Of Noble Birth (21 page)

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.”

“We’ll make it,” Nathaniel
said, feeling the weight of responsibility settle back onto his
shoulders. “We always do.”

“I only hope our luck
doesn’t run out.”

Nathaniel gave his friend
a tired smile. “Will you tell Nanchu that Alexandra’s awake? Have
him come take another look at her while I have a talk with our
friend Jake.”

Trenton nodded, and
Nathaniel moved to go.

“Nathaniel?”

“Aye?”

“What ever possessed you
to bring Jake along in the first place?”

Nathaniel shook his head.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just hoping Nanchu can save his
hand.”

Trenton scowled. “He was
eager enough to shed your blood. From what Garth says, he wanted to
kill you.”

“Of course he wanted to
kill me. We were in the process of raiding his ship,
remember?”

“Still, he’s not as
helpless and innocent as you seem to think. You were capable enough
at his age.”

Nathaniel paused, unsure
how to answer. He’d been in more knife fights by the time he was
nineteen than he could remember, but not everyone grew up as
quickly as he had. “There’s no need to let him lose his hand if
Nanchu can save it,” he responded simply.

“And what if he can’t?
What then?”

“Then there’s nothing more
we can do. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“But what are we going to
do even if Nanchu does save it? Let him go back to England with a
list of all our names?”

Nathaniel scowled as
irritation welled up inside him. Only because Trenton was a
lifelong friend did he steel himself against it. “Once his wrist
has had a chance to heal, we’ll drop him at the nearest port and be
done with him. He knows nothing that can threaten us. We’ll just
have to keep it that way.”