Heart of the Storm (Harlequin Historical)

by Burton, Mary

  “I want you,” he said, his lips against her mouth as if he couldn’t stop touching her. “Come back to the cottage with me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ben’s heart jumped when Rachel blushed and looked up at him. “I’d like that.”

  He kissed her again, cursing the mile-long walk back to his cottage. A dark, primitive side of him demanded he toss her over his shoulder and take her up to the inn. He’d lock the door and make love to her until both were satiated. Two or three days, minimum.

  Instead he took her by the hand. Rachel deserved a gentle, slow lovemaking. Later, when she’d banished her fears, he’d show her lovemaking could be just as good when hot and passionate.

  He smiled.

  She leaned close to him. “What are you smiling about?”

  “Just thinking about all the different kinds of ways I can make love to you. And that I’ve got a lifetime to show them all.”

  Her throaty laughed stroked his senses. “I would very much like to know them all.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You are sure about this?”

  “I’ve made mistakes. But this won’t be one of them.”

  Her gentle reply hit him square in the gut. God, but he wanted her.

  Together they walked off the pier. They strolled along the sandy path and passed another dock. The wind howled around her skirts. She glanced up at the sound. The clouds had thickened.

  In the distance she saw Sloan’s boat. It bobbed in the water like a cork. The children sat huddled together to fight off the wind. “Today doesn’t look like a good day for a crossing.”

  Ben’s gaze trailed hers. He muttered an oath. The desire that had singed his veins vanished in a wave of concern. “It’s not.”

  “Why would they send the children back to the mainland today?”

  “The fools don’t want the children to miss a day of school.”

  Rachel hugged her arms. “Everyone is in church. Perhaps we should tell them the children should return.”

  A wave crashed over the bow of Sloan’s boat. In the distance she heard the children squeal with fear. “It’ll be too late.” Ben glanced toward the end of the dock. A dory moored beside it bobbed up and down. “I’m going after them.”

  Rachel stared at the sea. Whitecaps dotted the water. Her stomach tightened. Lord, but she hated being out on the water. “I’m going with you.”

  Ben shook his head. “Go to the church. Warn the families about the change in the water. There are twelve children out there. I’ll need help.”

  Rachel wanted to be by Ben’s side. She wanted to help. But saving the children took precedence over her wishes. “Please be careful.”

  He touched her face with his hand. “Don’t worry.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes as she picked up her skirts and ran down the path. Don’t cry! She sniffed, annoyed that she couldn’t stay as calm and controlled as Ben. The wind speed picked up. The sky seemed to grow darker by the moment.

  Church had finished, but everyone would be milling out the double doors, never thinking to cast an eye toward the Sound.

  Rachel kept running. Her side began to hurt. As the path reached the main road, she looked up ahead and saw two men and a women.

  She shouted, “Please, we need your help.”

  The three turned. Steve, Horace Freely, his wife Marianne. Steve’s blackened right eye had closed shut. Marianne dabbed a handkerchief to his bruised lip. Both the men took a step back as if they expected Ben to be nearby.

  “We don’t want no trouble,” Mrs. Freely said. “Ben made his point. We’ll speak to you with respect. And my brother won’t be throwing any more punches.” She spoke loudly, glancing around as if she expected Ben to materialize.

  Horace groaned. “Sorry for what we said,” he said.

  Rachel stopped in front of them. She dug her fingertips into her aching side. “The Sound,” she said breathless. “The children are on the Sound.”

  Steve nodded. “Yeah, yeah. We sent them back to school this morning.”

  Mrs. Freely stopped dabbing her brother’s lip. Her gaze burned into her. “What about the children?”

  The cold air burned Rachel’s lungs. “The wind has shifted. The water is rough. Sloan’s boat looks to be taking on water.”

  Mrs. Freely paled. The wrinkles around her eyes deepened. “Oh, dear Lord.”

  Horace’s eyes widened. “Are the children all right?”

  “The boat hasn’t capsized, but Ben fears it might. He’s already headed out into the Sound.”

