Page 19

M artin laid Pascal down on the straw pallet as gently as he could manage with the motion of the boat.

“What happened?” Isabella asked, breaking her silence at long last. But there was no time to celebrate his victory as he pulled the wet tunic and shirt off Pascal and covered him in the thick wool blanket. Adelaide huddled in a corner where Will had a protective arm wrapped around her.

“He fell overboard. I had to dive in after him.” Martin still felt like shards of ice were flowing through his veins instead of blood.

The water had been so cold, his entire body had rebelled.

After he jumped in, he could hardly move as the roiling sea pressed the air from his lungs.

It was a miracle he’d found Pascal before he himself perished.

“You what ?” Her voice took on a shrill quality. Could it be that she was reacting out of fear for him? Again, he didn’t have time to revel in that idea.

“I jumped in. I couldn’t let Pascal die.

” Memories of childhood games with the baker’s son assailed him.

They’d used to chase each other around the bailey with wooden sticks for swords, pretending they were knights and brigands.

Pascal always seemed to take special pleasure in playing a brigand.

No one could plan an ambush like Pascal.

“But you could have died!”

Yes. His reluctant lady-wife was worried for him.

The thought warmed his sea-chilled heart.

“I grabbed a rope before I jumped off and tied it around my waist so that my men could pull me back. Besides, I thought you would have been relieved to be rid of me. It would certainly fit conveniently into your plans.” Martin rifled through his drawers and found a linen shirt, tearing off a strip and turning it into a bandage for Pascal’s head.

There was little else he could do for the man after a blow to the head like that except wait and hope he woke up.

The affronted look on his bride’s face warmed him even more. She did care, even if she’d never admit it.

“I never wished you dead. I merely wished to be rid of your insufferable company.”

From her, that was practically a declaration of love. And she was certainly staring at his chest with inordinate interest. She bit her lower lip as she perused him. If Will and Adelaide hadn’t been huddled in the corner looking on, he might have tried his luck at kissing her.

“I’m needed back on deck,” Martin said, dragging his gaze away from temptation. By God, she was captivating—as lovely as she was fearsome. If only he could linger, but duty called.

“Stay here with Will. We should come out the other side of this storm soon. Will,” he said, turning to the boy, “keep an eye on Pascal, and let me know if he awakens.”

“Yes, my lord,” Will said from the corner where he was crouched, clutching the bulwark.

“Good boy.”

With that, Martin headed back up to the deck.

The blast of wind and rain from the storm hit him as soon as his head rose above the hatch.

Ulf stood steady at the tiller, keeping the ship turned into the waves.

Only the flexing of his muscles spoke to the effort it must have taken to keep the ship under control.

Halfred stood on the forecastle, clutching the railing tightly for balance, and he bellowed, ordering Cian and Wymond below. Martin climbed the ladder to join him.

“Report.”

“I think we’re through the worst of it, my lord.”

Martin liked to think he could read the weather as well as any man, but Halfred seemed to have a sixth sense about it. “I pray it is so. The ship can’t take much more of this.”

“ The Wind Song is stronger than you think, my lord. She’ll pull through. How’s Pascal?”

Martin let out a long slow breath, saying a silent prayer. “Unconscious.”

Halfred nodded grimly. “Only time will tell. It was a damned fool thing you did rescuing him, if I may say so, my lord.”

“I’d never let any of you die that way. Not if I had the strength to save you.”

Halfred chuckled. “You have a lot of your father in you, you know. He never knew when to back down either.”

The mention of his father pierced his heart like a dagger.

His loss was still too fresh. It had been a year since Lord Gilbert had passed, but not a day went by that Martin didn’t mourn his absence.

It pained him deeply that the man didn’t live to meet Isabella.

His father would have liked her. And despite her disdain for barons, she would have liked him because everyone liked his father.

In the distance, Martin caught sight of a patch of stars. Though the wind continued to lash them, and waves crashed against them, the end was in sight. If they could just hold on a little bit longer, they would sail out the other side.

“The storm is breaking up ahead. I see a patch of clear sky.” Martin pointed.

Halfred sheltered his eyes with his hand. “So there is, my lord. You’d better speak to Ulf and adjust our course.”

Thunder cracked and lightning sizzled as Martin made his way to the other end of the ship. Too close! If it got any closer, it would have hit the mast. Hanging onto the slippery railing with an iron grip, he traversed the remaining distance to the tiller as quickly as he dared.

Ulf stood like a statue with eyes glued to the horizon ahead. The only sign of strain was the white knuckled grip of his hand on the enormous spar of wood that steered the ship.

“I saw a patch of clear skies over yonder,” Martin said, pointing.

“I saw it too,” Ulf said, turning his steely gaze to follow Martin’s hand. “But we’re far from safe yet. That lightning struck too close for comfort.”

“So it did.”

As if summoned by their words, thunder boomed, and a sizzling bolt of light spiked down and struck the mast. The entire beam glowed white hot.

Then an explosion of splinters went flying as a flaming crow’s nest came crashing down to the deck.

The top of the mast had split as if cut by an axe, and flames engulfed it.

The blaze licked dangerously close to the sail.

Martin stopped breathing as he looked on in horror. If the sail caught fire, they would be dead in the water with no way to reach the shore. And that was if they were lucky, and the fire didn’t spread and engulf the entire ship.

Somehow, he had to put out the flames. How could he stop the spread? Here they were surrounded by water, and yet he could not think of a way to get it where it was most needed.

But his bride and her sister were on board this ship. He’d promised Isabella they would be safe with him, and he could not let them perish. Grabbing a length of rope, he ran for the mast and began to climb the rope ladder that barely held as flames licked at the top.

“No, my lord,” Halfred yelled, running toward him across the slippery deck.

