by Jane Jackson
Standing shoulder to shoulder with Jared, both of them soaking wet and chilled to the bone, Devlin pushed the tiller over to keep the lugger stern-on to the waves.
It was now, when they were at the end of their strength and within a cable’s-length of safety, that they faced the greatest danger. It needed only one false move for the boat to be smashed to splinters and them to pulp. The only way to survive the breakers was to try and ride them, guiding the boat through the thundering surf and as close in-shore as possible.
People crowded the top of the beach. At least there were no dragoons. Then he saw a red coat, billowing in the wind. His heart clenched like a fist. Since early that morning and all the time the storm had raged he had felt her presence. Ashamed of his behaviour – not of what had happened between them, but of his brutal actions afterward – he had tried to put her out of his mind, telling himself he could not afford distraction. But as the hours passed and reaching home began to look ever more unlikely, he had allowed her back in.
As he and Jared fought the boat and the storm-lashed sea, he relived his memories of her: spirited, infuriating, generous, passionate. If this was to be his last day, he knew now that someone had thought him worth loving. She was different, rare. And she had loved him. Tamara. He held the thought, drew strength from it.
It made no sense but he had felt her there with him, an impression so strong he had almost looked over his shoulder, certain he would see her close behind him. He had resisted, knowing it impossible, mocking himself for a fool. And yet …
Now she was on the beach. Had she come down for him? Despite the wound he had dealt her? Her red coat was vivid against the grey shingle and darker rock. Had she worn it so he would see her? Know she was there? His narrowed eyes were sore from the salt spray and burned with exhaustion. He peered shoreward, focused on that poppy-red beacon of hope.
The boat reared on a gigantic wave that lifted her quarters and swung her bow round broadside on. Devlin fought grimly. They could still make it. Then a cross-sea he hadn’t seen snatched the boat and tipped it on its beam-end.
He heard Jared’s harsh cry of fear, and saw Martin Erisey, the man who held the key to his freedom and his future, hurtle past, mouth wide, arms and legs whirling. He had an instant in which to choose.
As the icy water took his breath, Devlin dived after Jared, who had not wanted to make this trip, and who could not swim.
Vaguely aware of the others and of Erisey, all shouting, choking, floundering, he focused on Jared. Kicking off his boots before they could drag him down, he lunged for his oldest friend. Hooking him under the chin, Devlin struck out desperately for the shore, kicking frantically for the surface as the breaking waves pounded them under.
He broke surface again, gasping. His burst of strength was ebbing, but above the deafening roar of the surf he could hear people shouting encouragement, urging him on. Jared’s huge hands gripped his forearm like twin clamps. The drag and weight was almost too much for his screaming muscles. Spitting water, gulping air, he saw terror on his friend’s face, the fear that he might let go.
Dredging up a final despairing effort as a wave lifted them high them smashed down and raced past, Devlin touched solid ground. He staggered forward and felt Jared pulled from his grasp. Coughing up water from his burning lungs, he saw Arf, wet to the waist, tears streaming down his face, lift his son’s arm over his shoulder and drag him out of the boiling surf.
Tamara was running towards him. The joy on her face cracked his heart. Then he saw terror. She was shouting but he couldn’t hear. He raised his hand. No closer – the waves – not safe. As he heaved in a breath to shout, the cross-sea struck, hurling him off his feet.
Chapter Twenty-two
The scream hurt Tamara’s throat. She hurled herself forward. If the next wave broke on him, the undertow would suck him back and he would drown. Plunging into the wild foaming water she grabbed his flailing arm, felt his fingers grip hers and hauled with all her strength. Her coat billowed around her, red as blood, as she fought the sea for the man she loved.
She felt her skirts seized and then hands caught her and they were both pulled to safety as the curling breaker crashed, swirled furiously around their knees then retreated with an angry hiss.
She managed a few staggering steps then her legs gave way and she sank onto the shingle, sobbing for breath. Devlin collapsed to his knees beside her, hands on his thighs as he heaved in great gulps of the sweetest air he had ever tasted. Seawater had scoured his throat, but it was the fist-sized lump that made swallowing impossible. He looked at her, humbled.
‘You could have drowned.’ The hoarse whisper was all he had strength for.
‘You would have,’ she said chattering teeth, shaking with reaction and relief. ‘I could not have borne it.’
Struggling to his feet he grasped her hand, helped her up then pulled her against him, terrified at how close he came to losing her. He sought words that would tell her of the shame that had haunted him, his fear of trusting, of loving, of betrayal. The task was too great.
‘I’m sorry,’ he rasped. ‘So sorry.’
She laid her face on his shoulder, listened to the thud of his heartbeat. He was alive, safe. ‘You’re home. The rest doesn’t matter.’
His arms tightened and he rested his dripping head against hers, his voice cracking as he whispered, ‘Don’t let go.’
She turned her face up, met his gaze. Scalding tears spilled down her cold cheeks. But she made no attempt to stop them, for they were tears of joy. ‘Never.’
‘Tamara! For heavens’ sake! Have you no shame? What will people think?’ Her mother squawked, crimson and breathless as she hurried across the beach leaning heavily on her husband’s arm.
