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

by Chloe Carley

  “And if something should rise from the depths and devour you?”

  He smiled. “I would not deny a shark its supper.”

  “You ought to come in,” she urged, her voice frightened. “I do not like to see you out there in the vast expanse of the ocean. There are too many mysteries. It does not sit well with my sensibilities.”

  “You would not care to swim?”

  She shook her head shyly. “I am much too afraid.”

  “You? I cannot believe it. You fear nothing.”

  “I fear you,” she murmured.

  He frowned. “Whatever do you mean? You have nothing to fear from me. I would never cause you harm.”

  “No, it is not harm that I am scared of. It is… Well, I fear that we go too far in these adventures of ours,” she said softly. “I must draw a line in the sand somewhere and I think swimming at night may be the point at which I restrain myself. And yet… I cannot help but worry that this may be the end of days for you and I. There is no more water and no more food. What else is left for us but to sleep and never wake? If that is so, then perhaps… No, never mind. I should not have spoken so. My mind is addled by the lack of water.”

  “Speak, I urge you.” He swam toward her, lifting his hands to the edge of the boat. He pulled his body up with what little strength he could muster and rested there on the gunwale, the lower portion of his body still safely below the water.

  “I am scared of what is to come,” she whispered, turning her gaze away. “I know I should not, but I fear death. I fear falling asleep, never to wake in this world again. I find comfort in your arms around me, but I know I should not. They are a temporary sanctuary and they are a lifeboat on which I cannot rely.”

  His heart thundered in his chest. “You may always rely on me, Rachel.”

  “Miss Faulks,” she corrected. “And no, I may not. You have served your purpose well and I shall always be grateful to you, but… if we make it to America or I do not wake from my slumber, then consider your duty at an end. My father will see you rewarded if we survive, and he will find a safe position for you. But this… all of this must be taken to our graves, even if that day comes sooner than expected.”

  Crestfallen, he nodded in understanding. “I will keep the secret of our closeness throughout this voyage of that you may be assured. I would not see you ruined when you have maintained your dignity and grace in all these endeavors. Nor would I see you brought low because of me—a sailor with nothing to offer. However, my duty to you is lifelong, Miss Faulks. The moment you stepped aboard the Emerald everything changed. I did not know it then, but I know it now. Even if we are separated by necessity and by occupation, my duty to you will continue. I am bound to you.”

  Her eyes glittered with tears. “Then, I release you. You must allow me to release you.”

  “Never.”

  “Please, Mr. Sharpleton.”

  “You know that I would swim away this very instant if you asked it of me, but do not ask me to sever my ties to you. I cannot.”

  “You must.”

  He shook his head. “May we discuss this when we reach safe harbor? Until then, what is the use in this? Allow me to protect you until I have nothing left to give. Allow me to fulfil my duty to the very end if that is what is required of me.”

  “So, you do not think we will live?” She stammered over her words.

  “That is not what I meant, Miss Faulks. I merely meant, allow me to deliver you to safe harbor, and then on to your father’s arms. I did not mean that death will take us,” he replied, without missing a beat. She did not need to hear the truth from him when it was already written all over her face. If his lies could take the edge off her suffering, then he was only too happy to speak dishonestly.

  “And then, you will allow me to release you?”

  “I will go if you ask it.”

  “You understand that I may be forced to?”

  He nodded. “I do.”

  “Very well. Now, may you come out of the water? If you wish to fulfil your duty, it would not do to have you eaten by a rather hungry shark.” A ghost of a smile turned up the corner of her lips, but it did not reach her sad eyes. Humor was for the fed and watered, not for the weary and desolate.

  “If you turn away, I will climb back aboard,” he replied.

  She did as he asked, sitting with her back to him on the rowing bench. She had a blanket draped across her shoulders, to keep out the chill. In the silvery glow of the moonlight, she looked positively ethereal, her dark hair gleaming in the cool radiance, her skin like polished white marble. He smiled as he pulled his body out of the water and reached for his clothes, drying himself off with his shirt before throwing his breeches on. With no dry shirt, he grasped for another of the blankets and wrapped it around himself. His dignity covered, he went to sit with Rachel on the rowing bench. Gazing into her eyes, he had a sudden urge to kiss her lips, but he knew he could not. She was not his to kiss.

  “Do you feel refreshed?” she asked coyly.

  “Indeed, Miss Faulks. Although, now I am somewhat cold.”

  She chuckled softly. “You silly man.”

  “Quite.”

  “Your hair looks much darker when it is wet,” she mused. “It is curlier, too.”

  “Ah yes, it is most unruly when it wants to be.”

  She smiled. “It becomes you well.”

  “Do I look roguish?”

  “Perhaps a little. I think it makes you look younger somehow—more boyish.”

  “I am not sure whether you are attempting to insult my masculinity?” he teased.

