"Dane!"
It hit. The unleashed power sent tons of seawater over the frigate. Barrels tore loose from their lashings, live bodies slid across the deck, slamming in the hull, then struggled frantically to get from the path of the rolling kegs. The barrels smashed, spewing their contents over the deck and into the sea. Tess and Duncan held tight to the doorframe, praying it wouldn't give as water rushed over them, snatching their breath and reaching for their lives. Her only thoughts were of Dane. Spars cracked, ropes snapped, men screamed for their comrades, their captain. In an instant it was over, the sea rolling a bit calmer, the wind still flexing its muscles.
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Tess choked and sputtered, filling her lungs and swiping the water from her face. Her gaze shot to Dane, and she screamed, a deep, agonized cry.
He dangled in midair, the rope twisted around his legs and chest, the wind beating his body against the booms and sails. The top gallant mast had cracked and he hung out, unable to grasp the wood. Tess ran to the mast, climbing the rigging, ignoring the calls for her to cease. Gaelan chased after her. The end of the rope was tangled in the main's boom and already a sailor tried to free it.
Tess's feet caught the ropes, and she climbed. She bounced, and the breeze took her up with the rise of the ship. It was like trying to climb a rope bridge straight up while someone jumped on it. Then it started to rain. Torrents of water showered the vessel. Tess climbed.
"M'lady, do not try it!" Gaelan bellowed when she sat on the crossjack like a child on a swing. Tess grabbed onto the swaying mast as Gaelan continued to climb.
"No! Don't come up!" she screamed back. "It's cracked and won't hold us both!" She pointed to the splintered wood beside her. "Get below me!" She gestured urgently to exactly where. "Lean out on the rigging and when I give the word, you be ready to catch him!" The rain stung her cheeks, filled her mouth, and she rubbed her sleeve over her eyes so she could see better, but it did little good; her clothes were drenched.
"Get the bloody hell down, woman!" Dane hollered.
Her gaze shot back over her shoulder to where he hovered about three feet below her. Angry
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red streaks blazed his chest and arms where the rope had scraped.
"Make me!" she shouted and heard a faint chuckle.
Blood flowed from a gash in his forehead and Tess recognized the glaze in his eyes. He was going to lose consciousness any second. The wind kicked in, the ship heeled, and she held on, terrified as the mast lashed the air like a giant whip and Dane was slammed against the sails. She heard his groan of pain and called out.
"Dane! Dane!"
No reply.
She scraped water from her eyes and blinked. "Blackwell, you'd better answer me!"
"That sounds like an 'or else,' love." His speech was slurred.
She managed a smile, hugging the tottering mast. "Damn right it is."
She thought he called her a saucy wench but wasn't sure.
Dane lifted his head, the world spinning around him; the sound of waves crashing and his men calling out vibrated in his brain. Rainwater pelted his face, thinned blood filling his eyes. He squinted through the downpour to see her. Her back was to him as she sat on the boom. His vision blurred. Blood pounded in his skull, and he couldn't muster the strength beyond the hammering to reach out to her as the frigate bucked furiously. Dear God! She was going to fall! Terror lanced through him when she fell back, hanging by her legs, only her knees securing her to the slippery spar. Nay, nay! He tried
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to reach her. She'll die!
It was his last conscious thought.
Gaelan hung onto the lattice ropes, waiting for her signal. Aaron and" Ramsey O'Keefe had joined him, each at a different level. How the Triton's master managed to be here, he didn't know, but they needed his size to grab the captain.
Tess said a brief prayer, tucked her chin to her chest, then began to move. Using her stomach and back muscles, she propelled herself back and forth like a swing. Wood groaned. Droplets pounded the sails, sounding like tacks spilling on wood floors. Her adrenalin pumped. Her breath hissed through her teeth as she tried to keep the water from filling her nose. Arms outstretched, Ifess built up momentum, each time coming closer and closer to the rope that held Dane.
"Now!" She caught it, the muscles in her legs screaming at the abrupt stop. She fought the pull, curling forward to bring Dane close. Her palms burned; the wet rope jerked at his weight. Don't let go. Pull, Renfrew, pull! She let out a defeated cry as the wind yanked it from her grasp.
