by Ashley Ladd
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Total-e-bound
www.total-e-bound.com
Copyright ©2007 by Ashley Ladd
First published in 2007, 2007
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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A Total-e-bound Publication
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Shipwrecked
ISBN # 978-1-906328-02-3
©Copyright Ashley Ladd 2007
Cover Art by Lyn Taylor ©Copyright May 2007
Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Total-e-bound books
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author's imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
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The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork
Published in 2007 by Total-e-bound eBooks 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
Warning:
Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated total-e-sizzling.
SHIPWRECKED
Ashley Ladd
Dedication
For my lifelong hero, Dave.
Chapter One
"Abandon ship!” Captain David Hargrove's voice rasped over howling winds. A fuzzy blur in the moonless night, the man's outline loomed large but hunched as wave after wave of boiling sea cascaded over him. Relentlessly it rammed the Sylvia Dawn aground a jagged coral reef.
The force knocked Katie McLaughlin's feet out from under her and slammed the breath from her lungs. Bone-deep fear more than the freezing cold made her limbs shake uncontrollably.
Katie struggled to her feet as another wave ploughed into her and knocked her painfully onto her tailbone. She grimaced. At this rate, the safest course of action was to remain on her knees. “My luggage,” she spluttered, her mouth full of seawater, as her suitcase floated past her. With a grunt, she made a grab at it.
"Forget ... things. Boat's ... sinking. Must ... swim ... ashore.” Grabbing her wrist, the only other passenger, Scott Vanderhorne, hauled her to her feet and held her tightly against him. Together, gasping for air, they also fought the fierce wind. Even close up like this she could barely make out his rugged features without the aid of so much as moonlight. He was merely a dim silhouette etched against the dark curtain of far away stars.
"Of course I can swim.” Water lapped her ankles and then clumps of seaweed slapped her in the face.
A rugged lightning bolt split the night, giving Katie a brief snapshot of a sandy, battered shore no more than a few hundred yards away. The man pointed at a jutting outcrop of nearby land. “Look! Over there."
Relief flooded Katie, and she gulped in a huge sigh. “Hallelujah, Lord! We're saved."
A giant wave curled over the boat and slammed down with a hammer like fist. With horrible shrieks, the boat broke in two and the three humans were tossed into the angry seas.
Katie was sucked under the murky depths to Neptune's domain. A fighter from the projects, she never said die. Jack-ass ex-fiancé's nor even moody sea gods were going to do her in.
This is not my day to die!
She would survive this storm if only to irritate her ex. Should Jaws have the nerve to accost her, she'd punch him square between his beady eyes.
When she resurfaced, she spluttered, and dragged in air. She pushed at the hair curtaining her eyes, and blinked until her vision cleared enough to make out more than just foggy shapes in the distance. She tread water but it wasn't easy to stay atop the roiling waves. She spun around, seeking out her companions. In a ragged voice, she yelled, “Captain Hargrove! Mr. Vanderhorne! Anybody, can you hear me?"
Water gurgled where the boat made its last gasp and then submerged. Only splintered wood rode the murky waves ... and her.
Oh God! What if the island was deserted? She'd be alone in this nightmare.
"Over here,” a deep voice barely topped the thundering water.
Her heart leapt as she turned around. “Thank God,” she whispered. Then louder, she added, “Hargrove? Vanderhorne? Where are you?"
"At three o'clock. It's Vanderhorne.” He cleaved the water in clean, strong strokes until he appeared at her side. He tilted his head toward the shore. “Come on. Stay with me."
"But the Captain...” She strained her head to search the black seas for any sign of their companion.
Gentle fingers grasped her elbow. The moon reflected a silver sadness in his eyes and he shook his head. “Let's get you to safety first, then I'll look for him."
Her heart plummeted. “You don't think he made it."
His mouth settled into a grim line and firm resolve steeled in his eyes. Applying pressure to her arm he propelled her forward. “We don't know that. We can't allow ourselves to believe that."
"I pray you're right.” The water tugged at her, and her arms felt like they were weighed down with fifty pound weights. As much as she wanted the captain to be safe, she knew Vanderhorne was right.
But the beach seemed to stretch a million miles away. With each stroke it felt as if the weights increased. Her lungs burned and her legs ached.
Finally, breathless, she crawled onto the sandy shore and kissed the ground, uncaring that gritty sand clung to her lips. When she wrung out her hair, the puddle in the sand beside her turned into a lake. She didn't want to board another boat or sail another sea as long as she lived. Fisting her hand at the boiling seas and shaking it, she taunted Neptune, “We beat you, you hear!"
A moment later, a frogman crawled from the sea. Moments later, as her eyes focused, it turned into Vanderhorne. His normally white blonde hair lay plastered to his skull, just as his now battered khakis moulded his large frame. Seaweed dripped from almost every inch of him. He was the Swamp Thing.
