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moonlight would stay with her a little while longer.
    Wouldn’t Casey be thrilled to know the treasure her father had always talked about was right under their noses?
    She pulled one of the stones up from the floor, but there was only sand beneath it. She dug deeper. Still nothing.
    She tore up another stone, and another, until the moonlight ceased to shine on the spot where she’d found the first of the treasure, but there were no more rings, no more chains.
    Crawling to the last bit of floor that was still lit by moonbeams, she started to dig, but her fingers came to a sudden stop.
    A footprint seemed to rise up from the sand.
    The heavy impression of a man’s boot. Therewas no mistaking the heel, the rounded toe. Or the size.
    Oh, God!
    Another print rested beside it, and another at a different angle. She turned and saw the remains of another print—one that she’d crawled through. Even in the darkness, she could see more prints crossing to the door, some appearing as if the man had stumbled and dragged his feet across the floor.
    She felt her heart begin to beat hard inside her chest. Faster. Faster.
    She stood, jerking quickly to look out the window, then back once more to the floor. Her body trembled, goosebumps rose on her arms, and slowly she put her bare foot inside one of the prints.
    So large. So very, very large.
    Her lips quivered as she again looked out into the dark. Night had crept in far too fast.
    And someone—a stranger—was on the island.

Chapter 3
    There was a laughing Devil in his sneer ,
    That raised emotions both of rage and fear…
    L ORD B YRON , T HE C ORSAIR: C ANTO I
    T he dizziness had gone, but Black Heart woke from a deep, dreamless sleep with a gnawing in his belly so strong that he no longer thought about dying from the wound to his head or the hangman’s noose. Hunger alone would surely do him in.
    Darkness had rolled across the island, and with the night came his chance to move around undetected, a skill he’d learned many a year ago while hiding from Her Majesty’s men. Someday he hoped he could again set foot in the homes of the gentlemen who’d once called him friend, sup at their tables, drink their wine, and romance their daughters. But he imagined that day would not come anytime soon.
    He’d made too many enemies. Lost all his friends.
    He laughed at the irony. Such is the life of a pirate , where the only friend he needed was a steady ship beneath his feet.
    An armed galley like Satan’s Revenge . He had to get back to her, and suddenly he remembered what he had planned before falling to sleep.
    Cautiously he peered over the top of the sand dune, hoping no one else had come to the island while he’d slept. Hoping, too, that the woman and child had retreated to the fortress to spend the night.
    Across the beach he could see the vessel resting on her keel. She hadn’t been moved, there were no signs of anyone around, and the incoming tide rapidly approached her hull.
    He smiled, knowing he’d soon be on the open sea, back on course once more.
    Slipping away from his resting place, he crossed the deserted beach, keeping his ears and eyes attuned for any sign of trouble.
    He neared the vessel. Her white surface glimmered in the moonlight seeping through the clouds. Hesitantly he touched her hull, marveling at the wondrous wood, sleek and smooth, like the jewels encrusting the hilt of his blade. Her mast was constructed of the same curious material, and her sails…by God! Her sails were extraordinary, made entirely of a fabric he could only liken to silk. The finest and richest of silks, like the bolts he’d taken off a merchantman bound for Spain.
    He longed to test this small craft on the water. How easily he could envision the feel of her beneath his feet, the flap of her sails as they filled with wind, speeding her across the waves.
    Water lapped against her side, at his ankles. Soon she’d right herself,