  “Not at all. I simply meant that it gives you a softness that you do not often have. The cold water has brought a flush to your cheeks and there is no frown upon your brow. There appears to be a boyish glint in your eyes too which has replaced the harsh expression that often sits there. I cannot explain it, but the water here must have transformative powers,” she explained, with a smile.

  “I think it is the moonlight,” he said, swallowing his nerves. “For I have never seen you look lovelier than you do this evening.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “You should not say such things, Mr. Sharpleton.”

  “I should not speak the truth?”

  “Not if these are your truths.”

  He dipped his head. “Forgive me.”

  “I shall blame it on this boyish transformation,” she joked. “If it is not improper of me to ask, may I lay my head upon your shoulder? I am so very weary, but I cannot bear the constraints of the canopy a moment longer. Sometimes, with my breaths so short and shallow, I fear I am suffocating beneath that fabric.”

  “Of course, you may,” he replied, putting his arm around her shoulders and bringing her into an embrace. He was careful to keep the blanket over his bare chest as she leant against him. However, if she had listened closely, he knew she would have heard his heart beating faster. Her eyes closed as she cuddled into him, her breath quietening down to a soft slumbering rasp. Wrapped in his arms, she had fallen sound asleep.

  How he was going to hold her like this until morning, he did not know, but he would endeavor to do his best.

  ***

  It was still dark, with the first inky hints of dawn starting to break through the horizon when a roaring sound awoke Noah with a jolt. It had come out of nowhere, filling his senses with sudden panic. His eyes flew open, his arms still around Rachel. They had somehow sunk into the well of the boat, his back aching where it had been leaning up against the rowing bench. Ignoring the pain, he twisted around just in time to see a gigantic shadow lurching through the lingering darkness. It was coming straight for them.

  He lay Rachel down on the ground and jumped up, running for the tiller. The sails had gone limp again, with no breeze to drive them out of harm’s way. He dove into the water, using the adrenaline in his veins to push him on. He hit the icy surface with a splash, his muscles powering him toward the bow of the boat. There, he grasped for the rope that was tied ar
ound the bowsprit, and tugged on it with all his might, determined to get them out of the way of whatever was coming. It looked like a ship of some kind, but there was no way of knowing if it was friend or foe.

  He strained with all his might against the current of the ocean, yanking hard on the rope and dragging the boat along behind him as he swam for both their lives. The ship was getting closer and closer and likely hadn’t seen them in the inky dark of the night. They were so helplessly small by comparison.

  Come on, come on, come on! He wasn’t pulling hard or fast enough. He knew he wasn’t. He could almost feel the bristling energy of the ship as it hurtled toward them gaining speed. Below the water, silvery creatures twisted and turned. Fear gripped his heart in a vise, thinking them to be sharks. It was only as they tore past him, and spiraled through the water, that he realized they were dolphins, playing in the spray that arched up from the bowsprit of the oncoming ship.

  He tugged and pulled with every scrap of strength he had left, kicking his legs so hard he thought they might drop off. His heart was pounding as hard as it could, his lungs burning with the exertion of hauling a boat along. Weak and dehydrated, he knew it might be his last act, but he had to get Rachel out of danger. If the ship collided with them, the boat would be reduced to smithereens and the two of them with it.

  He roared at the top of his lungs as he yanked the rope one last time, pulling the boat out of the way of the oncoming ship. And not a moment too soon. With barely a yard to spare, the ship skimmed past the boat, the waves that rippled away from the vessel pushing the boat even further away from harm.

  Noah bobbed in the water, completely spent. His eyes turned up toward the ship as it passed, blinking rapidly at the sight of a familiar bird on the gunwale. A white dove stood there, flapping its wings. He couldn’t be sure if it was the same one, but a moment later, it fluttered down and landed on the edge of the boat. It cooed softly, though Noah could barely hear the sound over the roar of the ship sailing by.

  “Hey, there’s someone down there!” a shout went up from the surging vessel.

  “What?” another voice yelled.

  “There are people down there! A lad and a lass!” the first voice replied. A face appeared over the side of the ship, though it was too dark to properly make out. Noah waved his hands weakly, his body failing him.

  “What are you squawking about?” the second voice chimed in.

  “Down there! There’s a man and a woman. We almost ran into ‘em, Gerry!”

  A second face appeared. “My days, you’re right! We’ve got to stop for ‘em.”

  The second face disappeared leaving Noah to wonder what on Earth was going on. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the boat and hauled his body up, the rope still wrapped around his arm. There were friction burns all the way across his skin where he’d pulled so hard that the coils had dug into his flesh. Utterly exhausted, he collapsed in the well of the boat, dripping wet and shivering, his chest heaving with the exertion of staying alive. Rachel had barely stirred throughout the entire debacle sending a tremor of dread through his body. With everything he had left, he crawled toward her and reached out for her hand. It felt cold and clammy in his.

  “Rachel?” he rasped.

  She did not answer.

  “Rachel, wake up!” he pleaded, but she did not move.

