Under the King's Command

by Ingrid Weaver

  Not if. When. He would find her. He would hold her. The alternative was unthinkable.

  "Kate!"

  Was that a flash of movement on the crest of a wave? Holding the wheel steady with one hand, he swept the area with his binoculars, waiting for the boat to ride up the next swell.

  There! Something pale lifted from the water. A hand, an arm.

  "Kate!"

  The reply was faint, so faint it might have been his imagination, but Sam didn't hesitate. He cut the engine, spared only enough time to strip off his slicker and his shoes and fasten an extra length of rope to his safety line, then dove into the water. In spite of the rest of his clothes weighing him down and the waves tossing him everywhere but straight ahead, he covered the distance in what would have been world record time if anyone had been there to witness it.

  She was pale and weak but she was swimming toward him when he reached her. That seemed right somehow. His strong, independent Kate wouldn't wait for anyone to rescue her.

  Sam didn't have words for how he felt. Instead, he caught her hand and pressed it hard to his mouth.

  She was alive. She would be fine. Thank God, thank God.

  A wave broke over them. Kate coughed and drew her hand away to stay afloat. "Sam, where's the boat?"

  He nodded behind them. "I've got a line. Hang on, I'll pull you with me."

  Rain started falling as they hauled themselves on board. Sam looked at Kate's red-rimmed eyes and wet cheeks and knew that more than the weather and the sea were responsible.

  But there was no time for the soft words or apologies that pushed to get past the lump in his throat. Lightning snaked overhead, and the deck vibrated with a blast of thunder. "Get below and dry off!" he shouted. "I'll take us back to port."

  "No!"

  "Kate—"

  "Chambers could be out here."

  "We won't be able to spot her in this."

  "We have to try."

  He didn't waste his breath arguing. He threw out the sea anchors to give them some stability, then tossed Kate over his shoulder and carried her down the companionway to the cabin. He set her on her feet beside the bunk and turned to fasten the hatch closed.

  She swayed, her legs unsteady. In the dim light that came from the fixture in the cabin ceiling, the water that streamed from her sodden clothes glistened like silver. "Have you radioed our position?" she demanded.

  He didn't know where they were, where they stood, where they'd go from here. After what he'd said, he didn't know how to ask.

  But she wasn't talking about them, she was still talking about the mission. That's what a good naval officer would do. He didn't resent it, he understood and respected it. That's what he would have done if their circumstances had been reversed. "Yes," he replied. "Ten minutes ago."

  "What's the condition of the fleet?"

  "More than half the small vessels were already on their way back to Montebello when I requested assistance to search for you. The two that were still in this sector will be on their way here." He yanked off his dripping shirt and moved to the radio. With a few curt words he informed the other boats that Kate was safely on board, then abruptly terminated the transmission and moved to stand in front of her. "Were there any extra clothes in the locker where you found the raincoats?"

  "A few T-shirts. Some jogging pants. Sam, we have to make sure the fleet moves into position as soon as the storm—"

  "We will." He lifted his hands to the front of her blouse.

  "Sam, what are you doing?"

  "There's nothing we can do about Chambers right now. The first priority is to get you into something dry." He struggled to push her buttons through the wet fabric, but between the rocking of the boat and the adrenaline that still sped through his veins he couldn't manage the task. He inhaled, trying to steady his shaking hands... and his senses filled with the scent of the sea and of Kate.

  His Kate.

  And he knew in that instant that no matter what she did, what she told him, where she went or who she became, she would forever be his.

  He started to tremble.

  "Sam?"

  The control he'd clutched while he'd searched for her was finally crumbling. He felt it drop away, piece by piece. The panic he'd thought he'd suppressed surged over him. His hands fisted in her blouse front. He couldn't breathe.

  She caught his wrists. "Sam..."

  He pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm sorry for leaving you, Kate. God, I'm sorry."

  "You had to. You must have been doing thirty knots and couldn't reverse—"

  "No." He rolled his head in a quick negative. Drops of water from their hair trickled down his temples. "I don't mean now. I mean then. Five years ago. I hadn't known. And I'm sorry for what I said before... before you fell...." He couldn't go on. He swallowed.

