Swearing, Alan pushed past Esti and leaped back down the steps. She huddled against the far wall, peering out through the window. The wind shifted for an instant. Rain blasted through the opening almost horizontally, spraying Esti with water and leaves. Her ears popped with the change in pressure. She lunged against the counter, but the wind abruptly turned and pulled the debris back out.

Alan reappeared, carrying a toolbox and a piece of plywood larger than the window. He dropped the toolbox on the floor and yanked out a hammer. With a grimace, he lifted the plywood to cover the opening, wincing as it pinned his gloved fingers against the frame with the suction of the wind. Esti reached up to hold the wood in place for him, and he glanced at her, startled. He obviously hadn’t expected help. They both staggered back as the wind changed again for an instant, then Esti braced herself against the table. Alan began nailing the plywood to the window frame as quickly as he could. Another gust of wind battered it, and Esti suppressed a shriek as her feet slipped.

The plywood steadied as Rafe appeared beside her, his clothes dripping clean water on the floor. As they forced the wood back against the opening, Alan gave him a blank look. Rafe just glared and Alan started again, moving with desperate efficiency. They didn’t relax until the plywood was firmly in place with a dozen nails.

“These nails won’t hold for long if the wind—” Rafe began, but Alan was already nodding.

Without a word, he disappeared down the steps.

Rafe finally looked at Esti, and she forced herself to meet his eyes. Before she could protest, his arms were around her. He felt wonderful—so strong and loving and protective—and she nestled hopelessly against him, gasping as he pressed his lips to her tangled hair. By the time the hurricane passed, either her betrayal of Alan would be complete, or Rafe would discover she’d promised . . .

She couldn’t let herself think about it.

“Are you okay?” He spoke into her ear.

She nodded, holding her breath. “What happened to Greg?”

“He woke up with a headache. Your jumbee was a lot nicer to him than he was to me.”

She sagged in relief. “How did you get here?”

“Everyone told me I’d have to wait until after the storm passed. I said to hell with ’em all and swam here with my scuba gear.”

“You’re crazy,” she said, holding him more tightly.

They heard a crash against the stairs. Esti pulled away from Rafe and leaned over the railing to look. Alan had moved one of the empty bookcases to the base of the steps and was starting up, pushing it ahead of him.

“Christ!” Rafe exploded. Esti huddled against the wall as he swept past her, reaching down to grab the upper end. Together he and Alan maneuvered the bookcase into the kitchen loft. Esti tried to stay out of their way as they placed it on its side on the table and pushed it against the plywood window cover.

As soon as it was in place, Alan glanced at Rafe, then silently went back down the stairs. This time Rafe was ready. They wedged the second bookcase solidly between the first one and the refrigerator.

“That will hold.” Esti barely heard Alan above the wind. He looked at her, then quickly looked away. “Come downstairs. It’s the safest part of the house.” He brushed past her, cringing as their arms accidentally touched. Rafe’s eyebrows drew together in a frown as he watched Alan start down the steps.

To Esti’s surprise, Alan continued down the second staircase as soon as they reached the living room. Esti looked around as she walked into his bedroom. Compared to the chaos upstairs, calm permeated the cave-like room. Irregular rocky walls framed a stone-paved floor. A wooden wardrobe sat in the corner, its doors neatly closed; a tidy cot rested against one wall. The bedside table held piles of books, along with an old-fashioned wind-up clock showing the time to be after seven.

Alan planted himself against the opposite wall, his stance rigid and embarrassed. Rafe remained in the doorway, every bit as uncomfortable as Alan. Esti studied them both, completely at a loss. She didn’t know what to say to either of them, and exhaustion began creeping along her skin, reaching through her blood and deep into her bones. The pounding of the sea echoed faintly in the caves and rocks of the cay beneath them.

With a shrug, she leaned on the wall between them, nervously shaking her head as Rafe took a step toward her.

“What? I’m not allowed to touch you in front of him?” He stopped as something else caught his eye. “It’s the necklace,” he said in shock. “You’re wearing his necklace again.”

Esti winced. She’d forgotten about the necklace.

Before she could move, Rafe launched himself at Alan. “You put a curse on it, didn’t you? You are holding her soul with the thing.”

“Rafe,” she yelled, “stop!”

She heard the thud as they hit the wall.

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Flinging herself at them, Esti burrowed between their struggling bodies. “I won’t let you fight again,” she cried. “This is insane.”

Alan seemed stunned by the impact of the stone wall behind him, but Rafe was still moving. Esti saw the flash of a dark fist, and Alan grunted. With the hopeless knowledge of having done all this before, Esti forced herself in the way of Rafe’s other fist. Pain exploded in her head.

