Chapter Thirty-Seven

It was a balmy night shortly before Ashia’s first birthday and, through wide open doors, the distant hush of the Tyrrhenian Sea drifted on a rosemary-scented breeze. Amelia woke slowly, aroused by the feather-light touch of Zach’s lips on her neck, the tender stroke of his fingers along the curve of her hip. Sighing, she stretched and rolled onto her back with a smile. ‘It’s early,’ she whispered.

‘Mmmmm …’ His breath was warm, fingers trailing devastating patterns across the sensitive skin of her belly, igniting a familiar and irresistible fire. ‘Didn’t mean to wake you.’

‘Yes you did.’

She felt him smile against her mouth as he kissed her, the soft fall of his tangled hair caressing her face and shoulders. ‘Go back to sleep then,’ he murmured, even as his lips found that spot beneath her ear that made her just …

‘Fiend!’ she hissed, arching helplessly against him, relishing the pressure of his taut, hard body against hers. He was oil to her flame, an incendiary touch that she craved like the very air she breathed.

His lips found her breast just as his fingers slipped between her legs, making her gasp. He grinned, ‘Wanton doxy …’

‘Well, you’d certainly know, you … Oh God …’ He was too good, played her like a fiddle, and she was helpless beneath his practiced touch.

Almost helpless.

He rolled willingly onto his back when she pushed against his shoulder, knowing what she wanted as she claimed his mouth for the deepest of kisses and pressed herself, for a moment, against the entire length of him, as if it were possible to make themselves one in body as well as in soul. Then slowly, still lost in his kiss, she sat up and took him inside her, grinning at the rasp she drew from his throat. His head sank back, eyes heavy-lidded, and hands resting loosely upon her hips as she began to move, to find their rhythm.

‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, stroking her skin almost absently.

She watched him, letting the heat build slowly, deliciously. Capricious as the sea, Zach Hazard had many moods and loved her differently with each. At times he was a tempest, all stormy passion and towering seas. Other times he danced like sunshine on the waves, light and teasing, laughing and adventurous. Then there were times such as this, with deep, calm waters and the sense of a storm on the horizon.

She leaned down and kissed him, delighting in the feel of his fingers threading through her hair. He could be so gentle at times, so tender, so in need of her love. Yet so far away. ‘Where are you?’ she whispered against his cheek. ‘Where are you, Zach?’

He smiled, unfocused and distracted, and she knew he was close to the edge. ‘The end,’ he breathed, fingers tightening on her hips as he began to move with her, quickening their pace, ‘the beginning … It’s all the same, Amy. It’s all the bloody same …’

Their breathing grew ragged, tumbling together as they both reached for release. The heat was a fire now, raging in the pit of her belly and desperate for freedom. Her hands braced against his chest, their pace urgent, his heartbeat a frantic tattoo beneath her fingers.

Suddenly he was lifting her up and off, rolling her onto her side. ‘Like this,’ he growled into her ear, moulding her body to his.

She gasped her agreement as he pushed in from behind, his clever fingers dancing like liquid fire across the place where they met, his kiss biting down hard upon her shoulder.

Head spinning, filled entirely and completely by him, she clutched a fistful of his hair in one hand, arching back to meet the thrust of his hips with her own until the world began to tremble. She thought she might die there, on the cusp, poised like a bird about to take flight. Her lungs begged for air, his name a whimper, a plea, a curse, a command, until, with a touch of magic, he drew her slowly, inexorably over the precipice, sending her thrashing and shuddering into a white-light bliss that blinded and deafened, transporting her to the heavens. But even as she fell he was still moving, hard and hot inside her, his fingers holding her tight against him until, with an inarticulate cry, he fell gasping and sweat-slick against her shoulder.

Heavy limbs draped across her then, and she sank gratefully into his arms, letting herself drift among the stars awhile.

Later, just as the sun broke the horizon, she surfaced again and felt his fingertips tracing a thoughtful line along the length of her arm. She said nothing, though threaded her fingers with his and burrowed back against him, waiting.

After a while, in a quiet voice, he said, ‘Today I’ll do it, then.’

Amelia rolled over, unsurprised yet heartsick nonetheless. ‘Zach, are you sure?’

‘Must be done, lest we wish to lose this slice of paradise to some prince or other. That frigate passed too close last week.’

‘They didn’t see her.’

‘Only a matter of time.’

