Crimson Rapture (10 page)

"
'Tis no use, they're out of it. We need to get help."

Christina
nodded and all three gazes lifted to the ceiling where the door now was
located. The waterfall continued to fall into the room, threatening drowning
for all of them, ropes or not. "We can't get out and w'at if, w'at
if—" Hanna stopped, not daring to finish the sudden frightening idea that
no one was left to rescue them.

"We'll
boost you up," Christina said to Elsie. The three women scrambled into
position, and Hanna and Christina each took one of Elsie's legs and lifted her.
Elsie grabbed onto the slippery ledge, salt water pouring over her chest and
arms. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to get a grip.

"Jesus!"

And
suddenly Elsie's weight was lifted from their arms and Justin was there.

He
lowered himself into the room, dropped to the floor, took one look at
Christina, and pulled her into his arms. "My God, you're all right! I
thought—" He too never finished, there was no reason to, and instead he
just held her tighter and for precious long moments he could not let go.

The
second those strong arms came around her, his unexplainable warmth securing her
to him, she nearly swooned with sudden intense relief. Relief at what she knew
not; that he was alive, that they were saved, that all would be well. Though
she would have been perfectly content to drown in his arms.

She
never wanted him to let her go.

"Come
on now," Jacob called down. "I know she's probably the sweetest thing
your blackguard hands have touched, but the fact is we're goin' under and none
too slowly."

"The
ship's wrecked on some rocks or a reef, we can't tell," Justin quickly
explained as he glanced around, first spotting Marianna. "We can't see it
but land can't be far away. We're going to reach it in the lifeboats." He
lifted Marianna into his arms and Christina watched as two dark muscled arms
lowered into the room. The powerful hands swept gently under Marianna's stilled
form. Jeweled fingers flashed magnificently in the dim light, and Marianna
suddenly disappeared through the door in the ceiling as if taken by a whisper
of the wind.

Justin
lifted Hanna next and the same jeweled hands lifted her with an ease that
defied explanation. "Over here, Beau," Justin ordered his dog beneath
the opening and, obediently, Beau complied. He tossed up the rope attached to Beau's
harness and then lifted the dog's hind legs, while Cajun pulled up his front.
As the dog went up, he called out, "Jacob, get Diego before it's too
late."

Cajun
and Jacob exchanged a glance in which a world of meaning passed. So many had
met their death in the storm; why could not Diego be left to meet a merciful
death? Jacob had no answer but he would not question Justin's direct order. He
shook his head sadly and left to brave the storm long enough to see Diego to
the lifeboat.

Christina
suddenly remembered and turned abruptly to the other side of the room. "My
whistle," she said, distress filling her eyes. "Beau snapped it from
my neck and dropped it there." She pointed.

Justin
looked confused for a moment but then a smile lifted to his eyes. "There
will be other trinkets," he said, and gently kissed her forehead.

This
startled her. Until that moment she had never nurtured a selfish thought and,
despite the situation, the fact that the battle to survive was still being
fought, she wanted that whistle. She hardly understood but didn't care.

"I
don't want other trinkets," she said simply. "I want the
whistle."

"I
don't believe this," he chuckled, and wasted no more time. His hands
completely circled her small waist and he lifted her into the air. Christina
gasped as those same dark hands fitted under her arms and pulled her through
the hole to her feet. The hands remained under her arms as though uncertain of
her balance, and Christina found herself looking at a most remarkable man.

Cajun
looked to her life the manifestation of a genie in the glass vase. He was a
giant of a man, oddly wearing only loose jewel-studded red silk pants tied by a
gold sash, the sash too laced with shockingly large jewels: diamonds, emeralds,
rubies, or sapphires, she hardly knew which. His caramel skin was dripping wet
but he seemed strangely separated from the surrounding disaster. Dark liquid
eyes held her and she watched his bright white smile lift in stages. "Ah,
Justin's treasure; the other," he said.

