He stared at her cheerful expression, uncomprehending a moment, then Alejandro tore his gaze from her to look over her wild head of curls, only to see a group of people standing near the same rock where he had found the seals two days before.
For his eyes, unused to people for more than a year, they appeared to swarm up the beach toward the sound of Señorita Everly’s voice. His muscles nearly froze, his heart rising into his throat, and he had the sudden wish to disappear. There were too many of them, all at once—and yet, he had never thought to see another man or woman again. He needed them. Needed to be near, to touch hands, to speak and be heard, before he woke and discovered the whole of it to be a dream.
“Grace,” a woman shouted.
“Miss Everly,” came the relieved calls of several other voices, those of men.
Why had he not known her Christian name was Grace? Why had he not asked?
Gathering up her skirts to avoid stumbling, the señorita at his side ran forward, all signs of her weakness gone. He loped along behind her, trying to count the people. How many had she said accompanied her? Nine?
A woman, near in size to his discovered angel, ran before the rest and threw herself into Señorita Everly’s arms, sobbing.
“Irene,” Miss Everly murmured, holding her friend tightly. “Irene, it’s all right. I am unharmed. We are safe.”
A man arrived next, his eyes on Alejandro rather than the scene of the women greeting one another. “Who is this?” he asked, his tone sharp and suspicious.
It took Alejandro a moment to recall why someone would look at him with such distrust. A woman alone might be wary of him, of course, but another man? He debated a moment if he should announce himself as a land-owner’s son, but Miss Everly spoke before he decided on his course.
“This is Alejandro. He saved me from the sea.” She kept both arms around her friend, who still shuddered with sobs. “He pulled me ashore this morning. Alejandro, this is Mr. Albert Carlbury, a friend. This is his sister, Miss Irene Carlbury.”
Miss Everly gave Carlbury a beauteous smile, and Alejandro’s insides tightened. The jealousy overtaking his heart surprised him. He had not thought to find anyone. He ought to rejoice with her. Yet the magic between them, the strange feelings stirred by her arrival, must cease amid her friends.
Alejandro tried to ignore a pain he had no right to, focusing instead on what he must always think of first: survival. “Have you a boat?” he asked, taking a step closer to Carlbury. “Did you make it ashore in a boat?” That his heart still dared to dream of escaping the awful place surprised him, though his practical mind immediately mocked him. He would never leave the island. He had accepted that.
One of the other men answered, his accent thick with the mixed tongues of the Caribbean. “It smashed against the rocks, the hull is destroyed. We barely made it ashore.”
No boat. More mouths to feed. Alejandro looked up at the sun, descending from the highest point in the sky and ushering night upon them. He touched the chain about his neck, finding his mother’s ring.
Another man approached, older, limping. “Who is this?”
Before anyone else introduced him, Alejandro executed a formal bow. “Alejandro Felipe de Córdoba y Verduzco, at your service, Señor.”
“A pleasure, sir. Though I wish we met under different circumstances. I am Doctor James Morgan, lately of Saint Kitt’s.” He turned to the young women, their arms still wrapped about each other. “Mr. Carlbury, would you escort these girls back to my wife? I believe she has need of their assistance.”
Carlbury’s stance changed from superior to reluctant, his shoulders dropping. The expression on his face one of unwillingness. “As you wish, Doctor.”
The doctor watched the man and both women retreat, Miss Everly still comforting the other, and once they were far enough away not to be overheard, he turned back to Alejandro. “Señor Córdoba, I am somewhat familiar with the islands in this part of the Caribbean, but we were blown far off course during the storm, and I am disoriented more than I should like. We are not on a colonized piece of land, are we?”
Appreciating the man’s ability to come to the point, Alejandro answered without softening his response as he had for Miss Everly. “There is no one here but me, and I have been stuck here for fourteen months. In that time I have seen no ships. You are trapped here, Doctor.”
“Castaways.” The doctor folded his arms and tilted his head back, as though looking to the heavens for guidance. “Let us hope people come looking for us.”
