Historical Romance Boxed Set (19 page)

In the same moment she saw a man high in the schooner’s rigging. He held a pistol trained on Nathaniel. She knew its ball was meant for the captain just as she could feel its owner’s concentration, sense his struggle to keep his aim steady despite the wildly bobbing ship. And she knew the instant he pulled the trigger.

Nathaniel motioned her to go back, distracted by her presence and obviously preoccupied by the menace of collision. He yelled something to Trenton at the wheel that Alexandra neither heard nor understood. Time seemed to stand still as the crack of the pistol resounded, singularly loud in Alexandra’s ears but probably negligible amid the general tumult.

“No.” Alexandra mouthed the word and launched her body toward the pirate captain. She noticed the look of stunned surprise that claimed his features right before something hit her shoulder, knocking her down with such force that she wondered if he had struck her. Certainly a bullet didn’t feel this way. There was no sting.

In the next instant her shoulder was on fire, sending white-hot, searing pain radiating throughout her chest and back.

Her hand rose to examine the wound. Something warm and sticky burned her fingers like hot water tingling frosty toes. She found a hole, how big she had no idea, nor did she trouble herself to feel further as she lay on her back, staring into the black expanse of sky overhead.

“She’s been shot.” Nathaniel’s anxious voice came to her as though from a distance. She understood his words; she knew by then, too, that she had taken the bullet intended for him. But strangely enough, she didn’t regret her actions. His well-sculpted features appeared above her, worry etched into the crease of his brow, just as the
Vengeance
suddenly keeled and nearly upended in the mountainous waves.

Alexandra felt herself slide across the deck, carried by the icy cold tongue of the ocean, and began to flail in panic, despite the pain in her shoulder. She was being swept overboard. She felt Nathaniel try to grab her, felt her arm tear away from his fingers, then screamed as her body plunged into the freezing water.

Chapter 8

Nathaniel slid across the deck, struggling to reach Alexandra, until he smacked into something rock hard. He reached out, instinctively grasping the mizzenmast with his good arm as the same hungry waves that had swept her overboard licked at his feet.

“Alexandra!” Fear born of something worse than battle shocked Nathaniel’s system. Where was she? She had disappeared into the churning, angry sea. He knew it would not be easy to spot her amid the wind and the waves and the darkness.

The ship righted itself, and Nathaniel staggered to his feet. He dashed to the bulwarks, frantically searching the white-foaming waves.

“Alexandra!” he cried again, praying for a glimpse of her blond head. Deep down he knew the chances of rescuing her, of rescuing anyone under the circumstances, were remote. Alexandra would die. The cold would seep into her muscles and slow her movements until she simply went to sleep. If she couldn’t swim, water was probably already filling her lungs.

“Nathaniel, no! It’s too dangerous,” Trenton called from behind, but Nathaniel ignored him. Alexandra had saved his life. Though he couldn’t begin to understand why she would risk herself on his behalf, the fact remained that she had taken a bullet meant for him. And she could survive in the water only a few minutes at most.

The thought of her death wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed until he thought he’d die himself. The battle ceased to exist. The storm ceased to exist. There were only the two of them and the greatest of all enemies in such situations—time.

Trenton’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Let me. I’ve got two good arms.”

Nathaniel shook his head, singularly intent as his eyes caught sight of something in the water.

It was her! Alexandra bobbed up and down in the swirling blackness like a piece of driftwood.

“Hang on,” Nathaniel murmured. He quickly tied a length of rope around his waist, secured the other end to the mast, and dived overboard.

The jolt of the cold water stole Nathaniel’s breath away. He struggled to fill his lungs with air as he fought the turbulent waves and swam with all his strength toward the place he had last seen Alexandra.

Trying to remain calm, he counted his strokes to provide some measure of time and distance, but the churning water pushed him back again and again, making progress difficult. He would never reach her in time. Maybe he would never find her. Some nether region of his brain wondered if he would be able to fight their way back even if he did.

Nathaniel’s chest soon felt as though it would burst. His lungs burned; he tasted blood at the back of his throat. Still he pressed on. Alexandra had to be close now. He lifted his head to try to catch a glimpse of her, and instantly swallowed a mouthful of water as a wave crashed down on his head.

When Nathaniel finally surfaced, he turned back toward the
Vengeance
, hoping for some direction. The cold was sapping his strength, and he could no longer see Alexandra. Nothing but great mountains of water rose before him, churning and plunging and plunging again.

On deck, Garth yelled, waved, and pointed, but Nathaniel could barely make him out.
Just a little farther,
he thought,
just a little farther.
Making one last Herculean effort, he lunged forward and his hand thumped against something solid. Alexandra!

Her struggle to save herself had thrown her into a frenzy, and she was stronger than Nathaniel had anticipated. She almost drowned them both before he managed to encircle her waist with his rope and begin the long haul back.

Seconds later Nathaniel felt the rope become taut as Trenton and the others tried to reel them in. He helped by continuing to swim, though his muscles screamed with the effort and his body was numb with cold. Alexandra wasn’t struggling anymore, but with his one arm, towing her behind him was awkward and difficult.

At least he had her. At least she wasn’t going to drown. Those thoughts alone gave him the strength to continue. But when Trenton and Tiny and several other members of the crew succeeded in hauling them back aboard, Alexandra lay white-faced and still, her eyes closed.

Nathaniel wanted to pound the deck and scream at the injustice of it all—except that he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs or enough strength in his limbs. His own body shook almost as violently as the storm-battered ship, and darkness fringed his mind, threatening to overcome him. “Is she alive?” he croaked.

