The Secret of Her Guardian Sailor: An Inspirational Historical Romance Novel

by Chloe Carley

  Lean on me, Rachel. Lean on me and I promise you I will always be strong enough to hold you. Any weight, I will bear it for you, if you will only let me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Five more days passed and still, there was no sign of land—only open ocean as far as the eye could see and even beyond. The fresh water that they had collected on the island had almost gone with barely a fifth of a jar remaining and the food had been depleted too. What scraps of meat and coconut were left, Rachel sneaked to the animals feeling as though she owed them that much, since she had been the one to drag them on this foolhardy voyage to the New World. It was a place she feared she may never see, the dread she felt was getting bigger and scarier by the day. She fed Noah too, though she had her suspicions that he merely placed what she gave him back into the crate.

  She blinked awake on the afternoon of the fifth day having drifted off to sleep several hours ago. It had been morning then, the air much cooler, but now the sweltering heat of the sun’s highest point beat down on the boat and its inhabitants. With her body drained of energy and her stomach twisting with the nag of hunger pains, the only thing to do was conserve what little strength she had left. Indeed, all she seemed to do these days was sleep.

  Dragging herself into a sitting position, she looked for Noah. It felt strange not to have him near, his body curled around her to keep her safe, but she reasoned he had sought to give her some space. He did that, from time to time, allowing her an iota of privacy on this tiny boat.

  Up ahead, she noticed him sitting on the rowing bench, his figure draped over the long handle of one of the oars. The sails still sagged, windless and unmoving, but the boat appeared to be turning in a circle, the oar pushing it around and around slowly. To her horror, she realized that the other oar was nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t lying on the floor of the boat nor was it secured in the oarlock. A nasty understanding dawned in her mind—Noah had fallen asleep beneath the heat and the exhaustion of rowing and now they had lost an oar.

  “Noah!” she shouted, forcing her shaky legs to stand. When he didn’t move or respond, she stumbled towards him and sank down, looking up into his closed eyes. Her fingertips reached out and touched the underside of his jaw, praying to feel the steady thud of a pulse. Relief washed over her as she found it, though it was faint and worrying, more of a tap-tap-tap than a strong beat. He had pushed himself too far, desperation leading him to make dire mistakes.

  Why would you not eat what I gave you? Why did you have to be so stubborn? You need nourishment and rest, too, you silly man. Now, look at you. Please live, Noah… Please live. I do not know how I shall survive without you. Indeed, I am fairly sure I will not and cannot if you are not here with me.

  A whisper of a groan slipped between his lips. “Rachel?” he croaked.

  She grasped at his shoulders and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, thank goodness. I thought you were… I cannot bring myself to say it. Oh, but you are alive! Thank goodness, you are alive.”

  “What happened?” He pulled away from Rachel gently and ran a hand through his damp hair. Perspiration trickled down his face, his skin a deep shade of crimson where the sun’s rays had toasted his exposed flesh.

  “You must have collapsed,” she explained, lowering her voice sheepishly. “One of the oars is gone.”

  He glanced down in panic. “I can hardly remember rowing, let alone slumping over. Wait… are we turning?

  Rachel nodded.

  “How could I have been so foolish?” he rasped. “Do you know how long we have been turning for?”

  “I cannot say.”

  “We shall have to wait until evening before we can discover which direction we must head in,” he said gruffly, his eyes rolling back into his head for a split-second. He lurched forward and braced himself against the oar pole using it to steady his woozy demeanor.

  “You must rest,” Rachel said firmly. “If we must wait until dark, then there is no use in us expending any further strength on rowing.” She reached out to help him, his arm sliding around her shoulder as he hobbled toward the shelter.

  “Not that we may row any longer with one missing,” he replied regretfully, his face morphing into a mask of defeated exasperation.

  “Forget that now,” Rachel urged. He sank down beneath the canopy of blankets, his chest drawing in shallow breaths as he lay on his back. She watched him closely, unable to tear her eyes away from the rise and fall of his ribcage which told her he was still alive.

  “Will you rest awhile, too?” he asked quietly, his eyes already closed.

  Her cheeks flushed with heat as she contemplated the question. It did not make sense to her to feel such embarrassment in that moment when they shared necessary warmth each evening beneath the blankets. She supposed there was something about the darkness of night that made it seem less improper as though sleeping side-by-side for heat was a hidden secret to be reserved for the moon and the stars. Indeed, she rarely awoke to find his arm still around her, for he usually moved elsewhere as dawn rose. Sleeping beside him in broad daylight was an entirely different matter. It seemed too bold, somehow, and yet she could not deny that it sounded comforting.

