THE OBJECT OF HER deepest desire had been difficult, but never in the long, cold struggle to bring him to shore had Kat feared for her own life.
Now, suddenly, she did so.
What a fool she had been to plunge back into the water! True, her sad state of undress might have brought about a few snickers and she’d certainly be considered rather scandalous. But what was scandalous compared to being dead!
Tired, cold and disoriented, she fought to retain her strength, to rise enough within the growing fury of the river to find either the shore or one of the vessels—fine or misbegotten—that braved the Thames no matter the weather. But though the rain had not come in heavy sheets as the sky had seemed to warn, it had formed a thick, blinding mist atop the churning waves. She was adrift in a cold sea of gray in which she seemed entirely alone.
She treaded water, turning this way and that, trying to see something through the haze. She knew she had to keep moving, lest the chill enshroud her. The euphoria she had felt after her rescue had faded completely, along with her strength. She was not sorry she had saved him—was his life not worth far more than her own?—but only sorry that she had been so foolish to run—or swim!—away. She struggled to give herself the impetus to go forward. She was her father’s daughter, after all. A creature of the sea, a part of this wet, murky world.
At last, she calmed herself and rolled onto her back, then frog-kicked sideways into the current. But as she relaxed, a new fear—that of the darkness, of knowing that the Thames was little more than a sewer pit, seized her as she saw something move. Ridiculous notions shot into her mind. Snakes! No, none in the waters here, surely. Serpents—just as silly. Sharks—in from the sea? Here? In the Thames? Heavens, no, but still… Oh, God, there was something in the water!
She let out a scream, then choked on water from the wave that splashed over her, gagged. Desperate, choking, barely able to breathe, she started her frog kick again.
Something touched her!
Something…against her bare leg, and then on her hip. She kicked harder, to propel herself away. Then she felt it again. Something smooth, strong, slippery…
“No!” she shrieked. She would not die so—definitely not on the day he had told her he loved her! She would not die in the water. Water was her home, it was what she knew, and she would not, could not, give in.
When the thing rose near her, she lashed out with a fist as hard as she could.
“Good God, girl! What on earth ails you? I am doing my best to save your life.”
It was a man. Just a man. She could make out little of him against the waves, but his voice was deep and rich and commanding. And then she remembered that a man had come out of the water when she’d been at David’s side, that his appearance, along with that of the elegant young woman, had been the impetus to send her back into the dreadful river.
“Save my life! You’re the reason that I’m threatened with the end of it!” she shouted back.
“Child, my craft is but a hundred yards south!”
A wave crested and washed over her. She had not been prepared, and she chocked in water, coughing, gasping.
And he was there, a wall of steel, an arm coming beneath her breasts, sliding most immodestly against her. She struggled.
“Damn you, be still! How on earth will I save you?”
“I don’t need to be saved!”
“Indeed, you do!”
“If you’d cease trying to drown me, I’d be doing quite well!”
But she was lying, she realized. She was truly spent. Staying on the surface and fighting the waves was becoming ever more difficult.
Naturally, however, as she cried out her accusation, he released her.
And just as naturally, another wave smacked over her just as she was still recovering from the last. And she went under.
A mighty kick brought her back to the surface and into his arms.
“Be still!” he snapped. “Else I shall slap you into unconsciousness so that I can save your wretched life!” The sting of his words was far worse than a slap.
“I’m telling you—”
“Don’t tell me!”
“But—”
“Dear God, woman, will you shut up!”
She had to then, for once again her mouth filled with river water, and she choked. She felt that steely power wind around her again, and despite the cold, his arms were warm, and despite her fury, exhaustion was winning. She felt a blackness creeping over the gray and brown of the day and the river, and suddenly it seemed right to close her eyes, give in….
His strength was great, for she was no longer moving on her own, yet felt as if she had been lifted, as if she were skimming over the water. Her head and nose remained above the surface.
Then there were voices, men’s voices, and she realized that they had come to a sailing vessel, a very fine one.
“Ethan!”
The shout startled her and she jerked violently away. Her head slammed against the bow of the yacht, making her gasp with pain.
Stars burst brilliantly before her eyes.
And then…blackness.
“SWEET MARY!” ETHAN exclaimed, his powerful arms capturing the slender being Hunter had salvaged from the sea, lifting her as if she were no more than a toy. And holding her tenderly, he stared at Hunter for the briefest moment before hurrying with his bundle down to the cabin.
The yacht yawed, and Hunter stumbled to the helm, grasping control as the wind ripped around them. Ignoring the fact that he was soaking wet and chilled to the bone, he swore as he struggled with a wicked shift in the wind, furled the sails on his own and brought the craft around. Ah, well, he was a sportsman, was he not? Still, he had not intended such sport today.
Ethan returned topside bringing a blanket and a cup of warm brandy. With a nod of thanks, Hunter took the latter first, drained it and felt the heat seep back into his body. He took the blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders, while Ethan took the helm.
“She’s all right?” Hunter asked, shouting to be heard.
“Nasty crack on her head!” Ethan shouted back. “But she opened her eyes. I’ve wrapped her in several blankets and given her a sip of brandy. She’ll be warm enough, and well enough, I imagine, while we make for shore. Where do we take her? To hospital?”
Hunter frowned and shook his head. “They say such places are improving, but I’d not take even a dog there. We’ll go to the town house. You’re sure she’s all right? She fought me like an insane woman….”
“Begging your pardon, Sir Hunter, but when you reached the yacht, I believe her head might have struck the hull.”
Ethan