"Got him!" she heard someone shout and looked below to see Ramsey, his arm wrapped around Dane's chest. Gaelan held Dane's legs while Ramsey cut the rope. Men scrambled to the mast base, gently lifting their captain down to the slippery deck. Someone pressed a cloth to the blood seeping from his skull as they laid him on the wet surface and cut away the remaining ropes.
Ramsey stared skyward as she agilely climbed down the lattice rope. Incredible! Her courage and
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capabilities were unbelievable. He was there when her feet touched the surface. The ship yawed. She stumbled into his arms, and their eyes met briefly, her gratitude clear, grabbing at Ms heart. Then her gaze jerked to Dane, and she was gone, pushing between the men to get to him.
"Take him to the cabin," she ordered, and men obeyed. Rain poured, the frigate rolled, and she followed alongside, her hand pressed to Dane's head. She fought the sting of tears. He's alive, repeated in her head. "Duncan. Fresh sheets, towels, and water. On the bed," she directed when they entered the cabin. She waited impatiently until he was settled, then pushed people out of her way. She examined the wound. Not deep enough for stitches, she decided. A scrape, really. With her thumbs she opened his lids. Just as she thought: his pupils were unequal in size. She cleaned the area and replaced the pressure cloth with a fresh one.
"Hold this firmly," she instructed Gaelan. "And don't let up until I tell you." She took Dane's pulse. "Dane? Can you hear me?" she called.
No response.
The crew of the Sea Witch exchanged concerned looks among themselves. When Gaelan nodded to the door, the men quietly departed, knowing their captain was in the gentlest of care. He and Ramsey remained.
"Get him out of those wet clothes," she said to Ramsey, assuming he would do the honors. Tess didn't think she had the strength to peel off the sodden cloth, and as much as she wanted to see all of that body, she damn well wanted Dane to know
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she was looking.
She picked her yellow bag off the floor, frantically digging in it for something she might be able to use. Frustrated, she dumped the contents on the desk, feminine debris spilling to the floor. She sorted what she had: bacitracin, Tylenol, heat ointments, bandage tape, scissors, then quickly shoved her junk back into the bag when she heard Ramsey come up behind her.
"Interesting bit of fluff," he murmured, lifting a lacey scrap from the floor, Tess twisted, snatching back the string bikini.
"Now is not the time for your antics, O'Keefe," she muttered. Dane should have at least stirred by now. She moved to him, settling gently on the mattress, pulling the covers over his chest. He was so pale.
"I'll take over. You're needed above," she said to Gaelan. He hesitated, then nodded, leaving quickly, anxious to see to the damage before it worsened.
Ramsey frowned curiously as she unwound a white strip from a metal reel, clipped in precise intervals, then folded the edges. It stuck to her fingers, he marveled, as she made two more like it. She peeked beneath the bloody cloth, then carefully applied an ointment before she pressed the butterfly-shaped bandages to the cut. Her fingers lingered at his brow, brushing back damp curls, and Ramsey stiffened, then silently chastised himself for his jealousy. Duncan entered then, coming quickly to her side and handing her a cloth. Tess cautiously toweled Dane's hair dry, calling his name, then cut small squares of white cloth and taped them to the
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wound. She sighed and looked up at the two men. "I think he has a concussion." They frowned together. "It's a hard jarring of the brain." Eyes widened. "There might be damage"—alarm swept their faces—"and there might not."
Ramsey swallowed, his tanned skin measurably lighter. "Brain damage, m'lady, you mean—"
"Blood clots, swelling of the brain, I don't know. I'm not a doctor, but I've seen a concussion before." "Then you can treat it?"
She shrugged. "It sort of treats itself. We watch and wait. Wake him every couple hours for the next twenty-four." She looked at Dane, calling him again. "It may not take that long. He could come out of it in a few minutes." Please, God, please, she prayed. The longer he was out, the worse.
"The capt'n'Il be fine," Duncan said confidently, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "He's a strong man."
"Aye, lass. I've seen him suffer worse than this."
Tess didn't take her eyes off Dane. In her career she'd witnessed a variety of injuries, even had a concussion when she was twelve. But that was with immediate medical attention. Professionals. All Dane had was her and her first-aid courses. He could actually die!