  Steve snatched the handkerchief and shoved it into his pocket. His eyes hardened with worry. “Horace, we can take my fishing boat. It’s bigger than yours. Marianne, go back to town and tell the folks what’s happening.”

  Mrs. Freely’s eyes filled with tears. “Molly didn’t want to go this morning. She and I had another fight about school. She wouldn’t kiss me goodbye before she got on the boat.”

  Horace squeezed her hand. “Don’t fret, Marianne, she’s tough and smart. I’ll bring her home safe.”

  Steve nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Mrs. Freely ran toward town and the men started down the path toward another dock. Rachel followed the men. She could be more help out on the water.

  Rachel looked out toward the Sound. Sloan’s boat had lost its sail. The water had started to pitch and roll. Ben’s dory was halfway to the children’s boat.

  Horace and Steve ran to the end of the sun-baked dock. Rachel started to follow. She quickly discovered planks were spilt in many places. She could feel the motion of the water and see the waves rolling under a rotted pier slat. The motion of the water made her dizzy.

  Horace shouted an order to Steve. Rachel looked up. They were untying the line.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she ran the length of the dock, praying she didn’t fall into the water. “I’m coming with you.”

  Horace groaned. “Stay put, lady. We don’t need any more trouble.”

  With a trembling hand, Rachel reached for the ladder that led down to the boat. “I’m coming.” She climbed down.

  Please don’t let me fall. Please don’t let me fall.

  She chanted the words as her foot touched the wobbly bottom of the boat. She released the rung. And lost her balance.

  Steve grabbed her by the arm and unceremoniously dropped her onto a plank seat. “You looking to drown, lady?”

  Rachel clenched her fists. “I sincerely hope not.”

  Horace’s face was ashen with worry as he pushed away from the dock. He started to row.

  In the distance the church bell began to ring faster, its tone a frantic shout for help.

  Rachel’s knuckles whitened with each stroke of the oar as they moved further from shore. Thoughts of the sinking Anna St. Claire coiled around her. Horace rowed as fast as he could but she feared it would not be fast enough. The waves licked over the side of the children’s boat. It rocked and pitched.

  Less than a hundred feet separated Ben from the children. Horace and Steve, working together, moved at a faster clip than Ben’s boat. They were closing in on him and Sloan’s boat quickly.

  Water sloshed around Rachel’s feet. Sea spray hit her in the face. Her stomach churned.

  The children’s shouts drifted over the water. And from the shore, the people shouted back. The whole village stood on the sandy banks now. She could all but imagine how helpless the parents felt watching their children in such dangerous waters.

  Rachel gripped the sides of the boat, twisting in her seat so that she could get a better view ahead. A gust of wind whipped across the water. Sloan’s boat pitched violently. Then it capsized.

  Ben dug his oars into the water as if Hades himself had come to claim his soul.

  Just feet from the boat, he heard the gust of wind. He rode out the waves that followed, but heard the children’s screams and splash of Sloan’s boat.

  Ben immediately saw nine children slapping against the surfa
ce of the water. He started to haul them into his dory. First Mary Kelly, thirteen years old—she was soaked and crying. Then came Tucker and Billy, both five years old. Next, Jackson, Matthew, McKenzie, Joshua, Max and Sandy.

  The children were packed into the dory, which now rode low on the water’s edge. They all huddled together, crying.

  Ben looked at Mary Kelly, the oldest. “How many children were on the boat?”

  Her teeth chattered. “Twelve.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She closed her eyes and continued to cry. “Yes, I think so.”

  He tamped down the fire burning in him. “You’ve got to be, honey.”

  She sniffed. “Yes, there were twelve.”

  Horace’s boat reached them then. His larger vessel skimmed alongside the dory. “How many?”

  “We’re missing three,” Ben shouted. He saw Rachel in the back of the boat. Her pale skin looked ghostly but she sat tall. She hated the water, yet she’d come. He tore his gaze from her. “Horace, get the children into your boat. I’m going in to look for the others.”

  “Where’s my son, Johnny?” Horace choked.