Like her.
What a pair!
He flung himself on his back, and spread his arms wide. His chest rose and fell rapidly and then he was racked by coughing.
"Are you okay?” She forced her weary limbs to carry her to his side. Rain pelted her, sharp needles slashing her face. The tropical winds grew fiercer and she shivered, wishing she had a dry jacket or rain poncho to cover them, but there was nothing to provide warmth.
Strong fingers grasped her elbow and Scott's voice boomed in her ear. Although the contact was minimal, his warmth seeped into her.
"Unless we want to be neck-high in waves, we've got to get off this beach.” His words came out grated, barely audible.
"But the captain..."
"Now!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him. “We'll just have to hope the captain is further down shore."
A quick check behind her affirmed his words. The water churned like a black cauldron, overtaking the
beach.
"Maybe there's a house or a hotel to hole up in further inland.” There had to be. All they had to do was to keep trekking.
"I hope you're right,” he muttered under his breath, his voice lacking conviction. His hand in the small of her back, he helped her along the treacherous terrain.
Stopping dead, she whirled on him, her eyes wide in her otherwise pinched face. That hopeless note in his voice scared her more than she was already scared and she took exception to being scared. If you showed fear in the city where she grew up, the low lifes would be all over you. Thus she'd learned at an early age that it was suicide to show fear.
She looked up, peering into the man's eyes too dark to fathom. She could have sworn they were sky blue, but it was impossible to discern anything from his expression. “What's that supposed to mean?"
Water dripped from his lashes as he stared down at her silently for several moments. “This is probably a deserted island. There are thousands of them out here."
Refusing to let him know how close his words came to panicking her, she squared her shoulders. No way would she let herself become a quivering mass of nerves like one of the dollies he was used to in his high society universe. She laughed uneasily. Although his words echoed her earlier thoughts, she couldn't bring herself to voice it aloud. “Come off it. People only get shipwrecked in the movies."
Lightning crackled again and she took the opportunity to study their surroundings. Dense foliage. Unspoiled beach. No sign of civilization in sight. He couldn't be right, could he? Could they be stranded on a blasted rock in the middle of the South Pacific? She groaned inwardly but thrust her chin up defiantly. “So now what?"
Couldn't I at least have been cast away with Leonardo Di Capprio if I have to be shipwrecked? At least Tom Hanks.
"We hike. Maybe we'll find your precious hotel but keep your eyes peeled for a cave just the same."
"Cave?” Visions of spiders and bats crawled across her mind. When sticks stabbed her tender soles, she stumbled.
Scott caught her, craned his neck, and looked up at the night sky, scowling. “This could be gearing up to be a typhoon. I don't know about you, Dorothy, but I don't want to get blown to Kansas."
Fisting her hands on her hips, she gazed up at him. Way up. “Don't tell me we're stuck in some Gilligan's Island nightmare."
His scowl deepened and he grunted. Grabbing her hand, he took the lead, dragging her behind him. “Okay, remind me not to tell you."
Gee thanks!
She shook her head at his back. Then brambles caught in the lacy fabric of her tunic, scratching her legs until they bled. She swore under her breath when she saw that the brush ripped her clothes. “Wait!"
Scott almost pulled her arm out of its socket before he turned back. His expression still unfathomable in the stormy night, he peered at her. “What's the matter?"
"I'm stuck. I'm tangled in something.” She wrinkled her nose as her fingers worked to disentangle the fabric.
"Like a snake?” She couldn't tell if his voice held a trace of mirth and teasing or if he was deadly serious. Considering how sarcastic he could be, she voted for teasing. Not that she was in any mood to be teased.
"No snakes. No creepy crawly things.” Thank God. Although Heaven only knew that this place must be a hatchery for slithery, poisonous creatures. What had ever possessed her to leave civilization? What had ever made her think South Sea tropical islands constituted paradise?
"Quicksand isn't sucking you under, is it?"
"No. But a killer bush is trying to eat me.” She carefully worked the brambles and vines out of her lace, so it wouldn't tear the filmy material. It was a miracle it wasn't torn to shreds already.
His hands groped in the dark, finding her waist, moving lower. When his fingers neared private parts, she gasped, smacking his hands away. “Watch your hands, mister!"
"Would you prefer I leave you here for the wild animals to snack on?"
"Wild animals?” She gulped and narrowed her eyes. She doubted he meant stray dogs and alley cats.
"Oh I don't know. Most probably crocks, alligators, monstrous insects..."
His words echoed her wayward thoughts and did nothing to assuage her fears. Coming from South Florida, she was used to snakes and alligators, but man-eating tigers? “Okay, do your thing.” Trying to divorce her mind from her body, she gritted her teeth and steeled herself against his hands. She was surprised to feel calloused fingers rub down her legs. Since when did millionaires have calloused fingers?
