Heart Of The Storm. Mary Burton

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for him to raise his arms over his head in the narrow hallway. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d lose feeling in his feet in the cold waters.

      The lantern swayed and flickered in the wind behind him. Gritting his teeth, he jerked the ax back an extra inch then drove it with every bit of force left in his body. The blade sliced through the door as if it were butter. Ben yanked the ax free and drove it again into the door. Soon the door snapped in two.

      Immediately water from the hallway rushed into the cabin. He heard the woman scream. Dropping the ax, he bolted into the darkened cabin.

      The river of seawater knocked Rachel off balance.

      She tumbled backward. Salt water filled her mouth and nose as her arms flayed around. She didn’t know what was up or down as she groped wildly for something to grab onto.

      For all her desperate plans of escape, she feared she was going to die. Peter would have smiled at the irony. He’d always said he’d kill her if she tried to leave.

      Strong hands banded around her arms and hauled her forward above the surface of the water. She sucked in a breath.

      Her eyes burning, she stared at the silhouette of a very large man. Hints of lantern light from the hallway flickered on chiseled features and black eyes.

      The cold had seeped through her dress and sapped her strength. Her teeth chattered. Her hair, in a long thick plait down her back, draped over her shoulder like a wet rope.

      “Is there anyone else?” His voice was deep, rusty and full of authority.

      “I don’t think so. I heard them lower the lifeboats hours ago. I screamed but no one came.”

      The man muttered a savage oath. The boat shifted then, knocking her off balance and into his chest. Warmth and energy radiated from him. And for just the faintest moment she felt safe.

      His strong fingers gripped her arm and he pushed her toward the door. “Let’s go,” he ordered. “We don’t have much time before she’s completely flooded.”

      Wading across the tiny room in waist-deep water and then down the hallway took every ounce of strength left in Rachel’s body. The weight of her skirts added to the burden of every step.

      When they reached the ladder leading to the deck above, the boat tilted and groaned again. Water rushed down the ladder. She fell back into the stranger.

      He wrapped strong fingers around her shoulders. “Move, or we both will die here,” he growled in her ear.

      He placed his hands around her narrow waist and propelled her forward through the icy waterfall. The thick wool of her dress was completely soaked and it clung to her body like a second skin.

      Rachel coughed as she stumbled forward to the upper deck. She sucked in a deep breath.

      The rain had slowed. In the distance she saw the lighthouse beacon. There, she’d be safe. But it was so far away.

      The deck above was sloping badly now, and each time she tried to stand, her foot caught in her drenched hem. The stranger grabbed her elbow and jerked her up.

      “I can’t walk. My skirts are so heavy.” Lord, but she sounded weak. The cold night air pricked her skin.

      “We’re almost there.” Urgency laced each word. “Just a few more yards.”

      She forced herself to remain standing. “I am not going to die now. I’ve come too far. I’ve come too far.” She hadn’t realized she’d chanted the words out loud until he spoke.

      “Aye, we’ve both come too far to die now.” He pushed his shoulder into her midsection and lifted her up off the ground. His shoulder dug into her belly and she could barely breathe.

      He dashed across the deck until he reached the railing.

      She caught a glimpse of the ocean below. A small boat bobbed in the water. The black seas churned.

      She gripped his wet coat with her frozen fingers. “I can’t swim!” she shouted.

      “I can.”

      He tossed her over the side of the railing into the churning waters.

      Chapter Three

      Rachel’s sense of weightlessness lasted only an instant. Before she could scream, she landed in the water.

      The icy ocean engulfed her mouth and nose as she plowed downward through the water. Her blood thrummed with fear.

      For one heart-stopping moment she thought she’d never reach air again. She tasted salt. Her lungs ached and burned.

      She clawed her way through the water, wondering what she’d do if she reached the surface. Even if she hadn’t had the heavy skirts weighing her down, she couldn’t swim.

      A strong hand grabbed her forearm and hauled her upward. She clung to her rescuer, knowing without him she’d die. She broke through the water’s edge and sucked in a huge breath, coughing. Her bare shoulder bumped against something hard and she realized she’d been pushed beside a rowboat.

      “Steady the oars, Timothy,” her rescuer said. “I’ve got a woman.” The confidence in his voice relaxed her. Somehow she knew she was safe.

      He wrapped his hands around her waist, holding her body close to his. “Hold on to the boat’s edge. I’m going to climb in and pull you aboard.”

      She panicked. “Don’t leave me.”

      He moved so close that his lips were right next to her ear. “Be brave. I’ll have you in the boat in a second.”

      Her skin burned in the ice-cold water. She could barely hold on to the slick lip of the boat as it was. But when she looked into his warm, steady gaze she knew he wouldn’t leave her. “Hurry.”

      Her rescuer easily swung his long legs over the side of the boat. The boat dipped and swayed but he steadied himself as if he were on dry land.

      He leaned over the edge and, grabbing her arms, pulled her up into the boat and eased her to the bottom. A bone-deep cold had settled into her body. Her teeth chattered.

      “Where’d you find her?” the young man said, handing a blanket to her rescuer.

      “Belowdecks.” He wrapped the blanket around her. The coarse fabric offered some warmth, but she couldn’t shake the chill.

      The boy looked at her as if she were a specter. “In a million years, I never would have guessed there’d be a woman aboard that freighter.”

      The man sat behind her, bracing his feet on either side of her. Powerful thighs rubbed her shoulders. “That’s the key, lad. Never guess.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Timothy, get another blanket for the woman.” He took hold of the oars and started to row. The boat started toward the shore.

      “Anything you say, Mr. Mitchell.” The younger man took his place,

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