"M'lady?"
Tess lifted glossy eyes to Duncan. He was holding out Dane's velvet robe. She accepted it, clutching it beneath her chin. Waving at Ramsey, Duncan inclined his head toward the door, and both men slipped quietly out.
Tess stripped out of the wet clothes, donned the
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warm robe, then took her place beside him on the bed. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cool brow, squeezing her eyes shut.
"Wake up!" she murmured against his skin, swallowing repeatedly, the pain in her chest telling her just how much of her heart this dark pirate had taken. "Don't leave me here alone, Dane." She leaned back, her gaze riveted to his pale still features. Oh, God! What if he was meant to die today? Could she change his history? And if she couldn't? Her throat tightened, the stone of agony making each breath an effort, and she fought the urge to scream. Covering her face with her hands, Tess gave in, wet fire streaming behind her palms. Her shoulders jerked as she very quietly wept.
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CHAPTER TWENTY
"Are those tears for me, love?"
"Course not, I got something in my eye." Tess gasped, dropping her hands when she realized who'd spoken. "Dane! You're awake!"
" 'Tis well, with all that water, I believed we were sinking."
"Why you—you —see if I save your sorry bu—" Tears brimmed again. "Oh, Dane," she cried, laying her head on his chest. Slowly his arms came around her.
"Ahh, God! You are real." There was wonder in his voice, akin to prayer. His embrace tightened. "I thought you had fallen, Tess."
She closed her eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath her ear. "No such luck," she murmured. His weak chuckle blended with a groan. "Hurt?"
"I believe your prediction has come true."
Her brows furrowed. "I beg your pardon?"
"The revolution of the French, 'tis begun in my head."
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She smiled, his words vibrating through her like jello, and she thanked God for the sensation. "It's better than feeling nothing at all."
She leaned back, her gaze sketching his pale face, memorizing every contour and line.
His breath locked in his throat as he drank in the sight of her tear-stained cheeks, the wet hair curling about her slim shoulders, his velvet robe haphazardly wrapped. God's teeth, she was a vision to behold. "You were not hurt?" She shook her head. "You will not risk yourself like that again, Tess." His tone was gently scolding. "Promise me this?"
"Can't. You, Duncan, the crew, you're all I've got left." Her sincerity caught him in the gut. "Besides, it's the only thing I'm good at."
"Nay, I know better."
His hand smoothed up her spine to cup the back of her head and draw her close. His lips touched hers, and he fitted her against his chest, slowly tasting her, his tongue licking the salt from the rosy circle, then slipping inside. She could have died, he thought, and deepened his kiss, her sweet response lessening the sting his pride suffered at being rescued by a woman—again.
His hand moved over her back, slipping forward to cup her breast, and she moaned, a sharp tingling spreading clear to her toes as her body answered the erotic pressure. She allowed herself a few more seconds of pleasure, then drew back, grinning at his childish disappointment.
"You don't need to get excited." Her eyes dropped meaningfully to the bulging sheet. His lips twitched, and he reached for her again. "You need rest,
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Dane." Her tone brooked no argument, he realized as she rose from the bed and turned toward the commode, doling out two tablets and pouring a glass of water. "Take these." He looked skeptically from the pills to her. "Trust me. I won't — " Before she could finish, he plucked the white pills from her palm, reading the words etched on them before he shoved them into his mouth, and drained the glass. "That's a good little pirate," she said, patting his head.
"Tess," he warned, but she grinned widely, arranging pillows, then tucking the quilt beneath his chin. "I am not a babe." He shoved down the coverlet, the abrupt move sending needles of pain into his skull. He grunted, squeezing his eyes shut and gingerly easing back onto the mountain of down.
"Serves you right." She planted her hands on her hips. "Now hear this—you will rest for at least two days. You will not, I repeat, not leave that bed. You're not out of danger yet, Blackwell, and you'll obey my orders." She leaned down for emphasis. "Is that clear?"
His gaze dropped to the opening of the robe, her plump bosom teasing his weakened will. He wanted to bury his face in the sweet bounty. Lifting his gaze, he murmured, "Inciting a mutiny, are you, lass?"