Alejandro did not scoff at the doctor’s words, but he did not let them touch his heart, either. “Have you any wounded among you?” he asked, glancing where the small crowd of people had come together on the beach, near the trees.
“My wife, and one of the other men. Otherwise, we are well. I wonder, Señor, if you might have any shelter you could offer? Though the day appears clear, I cannot like my injured wife exposed to the elements. If not, then perhaps you have a water source on the island?”
“I have a safe place to stay. It is not far. It will not hold everyone comfortably, but your women will be as comfortable as we can make them. Water will be a different matter.” Alejandro scratched above his right ear, measuring time by the moon and the lapping waves. “There are several hours yet until dawn. Gather your people, Doctor. I will give them a place to rest.”
The doctor bowed his thanks, then he and the sailor rejoined their group. Alejandro stayed where he was, his bare feet planted firmly in the sand. His whole way of life, every routine, every rule he had made for himself, would be dismantled by these people. If he did not make them understand, if he could not persuade them to follow his rules, their ignorance might cause the death of them all. But he was one man, and they were many. The sooner they saw him as an ally, the better.
Carlbury was the first to approach Alejandro again, though the others came along behind, the doctor and another man supporting a woman, the weeping girl still clinging to the lovely Miss Everly, and the rest following behind.
The tall Englishman did not stop at a respectable distance, but came to stand directly in front of Alejandro. Staring down his nose, the man spoke in a low, aggressive manner. “If you try to do harm to any of these people, I swear you will regret it.”
“Do harm to them?” Alejandro asked, not bothering to hide his displeasure. “It is very well all of you who will get me killed.” Then he walked away, smirking despite the dark truth in his words.
Whoever Carlbury might be in England, or even on the settled islands, the man was no one here. He knew nothing. Contributed nothing. The frailty of mortality on an island might well humble the Englishman as it had Alejandro. Until then, he had no reason to show any more respect than he felt. Which was none.
Yet a very real worry took hold of his thoughts. It was up to him to keep all these people alive. Not just Miss Everly, whose hand he dared not hold again, but all of them.
7
Hope tried not to trip over the dips and rises in the ground when they left the beach to climb the hill, but it grew increasingly difficult as Irene had started crying again and gave almost no attention to where she stepped. They nearly fell twice, and Irene’s reaction each time had involved increasingly louder sobs. Mrs. Morgan, injured and on her husband’s arm, hadn’t even made a sound of distress or pain.
Though Hope recognized the seriousness of their situation, she did not understand how Irene could be so overcome. Disasters could hardly be mended by losing control of one’s emotions. Mrs. Morgan’s reaction reassured her in her own. Yet her impatience with Irene grew with every step.
The third time Irene caused them to stumble, Hope stopped walking completely and pulled away from her friend’s clinging grip.
“That is quite enough, Irene,” she said firmly, her voice loud enough that it carried ahead of her and everyone stopped walking. The gentlemen behind stopped as well. “You are going to do yourself harm if you carry on like this, and you have nearly caused us
both a fall.”
Irene’s sobs cut off, but before Hope could feel any satisfaction in the other woman’s silence her friend started bawling like a calf. “I’m going to die. We are all going to die. We’re lost. I want Mama, and Papa.”
One would think, given Irene’s previous experience living in the Caribbean, she would be made of stronger metal.
“Stuff and nonsense.” Hope pointed up the hill, in the direction the whole group had been walking until she’d stopped them. “That is where we are traveling. Up. We will not discuss our fears at present. We are all tired, we are all afraid, but it is only you who are carrying on like a child. You must be brave and walk up this hill with me, without causing us to stumble. There is shelter and rest ahead.”
The shaking of brush alerted her to the arrival of someone from the front of the line, and Hope turned to address Mr. Carlbury in some relief. He had come to take his sister in hand at last, it would seem.
But it was Alejandro. Señor Córdoba. She had to think of him more formally now, with others present.
“Señoritas,” he greeted them. Irene whimpered and drew herself behind Hope. “Is there a problem?”
