Convincing the sailboat’s owner to lend his vessel to them proved no problem; Jamys accomplished it a moment after greeting the man, when he shook his hand. Before he left, the owner showed them the supplies he had stocked for the extended fishing trip he had planned, as well as how to use his new navigational array.
While Chris went below to investigate the cabin, Jamys escorted the boat’s owner from the dock to his sports car. “You will return home and enjoy the holidays there.”
“Which home?” the man asked.
Jamys’s brows rose. “How many do you have?”
“Three. Boston, Atlanta, and Paradise.”
“You will go to Boston,” Jamys told him, deciding it would be best to keep the man as far away as possible. Out of curiosity, he asked, “Where is this Paradise?”
“It’s the name of an island off the Keys,” the man told him. “I bought it as a tax shelter. I was going to spend Christmas there. It’s a good place to be alone.”
“Where is this island?” Jamys asked.
“Ten miles east of Lower Matecumbe. The coordinates are programmed into the navigational computer. Just enter the word ‘paradise.’” The man drew out his keys and removed two. “You’ll need these to disarm the security system and get into the house.”
Jamys pocketed them and, once the man had driven off, returned to the slip, where he found Chris at the helm using the computer to chart a course.
“Commercial boats and barges use the Intracoastal as a shipping lane, plus it’s usually clogged with joyriding tourists, so we should probably head out to sea.” She pulled up a map and traced an imaginary line from the marina down to Miami. “There’s a place we can dock here that’s about five miles from the museum. Gifford isn’t lecturing there until tomorrow night, so we have plenty of time.” She glanced at him. “After we talk to him you should ask him to show the actual journals, too. He donated them to the museum, and he’s on the board, so he should have access to them.”
He heard the note of anxiety in her voice. “You are worried about Gifford?”
“No, I think you can handle him.” She frowned. “I just don’t know how much useful information we’ll get. I mean, this is the secondhand account of a dying pirate’s confession made back in the seventeenth century. Gifford also could have faked the journals. He wouldn’t be the first guy to manufacture history in order to boost his professional standing and guarantee a spot on the lecture circuit.”
Jamys would have overlooked the change in her scent, but from here they would be entirely dependent on each other. “But that is not what truly concerns you.”
She sat down in the captain’s chair. “I have to tell you something.” When he nodded, she said, “Something that may make you toss me off the boat.”
He took hold of her hand. “Nothing you could say would do that, Christian.”
“Wait until you hear it,” she warned. “The other night I got a call from Italy.”
As Jamys listened, Chris told him about her petition to be recognized as a tresora, and then related the response from Padrone Ramas. That they would assign such an impossible task to a mortal angered him, but he concealed it from her. It was only when she mentioned the council’s determination to prevent Richard Tremayne from acquiring the gems that he understood the source of her anxiety.
“So that’s why I originally offered to help you.” She sounded ashamed now. “I thought maybe I might be able to find the emeralds before you did, or send you in the wrong direction, or something like that. Then I could give the gems to the council, make them happy, get what I wanted, and save the world in the process.”
As clever as Chris was, she likely would have succeeded. “Why are you telling me now?”
“I can’t do it.” She made a helpless gesture. “Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to. I’ve been working my ass off to train and learn protocol and everything else the council requires. Becoming a tresora is all I’ve thought about for the last three years. I might not have the right bloodlines and pedigrees, but the Kyn are my family. I want them to feel the same about me. But if that means I have to step on your hopes and dreams, I have to give it up. I just can’t do that.”
She had spoken from the heart, and Jamys felt his own clench in response. The sound of her voice breaking over the last of her words made it impossible for him not to touch her. He tugged her out of the chair and into his arms. He meant only to comfort her, but she lifted her face as he bent to touch his mouth to her brow, and their lips met.