“Esti!”

She stumbled away and sank to the floor, holding her nose. She could see them pulling back from each other, staring down at her, freezing in horror. She didn’t know who had called her name.

Glancing at her bloody nose, Alan took a furious step toward Rafe.

“Fine!” Esti struggled to her feet again. “Go ahead and kill each other. I don’t care anymore.” She half ran to the bedroom door, sobbing and wiping her nose on her shirt. “I’ll be outside with the storm.”

“Esti—”

“No—”

“Shut up, both of you.” Sniffing blood, she turned around and glared at them from the doorway. “The Three Stooges,” she said bitterly. “Let’s take turns hurting each other to see who’s the best at it. Isn’t there anything else around here we can do for fun?”

For a moment no one spoke, and then Alan cleared his throat.

“The necklace,” he replied, his voice almost as bitter as hers.

Esti looked at him in confusion, holding the hem of her shirt against her face.

“Huh?” Rafe said.

“Give me the necklace,” Alan demanded. He held a gloved hand out toward Esti.

Recoiling at the fierce look in his eyes, she quickly unfastened it.

Although he barely sounded in control, his eyes softened as she looked at him. “Please throw it to me,” he said. “If I come over and take it from you, the testosterone level in the room will probably rise.”

Rafe gave an involuntary snort.

Esti hesitated, then tossed the little chain toward Alan. It snaked across the room to land, sparkling, in his hand.

“Rafe thinks I hold your soul with this, but he’s wrong. You hold my soul with it.” Holding the necklace in front of him, Alan began pulling it apart, each tiny piece falling to the floor at his feet. “I release you from a burden you never asked for.”

Esti watched in silence, until the chain was nothing but a small pile of golden sparkles.

“All that glitters is not gold,” Alan whispered.

His words tugged at her heart. Was he releasing her from her unholy promise?

“That’s gotta be Shakespeare,” Rafe said. He also sounded subdued. “I don’t get this at all. I don’t know what I thought I’d find here, but it sure wasn’t a hot shower and some home repair, followed by me beating up my girlfriend, and then a bit of Shakespeare.”

Esti heard a faint huff from Alan, and she almost smiled.

“I figured you’d be trying to kill her,” Rafe said, “or some fate worse than death. But you’re acting like the gentleman while I’m the frickin’ bad guy. I’m really sorry, Esti.”

She gave him a tight smile. “If you and Alan can treat each other with a little respect, I might forgive both of you.”

“Respect, huh?” Rafe slowly shook his head, then turned to Alan. “I really don’t get any of this. You’ve been screwing with her head since before Christmas, and all she does is defend you. I don’t get how you can beat the crap out of me like you did last week, then save my skin as soon as I get here. I would have killed you twice already since you let me in, but my damsel in distress is busy fixing your broken windows and defending you as stupidly as she defends me. Your whole island is a freak show. I mean—where does your electricity even come from, since you disabled the wind generators? I totally don’t get it.”

“Wind generators?” Esti said, startled. “What wind generators?”

“The ones I saw on my way in here. I never thought of hiding one in a cave,” Rafe said, glaring at Alan, “but it’s even more brilliant than the parabolic reflector above the stage. The caves funnel the trade winds, and he convinces people the place is haunted by the noise. Even though he took the blades off for the storm, I’ve heard lots of ’em in southern California. They sound like they’re screaming when they run.”

Esti stared at Alan in shock. My lady protests at the power I take from her, he’d said about the horrible wailing. Wind power.

“Batteries store the power,” Alan replied softly. “Those are also in the cave. Unfortunately they’re not large, so I imagine the electricity will be out before midnight.”

“That whole cave thing is wild,” Rafe said, looking interested despite himself. “Esti told me how you brought her in last time, but if I hadn’t had my scuba gear, I never would have made it. I don’t know how you work past those rocks, even in calm seas. How did you get in through that storm swell? It couldn’t have been in the little rowboat I saw.”

Alan’s mouth twitched. “I’ve had some practice.”

“You’re insane, mon.” Rafe shook his head, but Esti heard a note of reluctant admiration in his voice. “I really want to hate you, but you’re not what I expected.” He glanced at Esti, then shrugged. “Well, you sure got all the wrong people pissed off at you now. You’re in big trouble, once the hurricane is over.”

Alan was silent for a minute, then he also glanced at Esti. When he spoke again, his voice was subdued. “You’re not what I expected either.”

