When she was done, he simply stared at her. Then he pulled her in for another hug and whispered in her ear. “My poor, sweet cariña. I am so sorry for everything you’ve suffered.”
She gave him a trembling smile. But what it lacked in stability, it made up for in pure, unfettered joy. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m happier than I’ve ever been. Freer than I’ve ever been. Because now I know I can have you.”
His smile was soft, deepening his dimples just the tiniest bit. “I love you, Mia Ennis.” She knew she would never tire of hearing that phrase on his lips. “I fell in love with the way you spoke to me without ever saying a word.”
Chapter 30
8:37 PM...
Romeo lay on his back, staring at the silvery stars flashing and winking in the black sky. The ocean breeze was cool on his skin. The smell of Mia’s expensive lotion tunneled up his nose. And her voice was as erotic as her tongue in his ear as she finished the last of In Darkness and Dreams.
“Lazarus watched through the window as the sky to the east began to pinken with the rising sun,” she read softly, lying on her belly on the blanket they’d spread out on the secluded beach at the back of the island. The little flashlight she used to illuminate the pages combined with the moonlight to make her pale skin luminesce. “The magical pull of the day-sleep dragged at his eyelids and weighed down his limbs. He didn’t have much time before he was lost to slumber. Just enough time to brush a strand of hair behind Ursula’s ear. Just enough time to give her one last kiss. Just enough time to think, An eternity by her side isn’t nearly long enough.”
Mia sighed as she closed the book. Flicking off the flashlight, she snuggled next to him and pillowed her head on his shoulder. Her soft, feminine heat wrapped around him, and her breath was warm on his neck when she said, “I love how P.J. Warren always ends her books at happily-ever-after.”
He considered what she said. “Oh, I don’t know. I think the really good stuff, all the big and little things that make life so sweet, probably happens after the characters ride off into the sunset.”
Mia pushed up on her elbow so she could smile down into his face. This time, he didn’t stop himself from drowning in her golden gaze. He was looking forward to a lifetime sinking further and further still.
Emphasis on lifetime, he thought.
“Let’s put that to the test, what do you think?” she asked.
“I think that’s the best idea you’ve had yet. Except maybe...”
He let his sentence dangle, knowing she wouldn’t be able to resist asking, “Except maybe what?”
“Except for maybe that thing you mentioned earlier about a blow job.”
She laughed, that sparkling, musical laugh that filled him with joy. He cupped her face in his hand. “Promise me you’ll do that for the rest of our lives.”
She stuck her tongue in her cheek and quirked a brow. “What? Give you blow jobs.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Laugh. It’s my favorite thing in the whole wide world. Your smile comes in at a close second.”
She turned her head to drop a warm kiss into the center of his palm. “I promise to laugh for the rest of our lives if you promise to always look at me the way you’re looking at me right now.”
“Deal.” He told her, and then wiggled his eyebrows. “Now, let’s seal it with a kiss, eh?”
“Let’s seal it with more than a kiss,” she countered, pressing her lips to his.
And for the next two hours, that’s exactly what they did.
Epilogue
July 17th, 1624...
Five...
Bartolome had lost five men in the span of less than a day to the nameless, faceless illness. More were sick and growing sicker by the minute since what little food they ate, and what little water they were able to drink, immediately exited their bodies by one means or another.
Bartolome was no longer in the role of capitán. He, along with Rosario, had donned the mantles of caretakers, doing their best to nurse the weak and the ill.
Ten men writhed on their bedrolls in various stages of distress and decline. Five more had begun to show symptoms, complaining of dry mouths and fatigue and—
“Capitán!” Rosario shouted from across the dirty clearing. “Come see!”
Bartolome turned away from wiping Alvaro’s brow and was across the campsite and squatting next to Rosario within moments.
“Look.” Rosario pointed down a poor dying sailor named Diego. “See his color? He appears to have taken a bath in indigo ink.”
At first, Bartolome thought Rosario was seeing things. The leaves of the overhead trees played tricks with the morning light. But then...no.
Bartolome saw it.
A slight bluish hue stained poor Diego’s skin.
Bartolome gasped and jerked to a stand.
“Capitán?” Rosario squinted up at him.
“I know this.” Bartolome’s blood ran cold with dread. “’Tis something I saw when I sailed through the East.”
“What evil is it?” Rosario swallowed convulsively, his eyes wide with fear.
Bartolome shook his head even as his scalp prickled. “The locals called it moryxy. But to most others ’tis simply referred to as the blue death. Quick! We must dump the water!”
“What?” Rosario was on his feet in an instant and racing beside Bartolome as he marched with purpose toward the four water barrels positioned in the shade of a palm. “Sir! We cannot! We will die of thirst!”
“They are already dying of thirst.” Bartolome flung an arm toward the writhing men. “’Tis the water that is killing them.”
For the first time, Rosario did not jump at Bartolome’s command. Instead, the midshipman stood watching, a hand over his mouth, horror in his eyes, as Bartolome tipped over one rain barrel after the other until every drop of drinking water they had soaked into the sand.
Wails of disbelief and anger arose from the sick men, but Bartolome turned a deaf ear.
“We must roll the barrels to the beach, scrub them with sand and salt water, and then pray for rain,” he said.
But even as he pressed his hands against the rough wooden slats of one barrel and began to move it along the trail they’d worn through the undergrowth, he knew the endeavor was likely futile.