  Ever since the island, and likely even before, she had begun to fall hopelessly in love with Noah Sharpleton. She had tried to ignore her feelings and put it down to gratitude at him rescuing her and being so kind during their voyage on the Emerald and in the aftermath. However, the more time that passed, the more she realized that her feelings would not be denied. They were not borne of gratitude, but something deeper—a burning affection that would not abandon her, no matter how much she begged it to.

  “I am rather tired,” she admitted.

  “We should sleep while we can. Hopefully, when we wake, the stars will be out and the wind will have picked up once more,” he murmured wearily.

  Swallowing her embarrassment, she lay down beside him on the blanket and nestled into his side. His arm looped around her waist and held her gently while she rested her palm on his chest, her head cradled in the crook of his shoulder. Dandelion padded over and flopped down on Noah’s legs, her head resting on his stomach. Rachel reached down and scratched the dog’s head lovingly before returning her palm to the steady rise of his chest. It brought her comfort to keep her hand close to his heart, the percussive beat tapping against her skin as she held it there.

  “Do you think we will ever see dry land again?” she whispered, her voice shaking.

  “I hope that we will.”

  “Do you think the animals will make it?”

  He glanced down at her. “I hope they will.”

  She looked toward Dandelion who blinked slowly at her. She ruffled the dog’s fur once more before seeking out the fruit bat whom she’d named Coco after the coconuts on the island. The bat was sleepily nestled in Dandelion’s fur while the monkey, who Rachel had named Paws, also slept on the dog’s back. Peridot was on her shoulder, as ever, the bird’s beak buried in its chest as it slumbered. She thought of the dove, all alone in the crate, and sat up to retrieve it. However, as she leaned over to pull the dove out of the box, she found it empty. Nothing but empty water jars and a few meager scraps of food. The bird was gone.

  “Noah,” she shook his leg.

  “What is the matter?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

  “The dove… it is not here.”

  He frowned. “It will be close by,” he said, after a moment’s pause. “The bird will come back when it is good and ready. Perhaps, it has gone to look for food.”

  “Dandelion, did you do anything to the dove?” She looked down at the dog, but there was no hint of blood or feathers around the dog’s mouth. Nor did there appear to be any sign of unpleasantness. A few small, white feathers remained in the box, but nothing that would suggest foul play.

  Dandelion sneezed as if affronted by the question.

  “No, of course, you did not do anything to the dove,” she said, stroking Dandelion. “Do you really believe it will come
back?”

  Noah lay back down. “If it does not, then we can only assume it has sought out greener pastures, just as we are doing. Now come, sleep awhile. We should not expend our strength with fretting, any more than we should expend it with rowing.”

  “But it had a poorly wing,” she murmured, snuggling close to Noah’s side once more.

  “It was healing rather well, Rachel. I would not be surprised if it remained with us only until it felt able to fly again. If that is the case, then we may take its departure as a good sign—a sign that it is in better health and is off to seek out new horizons.”

  “I suppose you are right.”

  “The dove will be quite well.”

  “Do you promise?”

  He smiled. “As best I can.”

  Satisfied, she curled up close to him and closed her eyes. Her body sagged like a lead weight, every muscle worn to the end of its tether, every fiber of her being completely and utterly exhausted. Her mouth felt arid, her nostrils cracked and dry, her lips split from dehydration, and her temples thumped like war drums as her empty stomach gnawed incessantly for a taste of food. Right now, the land of dreams was far easier to deal with than reality. Sinking deeper into Noah’s casual embrace, she let the darkness come of its own accord, shining its hidden light on their secret affection as sleep threatened to take her away.

  “We are going to die here, aren’t we?” Rachel asked, fighting slumber in case she did not wake from it.

  He held her closer. “No. You will not die in this boat. You will not die without dignity. You will not die while you are young and there is so much more for you to do with your life. I will continue to pray for our survival until I have no more breath in my lungs.”

  “I am so hungry, Noah,” she murmured.

  “I know.”

  “My thirst is overwhelming.”

  “I know.”

  “I do not think I will last much longer.”

  He gazed down at her and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “You have proven just how fierce you are, Rachel. I will not believe that something as trifling as hunger and thirst will defeat you not when I have seen you climb up rigging in the driving rain and face down ruffians who would seek to lay a hand on you. Death will not win. You must not let it, do you understand?” His eyes glimmered with unspent tears, his hand now cupping her face tenderly.

  “I will try not to,” she replied, turning her gaze away. She could not bear the expression in his eyes—that look of sweet adoration that made her want to hold tight to him and never let go. Her love for him was all she could think about. In truth, if she was to die on this boat, part of her hoped that she might be the one to go first, for she did not think she could endure the loss of him. There were so many things she wanted to say, in case death did come for her, but when she opened her mouth to say them, nothing came out. Years of being raised as a proper lady had not been wasted for those societal dogmas clamped her mouth shut, silencing her.