She didn’t argue, for she knew he was right. With a sigh, she said, ‘The Articles, too?’

‘What’s in it that’s not inked upon us, Amy? Nothing that’s worth remembering, that’s for sure. Ashia’s taken it with her milk; we’ve done our duty by her, but perhaps others will have a need of it, in time.’

She studied his face, the curious certainty in his eyes reminding her how he’d always skirted the edges of the world. ‘You really believe that?’

‘I do.’

She traced a finger across his shoulder. ‘Shall I come with you, on the Serenità?’

‘No. It’s a leave I must take on my own. A lady of her age deserves that respect.’

Amelia lifted her lips to kiss his forehead. ‘So she does.’

With a sigh, Zach got up and began to dress.

‘We’ll wait for you,’ she said. ‘We’ll wait on the cliffs.’

He nodded and pulled a shirt over his head. ‘At sunset, then. I’ve a mind to spend the day with her first.’

Tears tightened Amelia’s throat, stealing her voice.

He glanced over, as if suspecting her weakness, and she forced a brave smile. ‘I love you, Zach.’

For a moment, he studied her, dauntingly perceptive. When he spoke, his voice was measured. ‘The greatest treasure I ever stole lies within these walls, Amy.’ He crossed the room and took her hand. ‘What I lose today is nothing to what I would lose should our haven be discovered.’ He reached down and touched her cheek, as if wiping away the tears that had not yet fallen. ‘All will be well, I swear it. This is nothing but the severing of ties with a life long gone.’

‘I know.’ Hanging her head, she let a tear fall on the sheet before wiping it away with a finger. Then she sniffed and looked up. ‘Go then, and let it be done.’

Zach squeezed her hand once, and then let it fall into her lap. He glanced at Ashia’s crib and drew a steadying breath, then he was gone, bound for the rocky shore and the sea.

Zach walked her from prow to stern, walked every inch of his beautiful ship.

She had sat at anchor in this azure sea for almost two years now, too big to sail without a crew, too deep in the draft to come closer to shore.

He’d offered her to Brookes, but the old goat had shaken his head and muttered of a secret hoard north of Haiti and a woman waiting in Port-au-Prince. Too old, he’d said, to captain buccaneers, even had there been any left in the dazzling waters of the Caribbean. How could Zach argue with that, when he’d found his own secret treasure and planned to live in paradise the rest of his days?

The others, too, had gone their own ways. Shiner, he’d heard, was somewhere in Venice, although what he might be doing there Zach could hardly imagine – haranguing passers-by with his profound observations on life, perhaps? Or perhaps robbing them blind. More than likely a devilish combination of the two, and he’d not condemn the man for that. Zach Hazard had done worse, and ill-deserved the glorious happiness he’d plundered from the Serpent’s captain, wherever he might be.

So the Hawk had come to rest here, beautiful against the blue skies, a memento of life past. The world had moved on, Ile Sainte Anne was no more, and the Gypsy Hawk was as anachronistic as the old salts that still clung to the remains of Port Royal and called themselves pirates.

Much worse, though, was the fact that she drew the eye of passing ships and Zach knew it would not be long before some eager young lieutenant recognised her for what she was – the last great pirate ship left afloat. Zach Hazard and his Pirate Queen were still wanted and, where once he might have dared the hempen collar with a gleam in his eye and a challenge on his lips, now all he could think of was Ashia left alone.

The Gypsy Hawk had been his first love, his teacher, his mistress, but he was a grown man now and saw her for what she was – no more than a ship. She’d given him freedom, yes, but her freedom had never been more than the freedom to run, to leave everything behind and reach for the horizon. As soon as he’d held his child in his arms he’d understood that running was no freedom at all. He wanted to live now, to see Ashia grow beautiful like her mother, to see a son born, or another daughter – to live a life so much deeper than the vain chase for fortune and glory that had marked his youth.

He walked the deck, fingers trailing across the sun-warmed wood and the lines unused for too long, and it occurred to him then that the Hawk had never really been his at all. She’d always belonged to the ocean, to the misty world between sunlight and shadows, and he thought she always would. Her destiny, perhaps, had always been greater than his.

The sun was low on the horizon, a golden ball in the west sinking behind the rocky isle of Salina and the far-distant Filicudi. He stopped and gazed awhile, feeling the rise of an evening breeze from the east, sensing the Hawk chafing at the anchors with which he had bound her for so long, for too long.

