months after they had sailed away from Gibraltar. A year later, William had come squalling into the world, and ten months later, Marguerite.

True to his word, Adrian had arranged a swift annulment for the marriage that never was between himself and Deborah. Not a day passed before she and Matthew Rutger stood before a minister and exchanged their vows, with Dickie Little on crutches beside them, proudly holding the baby, Lori, in his arms. Shortly after, the four had departed for Pennsylvania, where Matt's skills as a physician soon earned him employment in the navy again, but this time as a teacher and recruiter determined to put qualified doctors on board ships who were committed to using the bone saw only as a last resort.

Duncan Farrow, in his guise as the respectable businessman, William Longford, had lingered in Norfolk only long enough to heal his shoulder and sign the papers that made Adrian a full partner in all of his businesses. He slipped out of port on his newly built ship, the Marguerite and sailed south, promising to let Courtney know where, if, and when he decided to drop anchor again. His last night in port, they had gathered for a final meal and as a parting gift, he had given Courtney a large, well-worn leather box containing, among other things, twelve thick journals.

"It is all there, daughter. Everything about your mother from the moment we met, every thought I had, every deed I did down through those long bloody years. I have kept a few of her letters, but the rest are here, for you. There is also the matter of two large sea chests which I know not what you want done with them, but when you read the journals, you will know where they can be found. Leave them buried or dig them up; use what they hold to twinkle up a Christmas tree or take them out into the ocean and dump them; I care not."

"Where will you go? When will I see you again?"

"My only desire was to see you safe and happy, and that, I can see, has been accomplished. The need for revenge is all burned out of me and now I just have a mind to follow the edge of the horizon and see where it leads. As for when you will see me again," he paused and tucked a finger under her chin, "it may be sooner or it may be later, but you'll not be rid of me that easily."

He was gone the next day and within the month, Adrian and Courtney left Norfolk behind as well, sailing south into warmer waters. Rory Ballantine had been the only one standing on the dock to bid them farewell. He had resigned from the family business by then, and had taken his new position as manager of the Wm. Longford Import and Export Company. In just under six years, he tripled the profits, mainly due to the new trade ventures Adrian established in the Indies. Longford Rum had fast become one of the best known brands in spirits, the label designed with a scarlet wolf's head on a black field.

Their explorations of the West Indies had brought Courtney and Adrian to this particular stretch of tropical heaven and as soon as Courtney had set eyes on the beach and tall swaying palms, she had looked at Adrian, and he had looked at her, and they had both known they were home. They cleared land for a house and fashioned it after the open, airy buildings suited to the climate, with tall open windows and wide doors, a shaded veranda that circled the entire upper storey. Importing the wood, making tiles for the roof had taken nearly two years, but now, with the final pieces of furniture arriving and carpenters putting the final touches on the rails and shutters, it was finally time to move out of the makeshift huts and into their new home.

He slapped her lightly on her bottom and gave her a final kiss. "I had best get up to the house or the workers will all be sleeping under the shade. How are you feeling, Irish? Well enough to christen our new bedroom tonight, I trust."

She ran a hand over the gentle swell of her belly and smiled. "Well enough to leave you splayed out and gasping for mercy."

"Interesting," he murmured. "Still issuing challenges after all these years."

She reached up on tip toes and kissed him soundly on the smirking lips. "Hone your sword, Yankee, for there will be no quarter given tonight."

He growled and scooped her up into his arms. "In that case, my lusty wench, fair play is forfeit and I shall be putting the rest of the afternoon to good use weakening your defenses."

He turned and carried her up the beach, and behind them the natives chattered, laughed, and pointed. The children resumed their game of pirates, with little Marguerite leading the charge into the trees.