  Upon reaching the New World, if they ever managed it, she realized she would have two options. The first, to journey straight to her father and be reunited with him. Noah would undoubtedly accompany her to her father’s house or arrange for someone to chaperone her there in safety. Either way, she would have to leave him and wave goodbye to the Rachel she had become on the open ocean. There would be no place for her in America where she would be expected to follow the rules once more.

  The second option was to reach America and tell no-one of her true identity. Then, she could confess her feelings to Noah, and pray they were reciprocated. If they were, there was every chance they could strike out on their own, marrying and seeking a new life with each other. You are sinking into dreamland once again if you think that would be possible. Could you truly leave your father in grief believing that his only daughter is dead? Could you do that for the sake of love? Even if you could—would you want to be that sort of woman; the kind who abandons family? Her father may have temporarily abandoned her, but an eye for an eye made the whole world blind and forgiveness was always preferable over vengeance. Moreover, he had already lost a wife and, potentially, a son—Rachel’s brother remained unaccounted for, after disappearing. She did not have it in her to add her own name to that list of loss.

  “You have to live too, Noah. You have to live because… I love you,” she whispered, but Noah was already asleep. She propped herself up on her elbows, just to be sure, in case he was pretending. His breath was steady and shallow, his closed eyelids flickering, a soft snore coming from the corner of his mouth. Either he was very good at imitating sleep or he really was out for the count. She did not know which nor did she want to find out the answer. Her pride could not have endured the embarrassment of rejection but neither did she think she would be able to muster the courage to say it again, if it had truly fallen on unhearing ears.

  Trying to convince herself that she had never uttered a single word about it, she squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in Noah’s chest, letting sleep come. Her cheeks burned and her heart pounded, but she found she did not regret making the unrequited admission. This time, she didn’t try and fight as exhaustion grabbed hold, taking her away on gentle hands as reality melted away.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  That night, Noah awoke with a start, shivering in the ice-cold breeze that swept across the boat. Rachel was asleep beside him, her head on his chest. Careful not to wake her, he extricated himself away from her sleeping figure and clambered over to the center of the boat. Dandelion padded after him, the dog curling up at his feet as he sat on the rowing bench and looked up at the stars. Using the twinkling constellations as a map of sorts and utilizing his knowledge of stars that he’d learned throughout his youth, he managed to figure out the direction they were currently facing and the direction they needed to head in.

  Picking his way back over to the makeshift tiller at the back of the boat, he turned the boat around and locked the tiller in place. Keeping to his tiptoes in case the sound stirred Rachel from her rest, he moved back over to the mast and raised the sails, letting the chilly breeze catch the fabric. They swelled and billowed as the air filled them, the force pushing the boat onward. Every movement he made sapped him of what little strength he had left, his mouth was so dry that he had forgotten what moisture felt like. His skin was burned and peeling where the searing daylight had caught his bare arms. His shirt and trousers were torn and ripped, salt-stained from the ocean spray. How he longed for a warm bath, his muscles relaxing beneath clean, clear water, his lungs filling with the hot steam that drifted from the surface.

  Glancing back at the canopy, to make sure Rachel was still asleep, he stood and lifted his shirt over his head. He made swift work of his breeches, dropping them to the deck. The silvery moon cast its glow on the night ocean and a blanket of stars was twinkling overhead like diamond shards caught in a swathe of black velvet. He looked up for a second admiring the sight. Then, with a soft splash, he dove into the dark water and let the cool liquid surround him. He wanted to slough the sweat and grime of the day from his flesh, though he knew it would only be replaced when the sun rose.

  Ordinarily, he would have feared sharks and the sea creatures that came out at night, but he no longer felt afraid of death in any of its forms. He could not admit it to Rachel, but he sensed that the end was not far away. His body was giving up, slowly but surely. It was evident in the shortness of breath that plagued him each day and the bones poking through his flesh, every indent of his ribcage on show. He had drunk nothing in almost two days and had not eaten for almost five—his muscles and bones were abandoning ship, one by one. He did not want her to lose hope, but he could not ignore the truth, either. The only thing he could do was convince her that everything would be fine, so she might find the strength to continue when his heart gave out.

  A shadow distracted him from his heartrending thoughts.

  “Is it safe to swim at night?” Rachel’s sleepy voice asked from the side of the boat. “I hope
you were not planning to leave me here?” The note of genuine alarm in her voice made his stomach sink.

  Can you really believe that I would leave you, after all this time? Oh, Rachel, surely you understand—it is only death that may part us here. “I simply wished to cleanse myself of the heat of the day,” he replied, conscious of his nakedness beneath the water. It was too dark for her to see his figure, but it still made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.