Forsaken Dreams (35 page)

Angeline’s arms flailed as she bobbed in the churning water. One minute her drenched copper hair popped above the waves, the next she vanished below the surface. James didn’t have much time. Groaning, he plowed forward. The water became sand, his limbs weak as noodles.

One more wave. Just one more wave, and he would reach her. Gathering his remaining strength, he ground his teeth together and punched through the sea then slid down the final trough. There she was! Her head sank beneath the water. He gulped in a deep breath and dove. Feet pounding, he swept his arms about in a frantic search. Water that felt as thick as molasses oozed between his fingers.

Lord, help
.

His lungs begged for air. He touched something. An arm. He grabbed it and dragged her above. Limp and heavy like a sodden sack of rice, her dead weight nearly forced them both back below.

Treading water with one arm, he held her with the other and leaned his ear to her mouth.

She wasn’t breathing.

Stripped to the waist, Blake clung to the lifeline. His bare feet dragged through the sea while foam licked his legs and spray blinded his eyes. Above him at the quarterdeck railing, the crew and a few passengers stared across the sea. Their shouts and hysterics had faded to whispered prayers and anxious pauses as all eyes were on James swimming their way, towing Angeline behind him.

Captain Barclay issued orders to the helmsman and topmen to make adjustments that would halt the ship as close to James as possible.

Finally, James’s heaving breaths could be heard above the slap of water as he and Angeline slipped down the side of a particularly large wave. Cheered on by those above, Blake reached toward them, bracing his feet against the hull. But the sea shoved them farther away, and they disappeared again behind an obsidian swell. Blake groaned, squinting to see in the dim moonlight. There! They reappeared, this time nearly within reach. James’s single arm rose and fell in the water like an anchor. Methodical. Determined. As if moved by a strength not his own. His head dipped beneath the surface. Stretching as far as he could, Blake fisted the water and grabbed the man’s arm. He pulled with all his might and finally drew James and Angeline to his side. He handed one of the lines to James, who barely managed to grab hold.

“Get her above. She’s not bre–breathing.” James clung to the rope, mouth open and breath coming hard.

Blake nodded and removed his own rope, tying it beneath Angeline’s arms. “Haul up!” he shouted. Then grabbing the rope with one hand and Angeline with the other, he planted his feet on the hull and inched up as sailors pulled from above. Hayden grabbed the woman from Blake and laid her on the deck.

“Let me see her.” Eliza pushed the crowd aside and fell by her friend, leaning her ear toward the lady’s mouth.

Blake hoisted himself onto the railing and glanced down to see if James needed help, but the man was right behind him on a second rope. Still breathing hard, he leaped onto the deck and dashed toward Angeline, shoving Hayden aside.

Eliza lifted hollow eyes to his. “She’s gone. I’m sorry.”

“No!” Dropping to his knees, James placed an arm behind Angeline’s neck, and angled her head to the side. Water spilled from her lips. “Blankets! Lots of blankets!”

Sailors sped off, returning in seconds with coverlets and spreads, which James quickly wrapped around her, placing some under her feet to lift them from the deck. Then gently yet firmly, he applied pressure to her abdomen. More water spewed from her mouth.

Everyone stared aghast, including Blake. Only the flap of loose sails echoed through the night, along with James’s groans as he attempted to empty the woman’s lungs. Eliza sat numbly watching. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dropped into her lap. Finally, when no more water came, James leaned down, placed his lips on Angeline’s, and breathed into her mouth.

Blake had never seen such a thing. He raked his wet hair, hoping the doctor knew what he was doing. Yet how had the lady slipped overboard in the first place? She would have to have been sitting on the railing in this mild weather. But why would she do that? He glanced over the horrified faces of the sailors, the captain, Eliza, and Hayden, his gaze finally landing on the lady’s shoes sitting neatly on the deck.

Coughing and sputtering drew his gaze back to Angeline. James turned her over, and more water spewed from her mouth onto the deck. She gagged and coughed. Eliza threw her hands to her chest and squealed with glee.

“Sweet, merciful Heaven!” Captain Barclay said with a smile.

Sailors cheered. James leaned back on his legs and breathed out a “Praise God!” Then leaning over, he scooped Angeline into his arms and rose.

Eliza, coming out of her shock, leaped to her feet and followed the doctor below. Blake shared a glance with the captain, who gave him a nod before turning and spitting a trail of orders to get the brig back on course.

Angeline wasn’t dead. She knew, because as the doctor carried her to the sick bay, his touch sent warmth tingling over her skin. Certainly one didn’t tingle in hell, and certainly not in the pleasurable way she was tingling at the moment. His light hair hung in strands, dripping on his bare shoulders. His breath came heavy. He smelled salty and fresh like the sea. Had he dived in after her?

Kicking the door open, he laid her on the cot then bent to brush saturated strands of hair from her face. Concern sped across his eyes, those bronze-colored eyes that seemed so wise, so full of kindness.

“You’re going to be all right now.” He attempted a smile, but in that small grin, Angeline found a hope that made her almost believe him. Almost. Unlike Dodd, James didn’t seem to recognize her from their brief exchange nearly a year ago. At least that was one thing to be thankful for.

Hayden stormed into the cabin, Eliza on his heels. He moved to the edge of the bed, squeezing James aside, and took Angeline’s hand, caressing her fingers. “Angeline … Zooks. Thank God James found you.” He seemed genuinely distraught.

Angeline tried to respond, but her throat felt like sandpaper.