Justin
had never before experienced any difficulty refusing a woman's whim and looking
at the water rapidly filling the small room, he cursed his sudden weakness. And
then he dove into the dark pool. It didn't matter that the wasted minutes could
cost life and limb. All he knew was that if they survived, he wanted to see the
smile in those gray eyes when he returned the whistle.

Jacob,
along with two other men, had already taken the others away and Christina
remained in the same intimate position with the man who introduced himself as
Cajun.

"Are
you very afraid,
la ni
ña!"
he asked.

La
ni
ña.
My
little one. The endearment caused her eyes to fill with smiling curiosity. It
was as if he knew her or had known of her, and was offering her a special
friendship. "No, I'm not afraid now," she realized suddenly. Then, as
though she had never known a moment's shyness or temerity, as though they were
a million miles away on safe ground, asked him, "Are you very
afraid?"

Cajun
threw his head back and laughed, a wonderful sound that instantly won her
affection. "No
ni
ña,"
he replied, pleased, "I am
not afraid of what can be seen or heard or felt."

Beau
barked as Justin jumped and lifted himself effortlessly through the hole. Cajun
and he immediately swung into action, tying a rope from Justin's belt around
her waist and then attaching Beau's leash to his belt.

"You'll
have to hold yourself to me, Christina. The wind has died somewhat but it's
still fierce enough to lift you."

Christina
nodded but looked to the door, confused.

"Katie,
you've forgotten Katie!"

"She
died some time ago," he said softly.

Christina's
eyes searched his face to ascertain the truth of this, and then her knees
buckled under and she collapsed.

"No,
Christina," Justin said firmly, holding her upright. "You must be
strong for me!"

She
nodded weakly, though she suddenly felt overwhelmed, exhausted, and the only
strength she felt was his. He lifted her to his arms and she clung tightly to
his neck. Beau followed at Justin's side and Cajun moved silently behind them.

She
would never forget those long minutes it took to reach the lifeboat. The rain
felt like a thousand bullets stinging her skin and she needed a strength she
did not have to fight the force of the wind to keep to Justin, for he could
only hold her with one arm as he braced against the upturned side of the ship.

Beau's
leash was dropped to Jacob, who waited in the lifeboat and the dog was ordered
in the water. Beau obediently jumped into the churning blackness and, with some
effort, Jacob pulled him back. Holding her firmly, Justin grabbed onto the rope
and lowered into the boat. Cajun came next. Christina looked up and gasped just
as Justin threw her to the floor and came on top of her, a split second before
a twenty-foot wave crashed over the boat. It was the last thing she remembered.

The
soft gray light of pre-dawn shaded everything, sky and sea and land. A gray
overcast sky melted into a grayer sea, and, while relatively calmer, the ocean
still raged in the aftermath of the storm. Large waves crashed onto a ravished
beach. The wind had died to a warm breeze. Nature signaled the end of her
vengeance with a sound that woke Justin. He heard the song of birds, a thousand
chirping birds.

He
woke to the pleasurable tightening of his body's full arousal and he smiled.
Sleeping soundly, Christina nestled intimately against his warmth and in a
position suggesting she might have slept with him for a good ten years. She
wore only the remnants of her chemise and a petticoat, tattered and torn now.
Clothing that hid little from his gaze.

The
lifeboat, held up on its side by their sticks, served as a makeshift shelter
for twenty-two people sleeping beneath it. Accounting for the four women, only
eighteen men of a crew of seventy-eight had survived. Some had been lost on the
short trip in the lifeboat to the island. The boat had capsized twice and it
had been all he and Beau could do to keep Christina alive and breathing until
his legs touched the blessed shores of the island.

Christina
had remained unconscious, even while he had moved the torn remnants of her
dress, undergarments, and boots to check for broken bones. She had no broken
bones, but multiple bruises and scratches marred her lovely skin. Somehow by a
miracle of God or fortune, they had survived.