‘She wanted me to marry Thomas,’ Tamara whispered to Devlin.
‘You won’t,’ Devlin growled.
‘No,’ she agreed calmly, then turned to her mother. ‘Mama, people will think what they want to think.’
Ignoring Morwenna, Devlin addressed her husband. ‘Mr Gillis, I’m going to marry your daughter. I would like –’
‘You can’t!’ Morwenna cried, then rounded Tamara. ‘I forbid it. I will not have that man in our family. In any case you cannot marry him,’ she announced, tossing her head. ‘You have already accepted his brother.’
‘Only to spare you disgrace, Mama. Devlin is the father of my child. I will marry him or no one. I should like your blessing. But –’
‘You have it,’ John offered Devlin his hand. ‘She’s yours, Varcoe. Always was, had I the wit to see it. Take care of her.’
‘John! How could you?’ Morwenna cried. Realising they had an avid audience, her hand flew to lace-edged ruffles frothing from the open bosom of her coat. ‘Oh! I want to go home. Now, Mr Gillis!’
‘In just a moment, my dear.’ He turned again to Devlin. ‘I’m sorry, Varcoe. The gale hit us badly. Your new boat –’ he shook his head. ‘I’m sorry.’
Devlin glanced towards the water’s edge where the lugger lay on its side. One never launched and beyond salvaging, the other badly damaged. His arm tightened around Tamara’s shoulders. Soon he would have a wife and child to support. He looked at his future father-in-law.
‘Later,’ he said.
With a nod, John turned away. Clinging to his arm, Morwenna stalked up the beach, her chin high, ignoring the watching crowd.
Devlin tensed. ‘Where are the others? Did they get ashore? Erisey?’
‘They’re all safe. Mr Erisey is over there,’ Tamara pointed. Devlin’s crew, each surrounded by family, were being helped up the beach. One man sat alone, his head hanging in exhaustion, arms resting on his bent knees.
Devlin saw Jenefer Trevanion bend and place a blanket around his shoulders.
Martin Erisey glanced up. ‘Jenefer? I must explain –’
‘No, Martin.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s too late for that. Perhaps if you had told me at the beginning –’
‘I couldn’t.’ His voic
e was raw and harsh. ‘I was sworn to secrecy. But it need not affect –’
‘Don’t.’
Watching Jenefer silence the man she was to have married, Devlin drew Tamara closer and she looked up at him.
‘What is it?’
‘Erisey and Miss Trevanion,’ he murmured, and Tamara followed his gaze.
‘… no future together,’ Jenefer was saying. ‘In your heart you know that. Come, you need dry clothes and a hot meal.’ She offered him her hand.
He grasped it. ‘I’m sorry.’
Silent, she helped him to his feet.
‘Mr Varcoe.’ Devlin looked round as Casvellan bowed briefly to Tamara.
‘A brave move, Miss Gillis. Risky, but courageous.’ He turned to Devlin. ‘Well done, Varcoe. Few men could have done what you did.’ He offered his hand and Devlin shook it. ‘I will send word to Bodmin. Your men will be home by the end of the week.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘However,’ Casvellan added with a hint of steel, ‘after such a fortunate escape you would be most unwise to tempt fate again. Whatever you may have been in the past, Varcoe, you were never a fool.’
Devlin glanced at Tamara, saw the love in her eyes, and knew he must not cause her any more grief. ‘Sir, I would leave the sea tomorrow, but I know nothing else.’
Glancing toward the crowd, who quickly decided they had business elsewhere and began moving away, Casvellan nodded. ‘A man unafraid of hard work, willing to adapt and learn, could be of great use to me.’ He turned back to Devlin. ‘You will want a few days to sort out your affairs. Come and see me after the weekend.’
Stunned by the offer, Devlin swallowed. He had always been his own man, giving orders not taking them. ‘Sir, I’m not sure –’
‘Of course not. Wait until we’ve talked. Miss Gillis.’ Bowing once more to Tamara, who bobbed a curtsey, the justice left them and started toward Erisey.
‘Come,’ Tamara said softly. ‘You need food and sleep.’
Devlin raked a hand through his hair. ‘Where?’
‘Tonight? Home with me.’
He looked down at her, one dark brow lifting. ‘Your mother –’
‘Will have seen Mr Casvellan talking to you. When she hears you have been invited to Trescowe to discuss a proposition –’ Tamara smiled wryly. ‘By tomorrow our marriage will have been her idea all along.’ As Devlin raised her hand and kissed it, the touch of his lips made her shiver with anticipation.
Devlin’s face darkened. ‘Have you seen my brother?’
Tamara shook her head. ‘Not for days.’ She sighed. ‘He’ll need to be told.’
‘He can wait. You are all that matters now. You and our child.’ He drew her close.
Tamara looked into his eyes. No longer cool and guarded, they revealed the depth of his love, his need of her. ‘There was only you, Devlin,’ she said softly. ‘Then, now, always.’
THE END.
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Published by Accent Press Ltd 2013
ISBN 9781783752102
Copyright © Jane Jackson 2013
The right of Jane Jackson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
The story contained within this book is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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