“No.”
“Then don’t shower me with your empty platitudes, Mrs. Watts.”
She swallowed and fingered the locket around her neck. Blake felt like a louse. He remembered the tender way she had kissed his hand while she thought he was asleep. The way she’d gazed at him like no woman ever had. The way it sent an unwelcome thrill through him. “You are kind to tend to me.”
“You protected me from the birds.” She smiled.
“So, we are even.”
“That’s not why I’m here, and you know it.”
He didn’t want to think about why she was here, caring for him, loving him with her eyes. “Ah yes, your obligation to tend to the sick and injured.”
She rose and picked up the basin of water sitting beside the bed. “Of course. What else?” Her jaw tightened, and she moved to the side table. “You should rest, Colonel. These episodes tax you, I’m sure.”
She was going to leave. He couldn’t blame her. But despite his anger, he didn’t want her to go. Straining against the throb in his head, he sat and swung his legs over the side of the cot. “Regardless, I thank you.”
“As you pointed out so succinctly, there is no need.” Her tone was curt.
“Yet you care for a man who is determined to send you home.” And who had earlier made a point of telling her just that in rather harsh and certain terms.
She swung to face him. Her skirts swished and bumped the examining table. A tiny smile graced those luscious pink lips—the ones he’d almost kissed the night of the dance—but then sorrow drew them down. “I cannot help caring. As you no doubt cannot help sending me home. I only hope we can part as friends and not enemies.”
Her statement jarred him. If they were friends, he would not want them to part. Ever. That she still considered him a friend sent a wave of astonishment through him.
She poured water from a pitcher into a cup and handed it to him.
He sipped it. She started to leave. The pain in his head mounted like a rising storm.
“Don’t.” His voice came out barely a scratch. “Don’t leave.”
Halting, she spun around, hair dancing around her waist, and stared at him quizzically.
“Why did you marry Stanton Watts?” He could think of nothing else to say, nothing that would keep her here with him.
She blinked and then searched his eyes. “Why do you wish to know?”
Blake sipped his water and set down the cup, forcing anger from his tone. “I want to understand why you became a traitor to your country. How anyone could do such a thing.”
“I married him before the war.”
“But things were already tense between the North and South. You knew that.”
“I did.” She lowered her chin and began picking at the wooden operating table. “I don’t know why I married him. He was handsome, charming, intelligent. He promised me a lavish life filled with adventure. Vowed to take me traveling with him to exotic lands. But most of all, it was a chance to be free from my father’s control.” She released a bitter chuckle. “In truth, I ended up in a far worse prison.”
“Did you love him?” Blake knew he didn’t have a right to ask, but he had to know. He had to know whether the emotion he now saw in her eyes was for the loss of her husband or because she regretted the marriage.
“That’s rather bold, Colonel.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder as if she could toss aside his question. But then she blew out a sigh. “I don’t know. I suppose I thought I loved him in the beginning. But in truth, the news of his death did not overwhelm me with sorrow. I’d only seen him a few times during our year of marriage.”
Her words broke through a hard place in Blake’s heart. He studied her, the defiant lift of her chin, the way she held herself with confidence, the depth of sorrow and loss in her eyes. And all his anger fled away. Shaking off the ache in his head, he stood with one thought in mind. To take her in his arms.
Halting just inches before her, he brushed a wayward lock of hair from her face then eased a hand down her arm. Warm and soft beneath the cotton sleeve. She looked up, her eyes shifting between his in wonder, in hope. Vulnerability lingered in her gaze. A trust he didn’t deserve.
He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. A tiny moan escaped her lips.
“Man overboard! Man overboard!” The frenzied call threaded through the deckhead, snapping Blake’s senses alert.
“Man overboard!” The thunder of footsteps rumbled down the hall.
Blake exchanged a look of terror with Eliza before he barreled out the door.
Eliza leaped onto the main deck to the sound of the captain ordering sails furled and the sight of sailors rushing in a frenzy across the brig.
“What’s happening?” Blake shouted, making a beeline to the captain, who stood on the quarterdeck.
