Tempest Tossed: A Love Unexpected Novel

by Adams, Alissa

  "Rene?" She turned her head at the sound of her name and leapt to her feet. She was at my side instantly and took my hand in hers.

  "Dylan. Oh God, Dylan." She put my hand up against her cheek and big tears rolled down her cheeks.

  "What the hell happened to me?"

  "You got speared by a Marlin way off shore. We were on our way to the Azores."

  "I don't remember any of it."

  "I think that's normal. You've been out for several days. The wound got infected. Badly. We couldn't treat it properly on board. By the time we got close enough for a medivac helicopter you were in terrible shape."

  "I think I'm still in terrible shape. My leg feels like it's about to fall off."

  "I think you're due for some pain meds. They've been trying to go light on because of the coma. I'll get the nurse."

  "NO!" I didn't mean to shout at her. "I'm fine. Just sit with me right now, okay?" I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to clear the cloud inside my head. "Rene, I can't remember much of the crossing. It's like there's a fog. It lifts in pieces every now and then and I see glimpses."

  "Dylan you were very, very sick."

  I tried not to flinch. I didn't want anyone telling me how sick I was. That much was crystal clear in my brain. "Lady D.?"

  "She's fine. She's quarantined on the boat. Regulations. But she misses you. She told me to tell you she loves you."

  Do you love me, Rene? Wow. I wondered where that thought came from. Was she supposed to love me? I had memories of all these feelings but not the events that went with them. The question remained unasked.

  "Stephen?"

  "He and I have been by your side ever since El Loco docked. He'll be here shortly. He's a good friend, Dylan. We were both so worried about you."

  "Tell me what happened."

  "I told you, a marlin jumped the dive platform and sliced your leg. If she'd hit an artery you might not be here. As it is, there's a bit of recuperation in your future."

  "No. I mean something happened between us. I can feel it but I can't bring a picture to my brain."

  "You . . . I . . . we had sex."

  "It was more than that."

  "Well, it was to me. But you seemed . . . that is I didn't think . . . you were real weird afterwards."

  "Weird how?"

  "Withdrawn. Almost angry it seemed to me."

  "I'm sorry." I meant it. I didn't exactly know what I was sorry about but the look on her face let me know whatever I had done had hurt her. That was the last thing I wanted to do. "I mean it. It's all covered in cobwebs but when I woke up and saw you sitting in the sun . . . it was . . . like coming home. Like even though I found myself in a strange place with a leg that went through a sawmill you made it all okay. Just by being here."

  She leaned over the bedrail and kissed me. First on my forehead, then like a butterfly on my parched lips.

  "You're so beautiful, Rene."

  She sat down on the bedside chair and held my hand. I drifted off to sleep, I think, but when I awoke she was still there.

  "Do you remember anything we talked about before the accident?" she asked me.

  "Some of it. I remember you told me you were afraid. I remember I didn't want you to ever be afraid of anything again."

  "Who's Nurse Kelly?"

  The name brought me up short. What had I told her? I had a feeling she knew some important things about me but I never told anyone about that. No one. Ever.

  "Why do you ask?"

  "You seemed to think I was Nurse Kelly when you were at the worst of your fever."

  "She was very kind to me when I was little. You remind me of her."

  "How funny the brain works, isn't it?"

  "Fascinating. It seems my heart has a better memory than my head."

  "Do you remember telling me you aren't a gazillionaire?" Rene grinned when she asked the question.

  "No." I wondered whatever possessed me to make that confession. But she was smiling at me. Always a good thing. "How did you take it?"

  "I was glad. I hated thinking of you as a rich playboy. It gave me the chance to see you in a new light—a poor playboy." She laughed and I remembered how it sounded like chimes in the wind.

  "Rene, don't leave me."

  "I don't think they'll let me stay overnight with you."

  "That's not what I mean. I mean tell me you'll stay by my side. I need to know you will."

