by Nora Roberts
Cool, almost mechanically, he tilted her head back with the chin carry to keep her air passage open. He held her securely, pressing his chest into her tanks, keeping his hand against her ribcage. It ran through his mind that it was best she’d fainted. Unconscious she wouldn’t struggle as she might had she been awake and in pain. It was best she’d fainted because he couldn’t bear to think of her in pain. He kicked off for the surface.
On the rise he squeezed her, hard, forcing expanding air out of her lungs. There was always the risk of embolism. They were going up faster than safety allowed. Even while he ventilated his own lungs, Ky kept a lookout. She would bleed, and blood brought sharks.
The minute they surfaced, Ky released her weight belt. Supporting her with his arm wrapped around her, his hand grasping the ladder, Ky unhooked his tanks, slipped them over the side of the boat, then removed Kate’s. Her face was waxy, but as he pulled the mask from her face she moaned. With that slight sound of life some of the blood came back to his own body. With her draped limply over his shoulder, he climbed the ladder onto the Vortex.
He laid her down on the deck, and with hands that didn’t hesitate, began to pull the wet suit from her. She moaned again when he drew the snug material over the wound just above her ankle, but she didn’t reach the surface of consciousness. Grimly, Ky examined the laceration the ray had caused. Even through the protection of her suit, the tail had penetrated deep into her skin. If Ky had only been quicker…
Cursing himself, Ky hurried to the cabin for the first aid kit.
As consciousness began to return. Kate felt the ache swimming up from her ankle to her head. Spears of pain shot through her, sharp enough to make her gasp and struggle, as if she could move away from it and find ease again.
“Try to lie still.”
The voice was gentle and calm. Kate balled her hands into fists and obeyed it. Opening her eyes, she stared up at the pure blue sky. Her mind whirled with confusion, but she stared at the sky as though it were the only tangible thing in her life. If she concentrated, she could rise above the hurt. The ladle. Opening her hand she found it empty, she’d lost the ladle. For some reason it seemed vital that she have it.
“We found the galley.” Her voice was hoarse with anguish, but her one hand remained open and limp. “I found a ladle. They’d have used it for spooning soup into that bowl. The bowl—it wasn’t even broken. Ky…” Her voice weakened with a new flood of sensation as memory began to return. “It was a stingray. I wasn’t watching for it, it just seemed to be there. Am I going to die?”
“No!” His answer was sharp, almost angry. Bending over her, he placed both hands on her shoulders so that she’d look directly into his face. He had to be sure she understood everything he said. “It was a stingray,” he confirmed, not adding that it had been a good ten feet long. “Part of the spine’s broken off, lodged just above your ankle.”
He watched her eyes cloud further, part pain, part fear. His hands tightened on her shoulders. “It’s not in deep. I can get it out, but it’ll hurt like hell.”
She knew what he was saying. She could stay as she was until he got her back to the doctor on the island, or she could trust him to treat her now. Though her lips trembled, she kept her eyes on his and spoke clearly.
“Do it now.”
“Okay.” He continued to stare at her, into the eyes that were glazed with shock. “Hang on. Don’t try to be brave. Scream as much as you want but try not to move. I’ll be quick.” Bending further, he kissed her hard. “I promise.”
Kate nodded, then concentrating on the feeling of his lips against hers, shut her eyes. He was quick. Within seconds she felt the hurt rip through her, over the threshold she thought she could bear and beyond…. She pulled in air to scream, but went back under the surface into liquid dimness.
Ky let the blood flow freely onto the deck for a moment, knowing it would wash away some of the poison. His hands had been rock steady when he’d pulled the spine from her flesh. His mind had been cold. Now with her blood on his hands, they began to shake. Ignoring them, and the icy fear of seeing Kate’s smooth skin ripped and raw, Ky washed the wound, cleansed it, bound it. Within the hour, he’d have her to a doctor.
With unsteady fingers, he checked the pulse at the base of her neck. It wasn’t strong, but it was steady. Lifting an eyelid with his thumb, he checked her pupils. He didn’t believe she was in shock, she’d simply escaped from the pain. He thanked God for that.