“All right, gentlemen,” Eliza said, her skirts swishing as she moved forward. “I must ask you to leave. I need to get her out of her wet clothes, and she needs to rest.”

Hayden stood, but James seemed hesitant to leave. In fact, he continued to stare at her as if he’d almost lost a prized possession. “I’ll come back to check on you later.”

Angeline stared at him, confused. Why was he acting so oddly? She was anything but prized. Sculpted arms and a firm, molded chest sprinkled with light-colored hair filled her vision. Arms strong enough to swim out to save her and bring her back to the ship. Water dripped from his breeches onto the floor. He shoved back his wet hair, and she had a vision of his lips on hers, his breath inside of her. “You saved me.” Her voice sounded like rough rope.

He merely smiled in return.

“Thank you.”

Still, he said nothing, but instead followed Hayden out the door. After they left, Eliza took Angeline’s hands in hers. “Thank God you are safe.”

But Angeline knew God had nothing to do with it. And if He did, her being alive was only further punishment for her crimes.

C
HAPTER
27

A
fter the incident with Angeline, Hayden headed up on deck, too frustrated to go back to sleep. Dawn would be upon them in a couple of hours, and he could use the time to think. Think about what he was doing on this crazy, ill-begotten venture with these befuddling passengers. And especially how was he going to find his father once he got to Brazil. A vision of Angeline’s lifeless form lying on the deck caused his fists to clench as he made his way to the port railing. Aside from a possible friendship with the colonel—as odd as that would be—his few brief moments with Angeline had been the only thing to stir his interest on this otherwise dismal journey. Well, besides his time with Magnolia. He rather enjoyed teasing the spoiled sprite. But Angeline was different. There was something about her that went far beyond appearance: a meekness he’d rarely seen in other women, a deeply imbedded sorrow he could well understand, and a fiery spirit that enthralled him. Of course there was also the fact that her comely face had stared at him from a W
ANTED
poster in Norfolk, Virginia. Five hundred dollars was a lot of money for the capture and arrest of such a stunning woman. If he hadn’t been so anxious to leave town before the constable discovered who he really was, he would have searched for her himself. The lady intrigued him, and he longed to discover her secrets. But a certain someone kept getting in the way.

“James,” he spat out the name as he reached the railing, striking the wood with his fists. The righteous doctor had to go and play the hero. But a hero he was not. More like a liar and a hypocrite from what Hayden remembered. Hayden would have happily jumped in after Angeline if he’d been there in time. As it was, he arrived on deck after the good doctor had already disappeared into the sea.

Moonlight spread a silvery sheen over the inky water as the brig plunged through a wave, showering Hayden with spray. It did nothing to cool his humors. Pushing from the railing, he crossed his arms over his chest and snapped hair from his face. Wealthy, learned, privileged men like James thought they had the upper hand in everything. Life, business, women. But Hayden had spent a lifetime proving them wrong, and when it came to Angeline, he wasn’t about to forfeit her to the likes of him.

A hiccup tickled his ear, and he turned to see a lady sitting atop a barrel by the foremast. Her shimmering gown clued him to her identity long before he was close enough to see her face. That angelic face of creamy skin, plump lips, pert little nose, and catlike eyes.

She stared blankly out to sea, lost in her thoughts, and Hayden found her nearly tolerable in her silence.

“Miss Magnolia.”

She leaped. “You frightened me.”

He gave a mock bow. “My apologies.”

The smell of alcohol—brandy, if he wasn’t mistaken—filtered to his nose and caused his lips to curve.

“What do you want?” She rubbed a hand beneath her nose.

“A sip of whatever you’re having.”

Eyes as hard as silver met his. “Whatever are you referring to, sir?” Her voice lifted in a sweet Southern drawl.

Hayden chuckled and leaned on the railing beside her. “You can cease the coquettish theatrics, princess. I’m not one of your fawning beaus back home.”

She flattened her lips. “That is an understatement, Mr. Gale.”

“Call me Hayden.” He extended his open palm. “Since we’ll be drinking mates now.”

“Drinking—ahhhh,” she ground out through clenched teeth, then reached within the folds of her skirt and handed him a flask.

He took a sip. The spicy liquor with a hint of orange slid down his throat with ease. Yes, brandy, indeed. “And just where does a lady find alcohol on board a ship?”

“Hard as it may be for you to believe, some people like me and wish to give me gifts.”

Hayden snorted. “By that you mean you’ve been flirting with lonely sailors again.”

Her eyes narrowed before she swept her gaze out to sea. “You won’t tell my parents?”

“Not as long as you’re sharing.” He grinned.

“Petulant cur.”

Hayden took another drink and handed it back to her. “I’ve been called worse.”

“No doubt.”

Sails flapped above as the brig hefted over a wave. Peering into the darkness, Hayden longed to see her expression. “Pray tell, princess, why is such a cultured and lovely lady as yourself drinking spirits on deck in the middle of the night?”

She wiped the lip of the flask with her handkerchief, tipped it to her mouth, and gulped down the pungent liquor like a hardened sailor. Then shoving the hardwood stopper into the spout, she set the flask aside. “After all the commotion caused by that woman, Angeline, I couldn’t sleep.”

“That
woman
nearly drowned.” Hayden’s anger flared.

“I’m not”—she hiccupped—“without sympathy, Mr. Gale.” Magnolia pressed fingers to her temple. “But word among the sailors is she jumped.”

Jumped?
He flinched. “Perhaps she loathes being on this ship even more than you,” he said.