The chalky whiteness of Alexandra’s skin gleamed in the pale moonlight as Nathaniel waited for Tiny to press two fingers to her slim throat. The wind whipped at her wet hair and clothing. He wanted to shelter her from that icy blast, alive or not. But he couldn’t move.

Without speaking, Tiny pulled Nathaniel’s hand across Alexandra’s body and held it to the indentation above her collarbone. An almost imperceptible heartbeat drummed softly beneath his touch.

She was alive.

Nathaniel began to laugh as relief surged through his body, causing a type of euphoria. “Get Nanchu,” he coughed. Only then did the silence of the guns register in his mind. What had happened to the schooner?

Straining to lift his head, Nathaniel peered toward the bow just as Garth arrived with blankets and covered Alexandra, then himself. Trenton, still trying to recover from hoisting the two of them back onto the ship, gasped for enough air to speak.

“They’ve turned away,” he said, answering Nathaniel’s unspoken question. “I guess the storm was more than they bargained for. When we nearly collided, I think Captain Errington realized that he risked more for our capture than he was willing to lose. If the storm passes soon, we should be all right, though we’ve taken on a good deal of water.”

“The pumps?”

“Still going.” Trenton fell silent as Nanchu approached.

Nathaniel nodded, then looked to the Chinese doctor. “She’s alive,” he said.

Nanchu’s face was somber as he examined the gunshot wound in Alexandra’s shoulder. “Perhaps not for long.”

* * *

The pain in her shoulder brought dreams of Willy. Fragments floated piecemeal through Alexandra’s consciousness, memories mostly, none of which were very pleasant: her stepfather’s drunken voice bellowing from the doorway, his clothes reeking with alcohol and tobacco smoke, his shoulders shaking as he vomited into a chamber pot.

Alexandra flinched, causing the dream to shatter, and blinked. Her eyes felt gritty and would not focus, as though they resented the intrusion of light into their quiet, dark domain. And her body seemed unnaturally heavy. She was tired and sore in a way she had never experienced. What had happened?

Her gaze traveled around the room, taking in her surroundings. She was relieved to find Willy nowhere in sight. Instead of the neglected wattle-and-daub cottage where she had grown up, Nathaniel’s cabin materialized. The pirate captain himself sat on a chair next to her bed, his head falling forward in sleep.

She studied him, her eyes beginning to work more smoothly, like two squeaky wheels after getting a bit of grease. His hair was disheveled, his face covered with dark whiskers. Tiny lines around his eyes and mouth made him look tired, or worried. His sleeves were rolled up and his shirt only half-buttoned, as though he’d scrubbed his face and hand but hadn’t bothered to straighten his clothes.

Was she going to die? Evidently the ship and Nathaniel had survived the storm. All was quiet now. But if the pirate captain’s ragged condition served as any indication, she was not so well off.

She reached up to touch the shoulder that pained her. A linen bandage covered the wound, thwarting any real investigation, but her movement made Nathaniel’s head snap up. His blue eyes regarded her searchingly.

“Thank God,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been shot.” Alexandra tried to smile, but even that small expense of energy exceeded her strength. “I hope I look better than you do,” she managed weakly.

A ghost of a grin flickered on Nathaniel’s face, deepening the cleft in his chin. “You still look good enough to eat. Isn’t that what you accused me of once? Of being a wolf?”

Alexandra felt a blush rise to her cheeks. “Aye, and it appears you haven’t had a good meal for some time.”

“Shall we remedy that, then?” He licked his lips as he moved closer, and Alexandra’s breath caught in her throat. She thought he might kiss her. Though her head cried out for her to spurn such an advance, her heart raced with anticipation.

He hovered only inches away. “I only want to know one thing,” he murmured. “Why? Why did you step in front of that bullet?”

“I don’t know.” Alexandra forced the words out, knowing that even if she were strong and well she could never explain the emotions that had converged upon her senses when she had spotted that sniper. Admiration was perhaps most dominant. Despite the illegal methods Nathaniel used to obtain his ends, he was a born leader. He was strong, resourceful, and courageous. His men respected him. Her own opinion of him had changed drastically since their first encounter outside Madame Fobart’s. Watching him die would have been like witnessing someone shoot a wild black stallion, like seeing something of great strength and beauty brought low.

Nathaniel took her hand, and she realized that just the vibrancy of his touch was enough to lend her strength.

“Go ahead and rest,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Alexandra gave him a tired smile and let herself drift away, knowing, for the first time in a long while, that she was completely safe.

* * *

The next morning Nathaniel nearly bumped into Trenton as he entered the companionway. “How are the repairs coming?” he asked.

“The repairs aren’t as much of a problem as that boy you brought from the
Horizon.
I moved him below with the rest of the men like you said, but he still won’t let Nanchu treat his wrist. He’s raising hell down there.”

Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair. For the most part, he had turned the running of the ship over to Trenton, too concerned about Alexandra to perform his usual duties as captain. But his absence from command was beginning to show. He knew Trenton disagreed with his bringing Jake on board, and most of the crew thought likewise. Still, Nathaniel felt obligated to do what he could to save the young man’s hand. Jake was a fool, but he was barely nineteen if he was a day. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s constantly trying to pick a fight. I’m having a hard time keeping the men focused on their work. Most of them would give a week’s pay for only one shot at the little bastard, injured or no. And I’m tempted myself. He’s caused nothing but problems since the day he set foot on deck.”

“We’ll be rid of him soon enough. How much longer before we can head home?”

“Another day, maybe two. But we’re running low on supplies. You’ve eaten so little that you probably haven’t noticed the fare, but the rest of us have not been so preoccupied.”