The Heart's Command

by Rachel Lee

Niall saw Brie attach the raft tether to his vest. Her hands were shaking badly as she fastened the device. He saw the terror in her pale face, visible beneath her helmet. The weather was cold. The wind beat against them. It shrieked and moaned, sounding like a wounded animal in horrible pain. Niall knew by her expression that Brie wanted to cry. Without thinking, he shut off the flashlight and turned to settle down in the raft. Blackness engulfed them immediately. Then he blindly reached out to her.

  "Come here," Niall urged gruffly, placing his arm around her shoulders and drawing her into his arms. Brie came without fighting. She didn't stiffen or try to pull away. To his surprise, Niall felt her arms slide around his torso. She rested her helmeted head against his and he heard her gasping.

  "Go ahead," he said harshly against her cheek, "cry. We made it. We made it, Brie...." And Niall choked back a sob himself.

  Darkness surrounded them. Niall clung to Brie as much as she clung to him. The wind was howling, sometimes a soul-shattering shriek. Rain slashed and cut at them. He turned his face toward hers, their helmets protecting their vulnerable flesh to a degree. It was cold. Much colder than he'd ever imagined. Glad to be wearing the Mustang Suit, Niall felt his pounding heart begin to slow over the next few minutes. Just having Brie in his arms was all he needed at this moment. She felt soft and curved in all the right places, just as he'd remembered from so long ago.

  Brie let the tears come as she clung tightly to Niall. She needed his confidence and strength right now. They'd nearly died. If he hadn't gotten the door open, they'd have drowned already. The reality of their narrow escape from death avalanched through Brie. She felt Niall patting her shoulder awkwardly in an attempt to comfort her. Rainwater slashed relentlessly against her face, mingling with her tears. Crying was a relief valve for Brie. They were alive. Alive. And Niall was holding her. Even in the midst of this unfolding nightmare, his strength, his touch, soothed her shock and the fear of nearly dying. As she huddled against him, glad for the solidity of his strong, male body, Brie found herself wanting to let all the hurt from the past go. Why, oh why, couldn't they have talked it out? Why did he have to run away?

  The raft surged upward and they both tensed. Brie felt Niall's hands tighten around her like steel bands, to protect her from the unseen threat. They were riding a huge wave skyward at a terrific rate of speed. And then the raft slowed.

  Brie gave a cry of terror. She realized that the wave was probably twenty or thirty feet high, and the raft was riding it upward. If they didn't crest it, the wave would crash over them, hurtling them back into the sea. If that happened, they'd be flattened, like bugs under a flyswatter, by tons of water crushing down upon them. It would throw them out of the raft. They'd drink a lot of seawater. They might drown.

  "Easy...easy..." Niall whispered harshly. He felt Brie tense. Felt her hands work frantically around his torso, as if to hold on even more tightly. They were riding a huge, vertical wave, and he knew the consequences. Would they crest it or not? Holding his breath, he felt the raft slow even more. They had to be near the top of the giant.

  The roar around them heightened. It sounded as if they were standing in an echo chamber, with a jet engine screaming at them. For a moment, in the blackness, Niall felt as if he was in limbo, between two worlds. Without being able to see, he had no idea what was happening around them. Tightening his arms around Brie, he waited out the long, tortured seconds as the raft slowed to nearly a standstill.

  The burbling, rushing whoosh of water foaming around them happened within moments. And then the raft took in gallons of water as the wave boiled and vomited around them. Niall didn't try to get rid of the water; he knew the raft would float even if it was full. Relief rushed through him. They'd crested the monster wave.

  "It's okay," he whispered tautly to Brie. "We crested it. We're all right, sweetheart...."

  Chagrin filled him as the endearment slipped out of his mouth. Niall wondered where the hell that had come from. Brie had been his sweetheart; it was his pet name for her. And now, in a moment of real crisis, it had come flying out of his mouth. What the hell.

  There was too much going on, Niall decided as he eased his grip on her slightly. The raft was sliding gently now, down into the trough before the next wave. Not all waves were such monsters. But in a hurricane in the middle of an ocean, some could reach twenty or thirty feet with no problem at all. Sometimes even higher.