  Her fingers tightened, her nails pressing into his wrists. "It's over, Sam."

  No, it can't be over, he thought. Please, don't let it be over.

  He brushed his lips across her cheek. He tasted cold rain and hot tears. His heart swelled. He pressed a line of kisses along her jaw to her chin. Her stubborn, wonderful chin.

  He didn't hate the way she lifted her chin, he loved it. He loved her strength. Another woman might have collapsed after the ordeal she'd just been through, but not his Kate.

  He could have lost her.

  Everything else faded to insignificance, leaving that one thought. He kissed her mouth.

  Her lips were cool. He tilted his head and continued to kiss her until they started to warm.

  She released his wrists and caught his head between her hands, parting her lips. At the feel of her tongue probing his the last piece of his control shattered. He tightened his fists on her blouse and ripped it apart.

  Thunder roared overhead. Waves crashed against the hull. The storm didn't check Sam's need, it intensified it. The desire he felt was as primitive as the elements. He knew that what lay between him and Kate wasn't this simple, but their physical bond was how it had all begun. They could deal with the rest later.

  Kate's breath caught at the feel of Sam's hands on her breasts. Her skin was slick and cool, his palms were warm. He rubbed his thumbs across her nipples in short, hard, demanding strokes, then clamped his hands at her sides and lifted her to his mouth.

  The rush of pleasure made Kate dizzy. She had been near exhaustion mere moments ago, but now her body sparked with renewed energy. She was alive. And she was through running away from life. Never again would she hide from her passion. She arched her back and flattened her palms against the low ceiling of the cabin, pressing her breast more firmly into Sam's kiss.

  His chest rumbled with approval. He circled her nipple with his tongue, his cheeks flexing as he drew on her. She hooked her legs around his waist and urged him on with sharp, wordless sounds.

  The cabin rocked as the boat rode a wave. Sam staggered, his back crashing into a bulkhead. He slid to the floor with her on his lap, her legs still wrapped around him. She tunneled her fingers into his hair and caught his lower lip between her teeth.

  She felt as if she couldn't get close enough. Every one of her senses was reeling with delight as she tasted, touched and smelled. It was the same as it used to be, this rush of desire. And yet it was different. Better. Necessary.

  She stroked his back and felt the ripple of hard muscle under his damp skin. She spread her fingers possessively, rediscovering the ridges and dips she'd once known so well. And once again, she felt as if she were coming home.

  Sam slipped his hand between them and rubbed his knuckles against the juncture of her thighs.

  Kate cried out at the intimate contact. It was right. It was as natural as following the lightning for her first gasp of air.

  Their wet clothes were hell to remove. Sam wasn't gentle as he peeled her pants and underwear down her legs and tossed her on the bunk. Neither was she when she lowered his zipper and reached for him. She bit his shoulder to muffle her scream of impatience as Sam groped in the pock
et of his discarded jeans for a condom, but then he was inside her at last.

  And despite the pitching boat, the rumbling thunder and the drumming rain, Kate felt as if the world had just righted itself.

  Sam dug his fingertips into her buttocks, straining to get closer with each thrust. It was quick and savage and exactly the way Kate wanted it. She was alive. And she intended to live. She raked her nails down Sam's back and angled her hips to pull him deeper.

  They climaxed suddenly, their damp bodies trembling as wave after wave sped through them. She heard him say her name. She felt him shudder.

  Then thunder exploded directly overhead. Something heavy crashed onto the top of the cabin, and the ceiling light snicked out.

  Kate jerked and lifted her head, her heart pounding.

  Sam's weight left her immediately as he rolled to his side.

  She thrust out her hand, groping for him in the darkness. She caught his arm. "Sam?" Her voice was rough. "What—"

  "Lightning. We must have been hit. Looks like the electrical system's out."

  She fought to get her brain functioning. "Oh, my God."

  "Stay put. I'll check the damage."