  "Dylan, I'm not going anywhere. You've had a terrible trauma. You're vulnerable and confused and to top it all off you have your father lurking in the wings waiting to see you. Stephen talked to him, but I haven’t. Do you remember that part of why you're here in London? To see your father?"

  "No."

  "That will all come back to you too. I'm here." She took my hand again and rested her warm gaze on my face. I wanted to crawl inside their golden-brandy depths and lose myself forever. "But you aren't yourself and I don't expect that your need for me at this moment in time is necessarily permanent. I won't hold you to it."

  "Just stay." I needed a promise. I knew I shouldn’t need it. I knew I shouldn’t need her. In the back of my mind a weak, reedy voice was telling me that I’d spent most of my life trying desperately not to need anyone. But it didn’t seem as important as the voice insisted it should be.

  "I'm here." She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze that wasn’t enough.

  Chapter 21—Rene

  His eyes closed and I could see him fight to stay awake. He wanted more than what I was giving him, but it was all I had at the moment. I was confused and completely drained. Before the accident—before the fish—I thought I was okay being just another Dylan Cruz conquest. I had convinced myself I could handle it and even enjoy it, if only temporarily.

  I was actually proud of myself that morning. I was proud that I could wake up and pretend everything was just fine with me. I didn’t need promises and I certainly didn’t want lies.

  There was a real thrill in knowing we were going to cross the sea together and just enjoy the moments as they happened. I reasoned that the excess of emotion on my part was all about pheromones or something. I told myself people did this kind of thing every day. Of course they did.

  I convinced myself that I could get over being a little miffed at the cold shoulder and just selfishly take my pleasure. I’d be modern and mature. Then the fish sliced her way through my delusions.

  His big chest rose and fell. How many times on those last few days on the boat did I jerk awake in the chair by his bedside and lay my hand on his heart just to feel it beating? At least a million.

  How thin the line is that divides life from death. There were moments on El Loco that I could almost feel the bony grasp of death pulling on him. His fevered madness had torn at my soul and I gave up all the illusions of distance I had carefully constructed that first night together. It was a lie.

  For days I watched in terrified fascination as the man I could have loved dissolved into a nightmare of confusion. I was grateful beyond words to hand him over to professionals. I felt out of my league and crazy with fear that I might do something wrong.

  Seeing him in the hospital bed was a relief. The weight of responsibility for him had been almost too much to bear.

  He opened his eyes and smiled at me. I could see he wanted to say more but I couldn’t hear more. I didn’t have any more to give him. It was all too complex. Now was not the moment to explain that perhaps I’d seen too much. It wasn’t the time to try to make him understand that our fragile beginning had been exposed to too harshly. Like a hothouse plant put under the noon day sun, I was wilting under the intensity.

  I wanted the dashing, daring hunter of women and beasts. I wanted the master and commander of the floating castle, the alpha predator who thrilled and mystified me. That was a simple, packaged image I could learn to be comfortable with.

  “Don’t talk right now, Dylan. You’re going to wear yourself out.”

  “There’s something wrong,” he insisted. “


  “There’s nothing wrong. I’m here for you and for as long as you need me.”

  “I’ll always need you.”

  Oh, please don’t . . . “You don’t know that. Let’s go a day at a time.”

  “We have something. Something I’ve never known. Something I didn’t even know I wanted.” He looked at me, right into my soul. I knew I was hooked, but I didn’t know what that meant. I was fighting and I didn’t know why. “What are you afraid of?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid of believing you. I’m afraid of wanting to give you what you’re asking of me. You’re a different man than the one who brushed me off. I was ready to play by your rules and now you’ve changed them.”

  “I didn’t know I had any rules.”

  “That’s because you don’t remember it all. Please give it . . . give us . . . a little time. I need time.”

  “Babe, I’ve got nothing but time. I can’t exactly run away.”

  “I think I said that to you on the boat. Before the fish.”