  "Okay?" Niall asked, as she eased back slightly. He still kept his arms around her because, despite then-past, he wanted to protect her. Although he couldn't see her, he could feel her. Brie felt good to him. She felt like home.

  Bitterly Niall reminded himself that he had no home. He never had. And now they had crash-landed and were drifting aimlessly in the largest ocean in the world. Had the Coast Guard station picked up their mayday before they crashed? Or would they die out here in each other's arms?

  Chapter 3

  "It's going to be all right...all right..."

  The husky, emotion-laden reassurance drifted into Brie's awareness, easing her terror-stricken state. She lost track of the roller coaster movement of the raft. The roar of the ocean was overwhelming and constant. Salt spray whipped across her face, stinging, painful and cold. Most of the time she kept her eyes tightly shut. If she opened them, they filled with the salty water and burned—and with the salty tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Oh, how Brie had dreamed of Niall holding her so tightly against him. This wasn't how she wanted it— not in a hurricane-driven ocean, where she wasn't sure if they were going to live or die. But just the act of clinging to him, feeling his strong, comforting arms around her, his sandpapery cheek pressed against hers as they were tossed wildly about in the blackened night, made her feel safe.

  Brie knew they weren't safe. She knew Niall couldn't tell with any certainty that they'd be all right. Still, the husky sound of his voice was balm to her shocked soul. Never in all her life had she anticipated such an incident occurring. She was a pilot, sure, and she trained weekly for just such a crash, but somewhere in the back of her mind, Brie had felt it would never happen. Well, it had. And in the worst kind of weather situation.

  Her arms were wrapped around Niall's torso. The raft wobbled and bobbed violently. Spray and white froth would rocket across them like icy bullets fired from an unseen enemy in the inky night They had initiated their individual radio beacons, small transmitters on their vests that would send out a mayday signal. However, the radius of the transmission was limited to a five-mile area. Any fixed-wing aircraft, such as the Coast Guard C-130 Hercules, a medium-size transport plane, would have to penetrate that zone in order for the instruments on board to pick up the mayday signal. That was their only chance for detection, their only chance for rescue from this watery hell. No other aircraft would be able to fly through eighty-mile-an-hour winds, through squalls and violent up-and downdrafts.

  Niall shut his eyes and clung strongly to Brie. She felt so damn good to him, despite the terrifying circumstances. The worst moment for him had been when he thought he was going to lose her in the sinking helicopter. Relief pumped violently through his heart that she had survived and was here, in his arms, as he'd always wanted her to be once more.

  Talking was impossible right now. Each time the raft slid upward, he knew it was climbing torturously toward the crest of some giant, unseen wave. In a way, Niall was glad it was night, because if he saw those monster waves during daylight hours, he knew he'd be scared to death. Never had he been in such a situation. If there was anything good about it, it was that Brie was here with him.

  In another hour, dawn would come. Daylight would help them in many ways. As he keyed his hearing, Niall thought the howling screech of the wind might be lessening. He knew from their last plotted position that they'd been flying very close to the center of the gathering hurricane. If only they could get into the eye! That would mean no rain for a while, only smooth, quiet ocean and a good chance to be rescued. However, there was no guarante
e they'd make it into the eye; they were totally at the whim of the ocean.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, raising his voice near her left cheek. Erie's helmet covered her ears, and Niall knew he'd have to shout for her to hear him. He felt her arms loosen a little as the raft slid slowly down into an unseen trough.

  "Y-yes...just scared."

  He laughed bitterly. "Makes two of us..." He'd nearly said "sweetheart" again, but caught himself this time. Why did his traitorous heart want to gift her with that endearment?

  "Are you okay, Niall?"

  Shrugging, he said, "I think I am. I wrenched my shoulder opening that damned door."

  "I'm sorry I couldn't get it open."

  "I didn't think I would, either. It was really stuck. The crash jammed it." His lips came to rest against the cool firmness of her cheek. He wanted to touch her, wanted to kiss her, but fought the wild, spontaneous urge. Using their dire situation as an excuse, because they had to be close in order to hear one another, he said, "We're going to be okay."