On a long breath he let his forehead rest against hers, only for a moment. He prayed that she’d remain unconscious until she was safely under a doctor’s care.
He didn’t take the time to wash her blood from his hands before he took the helm. Ky whipped the boat around in a quick circle and headed full throttle back to Ocracoke.
Chapter 7
As she started to float toward consciousness, Kate focused, drifted, then focused again. She saw the whirl of a white ceiling rather than the pure blue arc of sky. Even when the mist returned she remembered the hurt and thrashed out against it. She couldn’t face it a second time. Yet she found as she rose closer to the surface that she didn’t have the will to fight against it. That brought fear. If she’d had the strength, she might have wept.
Then she felt a cool hand on her cheek. Ky’s voice pierced the last layers of fog, low and gentle. “Take it easy, Kate. You’re all right now. It’s all over.”
Though her breath hitched as she inhaled, Kate opened her eyes. The pain didn’t come. All she felt was his hand on her cheek, all she saw was his face. “Ky.” When she said his name, Kate reached for his hand, the one solid thing she was sure of. Her own voice frightened her. It was hardly more than a wisp of air.
“You’re going to be fine. The doctor took care of you.” As he spoke, Ky rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, establishing a point of concentration, and kept his other hand lightly on her cheek, knowing that contact was important. He’d nearly gone mad waiting for her to open her eyes again. “Dr. Bailey, you remember. You met him before.”
It seemed vital that she should remember so she forced her mind to search back. She had a vague picture of a tough, weathered old man who looked more suited to the sea than the examining room. “Yes. He likes…likes ale and flounder.”
He might have laughed at her memory if her voice had been stronger. “You’re going to be fine, but he wants you to rest for a few more days.”
“I feel…strange.” She lifted a hand to her own head as if to assure herself it was still there.
“You’re on medication, that’s why you’re groggy. Understand?”
“Yes.” Slowly she turned her head and focused on her surroundings. The walls were a warm ivory, not the sterile white of a hospital. The dark oak trim gleamed dully. On the hardwood floor lay a single rug, its muted Indian design fading with age. It was the only thing Kate recognized. The last time she’d been in Ky’s bedroom only half the dry wall had been in place and one of the windows had had a long thin crack in the bottom pane. “Not the hospital,” she managed.
“No.” He stroked her head, needing to touch as much as to check for her fever that had finally broken near dawn. “It was easier to bring you here after Bailey took care of you. You didn’t need a hospital, but neither of us liked the idea of your being in a hotel right now.”
“Your house,” she murmured, struggling to concentrate her strength. “This is your bedroom, I remember the rug.”
They’d made love on it once. That’s what Ky remembered. With an effort, he kept his hands light. “Are you hungry?”
“I don’t know.” Basically, she felt nothing. When she tried to sit up, the drug spun in her head, making both the room and reality reel away. That would have to stop, Kate decided while she waited for the dizziness to pass. She’d rather have some pain than that helpless, weighted sensation.
Without fuss, Ky moved the pillows and shifted her to a sitting position. “The doctor said you should eat when you woke up. Just some soup.” Risi
ng he looked down on her, in much the same way, Kate thought, as he’d looked at a cracked mast he was considering mending. “I’ll fix it. Don’t get up,” he added as he walked to the door. “You’re not strong enough yet.”
As he went into the hall he began to swear in a low steady stream.
Of course she wasn’t strong enough, he thought with a last vicious curse. She was pale enough to fade into the sheets she lay on. No resistance, that’s what Bailey had said. Not enough food, not enough sleep, too much strain. If he could do nothing else, Ky determined as he pulled open a kitchen cupboard, he could do something about that. She was going to eat, and lie flat on her back until the doctor said otherwise.
He’d known she was weak, that was the worst of it. Ky dumped the contents of a can into a pot then hurled the empty container into the trash. He’d seen the strain on her face, the shadows under her eyes, he’d heard the traces of fatigue come and go in her voice, but he’d been too wrapped up in his own needs to do anything about it.