  “Yeah. I remember. Is this all about me being a prick? I told you, I’ve got some explaining to do.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

  “I think I do”

  “It can wait. It should wait.” He coughed hard and I saw how much pain the wracking cost him. “Please, just try to relax and rest. I’ll be here.”

  “Forever?”

  “You can’t ask that right now.”

  “I can ask. You can always say no.”

  “I’m not saying no, Dylan. I’m just asking you to let now be forever enough.”

  I bent over and kissed his mouth and the strength of his answering lips surprised me. He pulled me as closely against him as he could with the arm that wasn’t stuck full of IV drips. There was a crushing demand in that half embrace and it ran deeply, touching me through to my core.

  “That will never be all I want with you, Rene. I know what I want. I’m myself enough to know that much.”

  I believed him. A moment before, I had doubted. The fire in his eyes and the mark of his kiss convinced me that mine was the only confusion left in the room. Dylan’s conviction was real.

  “I’m here now. Now is all I have to give you.”

  “Are you mine now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’ll make now last forever.”

  ***

  The Master of the Universe had morphed into a frightened child. In the days after the marlin had viciously slashed his leg open, Dylan became a different person. Perhaps the massive amount of blood that had spilled on El Loco's deck had taken his power with it.

  I was the one who took care of him on the way to London. The rest of the crew simply made the assumption that the only female on board was the defacto nurse. And Stephen had seen just enough voltage pass between us to assume that's the way I'd want it. He was right.

  Of course I wanted to help him. But the accident had happened just when I needed answers. I was roiling in confusion, shame and the conviction that making it with Dylan Cruz was a mistake.. Intimacy was the opposite of what had followed the most amazing thing I'd ever experienced with a man. Instead of warmth, I had gotten a few casual words. It was the equivalent of ‘Catch ya later, sweetheart’ and it stung.

  You're the only real man who's ever touched me like he knew me. You took me to a sacred place where 'halleluiah' finally meant something. There’s something about what we did together that’s downright holy." That's what I had wanted to tell him. Maybe I'd have gotten the chance when the awkwardness of knowing I wasn't going 'home’—that I couldn't go home—wore off.

  Then the big blue lady with the sword in her teeth stopped time.

  I was able to keep him sedated and out of pain thanks to explicit instructions from the on shore doctors and the single-dose auto injectors in the ships medical kit. It turned out to be a lot easier than injecting marinade into a piece of meat—except for my shaking hands.

  Stephen stood by me on the ship-to-shore, calmly repeating the medic's instructions when I plunged the first dose of morphine into Dylan's unscathed left thigh. The effect was immediate and profound. The thrashing and moaning stopped. Within minutes he had slipped into the mercy of a poppy-induced peace.

  "He looks almost innocent in his sleep, doesn't he?" Stephen had asked. I didn't find the Captain's attempt at irony and humor very funny. I shot him a look. It just encouraged him to take it further.

  "I mean, I've seen a lot of looks on that dude's face, but innocent? Not a chance. I've tried to convince him to teach me how to land a babe with just one glance, but he's stingy. He won't share his tricks."

  Stephen was baiting me. He'd watched the arc between Dylan and me and knew we had some chemistry. The Captain hadn't made a secret of his attraction to me, but he hadn't acted on it, either. It occurred to me then that our gallant captain might be trying to warn me off of Dylan. It was way too late for that kind of warning, and it only succeeded in annoying me.

  "I'm sure you score your fair share, Stephen." I figured flattery might shut him up. I was wrong.

  "I do all right. But nothing like our boy here. I've seen women literally fight over the chance to take him home." The way he had shaken his head was meant to convey a mixture of awe and envy.

  Dylan stirred lightly and groaned. "Well, right now he's in no shape to live up to your glowing review. So, can we drop it and take care of him?" I pretty much spat out the ‘drop it’ part and Stephen blanched.

  "Sure. I was just making conversation. It wasn't meant to . . ."