“Woman overboard!” Captain Barclay gestured with his head behind him before he continued bellowing orders, “Hurry it up there, lads. Ease off jib sheet! Helms-a-lee! Bring her about, Mr. Simmons!”
Eliza’s heart felt as though it would burst through her chest as shock transformed into panic. She darted to the starboard railing and scanned the sea. Nothing but inky blackness met her gaze.
James popped on deck, his shirt askew, his hair like a porcupine’s. He gazed about wildly then took the quarterdeck ladder in a single leap and met Blake above. Eliza followed them to the stern where several sailors stood gaping at the churning sea.
“I heard the splash,” one of them said. “She was standin’ right here one minute, and the next she was gone.” He shook his head and rubbed his whiskered chin.
“Who was it?”
“The pretty lady with the reddish brown hair.”
“Angeline?” Panic clamped Eliza’s throat, forbidding further words. She gripped the railing and stared at the dark waters. A tremble punched from her heart down her back into her limbs until she could hardly stand. “We have to do something!”
“Can we lower a boat?” Blake stormed toward the captain as he tore off his boots, one by one.
“Not till we tack. Thank God we weren’t sailin’ fast.”
Spinning around, Blake’s eyes met hers, and she knew what he intended to do. He started toward the railing when James muttered “I’ll get her” as he tore off his shirt. And before anyone could protest, he took a running leap off the stern of the ship, leaving Blake behind.
James had no idea what he was doing. Not until he plunged into the cool water did the realization hit him that he’d actually dived off a perfectly sturdy brig into the vast ocean. When he’d first heard that a woman had fallen overboard, he’d darted above to offer his assistance. But after he’d learned it was Angeline, he didn’t remember a thing. He must have taken off his shirt, because now as his head popped above the waves, salty water thrashed his bare chest. He glanced behind him at the New Hope beginning its turn into the wind.
“Angeline!” he shouted, scanning the dark sea from his vantage point atop a swell. “Angeline!”
He’d been fascinated with the woman ever since she’d come aboard. There was a sweet yet somber spirit about her that tugged on his heart, and though he’d engaged her in conversation as often as she would allow, she’d been hesitant to share much of her past. He only knew that she’d lost her parents and had lived with an uncle. And that something terrible had happened to her. The last part he surmised. Yet she’d bravely stood up for Eliza more than once, putting herself in danger for her friend. And she’d worked tirelessly to aid the sick stricken with the mysterious illness.
Regardless, she was a human being. And after James’s fall from grace, he had vowed to God to save as many as he could from death—both physical and spiritual.
Something caught his eye in the distance, but then the wave passed, and he sank into the trough. He started in that direction, happy his father had taught him to swim in the lakes back in Tennessee. Still nothing had prepared him for such huge waves. What appeared like mere ripples from the deck of the brig now became giant
swells rising like monsters from the deep. He hesitated as another wave swept him up toward the starlit sky. Focusing his gaze in the direction where he’d last seen something, he shouted, “Angeline!”
“Help!” A tiny squeak, barely audible, bounced over the sea.
Heart thundering in his chest, James pounded his arms through the water. “Lord, please don’t let her die.”
As the crest of each wave propelled James toward the sky, Angeline came more clearly into view before she disappeared behind the next ebony wall. James’s arms ached. His legs felt like rubber, but still he pressed on. Water filled his mouth with brine. Coughing, he spit it out only to take in more.
Angeline’s arms flailed as she bobbed in the churning water. One minute her drenched copper hair popped above the waves, the next she vanished below the surface. James didn’t have much time. Groaning, he plowed forward. The water became sand, his limbs weak as noodles.
One more wave. Just one more wave, and he would reach her. Gathering his remaining strength, he ground his teeth together and punched through the sea then slid down the final trough. There she was! Her head sank beneath the water. He gulped in a deep breath and dove. Feet pounding, he swept his arms about in a frantic search. Water that felt as thick as molasses oozed between his fingers.
Lord, help.