“I am afraid my friend is overtired and distraught.” Hope rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “But we are nearly there, aren’t we?” She gave Alejandro an encouraging smile, silently asking for him to treat Irene gently.
“Sí. Almost there.” He glanced behind her. “Perhaps Miss Carlbury would prefer to be carried?”
Irene crowded against Hope’s back.
“That will not be necessary, though I thank you for the suggestion.” Hope cleared her throat. “We may carry on, if you wish.”
Alejandro hesitated a moment, his eyes seeming to say to her, “We have our hands full with this lot.” Then left without another word, tromping back to the front of their line.
Irene kept sniffling, but she started walking when Hope did. “I cannot believe you would say such things to me,” she mumbled through her tears.
Somewhat surprised, Hope did not immediately respond. While it had been relatively easy to assume her sister’s identity before, she had forgotten herself in the frustration of the moment. Being herself with Alejandro for the time they had alone had also blurred the lines between who she was and who she must pretend to be.
When the doctor had told their group they were on an uninhabited island, save for the gentleman who had rescued Hope, her ruse had fallen from its position as the most important thing upon her mind.
What would Grace say to Irene? Although Hope knew her twin lacked an adventurous spirit, Grace had always kept her composure and knew how to be exceedingly practical. Hope could do that.
“I am sorry for speaking harshly,” she said, keeping her voice low in an attempt to soothe her friend’s pride. “My own worries quite overcame me. However, I do believe we must be sensible in this ordeal. I do not want you to sprain your ankle or any such thing because you are too distraught to walk carefully. We must take care of Mrs. Morgan, after all.”
Irene said nothing in return, but her sniffling stopped.
Where was Mr. Carlbury? Still at the front of the line? How rude of him, and inconsiderate, to leave his sister alone. Doubtless he could better calm Irene than Hope. Wouldn’t it be a brother’s duty to at least assist his sister in walking up the hill?
They emerged from the trees into the grassy clearing, and when Hope turned to look back the way they had come she gasped aloud. She had not paid attention to the view before, too caught up in her thoughts of Alejandro and determination to find the group. Now she marveled at what lay before her. It appeared as though they were at the top of the island, with nothing but trees, a thin line of white sand, and the ocean stretching on behind them.
The group kept moving, the grass beneath her feet softer than the uneven ground of the hill. There were rocks ahead, thrusting out of the ground as though they had been pushed outward from the earth, three times the height of a man. That was Alejandro’s shelter, where he had kept the food he gave her.
Alejandro’s accented explanation drifted back to her. “There is a fire inside the shelter, and another banked for the rest of us outside.”
Irene picked up her pace, and Hope smiled despite herself. The hours of the storm had been fraught with terror, every moment seeming to be their last. But here they were on solid land; they were not alone and uncertain, either. Alejandro had come before and could care for them in a manner they could not care for themselves.
Alejandro went inside the shelter first, and the doctor held his hand up to stop anyone from entering after. In a few moments, a light appeared inside the combination of cave and hut, flickering orange and yellow.
Alejandro came out again with a bundle of things beneath his arm. He went and spoke in low tones to the doctor and Mrs. Morgan. The sailor assisting the doctor stepped aside.
“Miss Everly,” Doctor Morgan called, and she hurried forward to him. “Please, will you be so kind as to go ahead of us and help Mrs. Morgan.”
“Yes, of course.” Hope went into the hut, her eyes adjusting in moments to the dancing shadows and light. The fire had been built at the back of the shelter, against the rocks, where there was a natural gap between two giant stones to allow the smoke an escape. There wasn’t a great deal of room, but she found a pile of fronds and leaves against the right wall of braided branches.
As a child, she’d set up house many times beneath the trees of Inglewood’s estate. She’d used pine needles and old leaves to create a bed, laying out her cloak in fall and winter as a bedspread. This was far different, of course. She recognized none of the leaves of this resting place, and she had not come to play at sleeping under the familiar branches of silver beechwood trees.