  "Sam—"

  Somehow he found her mouth. He kissed her hard, his tongue plunging inside in an echo of the act they'd shared moments before.

  She moaned, her body responding mindlessly. She dropped her hand to his thigh.

  He broke the kiss, dragging his lips down her throat to nuzzle her breasts. With a muttered curse, he pulled up one edge of the blanket she was lying on and tucked it around her. "Stay put," he repeated.

  "There's a flashlight...."

  The bunk creaked. "Where?"

  "In the locker beside the stairs." She gathered the blanket around her with one hand and swung her feet to the floor. "I'll get it—"

  The boat rocked violently, throwing her forward. She collided with Sam.

  He caught her around the waist and jerked her against him. He was still naked.

  Kate opened her mouth over his collarbone, molding her body to his, absorbing his heat and the musky tang of his skin for a breathless, giddy moment.

  But there was no time for more. The boat listed sharply to starboard, and water poured over her feet.

  Chapter 13

  The main mast was down, sheared off two feet above the boom. It trailed over the starboard side like a broken wing, held by the shrouds and what was left of the storm jib. Sam saw immediately that its drag in the water was making the boat heel on its side, allowing the sea to wash over the deck. Only the counterweight of the full lead keel was keeping them from capsizing.

  "Can we pull it back on board?"

  Kate was standing directly behind him, yet he barely heard her voice over the noise of the wind. He turned his head. "There's no point," he shouted. "We don't have the means to repair it ourselves. We'll have to cut it loose."

  Lightning flickered, illuminating her rain-streaked face. "Okay. I'll get some cutters," she yelled.

  They scrambled over the pitching deck, using their life-lines and each other as they grappled for handholds. When Sam crawled onto the boom to cut through the rigging, Kate was right behind him, wrapping her arms around his legs to steady him so he could use both hands as he worked.

  He hadn't wanted her to come topside. He'd wanted her to stay safe and warm in the cabin. But he hadn't been surprised when she'd refused to be ordered. She'd retrieved the flashlight, pulled on her wet clothes without complaint alongside him and followed him up the ladder.

  Was this the same woman who had fallen overboard and could have drowned? And who had left teeth marks in his shoulder ten minutes ago?

  Yes, by God. And she was one hell of a woman, wasn't she?

  "Hang on!" Sam shouted as he cut through the last strand of wire.

  The mast fell away. Freed from the weight, the boat rolled sharply to the other side. They both clung to the boom until the boat righted itself.

  But their problems were far from over. The lightning had knocked out the radio. The electric pump wasn't working. The water in the cabin was ankle deep, and they had to use a hand pump and buckets to bail it out.

  For the rest of the night, they spoke little, saving their strength for their struggle with the sea. Sam lost track of time. It wasn't until Kate pointed to the twinkle of stars that he realized the storm was finally blowing itself out. Exhausted, they sealed the hatch behind them and discarded their wet clothes. With no energy left for modesty or anything else they wrapped themselves in dry blankets.

  Kate was asleep before she reached the bunk. Her knees buckled, and she would have fallen face first onto the mattress if Sam hadn't seen her going over. He scooped her up and laid her on her side, then stretched out behind her and drew her back to his chest.

  The bunk was narrow, but that suited him fine. He pressed his lips to her damp hair. Every muscle in his body ached. His brain was fuzzy with fatigue. He craved sleep, but he didn't want to waste one minute of his time with Kate. He'd wasted too much time already.

  "You're not getting away again, Lieutenant Mulvaney," he whispered. "You're mine, you hear me?"

  Her chest rose and fell with the slow, steady breathing of deep sleep.

  He draped his arm over hers and twined their fingers together. There was more he wanted to say. He was sure of it. But first he'd close his eyes just for a minute....

  Sometime before dawn, Sam came awake with a start. Something was wrong. He was instantly alert, his senses searching for what had disturbed him. The boat rocked and dipped as it rode the swells, but the wind had dropped. The storm hadn't returned.

  The sound came again. It was a low moan that made the hair on his arms rise. It came from Kate.