His lungs begged for air. He touched something. An arm. He grabbed it and dragged her above. Limp and heavy like a sodden sack of rice, her dead weight nearly forced them both back below.
Treading water with one arm, he held her with the other and leaned his ear to her mouth.
She wasn’t breathing.
Stripped to the waist, Blake clung to the lifeline. His bare feet dragged through the sea while foam licked his legs and spray blinded his eyes. Above him at the quarterdeck railing, the crew and a few passengers stared across the sea. Their shouts and hysterics had faded to whispered prayers and anxious pauses as all eyes were on James swimming their way, towing Angeline behind him.
Captain Barclay issued orders to the helmsman and topmen to make adjustments that would halt the ship as close to James as possible.
Finally, James’s heaving breaths could be heard above the slap of water as he and Angeline slipped down the side of a particularly large wave. Cheered on by those above, Blake reached toward them, bracing his feet against the hull. But the sea shoved them farther away, and they disappeared again behind an obsidian swell. Blake groaned, squinting to see in the dim moonlight. There! They reappeared, this time nearly within reach. James’s single arm rose and fell in the water like an anchor. Methodical. Determined. As if moved by a strength not his own. His head dipped beneath the surface. Stretching as far as he could, Blake fisted the water and grabbed the man’s arm. He pulled with all his might and finally drew James and Angeline to his side. He handed one of the lines to James, who barely managed to grab hold.
“Get her above. She’s not bre–breathing.” James clung to the rope, mouth open and breath coming hard.
Blake nodded and removed his own rope, tying it beneath Angeline’s arms. “Haul up!” he shouted. Then grabbing the rope with one hand and Angeline with the other, he planted his feet on the hull and inched up as sailors pulled from above. Hayden grabbed the woman from Blake and laid her on the deck.
“Let me see her.” Eliza pushed the crowd aside and fell by her friend, leaning her ear toward the lady’s mouth.
Blake hoisted himself onto the railing and glanced down to see if James needed help, but the man was right behind him on a second rope. Still breathing hard, he leaped onto the deck and dashed toward Angeline, shoving Hayden aside.
Eliza lifted hollow eyes to his. “She’s gone. I’m sorry.”
“No!” Dropping to his knees, James placed an arm behind Angeline’s neck, and angled her head to the side. Water spilled from her lips. “Blankets! Lots of blankets!”
Sailors sped off, returning in seconds with coverlets and spreads, which James quickly wrapped around her, placing some under her feet to lift them from the deck. Then gently yet firmly, he applied pressure to her abdomen. More water spewed from her mouth.
Everyone stared aghast, including Blake. Only the flap of loose sails echoed through the night, along with James’s groans as he attempted to empty the woman’s lungs. Eliza sat numbly watching. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dropped into her lap. Finally, when no more water came, James leaned down, placed his lips on Angeline’s, and breathed into her mouth.
Blake had never seen such a thing. He raked his wet hair, hoping the doctor knew what he was doing. Yet how had the lady slipped overboard in the first place? She would have to have been sitting on the railing in this mild weather. But why would she do that? He glanced over the horrified faces of the sailors, the captain, Eliza, and Hayden, his gaze finally landing on the lady’s shoes sitting neatly on the deck.
Coughing and sputtering drew his gaze back to Angeline. James turned her over, and more water spewed from her mouth onto the deck. She gagged and coughed. Eliza threw her hands to her chest and squealed with glee.
“Sweet, merciful Heaven!” Captain Barclay said with a smile.
Sailors cheered. James leaned back on his legs and breathed out a “Praise God!” Then leaning over, he scooped Angeline into his arms and rose.
Eliza, coming out of her shock, leaped to her feet and followed the doctor below. Blake shared a glance with the captain, who gave him a nod before turning and spitting a trail of orders to get the brig back on course.
Angeline wasn’t dead. She knew, because as the doctor carried her to the sick bay, his touch sent warmth tingling over her skin. Certainly one didn’t tingle in hell, and certainly not in the pleasurable way she was tingling at the moment. His light hair hung in strands, dripping on his bare shoulders. His breath came heavy. He smelled salty and fresh like the sea. Had he dived in after her?