  “I don’t know,” Ben admitted.

  Pain etched the deep lines in the fisherman’s face. “I can’t swim.”

  Ben dove into the Sound. The icy waters burned his skin. Salt water stung his eyes and mouth as he swam toward the underside of the boat. With luck the children were trapped in the air pocket underneath.

  He swam, cutting through the dark waters until he saw two sets of kicking legs. Ben swam up toward the capsized boat. His lungs ached. He needed air.

  He swam up and broke through the air pocket. The two children held on to the edge of the boat, their faces barely above the water. At the rate they were crying and screaming, the air would not last.

  “Emma and Ruth, I need for you to hold your breath. We’re swimming to the surface.”

  “Johnny is missing,” Emma said, spitting out water as she struggled to keep her head up.

  Ben tossed a look over his shoulder. The child wasn’t here. He swallowed a hard lump. “Where’s Sloan?”

  “The boom hit him on the head. He went overboard.”

  Ben digested the information. “Let’s get up.” He looked at the girl’s frightened eyes. “Hold hands and don’t let go. I’ll pull you all to the surface. On the count of three. One, two, three.”

  They sucked in a breath and together the four of them ducked under the water.

  Rachel scanned the waters for signs of the children and Ben. The waves pitched and swayed. The clouds grew darker.

  “I’m cold.” A little girl looked up at her, her eyes bright with fear.

  Rachel pulled off her coat and wrapped it around the girl and the child next to her. She rubbed their arms. “You’ll be home soon.”

  “I want my mama,” the youngest child said.

  Rachel smiled. “You’ll see her soon enough.”

  “Look out there!” another child shouted.

  Rachel looked. Fifteen feet from the boat, a child floated to the surface. It was Johnny. She rose.

  “Johnny!” She glanced wildly around the boat.

  Horace’s head snapped up. “I’ve got to get to him. I can’t swim.”

  Steve followed Horace’s gaze. “We’ve got to wait for Ben and the other children.”

  Tears filled Horace’s eyes. “My son!”

  Rachel didn’t stop to think. She lifted her skirts and jumped into Ben’s dory.

  Pushing through the water, Ben hauled the girls toward the surface. They each clamped their eyes closed but they kicked hard. They were fighters.

  Ben and the girls surfaced in time to see Rachel rowing the boat. Her strokes were choppy and uneven, but the dory was making slow progress.

  Handing the girls to Horace, Ben swam toward Rachel. He reached her just as she had reached the child. She set down her oars and leaned over the edge of the dory. The boy was just out of reach. She leaned further, straining her body and stretching her fingertips. Water splashed on her chest and into her mouth. The dory was going to tip over.

  She grabbed Johnny’s brown coat and hauled him up. Unconscious and drenched, he weighed too much for her. “Help!”

  Ben reached the boat and grabbed Johnny’s lifeless body by his coat collar. He handed him up to Rachel and then swung his own body into the boat.

  Immediately Rachel lay the boy on the bottom and turned him onto his side. She pushed his long hair off his face as water trickled from his nose and mouth. Setting him on his back, she tipped his head back and started to blow in his mouth.

  Ben watched, surprised she knew what to do. Then he thought about her love of books. She’d read this somewhere.

  Johnny’s lips were blue. And Ben feared there’d be no saving the boy. She blew air into his mouth. His lungs rose and fell.

  Ben pushed her aside. “Let me.” He turned the boy onto his side again and hit him between the shoulder blades hard.

  Johnny lay still.

  Rachel started to weep.

  Ben struck him again.

  This time, the boy’s nostrils moved. A shallow cough escaped his lips. And then he inhaled a deep, sharp breath.

  Johnny stared breathing deep, even breaths. He opened his eyes and looked up at Ben. “Am I in trouble?”

  Ben laughed as he wiped the water from the boy’s face. “No, son, you’re not.”

  Rachel scooped up the boy and wrapped her arms around him to give him her warmth. “You gave us quite a scare.”

  “Ahoy,” Horace shouted.