"If it will keep you in that bed, hell, yes!" He reached out, his fingertips grazing down the skin exposed, pushing the robe farther open. Her breath caught. "This could be a very interesting recovery." His palm filled with her breast, his thumb gently circling the rosy peak.
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She moaned, briefly closing her eyes, her insides jingling as he tried to pull her down. She forced herself to remove .his hand and straighten, then tightly wrap the velvet. She jerked the sash, trying to look stern. "I swear, Blackwell, you scare the life out of me, and all you can think of is—" She waved at the bed.
"Have a heart, love." She fought a smile at his pleading look. "You test a man, draped in naught but that old rag."
"Then I'll count on that to be incentive to be a good patient."
He folded his arms across his chest. "You're going to be a tyrant, aren't you?"
She held his gaze. "Aye, Capt'n, that I am." Never in her life did she want to go through that kind of panic again, and Tess vowed to make certain he was well before he left that bed. No matter how much he complained. Or tried to seduce her.
His lids felt heavy, and Dane battled the sleep that tried to claim the sight of her from his hungry gaze. She was alive. And saucy as ever, he added silently, the pain in his skull ebbing to blissful relief.
Tess frowned. He went out so suddenly. She stepped closer, covering his chest with fluffy down, then checking his pulse. Strong and steady. She brushed the curls from his forehead, absently checking his bandage.
The door opened, and she glanced up.
"Is he-?"
"He woke up," she assured Duncan, and the man's smile was blinding. "And there doesn't seem to be any damage to his faculties." Tess looked away,
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heat warming her cheeks.
When she looked back, Duncan had vanished, and she could hear his footsteps thumping down the corridor. His voice was muffled, but when he passed like a blur before the open door, she had an idea of what he was up to. The cheers and shouts of his crew thundered down to her, and she smiled.
The squall had been quick, furious, and its damage would take days to repair, but now the ship dipped and swayed with a gentle motio
n. Amazing. Tess was gathering up wet clothing and discarding the bloody cloths when she spied the maps rolled and stuffed in a canister secured to the wall. She removed the parchment, spreading it on the desk. She examined the markings, then frowned curiously, stepping away to dig in her satchel. Unfolding a rumpled travel brochure, she compared the map to the glossy one printed on the back of the ad. Her smile was slow as she snatched up her pen and tried to mark on the oiled and waxed map. When it wouldn't do, she searched for her eyeliner pencil, then updated Dane's map, charting three small islands where there were none.
She was just putting the chart away when Duncan appeared again, trailed by several sailors. The deck hands filed in quietly, each carrying two buckets of steaming water. Their expressions were of such genuine thanks and admiration, Tess felt her heart clench. She tossed the eyeliner in her bag and went to them.
"Duncan," she whispered, "I can't let them do
this. I know how precious fresh water is on a ship."
"Beggin* yer pardon, m'lady," a sailor spoke up,
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"but 'tis our way of sayin' thank ye." He nodded toward the bed. "Per our capt'n."
She turned a pleading look to Duncan, but the old man simply folded his burly arms over his chest, daring her to complain further. "Thanks a heap, McPete," she mumbled, then nodded to the sailors. They grinned at each other, deposited the water in the tub, then moved toward the door, heads bobbing and murmuring their thanks.
The men quickly departed as Higa-san materialized in the cabin doorway. Without a word, he entered the bathing room, setting a tray laden with soaps and little pots on a small stool, then lifted a sack from inside his belt. He sprinkled the glittering contents into the hot water, then turned to her, his hand an elegant wave as he gestured to the bath.
"All right." She sighed. "I give up. Now leave so I can enjoy this gift before it gets cold."
Tess closed and locked the cabin door after them, stripping off the robe as she moved to the bathroom. A giggle bubbled in her as she dropped the velvet and stepped into the scented water, warm liquid quenching her salty skin. She sighed with pleasure, leaning back in the copper tub, watching Dane sleep as she soaked. The fragrance misted around her, the vapors laced with the perfume of spice and wildflowers. She loved it. It was unusual, exotic, and sensual. And for the first time since she'd stepped on deck that day, she relaxed.
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