‘Soon,’ he told her, quietly. ‘Soon you’ll be free.’

Turning away from the sunset, Zach headed into the great cabin that had once been his – and before him had belonged to other captains long since past. On the chart table there was nothing but the ironbound chest he’d carried from the vault beneath Ile Sainte Anne, and beside it the Articles themselves.

He ran his hand over the aged leather cover, remembering sharply his father’s gnarled fingers as he’d pored over the text in search of some hidden nuance about which Zach had cared so little. Even now, Amy cared more about the aged tome than he. Though here, at the end, Zach could see beauty in it – and a future too, perhaps, when all men subscribed to the ideals that quickened Amelia’s heart. They’d not live to see it themselves, of that he was certain. But he hoped Ashia, or her children, might live in such a world.

The thought comforted him as he lifted the book and set it inside the chest, closing the lid and sealing it with the lock he’d had made especially for the purpose. He was still Zach Hazard, after all, and he would leave his mark.

When it was done, he rested both hands on the chest and, for a moment, bowed his head. No profound words came to mind, beyond the most simple of all – farewell. His heart, though, was clenched tight as he walked back on deck and saw the sun like fire on the horizon.

With care and precision, he let loose the anchor chains and felt the ship roll beneath his feet as if she could sniff the wind already. ‘Easy,’ he said gently, returning to the mainmast. ‘Not long now.’

On the deck, he’d set three flagons of oil and he lifted them one by one, strewing the content over the main deck, over the quarterdeck steps, and down to the forecastle. It would be enough, in this dry heat.

His hands shook and his throat was tight with a sudden and overpowering grief as he returned to the main mast and freed the lantern that hung there. He tried to take a deep breath, but it was no more than a shudder and he found himself leaning into the warm wood, pressing a kiss to her mast as his fingers stroked the familiar wood for the last time.

After a moment he calmed and, collecting himself, drew his knife and slashed the line that released the mainsail. It unfurled and caught the wind, billowing and snapping like life itself. ‘Farewell, my Gypsy Hawk,’ he whispered. ‘May you always have fair winds and following seas.’

With that, he dashed the burning lantern onto the deck and watched as the flames danced over the wood, licking and curling across the deck as the Hawk caught the wind and began to sail.

Maybe it was the smoke that stung his eyes then, or the flames that blinded him, for suddenly everything was a blur and Zach was forced to turn away – to leap onto the rail and suck in a cool breath. There he paused a moment, arms outstretched and face lifted to the dying sun as, behind him, the fire crackled and spat. On the rocky cliffs of Panarea, he thought he saw the glint of Amelia’s hair and he knew that she stood waiting for him, waiting with Ashia for his return. He closed his eyes, felt the roll of the Hawk beneath his feet for one last time. Then he dived.

It seemed for a moment that he flew, free as the birds, before he plunged deep and deeper into the crystal waters that refracted the fire of the sun and of his burning ship, and somehow he swam through them both.

Zach broke the surface with a gasp, but did not look back as he stroked hard for the Serenità and thence home. He docked the sloop easily on the ancient quay and determinedly climbed the steep path up the cliff, to where Amy would be waiting. Until he had her in his arms he could not look back – would not look back.

She greeted him silently, with Ashia on her hip and her arm outstretched. For a moment, he clung to her as if she were all that kept him on his feet and a strange broken sound came from his throat, but then Ashia squirmed and complained and it was as if his heart started beating again.

‘Come here,’ he said roughly, taking her from Amy and pressing a kiss to her rose-petal skin; warm and soft and real, this glorious life he’d forged.

He sniffed and steadied his breath, finding Amelia watching him with her heart in her eyes. ‘All’s well,’ he said, taking her hand and drawing her towards the cliff edge. ‘Come with me and we’ll watch her leave.’

‘I’m not sure I can bear it,’ she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. ‘I’m not sure I can bear to see the end.’

‘It’s not the end. Not for her, nor us. It’s just the beginning of a new story, a new and glorious story, Amy. It’s the beginning of a whole new world.’

With his daughter in one arm and his love in the other, Zach Hazard drew close to the edge of the cliff. The sky was aflame, but its shades of gold were nothing to the brazen conflagration of the Gypsy Hawk as she sailed, brave and beautiful, to the far horizon and beyond.