“I must,” he yelled back down. “Fill a bucket with water and tie it to the end of this rope.” Martin held out the end of the rope he’d grabbed and gave it a shake, then continued to climb.

The ship swayed around him as the ship bobbed in the heavy surf, but he held tightly to the ropes and continued to climb.

There was a snap, and the rope holding one side of the ladder gave way.

The fire had burned through it. He didn’t have much time before the fire would burn through the rest. Fortunately, he was close to the mast. Easing himself off the ropes, he grasped the wooden beam and lashed himself to it with one end of the rope he carried up, wrapping his legs around it.

No sooner had he done so than the other side of the rope ladder gave way.

The taut web slackened and fell to the deck.

He had to keep the fire from reaching the ropes that held the spar for the sail in place or they were all done for.

“Bucket,” Halfred bellowed from the deck below, pointing to a full bucket of water that was lashed to the other end of his rope.

Martin began to pull it up, letting go of the mast so that the rope he’d tied around himself held his weight.

Hand over hand, he brought up the precious water he needed to douse the flames.

His muscles ached as he reached for it and threw it at the flames above him.

The fire retreated a few inches, the charred wood hissing and sizzling in its wake.

“Again,” he yelled down, lowering the empty bucket.

Halfred ran to fill it, as Martin rocked with the boat, high above the waves. On the deck below, there was movement. Someone was climbing out of the hatch. Dear God. No! It couldn’t be! How could she risk herself like this?

“Isabella, no,” he cried out. “Go below. It’s safer.”

Shaking her head vehemently, she made her way to stand in the shelter of the forecastle and stood to watch. She was too far away for him to read the expression on her face. What was she doing out here?

“Bucket,” Halfred yelled.

There was no time for him to argue with his wife. He had to save her life and the lives of everyone else on the crew. Yet again, he pulled up the bucket, arms shaking with the strain. Then he splashed the seawater on the flames above, and this time, they retreated by a foot.

“Again,” he yelled down to Halfred, lowering the bucket. It was working if his strength would just hold out. But there was no room for failure. Everyone’s lives depended on it.

Five times, he hauled up that bucket before the flames were completely doused. By the end, his arms felt like limp eels, no longer capable of supporting his weight, and yet he still had to shimmy down the mast.

Isabella’s eyes hadn’t left him for a moment as he toiled. Even when he wasn’t looking, he could feel her gaze on him like a brush of heat.

Somehow, he had to force his arms to cooperate one last time so that he could get back down the mast. He could almost laugh. How could he have doused the fire that threatened them all and yet be unable to do this last simple task of climbing down?

Hands shaking, he fumbled at the knot he’d tied, loosening the rope and letting it drop to the deck.

Then he forced his aching body to climb down the polished, rain-slicked mast, slipping a little each time he moved.

Halfred and Cian stood at the base of the mast as if they could catch him if he fell.

But he was still too far up, and he knew it.

Every muscle in his body rebelled as he forced it to cling to the enormous beam, lowering himself inch by inch.

The deck was close enough now that he could let himself drop and survive the fall.

The temptation to let go was almost too much, but he had to make it down on his own power. Isabella was watching.

After what felt like an eternity, Halfred and Cian braced his legs and told him to let go. He could hold on no more and slid down into their waiting arms, earning himself several splinters in his arms and legs along the way.

Finding his feet with difficulty, he turned to his bride and staggered toward her. Fortunately, the storm had calmed somewhat, and the waves were subsiding, or he might have fallen over.

He must have looked a horror, soaked to the bone and covered in soot and ash. He bled from deep scrapes and splinters earned during his descent.

But all he could see were her wild eyes filled with fire and her raven tresses blowing in the wind. After staring him down for a long moment, she stepped forward and reached out a soft hand, cupping his cheek. “You saved us. Thank you.”

Her touch set him aflame as surely as lightning. He couldn’t move. He could hardly look at her. The temptation to take her in his arms was so great. His gaze dropped to her lips, and he thought he might die of wanting as her tongue flicked out to lick them.

“If you don’t move your hand, I’m going to kiss you.”

She stepped closer, resting her other hand on his waist. “That would be unwise,” she said, but she leaned in closer.

“Very.” He placed his hands on her slim waist, unable to stop himself from touching her.

“A truly terrible idea.” Her lips parted as she held his gaze.

“Indeed.”

Come to me, my vixen. Let me taste your sweet lips.

“And yet…”

She closed the distance, and the soft pressure of her warm lips brushing against his drove every thought from his brain.

All his aches and pains disappeared, and the world narrowed to the two of them as he wrapped his arms around her.

His fearsome bride melted against him, opening to him exactly the way he’d been dreaming of as he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue.

He deepened their kiss, unable to stop himself from tasting her sweetness and fire.

This was everything he’d wanted. The flames he just finished fighting were nothing to the inferno raging within him as their tongues met and entwined.

There was a hunger in her kiss that he would never have expected.

Was it possible she wanted him as much as he wanted her?

More. He wanted more. And she gave it to him. Their kiss grew desperate, reckless. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he pulled her hips against his own. The friction and heat drove him nearly out of his mind. Dear God, let this never end. Let this madness never stop. Isabella, I’m yours!

And then, as suddenly as she’d embraced him, she pulled away, panting, and he let her go, though it nearly killed him.

His whole body screamed to hold her close, but he held himself back.

She stood there, and he watched in hungry agony as a war of emotions played across her face.

Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. She let out a long, shuddering breath and raised her regal head.

“This was a terrible mistake,” she said so that only he could hear, then fled to the hatch, climbing down before he could find words.

A shuddering sigh escaped him as he watched her go. He was so close to winning her, but still, she resisted. God, she was glorious, and if it was the last thing he did, he would make her his.