  “The boy’s fine,” Ben shouted. “Sloan?”

  Horace shook his head.

  Ben stared at Rachel. She had red, watery eyes, her hair plastered against her face. And she’d never looked more beautiful.

  He knew he loved her.

  They reached the shore in fifteen minutes, the wind with Ben as he rowed. Horace’s vessel was faster and he glided with the children into the dock minutes before him. The sounds of parents and children crying drifted over the water.

  All twelve children were accounted for, but Sloan was lost. Several of the older children had seen him go overboard. Likely his body would wash up on shore by dusk.

  The mothers and fathers took their children, each dripping wet and terrified. The children would all recover, including Johnny, who’d already picked a fight with his cousin Ruth.

  Rachel was happy to put her feet on dry land. She knew if she lived to be one hundred, she’d never become accustomed to the water.

  Ben laid his hands on her shoulders. His warm fingers tightened. “You scared me to death,” he breathed against her ear.

  She leaned back into him. Touching him made her feel safe and alive. “I didn’t think.”

  He turned her around, his face tight with worry. “For my sake, don’t take a chance like that again.”

  Rachel leaned her forehead against his chest. “I will try to be more careful, Mr. Mitchell.”

  He wrapped his arms around her chest. “You all right?”

  “Freezing, but fine.”

  His heart beat faster. “I don’t think I could live without you.”

  She hugged him tighter. “Nor I you.”

  He rested his chin on the top of her head. Seconds passed as they held each other.

  “I’ve got just the thing to warm you up,” he said. The husky, seductive tone in his voice warmed her blood.

  She could never give herself to him in marriage, but he had her heart forever. She would give what she had and pray that it was enough.

  Peter hated to travel by rail. The station was crowded with hundreds of mindless people milling around with not a care that they were bumping into him. A baby’s cry pierced his brain.

  Added to that, the trains were slow, often late and the seats even in this exclusive car uncomfortable. Traveling by sea, he controlled everything. On the train he felt like cattle.

  He rose from the plush club chair and walked to the small bar
. His gold wedding band winked in the light. He poured himself a whiskey. Glancing out the window, he tapped his ring against the glass tumbler as he stared at the flat, barren land of southern Virginia. Farming country.

  In three hours they’d be in North Carolina. There he’d catch a coach and then a boat to the coastal town.

  He rolled the crystal tumbler in his hands. He thought back to the last five weeks—the sleepless nights, the tortuous images of Rachel in another man’s arms. “Rachel, you’ve put me to quite a lot of trouble.”

  But soon he would find her and set things right. She would understand that she’d made a grave error running form him. Until death us do part, my love.

  He thought about ropes he’d packed in his bag, the blindfold and the small knives. “Our reunion is going to be very special. Very special indeed.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rachel was nervous and excited as Ben lit the lantern.

  The lantern light glowed softly on her skin as Ben moved toward her. They stood facing each other in his bedroom, curtains drawn, barefoot, each silent and lost in their own thoughts. A fire crackled and hissed in the hearth.

  Ben set the second lantern on the table beside the bed and looked down at Rachel. He traced her jawline with his index finger. Shivers danced down her spine. “Turn around. You’ve got to get out of that wet dress.”

  She turned. “I’ve heard that story before.”

  He chuckled as his fingers brushed the ends of her hair forward over her shoulder, and then fumbled with the top button. He quickly worked his way down the row. “It’s a marvel you were able to get this dress on,” he said, chuckling.

  “Years of practice.”

  He peeled the fine fabric forward until her bodice hung at her waist. Cupping her bare shoulders, he kissed the back of her neck. Her heart raced.

  Rachel pushed her dress to the floor, stepped out of it and faced him. Her chemise clung to her full breasts and flat belly. By rights she should have been freezing, but she was warm. Very warm.

  Ben’s eyes darkened as his gaze slid to the hard peaks of her nipples. He pulled off his sweater and tossed in onto the floor beside her dress. Water droplets glistened in the thick mat of hair that tapered down over his flat belly and below his belt.