Esti rested her head against her knees again, completely exhausted. Rafe and Alan had somehow reached an uneasy truce; she just hoped it would last until the hurricane was over.

Curling into a ball on the cold floor, she fought an overwhelming longing for her mom. She would give anything right now for Aurora’s chirpy voice and the familiar smell of sandalwood. She wondered what Aurora was doing at this very moment. Hopefully not drowning her fears in a bottle of wine. Esti prayed she was at the theater, comforted by George and surrounded by concerned people.

Bracing herself, Esti opened her eyes. A blanket lay over her, another tucked beneath her head. Instead of the light, a hurricane lamp now flickered in the dim room. Rafe sat on the floor beside the door; Alan leaned against the far wall. They both looked tense and tired, despite their conversation, and she glanced at the wind-up clock on the bedside table. Long after midnight.

“You inherited your skin thing from him,” Rafe was saying in a tight voice, “but I thought he didn’t have any family. He got killed by my ancestors.”

“Elon Somand was not killed by your ancestors,” Alan retorted. “His slaves did not know how to swim, and they didn’t realize he could. He dragged one of his females with him when he escaped to Manchineel Cay, and she eventually bore him a son.”

Esti’s eyes widened.

“He built the foundations of this house,” Alan continued, “subsisting on the land, and happy to hide from a world that hated him.”

“I’d hide too,” Rafe said, then added suspiciously, “But that doesn’t explain you.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation, Rafe Solomon.”

“Alan.” Esti struggled to sit up. “I want to know about your family.”

Alan’s expression instantly softened as he looked at her.

“I think you owe it to me.” She kept her voice steady.

He sighed. “When my family came to claim Manchineel Cay, they did not expect to find Elon here. They took him back to Denmark with them, where he took great pleasure in excluding them from his will. He left the family fortune to his mulatto child of rape. So much for my noble heritage.”

Alan chuckled, bitterness deep in the soft sound. “The firstborn son has always inherited the fortune and the family name intact, defying Danish tradition. My father also inherited the family curse, and he rebuilt our ancient home on Manchineel Cay. My ruthless lady seems to have an affinity for the Somands.”

He was silent for a moment. “After my parents died, my uncle took me to Denmark for a few years, sucking away what money he could for himself until I was old enough for school. He took great delight in telling me that his brother was able to marry only after finding a woman as ugly as himself. He despised the fact that I was the sole heir to the Somand fortune, and used Boothsby Hall to justify wasting enormous amounts of my inheritance. The moment I was old enough to make my own legal decisions, Legard helped me come back here.”

The sadness in Alan’s expression was almost too much for Esti to bear.

“Needless to say,” he added, “my parents had nothing to do with anyone on Cariba. They found that the jumbee legends served them well, just as I have. It’s a compelling argument for people to stay away.”

Esti heard a strong, solitary gust of wind upstairs. “Is the hurricane over?” she asked weakly, wishing she knew something profound to say.

Alan’s expression was gentle. “The eye is upon us, but the wind is starting again. You slept for several hours.”

As Rafe abruptly scrambled to his feet, Esti shook her head in warning. She didn’t want to upset their fragile truce.

“What?” Glaring at her, he came to a stop. “I’m getting sick of this.”

Esti winced, wishing she hadn’t sat up.

“The necklace is gone,” Rafe said, “so what else is going on here? You’re hiding something from me.”

“Nothing is going on.” Her voice broke at the thought of her desperate, ridiculous promise.

“You’re still a lousy liar.” Rafe shoved himself away from the wall, his eyes on Alan. “And you’re still scared of him, aren’t you? He’s got a hold on you, even without the damn necklace.”

The wind upstairs was already rising to a distant roar, echoing the growing tension in the room.

“You swore you haven’t messed around with him; okay, I can believe that part. You say he’s your friend and he’ll never hurt you, and I think you actually buy that. But you’re wrong, babe, he’s got you fooled. You’ve been hurting because of him since the night I saw you doing Juliet.”

Rafe’s body was taut, his fists clenched so tightly that his dark knuckles paled. “Has it ever occurred to you that a guy doesn’t kidnap a woman with friendship in mind?”

Esti swallowed, trying not to whimper.

“He inherited a lot more from the monster of the islands than bad skin,” Rafe continued roughly. “He’s not the first in his family to take whatever he wants.”

Esti buried her face in her hands, violently shaking her head as Rafe’s arms went around her. He just held her more tightly when she tried to pull away. A sound from across the room made her look up. Alan had risen to his feet, his ugly face expressionless as he stared at her. Without a word, he tightened his jaw and strode out the door.