Kicking the door open, he laid her on the cot then bent to brush saturated strands of hair from her face. Concern sped across his eyes, those bronze-colored eyes that seemed so wise, so full of kindness.
“You’re going to be all right now.” He attempted a smile, but in that small grin, Angeline found a hope that made her almost believe him. Almost. Unlike Dodd, James didn’t seem to recognize her from their brief exchange nearly a year ago. At least that was one thing to be thankful for.
Hayden stormed into the cabin, Eliza on his heels. He moved to the edge of the bed, squeezing James aside, and took Angeline’s hand, caressing her fingers. “Angeline … Zooks. Thank God James found you.” He seemed genuinely distraught.
Angeline tried to respond, but her throat felt like sandpaper.
“All right, gentlemen,” Eliza said, her skirts swishing as she moved forward. “I must ask you to leave. I need to get her out of her wet clothes, and she needs to rest.”
Hayden stood, but James seemed hesitant to leave. In fact, he continued to stare at her as if he’d almost lost a prized possession. “I’ll come back to check on you later.”
Angeline stared at him, confused. Why was he acting so oddly? She was anything but prized. Sculpted arms and a firm, molded chest sprinkled with light-colored hair filled her vision. Arms strong enough to swim out to save her and bring her back to the ship. Water dripped from his breeches onto the floor. He shoved back his wet hair, and she had a vision of his lips on hers, his breath inside of her. “You saved me.” Her voice sounded like rough rope.
He merely smiled in return.
“Thank you.”
Still, he said nothing, but instead followed Hayden out the door. After they left, Eliza took Angeline’s hands in hers. “Thank God you are safe.”
But Angeline knew God had nothing to do with it. And if He did, her being alive was only further punishment for her crimes.
CHAPTER 27
After the incident with Angeline, Hayden headed up on deck, too frustrated to go back to sleep. Dawn would be upon them in a couple of hours, and he could use the time to think. Think about what he
was doing on this crazy, ill-begotten venture with these befuddling passengers. And especially how was he going to find his father once he got to Brazil. A vision of Angeline’s lifeless form lying on the deck caused his fists to clench as he made his way to the port railing. Aside from a possible friendship with the colonel—as odd as that would be—his few brief moments with Angeline had been the only thing to stir his interest on this otherwise dismal journey. Well, besides his time with Magnolia. He rather enjoyed teasing the spoiled sprite. But Angeline was different. There was something about her that went far beyond appearance: a meekness he’d rarely seen in other women, a deeply imbedded sorrow he could well understand, and a fiery spirit that enthralled him. Of course there was also the fact that her comely face had stared at him from a WANTED poster in Norfolk, Virginia. Five hundred dollars was a lot of money for the capture and arrest of such a stunning woman. If he hadn’t been so anxious to leave town before the constable discovered who he really was, he would have searched for her himself. The lady intrigued him, and he longed to discover her secrets. But a certain someone kept getting in the way.
“James,” he spat out the name as he reached the railing, striking the wood with his fists. The righteous doctor had to go and play the hero. But a hero he was not. More like a liar and a hypocrite from what Hayden remembered. Hayden would have happily jumped in after Angeline if he’d been there in time. As it was, he arrived on deck after the good doctor had already disappeared into the sea.
Moonlight spread a silvery sheen over the inky water as the brig plunged through a wave, showering Hayden with spray. It did nothing to cool his humors. Pushing from the railing, he crossed his arms over his chest and snapped hair from his face. Wealthy, learned, privileged men like James thought they had the upper hand in everything. Life, business, women. But Hayden had spent a lifetime proving them wrong, and when it came to Angeline, he wasn’t about to forfeit her to the likes of him.
A hiccup tickled his ear, and he turned to see a lady sitting atop a barrel by the foremast. Her shimmering gown clued him to her identity long before he was close enough to see her face. That angelic face of creamy skin, plump lips, pert little nose, and catlike eyes.
Forsaken Dreams Page 25