The Pirate & The Adventurer & The Cowboy

of the staff, as far as Kate could discern. Life was definitely more relaxed on a South Seas island.

    She would have the castle to herself, and that was exactly what she wanted. Her curiosity had become overwhelming.

    Earlier in the week she had dutifully signed on for the official tour of the castle and had been bitterly disappointed. An enthusiastic guide had led the small group of interested guests along the winding path to the picturesque ruins, but no one had been allowed to do any in-depth exploring.

    The young man had told everyone the story of Roger Hawthorne, a rather sanitized version compared to the edition Kate was reading in Amelia's diary.

    The Hawthornes had lived on AmethystIsland for many years and had produced several children, despite Amelia's initial opposition to the marriage. That information had amused the small crowd. The family had eventually moved back to England when Roger's older brother had died without an heir, leaving the estates and a title to Roger.

    The castle had remained empty ever since.

    "And in such a dangerous state of disrepair that the resort management allows visitors only as far as the front hall at the present time," the guide had concluded. "Renovations are planned and someday soon large sections of the castle will be open for viewing."

    But Kate had seen no sign of the renovations, nor any evidence of workmen around the place. She had, however, seen two sets of fresh footprints in the dust on a circular staircase at the back of the shadowy hall. Something told her the prints had been left by Jared and his large friend Max.

    Kate had awakened this morning with the sure and certain knowledge that she could no longer contain her anxious curiosity. She had to know what was going on. Her intimate relationship with Jared made it impossible to ignore his mysterious comings and goings any longer.

    The castle was supposed to be a crumbling ruin, forbidden to everyone, yet Jared had taken Max Butterfield up to it at midnight on at least two occasions, and the two men had apparently gone well beyond the front hall.

    Kate was rapidly becoming convinced that whatever was going on at the castle at night was either illegal or dangerous or both. She had to know the truth.

    It was a long hike along the narrow path to the Hawthorne castle. The route wound through the dense tropical growth above Crystal Cove and continued on for some distance through more heavy foliage until, with no warning, it ended abruptly in front of the old stone ruin.

    Kate came to a halt and caught her breath while she studied the dark pile of stone in the dawn light.

    The Hawthorne castle was more of a well-fortified stone house than a true castle, she decided. It was not a huge place, just a three-story structure pierced with narrow windows. There were no outer walls protecting a courtyard, gatehouses, moats or ramparts. There was, however, a tower that rose above the main building from which Roger Hawthorne had no doubt kept an eagle eye on the sea. From his aerie he could have watched for both opportunities and competitors.

    The section of the castle that faced the sea was a solid wall of stone that merged with the dark lava that rose out of the waves. On the sea side, the castle was impregnable. The only approach was from the jungle side of the island.

    During the tour, the guide had explained that Hawthorne and his crew had used the beach above Crystal Cove as a wharf. Cargoes had been unloaded, goods had been traded and business had been conducted on the spot where the resort now stood. The wealthy planters and others from nearby islands had been eager to buy whatever Hawthorne managed to get hold of and no one worried too much about the original owners of the goods.

    Kate took a deep breath and walked cautiously through the massive stone entryway, following the path the tour guide had used the previous day. A moment later she found herself in the shadowy, high-ceilinged hall.

    An eerie sensation rippled through her as she switched on her small flashlight. When she had stood in this room with a crowd full of curious resort guests, everything had seemed quite interesting. But this morning she felt as if she were standing in a room full of ghosts.

    "Not exactly an English country house, Amelia," Kate whispered. "How did you stand it? I'll bet you were really annoyed when you realized you were supposed to set up housekeeping in this joint."

    Kate walked across the floor to the circular stone