  "Liar."

  He smiled a little. Then the raft bobbled, climbing another unseen wall of water. Niall held his breath. His arms automatically tightened around Brie. When the raft bobbled, and sea spray whipped across them, pummeling them like boxers, he knew they'd crested it. Breathing out in relief, he felt Brie sag in reaction, too. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess," he told her.

  "This isn't your fault. I pulled the duty. You had nothing to do with the flight pilot roster."

  "If I could, I'd have flown with someone else." He realized what he'd said. Before he could correct his mistake, he felt Brie stiffen in his arms.

  "I'm sure you would have," she said, her voice sad.

  Hearing the tears in her voice, Niall castigated himself. He was rattled by the crash. Adrenaline was still pumping strongly through his veins and he wasn't monitoring what he said. Knowing his words had hurt Brie, he scrambled to try and patch up the mistake.

  "No...I didn't mean it that way, Brie. I really didn't."

  "Considering that I haven't heard from you for two years, I think you did. No letters. No phone calls to see how I was doing..."

  Anger seared him. "Well, you didn't exactly communicate, either."

  "I did more than you did, Niall." Her voice quavered with anguish. "I sent you cards the first year. Six of them. They were all returned by you, unopened. At least I tried. And yeah, when you didn't respond, I did stop trying to talk with you. Blame me if you want."

  Closing his eyes, Niall felt anger and sadness wind through him. "I—just couldn't, Brie. I was too hurt...."

  "You ran, Niall," she charged, her voice brimming with escaping emotions. "You always run when life gets tough. That's how you survive. You run!"

  Her voice was angry. Filled with grief. Niall felt Brie's words slice through his pounding heart. Another deluge of icy salt spray hit them, and they were soaked once again. Even now, they were arguing. "Look," he rasped, "you were the one who told me to leave after...well, after..."

  "After I lost our baby," Brie sobbed. She couldn't help herself. The trauma of the crash had stripped her of her normally cool composure. Now, with Niall holding her, one leg wrapped tightly about hers so she wouldn't fly out of the life raft, his closeness had divested her of all the armor she had built around herself after the loss of their baby. Choking, Brie tried to recapture her escaping grief over the loss. Oh, how long had it been since she'd cried for her loss of the baby? Too long.

  "You were the one who ran out on me. You abandoned me in my worst hour of need, Niall!" Her voice cracked. Brie opened her eyes. She could see nothing in the blackness, but she felt his cheek against hers. His chest heaved against her breasts, and she could feel the tension gather in him. "I had just lost the baby. I was in the hospital crying, and you volunteered for a black ops with Morgan Trayhern. You just up and left! You ran out on me just like your father ran out on your mother!"

  Helplessly, Niall worked his mouth, but no sound came out. He couldn't protect himself from her torn words, the hoarseness of her voice. He felt Brie's hands opening and closing frantically against him. "I didn't run out on you," he said at last. "The assignment came up."

  "So? Why did you take it, Niall? Why?" Her voice grew even hoarser. The raft wobbled dangerously as the sea swelled around them. Another wall of spray deluged them. Brie could feel the water slopping back and forth around their bodies in the bottom of the raft. There was no way to bail it out, and it didn't matter; the raft would continue to float anyway. Right now, all Brie wanted to do was escape Niall. Her rage strangled her, and she wanted to hurt him as badly as he'd hurt her by walking out on her that way.

  "Because you didn't need me, that's why, Brie," he growled.

  "I didn't need you?" Her voice rose, incredulous. Stunned at this revelation, Brie lay there against him, her spongy mind working over his admittance.

  "Look," Niall said in a raspy voice, "we need to stop arguing. We're at risk right now. We could die any moment. Let's just conserve our energy for now, okay? We can talk more after we get rescued." He slid his hand upward, against the back of her helmet, and forced her head down on his chest. "Just lie here against me," he ordered thickly. "I'm not running now."

  "You would if you could walk on water and get the hell out of this life raft right now, Niall. But you can't."

  He laughed unsurely. "No, I can't walk on water. I'm too damned bad and dark."