Christina
nuzzled closer to the warmth, lost on the sweet shores of a dream spun from
memories of a time not long ago. She could see it all so clearly. A bright
springtime sun shining over Hollinsborne, the quaint village in Kent that had
been her home. The huge stone church—her father's church—rose from the center
of town, with its steep bell tower touching a pure azure sky. Row upon row of
small thatch-roofed, Tudor-style cottages lined the narrow tree-lined
cobblestone streets. Then she saw her home, similar to all the rest, except two
stories high and in the far corner of town. A small gate surrounded her
father's well-tended garden. A garden made with a smooth blanket of neatly
cropped lawn and flower beds: geraniums, daisies, delicate monkey flowers and
roses, dozens of roses blooming pink, yellow, and white beneath the springtime
sun. Madelyne hummed as she went about the day. She heard the familiar sound of
the clip-clop of horses as carriages drew to the gate, friendly greetings
extended by a parishioner or neighbor come to call on her father.

She
sat behind the house with her ever-present sketchbook, drawing the wilderness
that encroached there. How often had she sat there like that, staring at the
meadow of tall green grass surrounded by dark woods, tall cedars, ash, and
gangly oaks? What had she been dreaming of then? Her father had teased that he
lost her to the dreams of a young girl becoming a lady...

Her
father! She loved him so! She sat on a stool while he rested in the huge easy
chair by the hearth after supper, listening as she read out load. Madelyne
appeared with cider or tea and some sweet treat, an apple tart, cake, a dish of
trifles, or eclairs. Like old and comfortable friends, the three of them sat
around the fire. She felt so warm and secure...

Justin
endured the exquisite pressure of the soft form against him for as long as
possible. The gentle swell of her breasts brushed against his chest with each
of her small breaths and watching, feeling this, became a torment he had never
imagined he could, much less would bear. Every fiber of his being wanted and
was ready for her, and yet he would force himself to wait.

He
had never before had a virgin and the idea that he would take her innocence
stirred strange emotions in him, not all of them pleasant. And presently the
one bringing the most discomfort was knowing he had to awaken her to love
slowly and gradually.

Had
he ever waited for a woman's love?

No,
he realized, and it would be as new to him as love was to her.

He
shifted, hoping to relieve some of the pressure and, to his surprise, Christina
nuzzled back against him. This was decidedly too much. He ran his hand over the
curve of her small waist, stopping beneath her bosom, teased where the chemise
interrupted his pleasure. He let out his breath in a low groan and then brushed
his lips against her forehead and whispered, "Wake up sweetheart. You've
been asleep too long now."

Christina
stirred but before she opened her eyes, she heard the call of exotic birds and
she smelled the delicious fragrance of a garden washed by rain. So she had gone
to heaven! How odd, she had always doubted there was really such a place. She
smiled and opened her eyes.

The
smile disappeared instantly and she gasped, bolting up, only to be caught by a
strong arm gently easing her back down. "Easy does it," he whispered.
"You've been asleep for a day and a night and you'll have to go at it
slow."

"A
day, a night?... What happened?"

"The
ship wrecked on an island reef and sunk about a mile off shore." He
glanced toward the ocean, his eyes suddenly filled with sadness, perhaps
regret. "We reached the lifeboat. You must have hit your head in the boat,
for you've been unconscious since. I was getting worried," he smiled, his
hand lightly touching her face, "until you did me the favor of opening
your eyes."

Consciousness
brought back the terrifying events, all of them—the storm, nearly drowning in
the small room, Justin, Jacob, and Cajun finally coming for them and Katie,
poor Katie dying. She looked past him to see the twenty or so people sleeping
alongside them beneath the lifeboat. She saw Hanna, Elsie, Marianna, Jacob,
Cajun, and many others she did not know. Beyond them she saw a deserted stretch
of beach, lined by lush green foliage and palm trees, all flattened by the
wind.