Still Waters: The Island / Below the Surface. Heather Graham

owns a boat and I don’t. I see some of the most luxurious and beautiful yachts in the world. And meet some of the nicest people. Mostly.”

      “Mostly?” He offered her a slow, wry smile.

      “Mostly,” she repeated, refusing to say more. Had the tension in her relationship with Amanda been so evident to a stranger?

      “It’s always interesting when you get around boats,” he said. “Some people are as rich as Croesus and you’d never know it, they’re just so down to earth. Some are as poor as church mice, putting everything they have into staying on the water. And they’re just as nice. But don’t ever kid yourself. The sea can breed demons.”

      She looked up at him, startled, but he was rising, looking toward the group that had drawn around the fire.

      Had he been warning her about something?

      Maybe himself?

      The light had faded in earnest. No more deep blues, purples, streaks of gold or any other color. Night had come.

      In the far distance, a faint glow could be seen, coming from the lights along the heavily populated coast of south Florida. But on the island, there was nothing except for the glow from the fire. Around them, the foliage of the inner island had become blanketed in shadows.

      The wind stirred, creating a rustle.

      “The girls want to hear some ghost stories,” Lee called out to Keith.

      “I said pirate stories,” Amber said, laughing.

      “Pirates would be ghosts, by now,” Ben told his daughter, amused.

      “Most of the time,” Keith said, moving toward the fire. “Except that there are modern-day pirates. All over the world.”

      “Too real,” Amanda protested with a shiver. Of course, she was still clad in nothing but the skinny bathing suit. Sure, they were on a semitropical island. But the sea breezes at night could be cool.

      Keith noticed her discomfort. He slipped off his shirt and draped it around her shoulders. She flashed him a beautiful smile. He smiled back.

      It was a simple gesture of courtesy, but it made Beth lower her head, wondering how she could allow someone like Amanda to irritate her so much.

      “Okay, so we want an old-fashioned pirate ghost story, right?” Keith asked. He didn’t remain behind Amanda but strode toward the center of the group, closer to the fire. He hunkered down by the flames, forcing Beth to wonder if he was aware that the flames added a haunting quality to his classic features.

      “I’ll tell you the tale of the Sea Star and La Doña. Both were proud ships with billowing white sails! But one was English, and the other sailed under the flag of Spain. The Sea Star sailed from London in the year of our Lord 1725. Her captain was a fierce man, loyal to the core to the king. England and Spain were hardly on the best of terms, and Jonathan Pierce, the captain, was eager to seize a Spanish ship full of gold from the New World.

      “Captain Pierce, however, wasn’t sailing alone. Along with his crew, he was carrying a party of nobility. One of them was the Lady Marianne Howe, daughter of the governor of one of the small islands, and he was unaware that a year earlier, her ship had run aground on coral shoals and she’d been saved by a handsome young Spaniard, Alonzo Jimenez. Of course, under the circumstances, despite the fact that the young Spaniard and his crew had simply returned the Englishmen and women he had rescued to the governor in Virginia—asking no ransom, no reward, and ignoring the hostilities between the countries—there could be no happy ending for Marianne and Alonzo. Not only was he a Spaniard, but an untitled one, at that.

      “Still, Marianne had managed to keep in contact with him, smuggling out love letters. She was ready to cast aside her title, her fortune and her family, all for Alonzo. He had arranged to hide his ship here, around the curve of Calliope Key—”

      “Calliope Key?” Kim interrupted. “Where we are now?”

      “Of course. What good would a ghost story be if it weren’t about this island?” Keith asked, smiling slightly.

      His voice was perfect for the tale, Beth thought. It was a rich, deep voice. She had to admit that she was as seduced as the others.

      “Oh, right,” Amber murmured.

      Beth looked at her niece with a certain amusement. Amber was—and always had been—capable of sitting through the scariest horror movie. Now, however, her eyes were very wide.

      Keith Henson—whatever he was really up to—had a talent for storytelling. With the strange fire glow on his face and the deep, intense rasp of his voice, he held them all enthralled.

      “Go on,” Ben said, his profound interest surprising Beth.

      “Well, the young lovers never intended harm toward anyone. Marianne was a strong swimmer. She simply meant to get close enough to her lover’s ship to escape into the sea, then find refuge on the island until he could come to her. With any luck, the Sea Star would have been long gone before anyone noticed she wasn’t aboard.

      “But while Marianne was conducting her daring escape into the sea, Captain Pierce was sending spies out in his small boats to get the lay of the land—well, the sea. Just as Marianne was reaching shore, news reached Pierce about the Spaniard hiding past the reefs. He manned his guns. Meanwhile, Alonzo had taken a boat to shore...this shore, right here, where our fire now burns. Just as he and Marianne met, the first cannons exploded. It was a fierce battle, and Alonzo was brokenhearted, watching his friends lead the fight...and die. His ship, La Doña, was sunk. Many of his men tried to swim to shore but were cut down by the English before they could reach landfall. Marianne was desperate that her lover not be caught, but Alonzo was brave to a fault. When Captain Pierce came ashore, following the Spanish crew, he prepared to fight. Their swords clashed so hotly that sparks flew. Then Captain Pierce was unarmed. He had lost the fight. Alonzo, however, refused to deliver the coup de grâce. He stepped back, and said that all he wanted was a small boat for himself and Marianne. Captain Pierce showed no gratitude for the fact that his life had been spared. His men came upon them, and he ordered that Alonzo should hang. Marianne was hysterical, heartbroken, and ashamed that her countryman could behave with so little honor. As Alonzo was dragged away, Pierce assured her that she would forget their enemy, and that he would be her new lover and her husband. Marianne wiped away her tears and approached him, and no doubt Captain Pierce assumed she was ready to accept his offer. But she reached into his belt and drew his pistol. She shot him dead, but too late to save her lover, for even as the shot rang out, Alonzo swung from the hangman’s rope, crying out her name and his love—right before his neck snapped. Marianne, desperate in her grief, turned the gun on herself.

      “And as that shot went off, the Sea Star suddenly moved...drifting out to sea. The Englishmen on the island, stunned and frozen by what had occurred before their eyes, moved too slowly. They raced for their longboats and made to sea. But neither they nor the Sea Star were ever seen again. Sometimes, they say, at night, the ship can be seen, riding the wind and the waves, only to disappear into the clouds or over the horizon.”

      “Oh...” Sandy breathed.

      “And what about Marianne, Alonzo and Captain Pierce?” Amber asked.

      “They haunt the island, of course,” Keith said. “At night, when you hear whispering in the breeze, when the palm fronds move, when the wind moans...what you hear is their voices as they roam the island for eternity.”

      “Oh, jeez,” Kim groaned.

      “Oh...” Amber breathed.

      Keith looked at Ben apologetically, afraid that his story had been too effective.

      “You’re not scared, are you?” Kim demanded.

      “Of course not,” Amber protested. She laughed, but it was a brittle sound. “Don’t be silly. Sandy, you’re not scared, are you?”

      “About staying on a haunted island?” Sandy asked. “No. I mean, the tents are all pretty