With a flick of the wrist, he turned on the burner under the soup, then the burner under the coffee. God, he needed coffee. For a moment he simply stood with his fingers pressed against his eyes waiting for his system to settle.
He couldn’t remember ever spending a more frantic twenty-four hours. Even after the doctor had checked and treated her, even when Ky had brought her home and she’d been fathoms deep under the drug, his nerves hadn’t eased. He’d been terrified to leave the room for more than five minutes at a time. The fever had raged through her, though she’d been unaware. Most of the night he’d sat beside her, bathing away the sweat and talking to her, though she couldn’t hear.
Through the night he’d existed on coffee and nerves. With a half-laugh he reached for a cup. It looked like that wasn’t going to change for a while yet.
He knew he still wanted her, knew he still felt something for her, under the bitterness and anger. But until he’d seen her lying unconscious on the deck of his boat, with her blood on his hands, he hadn’t realized that he still loved her.
He’d known what to do about the want, even the bitterness, but now, faced with love, Ky hadn’t a clue. It didn’t seem possible for him to love someone so frail, so calm, so…different than he. Yet the emotion he’d once felt for her had grown and ripened into something so solid he couldn’t see any way around it. For now, he’d concentrate on getting her on her feet again. He poured the soup into a bowl and carried it upstairs.
It would have been an easy matter to close her eyes and slide under again. Too easy. Willing herself to stay awake, Kate concentrated on Ky’s room. There were a number of changes here as well, she mused. He’d trimmed the windows in oak, giving them a wide sill where he’d scattered the best of his shells. A piece of satiny driftwood stood, beautiful as a piece of sculpture. There was a paneled closet door with a faceted glass knob where there’d once been a rod, a round-backed rattan chair where there’d been packing crates.
Only the bed was the same, she mused. The wide four-poster had been his mother’s. She knew he’d given the rest of his family’s furniture to Marsh. Ky had told her once he’d felt no need or desire for it, but he kept the bed. He was born there, unexpectedly, during a night in which the island had been racked by a storm.
And they’d made love there, Kate remembered as she ran her fingers over the sheets. The first time, and the last.
Stopping the movement of her fingers, she looked over as Ky came back into the room. Memories had to be pushed aside. “You’ve done a lot of work in here.”
“A bit.” He set the tray over her lap as he sat on the edge of the bed.
As the scent of the soup reached her, Kate shut her eyes. Just the aroma seemed to be enough. “It smells wonderful.”
“The smell won’t put any meat on you.”
She smiled, and opened her eyes again. Then before she’d realized it, Ky had spoon-fed her the first bite. “It tastes wonderful too.” Though she reached for the spoon, he dipped it into the bowl himself then held it to her lips.
“I can do it,” she began, then was forced to swallow more broth.
“Just eat.” Fighting off waves of emotion he spoke briskly. “You look like hell.”
“I’m sure I do,” she said easily. “Most people don’t look their best a couple of hours after being stung by a stingray.”
“Twenty-four,” Ky corrected as he fed her another spoon of soup.
“Twenty-four what?”
“Hours.” Ky slipped in another spoonful when her eyes widened.
“I’ve been unconscious for twenty-four hours?” She looked to the window and the sunlight as if she could find some means of disproving it.
“You slipped in and out quite a bit before Bailey gave you the shot. He said you probably wouldn’t remember.” Thank God, Ky added silently. Whenever she’d fought her way back to consciousness, she’d been in agony. He could still hear her moans, feel the way she’d clutched him. He never knew a person could suffer physically for another’s pain the way he’d suffered for hers. Even now it made his muscles clench.
“That must’ve been some shot he gave me.”
“He gave you what you needed.” His eyes met hers.
For the first time Kate saw the fatigue in them, and the anger. “You’ve been up all night,” she murmured. “Haven’t you had any rest at all?”