Hope kneeled by the bedding and fluffed the leaves as one might a down pillow, then smoothed it over, searching for any uncomfortable twig or curious insect that might disturb Mrs. Morgan’s rest. Then she backed away as the doctor came in, allowing him to help his wife. As she had not been with the group when they came ashore, Hope had yet to learn what injury Mrs. Morgan had sustained from the accident. As she began to withdraw, thinking it best to give them privacy, Doctor Morgan called her back.
“Miss Everly, I am in need of some assistance. Please, invite Miss Carlbury inside as well.”
With a quick nod, Hope ventured to put her head outside the shelter’s door. “Irene? Come inside. The doctor needs us.” She did not wait to see her friend’s reaction to the summons, but came back to the doctor’s side and kneeled upon the ground. The doctor had bent low when he walked inside, supporting his wife, but Hope had no trouble standing at her full height once she had entered. Irene had to stoop slightly to avoid the top of her head brushing the ceiling of the structure.
“What can I do for you, Doctor?” Hope asked.
The doctor had removed his wife’s shoes and set them aside. “Mrs. Morgan requires assistance taking off her wet clothing. Her injury must be tended to as well. Señor Córdoba went to get water.”
He unknotted his wife’s shawl, which had been tied tightly around her waist. Irene moved around behind the older woman and started untying the laces of her gown, then moved on to the stays beneath.
“You expect us to do what, exactly?” Irene asked, her voice high-pitched, nearly shrill. “Assist in tending to her wounds?”
Doctor Morgan stilled a moment, and Hope saw over his wife’s shoulder that his brow wrinkled.
“I will help the doctor,” Hope said before he spoke. “You watch for Alejan—Señor Córdoba. He need not come inside with the water.” The doctor met Hope’s eyes and acknowledged her assistance with a grateful nod.
“I am sorry, Richard,” Mrs. Morgan whispered to the doctor.
“It is hardly your fault, my love.” The doctor’s voice changed when he spoke to his wife, growing gentler. “If it weren’t for me, we would not have been caught in the storm.”
He helped her out of one sleeve while Hope assis
ted with the other. “No one could have predicted that we would find ourselves on the edge of a hurricane,” Mrs. Morgan said.
Hope pretended not to hear their conversation, or the intimate tones they used for one another, instead helping her new friend strip down to the waist. As she had no familiarity with nakedness outside her own, and her younger siblings’ from the years she had assisted them with bathing and dressing, she flushed with embarrassment to be near another woman so exposed.
Yet it could not be helped. They were in the middle of an ocean, with no one to assist the doctor, no medical tools at his side, and less than ideal lighting for an examination.
The doctor examined his wife’s midsection. “Miss Everly, is there any discoloring or abrasions upon Mrs. Morgan’s back?”
Hope moved her eyes to the pale skin, not able to make out much. “It is difficult to tell, sir, but—” She peered closely. “Perhaps here, on the left side.”
The doctor touched his wife’s left ribs and Mrs. Morgan cried out, but stopped the sound with a gasp. The doctor folded the shawl and wrapped it around her waist, tightly, eliciting another yelp from her. “Your ribs might be broken. Let us hope not. I cannot make a full examination in this poor light. You must lay down, darling, on your good side.”
“You must lay on my lap,” Hope said, shifting her position.
“Thank you, Miss Everly.” The doctor eased his wife back, while Mrs. Morgan breathed shallowly, her chest hardly moving. “That is good, darling. Don’t breathe too deeply, as your lungs will shift the ribs.”
With Mrs. Morgan’s head upon her lap, Hope could do little else to help. The doctor maneuvered his wife’s clothing to cover her, then took off his coat and laid it atop her. His coat was not as damp as his wife’s dress.
“I will withdraw after I’ve put these near the fire.” He took his wife’s outer dress and laid it out on the stone near the small blaze, which had dimmed somewhat. “Tend the fire, rest as much as you are able.” He gave Hope a look, curiosity shining in his eyes as though he had a question he wished to ask. Apparently, he changed his mind and left the next instant.
Saving Miss Everly: A Regency Romance (Inglewood Book 3) Page 5