  Sam lifted up on his elbow to look at her. In the starlight that streamed through the portholes he saw that her eyes were still closed. She was dreaming.

  No, she was having a nightmare. Probably the same nightmare she'd had yesterday morning... and for the past five years.

  Sam felt as if someone had punched him in the heart. He wanted to help her, but he knew that his actions, however unknowing, had been the root cause of her pain. The words he'd shouted in anger the day before had only made it worse.

  They'd made love yesterday without any words spoken. They'd been swept away by passion and an adrenaline high. He'd known then that their relationship wasn't as simple as sex. No, it wasn't simple at all.

  He'd hoped they might have had more time together before the complications had come crashing back on top of them.

  "Oh, Kate," he murmured, stroking her hair back from her forehead. "Kate, I'm sorry."

  It started out the same as it always did. Kate was running, trying to find the baby. Her lungs were bursting, she couldn't get enough air, but she kept going. She wouldn't give up. She couldn't.

  She drew her knees to her chest, curling into a protective ball, but the pain came anyway. It gnawed at her belly and shot down to her toes.

  The baby. She was losing the baby.

  "No." She groaned, splaying her fingers and reaching to stop the inevitable. "No, please, no."

  Kate, I'm sorry.

  She strained forward, Sam's words weaving themselves into the fabric of the nightmare. Sorry. She was sorry she couldn't move faster. Sorry she wasn't able to try harder. The baby. He wasn't here. She had to find him.

  The hospital corridor stretched in a gleaming tunnel. The pain was tinging everything red. The doctor's voice was weary. "I'm sorry. We did everything we could."

  She moved her head back and forth. No! This time she wasn't giving up. She wasn't running away. She was going to see this through.

  "He's gone." The doctor was turning away. "He was too small. I'm sorry."

  Kate pushed through the pain. No. She wasn't finished. Didn't they understand? She was through running, damn it. From everything.

  The red haze faded to white as the pain slowly ebbed. Kate breathed hard, her throat tight. The dream was changing. For the
first time in five years, it was different. Hope unfurled in her chest. She reached out her other hand.

  The baby. Maybe this time she'd find the baby. She had to save him....

  Something warm touched her face. A whisper of air on her cheek. She whirled.

  There was no baby. No doctor, no hospital. No pain.

  Only a butterfly.

  Sunlight gleamed from wings of gold lace. The butterfly was so beautiful it took Kate's breath away. It fluttered a heartbeat beyond her grasp. She stretched out her arms and hurried after it, wanting to catch it....

  But then her steps slowed. Something that delicate wasn't meant to be captured, was it? It would be selfish to force it to stay with her. Those lacy gold wings weren't made for the earth. It shouldn't be chained. It was meant to be free.

  Kate dropped her arms.

  The butterfly hovered for an endless, dreamy moment as if... as if it were saying goodbye. Then it spread its wings and spiraled into the sky.

  She watched it soar. It danced on the breeze, playing in the clouds, rejoicing in the freedom to finally go where souls have always gone.

  And softly, painlessly, a piece of Kate's heart broke away and went with it.

  She woke up sobbing.

  Sam was leaning over her, his fingers in her hair, his breath on her cheek.

  But she couldn't see him. Her vision was blurred by tears.

  "Oh, Kate." He stroked her shoulder, his fingers trembling. "Kate, I'm so sorry. Don't cry."

  The tears came faster. She swallowed hard, she closed her eyes, but she couldn't stop crying. It was as if a dam had burst... or as if...

  As if a wound that had been festering for years had finally been lanced.

  Sam pulled her into his arms. "Kate, I was wrong. So wrong. I was angry and hurt, but that's no excuse. I never should have said those things about your miscarriage or your nightmares. I'm sorry."

  She felt the warmth of Sam's body draw her out of the dream. She gradually became aware of her surroundings. With wakefulness came the memory of the last twenty-four hours. The storm. The sex. Falling overboard.... and the accusation Sam had hurled at her that had sent her there.