“You needed to be watched,” he said briefly. “Bailey wanted you to stay under, so you’d sleep through the worst of the pain, and so you’d just sleep period.” His voice changed as he lost control over the anger. He couldn’t prevent the edge of accusation from showing, partly for her, partly for himself. “The wound wasn’t that bad, do you understand? But you weren’t in any shape to handle it. Bailey said you’ve been well on the way to working yourself into exhaustion.”
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t—”
Ky swore at her, filling her mouth with more soup. “Don’t tell me it’s ridiculous. I had to listen to him. I had to look at you. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you’re going to fall down on your face.”
There was too much of the drug in her system to allow her temper to bite. Instead of annoyance, her words came out like a sigh. “I didn’t fall on my face.”
“Only a matter of time.” Fury was coming too quickly. Though his fingers tightened on the spoon, Ky held it back. “I don’t care how much you want to find the treasure, you can’t enjoy it if you’re flat on your back.”
The soup was warming her. As much as her pride urged her to refuse, her system craved the food. “I won’t be,” she told him, not even aware that her words were beginning to slur. “We’ll dive again tomorrow, and I’ll prove it’s the Liberty.”
He started to swear at her, but one look at the heavy eyes and the pale cheeks had him swallowing the words. “Sure.” He spooned in more soup knowing she’d be asleep again within moments.
“I’ll give the ladle and the rigging and the rest to a museum.” Her eyes closed. “For my father.”
Ky set the tray on the floor. “Yes, I know.”
“It was important to him. I need…I just need to give him something.” Her eyes fluttered open briefly. “I didn’t know he was ill. He never told me about his heart, about the pills. If I’d known…”
“You couldn’t have done any more than you did.” His voice was gentle again as he shifted the pillows down.
“I loved him.”
“I know you did.”
“I could never seem to make the people I love understand what I need. I don’t know why.”
“Rest now. When you’re well, we’ll find the treasure.”
She felt herself sinking into warmth, softness, the dark. “Ky.” Kate reached out and felt his fingers wrap around hers. With her eyes closed, it was all the reality she needed.
“I’ll stay,” he murmured, brushing the hair from her cheek. “Just rest.”
“All those years…” He could feel her fingers relaxing in his as she slipped de
eper. “I never forgot you. I never stopped wanting you. Not ever…”
He stared down at her as she slept. Her face was utterly peaceful, pale as marble, soft as silk. Unable to resist, he lifted her fingers to his own cheek, just to feel her flesh against his. He wouldn’t think about what she’d said now. He couldn’t. The strain of the last day had taken a toll on him as well. If he didn’t get some rest, he wouldn’t be able to care for her when she woke again.
Rising, Ky pulled down the shades, and took off his shirt. Then he lay down next to Kate in the big four-poster bed and slept for the first time in thirty-six hours.
The pain was a dull, consistent throb, not the silvery sharp flash she remembered, but a gnawing ache that wouldn’t pass. When it woke her, Kate lay still, trying to orient herself. Her mind was clearer now. She was grateful for that, even though with the drug out of her system she was well aware of the wound. It was dark, but the moonlight slipped around the edges of the shades Ky had drawn. She was grateful for that too. It seemed she’d been a prisoner of the dark for too long.
It was night. She prayed it was only hours after she’d last awoken, not another full day later. She didn’t want that quick panic at the thought of losing time again. Because she needed to be certain she was in control this time, she went over everything she remembered.
The pottery bowl, the ladle, then the stingray. She closed her eyes a moment, knowing it would be a very long time before she forgot what it had felt like to be struck with that whiplike tail. She remembered waking up on the deck of the Vortex, the pure blue sky overhead, and the strong, calm way Ky had spoken to her before he’d pulled out the spine. That pain, the horror of that one instant was very clear. Then, there was nothing else.
She remembered nothing of the journey back to the island, or of Dr. Bailey’s ministrations or of being transported to Ky’s home. Her next clear image was of waking in his bedroom, of dark oak trim on the windows, wide sills with shells set on them.