The cloth ripped and fell off her body, leaving nothing but a sports bra. Her heart stopped and she gasped. Then she tried to conceal her nakedness with her arms. “How dare you! What if this is a deserted island and I can't get more clothes?” The night's events came to a head. Did he expect her to wear fig leaves like Adam and Eve?
He scooped up the material and draped it over her shoulder. “Maybe you can fix it."
She flung up her hands, then dove for the material as it slid down her body. “With what?” Not wishing to follow him but frightened at the thought of being alone, she tagged behind, struggling to push branches and gigantic leaves out of her way. Several smacked her in the face. “I don't know you well enough to get naked."
He turned around and gave her a benign stare. “You have nothing to worry about from me."
Great! So she was stranded on Gilligan Island Central with either a gay guy or an officer and a gentleman. The moment the barb shot through her mind, she regretted it. He'd been nothing but concerned and helpful. “That was uncalled for. This hasn't been an easy night for either of us. Forget I said that.” Still, she shivered and held herself tighter.
"Forgotten. But you seemed disturbed even before the storm hit.” He towered over her so that she couldn't see his expression. “What were you running from?"
Heat burned up her neck, but she refused to reveal the depth of her pain to a stranger. It was no one's business how her ex-fiancé had jilted her in favour of his parent's choice of wife. How she hadn't been good enough for their son, and how he had capitulated to their pressure. She was too humiliated, too heartbroken, to regurgitate her private affairs. Besides, if the newspapers were to be believed, Scott Vanderhorne possessed at least double Sam's wealth. Rich guys were nothing but trouble, especially ones with parents.
"Are your parents living?” Why that popped out of her mouth, she didn't know and she bit her tongue.
He stopped short, causing her to run into his back. Looking over his shoulder at her, he said, “Yes. Are yours?"
Yep, he had the double whammy. Warmth crept into her cheeks and she was glad he couldn't see her redden. Think Kate! “They-they'll be worried about you. That's all."
He grimaced. “So will my fiancée."
Fiancée? Make that triple whammy! The man's fiancée would probably scratch her eyes out for daring to be marooned with him.
Lightning splintered a nearby coconut tree. Thunder boomed instantaneously as the wood cracked and began falling.
"Duck!” Scott grabbed her to his chest and dove to the ground. He rolled over, crushing her beneath him as the giant tree crashed to the ground, flattening everything in its path mere inches away. If not for his quick thinking, they'd have been crushed.
She became acutely aware that her bare torso and the swell of her breasts moulded against his exposed chest. Their flesh clung to one another, and she sucked in a shaky breath. She was definitely discombobulated.
Extricating herself from her saviour's embrace, she struggled to drag in breath. She grunted, “Thanks."
"That was close. We have to find shelter.” He rose, towering above her, and held out his hand.
Taking it, she allowed him to pull her up, cursing her wobbly knees, but withdrew her fingers from his as soon as she could stand. As unfair as it was, he reminded her of the one person she'd sworn to erase from her memory.
Yet, they could be alone in this stormy jungle. She yearned to be home in Ft. Lauderdale's concrete jun
gle.
Another crack of lightning delineated a mountain not far ahead. Hope swelled in her heart. Mountains had caves. “This way.” She passed her companion, renewed vigour running through her veins. It was a struggle to buck the winds. They had to cling to tree trunks a few times to keep from being blown away by wicked gusts of wind, but they finally reached the mountain base, breathless and exhausted.
"There's an opening.” Scooping her into his arms, he ran into the cave as winds roared demonically. Rumbling, the mountain threatened to tumble down.
Trembling, she looped her arms behind Scott's neck. It was only coincidental that her breasts pressed against his swiftly beating heart.
"Shush. We're safe now. I promise.” He held her securely and stroked her hair away from her face, his calloused thumbs sending shivers down her spine.
"Define ‘safe',” she murmured, her thoughts and emotions a jumble.
Before he could voice a reply, a wall of mud and rock slid in front of their cave, making her jump and bury her face against his strong shoulder.
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Hours later they escaped the cave. The sun hung high in the sky beating mercilessly upon them. Showers of coloured light prismed through a giant rainbow. Having found a bit of vine, she'd tied her ripped shirt into a makeshift covering. Not exactly Fifth Avenue, but her boobs weren't hanging out for her companion to ogle.
Her stomach growling, Katie chased crabs and turtles. Several times she was forced to stop and pull up her top and finally she tied it around her bra straps. She could already taste the sweet little creatures and her mouth watered. At the very least, the activity kept her from going stark raving mad with boredom.
Meanwhile, Scott had appointed himself the mission of securing shelter for the night that was not inside a cave. He busily hacked away at bamboo poles and palm fronds with his knife that he had scavenged from the shipwrecked boat.
Perspiration trickled between her breasts and shoulder blades. What she wouldn't give for a fan and a towel. She wasn't greedy. A washcloth would do.