  I turned my back to him and busied myself by pretending to straighten up the medical kit. There were hot tears threatening another invasion and I didn't want Stephen to see me cry.

  His hand was gentle on my shoulder. His tone changed completely. "I'm sorry, Rene. I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted . . . well, I just think you need to know what you're getting into with Dylan."

  Gotten into was way more accurate. "Thanks," I said without looking at him. "I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. Just bad timing, I guess."

  Stephen pulled me closer to him and gave me a little squeeze. I fought the urge to bawl my eyes out against his friendly body. Even though Dylan was the one in real pain, I had a huge need for some sympathy myself. It was all just too much.

  "I'll sit with him for a while. You need some rest." Stephen urged me toward the stateroom door.

  "You'll call me if he wakes up?"

  "I promise. The doc said it ought to be at least a few hours before he's ready for another dose. You're the official doper-upper. Gave me the creeps just watching you do it."

  ***

  The infection had set in with lightening speed. The doctor had warned it might happen in spite of all the care I took cleaning the wound and keeping it clean.

  There were plenty of hours to sit and stare at his beautiful face and wonder just what actually had happened between us, if anything. By the end of day two of my vigil, I was prepared to accept the humiliation that was coming to me when he finally became lucid.

  But between the morphine and the dangerously high fever, the lucid moments were few and did nothing to answer any of my questions. Instead the moments he was awake just added to the mystery.

  When he did come to, I had to deal with a confused and child-like man who was nothing at all like the Dylan I knew before the accident. He was petulant, whiny and uncooperative.

  "I don't want to drink that."

  "Dylan, you have to drink. You're terribly dehydrated and you have a high fever."

  "I don't. I want to get up."

  "Be reasonable, you'll hurt your leg even more."

  "There's nothing wrong with my leg."

  "Yes, there is. Look at it." But he had turned his head and willfully clamped his eyes shut and was soon asleep again.

  He kept calling for his sister Dawn and someone named Kelly—a nurse, it seemed. Sometimes he would thrash so much I was afraid he'd rip the cut right open again. As it was, the wound w
as an angry sight. Red puffiness peeked out from between my duct tape ‘stitches’. The cut was all hot and swollen and was starting to ooze a nasty yellow gunk. He was obviously in need of greater care than I could give. More than once I had reached for the pain killer earlier than I probably should have just to calm him down—body and spirit.

  I wasn't able to get nearly as many doses of the antibiotic into him as the doctor had prescribed. Every time I tried to get him to take a pill he fought me.

  "Dylan, you have to take this."

  "Do not. Hate pills."

  "I'm not trying to poison you, you know. Just take the damn pill."

  "Don't yell at me!"

  "I am not yelling at you."

  "Are too. You're mean."

  More than once he had pursed his lips so hard that they were white with the stubborn effort.

  Often through those long hours, I leaned down to kiss the forehead finally smoothed by opiated sleep. Several times I ran my finger over his luscious lips, still parched from the draining struggle that nearly killed him. Sometimes I cried a little, not knowing whether the tears were for me and my bruised ego or for him and his real bruises. A few of the tears were tears of confusion and loss. Where had the man gone? Had Dylan Cruz slipped away? Would he come back?

  His fever spiked ominously as we crossed the last miles to come within range of the e-vac helicopter. By the time the medics rolled him into position, he was positively delirious with the fever, the pain or both. To my great relief, Stephen and the EMTs agreed that it would be a good idea for me to go to the hospital with Dylan. I didn’t want him to fly alone. At that point, he was hanging on to my hand and asking "Nurse Kelly" not to leave him. He kept mumbling something about being afraid of the night nurse and his mother.

  I remember how it felt to lift off from El Loco's deck and watch the ship and men on deck become smaller and smaller. I'd always wanted to ride in a helicopter, but certainly not under such dire circumstances. Dylan's eyes widened with terror and he began to violently toss his head back and forth. It was the only part of his body the medics hadn't strapped securely to the stretcher, but they quickly corrected their oversight.