  Brie surrendered. She was too tired, too stressed and terrified of dying to continue righting with him. Death wasn't an option to her. Niall was right: they had to conserve themselves in every way. Rescue might come.. .or it might not. Or rescue might come too late, depending upon the hurricane's antics. They had enough food and water in their life vests to sustain them for forty-eight hours, and that was it.

  Closing her eyes, Brie tried to stop feeling, tried to stop thinking of Niall's words and charges. He didn't think she cared about him? Of course, since he had run out while she was in the hospital recovering from the miscarriage, Brie had never had a chance to speak with him. When Niall had come back three months later, he was a walled-up warrior who refused to talk about their loss. Their marriage, at that point, had rapidly disintegrated into two strangers living under the same roof. The loss of the baby was too painful for either of them to bring up. Brie admitted now that it was probably due to the depth of their grief and loss that they hadn't been able to talk honestly and at length with one another.

  She felt herself spiraling downward. Within minutes, she lapsed into a broken sleep in Niall's sheltering arms, feeling safe even though her world was being twisted apart.

  Gray dawn light greeted Niall's sore, scratchy eyes as he slowly raised his head from his light sleep and looked around. Disoriented at first, he sat up from his prone position in the raft, sending the few inches of water in the bottom swilling around his legs. The growing light revealed many things. First he noticed that the ocean was calm, the swell of waves less than one or two feet in height. Secondly, though clouds were scudding by, he could see stars fading above him. They'd had the luck to enter the eye of the hurricane. He knew the hurricane was huge and they could not have drifted out of its grasp yet. Only in the eye could the weather have cleared and the waters calmed. He looked down at Brie. She was stirring, her eyes puffy, with dark smudges beneath them. Still, she was incredibly beautiful to him.

  Leaning over, he helped her sit up. The three-foot nylon line still held them together and he unsnapped it from his vest. Her waterlogged green Nomex gloves were still on her hands and he watched as she shed them. With fingers white and wrinkled-looking from being in the water so long, she slowly rubbed her swollen eyes. She'd been crying. A lot. His conscience ate at him. How badly he wanted to reach out and touch her, to somehow atone for all the pain he'd caused her over the years.

  Taking off his helmet, he let it roll aside on the bottom of the raft. The wind was warm, humid and soft. Breathing easier, Niall saw nothing but gray-green ocea
n surrounding them no matter what direction he looked in. Turning back to Brie, he saw her ease the helmet off her head. Her copper-colored hair was flattened against her skull, with fine, thin wisps plastered across her forehead. Brows dipping downward, he watched her do something that he'd loved to see her do before, when they were married: slide her long, slender fingers through her thick hair to fluff it up and into place. How much he missed that small gesture, Niall realized. Choking back a sudden lump in his throat, he absorbed Brie's every graceful motion like a man too long starved for touch himself. In that eloquent moment, Niall realized fully just how much he'd missed having Brie in his life.

  Trying to balance his predatory hunger for her against what she'd done to him, he found it impossible to reconcile the two very different and divergent feelings within himself. Helplessly, Niall sat there and watched her drag those soft, long bangs across her broad forehead and gently nudge them into place. Despite the bulky flight suit she wore, Brie was feminine in every way. The softness of her lips, now parted, beckoned powerfully to him. Hours ago, after the crash, his lips and hers had been fractions of an inch apart....

  Wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand, Niall tore his gaze from her. To watch Brie was to open up a wound in his heart that had never fully healed or recovered. Trying to think beyond the personal with her, Niall checked the water bottle in his vest. It was full and had survived the crash intact.

  "Are you thirsty?" he asked her.

  Brie looked up. In the gray dawn light Niall's narrow face was shadowed and strong looking. His gray eyes were keen and assessing. Feeling his warmth and care—something she'd craved so badly and had rarely found in the last months of their marriage—Brie absorbed his sincere concern now. Ruffling her hair, she lowered her hand and checked the bottle in her vest. "I am, but I want to save it."

  Nodding, Niall said, "Yeah...no telling when they'll locate us." Or if they would, but he didn't voice his worry. He wasn't out to hurt Brie. Right now, Niall was trying to protect her the best he could.