Chapter Forty-Three

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"Say something to me, Samantha, please."

We had made it to an island a few hours later, the whole of us working to keep water out of the boat and beat the storm that was coming in as we rowed in a set direction. There had been no time to talk about what happened, or when we finally came ashore, falling to the ground in sweet relief. But, now that we had been set up in an inn for the night and fed, there was plenty of time to say things.

Fury, so incredibly white hot, burned through me whenever I looked at Tristan. It felt as though he'd broken every vow he'd made to me. I wondered if he had loved me at all, or if he just wanted me around as some type of prize. All I wanted to do was scream at him, but I couldn't say anything. Throughout dinner, I sat thinking up ways to hurt him with words. More than anything, I wanted him to feel that loss he had struck me with, that sense of absolute betrayal and agony at being cast away.

John Butler and Father Torres had barely survived the fight, along with six other men. Sadly, I told John of Adam Kelly's death. They all knew that Randall had taken James. As we gathered in the main room of the inn to eat, there was a somberness to us all that seemed to have infected the whole place. Crewmembers who weren't knights sat off by themselves, glancing at us every now and then, but were otherwise completely content to remain where they were.

"What are we going to do?" John had inquired. "We have to go after them, but we have no ship or any other way to get there. It will be a month before anyone arrives from the Old World to assist, and that's if they send their largest, fastest ship and have good wind."

"I sent word to the Order at Tortuga," Tristan said, sighing deeply. "They will come as fast as they can. Someone else is bound to have told them what happened in Africa. They should already be on their way to investigate."

"What order is he talking about, señorita?" Alfonso whispered, leaning toward me as they continued discussing.

"The Knights Templar," I replied, not really feeling like keeping any secrets for the both of them just then. "Randall is one as well, but on the bad side."

His eyes had widened as he glanced between Tristan and John, neither of the men having heard me tell him. Mumbling in Spanish, he crossed himself quickly and left the table, the revelation affecting him strongly.

"Either way, Thomas will have been on Oak Isle for at least two months before we get there," John argued. "He will have been able to take most of it, if not all."

"James doesn't know where the door is," Tristan breathed. "I never told him. They'll have to scour the island to find it, and even then they might never discover it. Sam said they've been searching for more than two hundred years and no one was successful. Isn't that right, lass?"

They both looked at me expectantly, and I glared back, biting my tongue as I thought of something to say. "John," I started. "I can forgive you for cutting me loose, because I imagine you were either following orders, or saw that your captain needed assistance and you gave it without question. However, I will not be forgiving anyone else involved with this situation."

With that, I got up from the table and went upstairs to my room, locking the door behind me to keep Tristan from entering. After several hours of pleading, though, the innkeeper came up and unlocked it for him, glancing at me apologetically as she did so.

"What are ye doing?" he fumed, peeling his salty jacket off and throwing it on the floor. "Ye undermined me in front of the crew! Ye refused to answer your husband and captain. Would ye mind explaining what's going on?"

Folding my arms, I turned my back on him, wishing I had never even met him. This hurt too badly, cut too deep. I didn't think there would ever be a way to heal what he had broken. He'd shown his distrust and lack of faith in me, and shattered mine in him at the same time.

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