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"Married?"
"No, never."
"Come close?"
"Maybe once."
"What happened?"
"She was killed."
Maeve could see that Pitt had never quite bridged the chasm separating sorrow and bittersweet memory. She regretted asking the question and felt embarrassed. She was instinctively drawn to him and wanted to burrow into his mind. She guessed that he was the kind of man who longed for something deeper than a casual physical relationship, and she knew that insincere flirting held no attraction for him.
"Her name was Summer," he continued quietly. "It was a long time ago."
"I'm sorry," said Maeve softly.
"Her eyes were gray and her hair red, but she looked much like you."
"I'm flattered."
He was about to ask her about her boys but stopped himself, realizing it would spoil the intimacy of the moment. Two people alone, well, almost alone, in a world of moon, stars and a black restless sea.
Devoid of humans and solid ground, thousands of kilometers of fluid nothingness surrounded them. It was all too easy to forget where they were and imagine themselves sailing across the bay of some tropical island.
"You also bear an incredible resemblance to your great-great-great-grandmother," he said.
She raised her head and gazed at him. "How could you possibly know I look like her?"
"The painting on the yacht, of Betsy Fletcher."
"I must tell you about Betsy sometime," said Maeve, curling up in his arms like a cat.
"No need," he said smiling. "I feel I know her almost as well as you. A very heroic woman, arrested and sent to the penal colony at Botany Bay, survivor of the raft of the Gladiator. She helped save the lives of Captain `Bully' Scaggs and Jess Dorsett, a convicted highwayman who became her husband and your great-great-great grandfather. After landing on what became known as Gladiator Island, Betsy discovered one of the world's largest diamond mines and founded a dynasty. Back in my hangar I have an entire dossier on the Dorsetts, beginning with Betsy and Jess and continuing through their descendants down to you and your reptilian sisters."
She sat up again, a sudden anger in her snapping blue eyes. "You had me investigated, you rat, probably by your CIA."
Pitt shook his head. "Not you so much as the chronicles of the Dorsett family of diamond merchants.
My interest comes under the heading of research, which was conducted by a fine old gentleman who would be very indignant if he knew you referred to him as an agent with the CIA."
"You don't know as much about my family as you might think," she said loftily. "My father and his forefathers were very private men."
"Come to think of it," he said soothingly, "there is one member of your cast who intrigues me more than the others."
She looked at him lopsidedly. "If not me, who then?"
"The sea monster in your lagoon."
The answer took her completely by surprise. "You can't mean Basil?"
He looked blank a moment. "Who?"
"Basil is not a sea monster, he's a sea serpent. There's a distinct difference. I've seen him on three different occasions with my own eyes."
Then Pitt broke out laughing. "Basil? You call him Basil?"
"You wouldn't laugh if he got you in his jaws," she said waspishly.