  Do not say I am too late. Do not say that I am too late to save her, he begged silently. My Lord, if you can hear me, do not take her now. She has endured—do not take her away. Let her live, I beg of you. Let her live.

  “Rachel, stay with me,” he urged, squeezing her hand as tightly as he could.

  Her lips were blue in the moonlight, her eyes closed, her body still. Draped in a blanket, he could not make out the rise and fall of her chest or hear a single breath of air drag between her lips. He shook her gently, desperate to get some sign of life out of her but none were forthcoming. She lay lifeless on the floor wilted like a rose that has been cut.

  I cannot lose her. Please, let her stay.

  He realized, in that moment, that she was already gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Welcome back,” a soft voice spoke; a strange voice, that Rachel did not recognize. It was heavily accented, though she couldn’t place it. Scottish, perhaps.

  She sat up very slowly, every muscle in her body aching as though she had been crushed beneath something heavy. The bright light streaming in through the windows stung her eyes prompting her to shield them with her hand as she glanced around. She was in a beautiful bedchamber with a low timbered ceiling and a four-poster bed which was draped with gauzy purple fabric and embellished with embroidered violets. It was in this bed that she was sitting and someone was moving to prop pillows behind her. Bookcases lined the far wall and there was an elegant fireplace with a golden carriage-clock atop it. Meanwhile, a small circular table had been set for tea with a porcelain teapot and a cup laid out neatly, bearing a blue-tinged willow pattern. It looked suspiciously like her chambers aboard the Emerald, though that was impossible.

  “Where am I?” she rasped, her throat dry and scratchy. “Am I in a dream?”

  The voice chuckled. “Goodness no. You’re aboard the Joan of Arc.”

  Rachel’s heartbeat quickened, panic shooting through her. “A French ship?”

  “No indeed, though I understand your confusion. I believe it was intended as a Naval joke to irk the French.”

  Rachel’s vision cleared, growing accustomed to the bright glow of the sunlight. A plump, shapely woman was busying about the place, with a mass of copper curls that seemed to be trying to escape her maid’s cap. Her eyes were a bright blue, her smile twice as radiant.

  “Are you Scottish?” Rachel asked, unable to fathom what such a woman would be doing aboard a Navy ship.

  “Irish, Miss,” she replied. “Name’s Eileen O’Rourke.”

  “Pleased to meet you. I am Miss Rachel Faulks,” she replied, almost automatically. “And what brings you on-board the Joan of Arc, Eileen O’Rourke?”

  “I’m the captain’s wife, Miss Faulks. Unorthodox, I’ll grant ye, but he never goes nowhere without me. Fortunate for you, else ye’d be having yer tea served to ye by the cabin boys and ye never know where their hands have been. Grubby little blighters. Anyway, I’m mighty glad to have another lady on-board for once. All of these men grow mighty tiresome after weeks at sea, even me husband.” She let out a raucous laugh that cheered Rachel’s spirits. Although, talk of men turned her mind toward thoughts of Noah. Where is he? She could not remember being brought onto this ship nor the ship’s arrival. Indeed, the last thing she recalled was stealing a look at Noah’s bare chest as he clambered aboard the boat after his nighttime swimming excursion, then nestling into his arms. After that… nothing.

  “Where is the gentleman who was with me—Mr. Noah Sharpleton?” she asked, her voice shaking. Tears were already in her eyes as she feared the worst.

  “Ah, the handsome fella who saved your skin?”

  Rachel frowned. “Pardon?”

  “The handsome lad they brought aboard with ye—yer owe him your life, m’love. He dove into the water and dragged yer boat to safety—you’d have been crushed by our ship if he hadn’t, though the poor soul looked like he hadn’t eaten in months. Shivering and shaking, he was. None of us were sure he’d last the night to be right honest with ye.”

  “Did he?” Rachel gasped, her heart about ready to explode.

  “Oh aye, that one’s a fighter to be sure,” she replied. “He’s with the ship’s physician right now. They’re chasing a bad humor out of his chest.”

  “Can I see him?”

  Eileen frowned. “He your husband?”

  “Uh… not exactly. He is my protector.”

  “Not sure that’d be permitted, miss, unless you want me to accompany you? Never been a chaperone, but I don’t mind taking on the task if you’re eager to see the lad. With a face like that, I’d be eager to see him too.”

  Ra
chel flushed with embarrassment. “If you will accompany me, I should very much like to see him.”

  “Right y’are. I’ve brought some clean garb for you to get dressed in if that suits?”

  “Thank you, Mrs. O’Rourke.”

  “Eileen, please.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Eileen. Tell me, how long have I been asleep?”

  “Three days, miss.”

  Rachel gaped at her. “And where is this ship headed?”

  “Brunswick, Georgia.”

  “Is that in America?”

  Eileen laughed. “It is indeed. Was that where you were headed? My husband is very interested to know what happened to the two of you, though I told him to hold his horses until you were feeling better. He’ll want to have a word with you if you’re up and about.”