My Runaway Heart (17 page)

"Get help, Dag, please. Oh, it hurts so much . . ."

Lindsay dropped her head limply to one side, fearing
for a moment, when a huge hand covered her
shoulder, that
Dag might be thinking to carry her to help. She moaned as if in mortal pain
when he made a motion to lift her.

"No, no, please! It hurts so . . . bring help,
Dag! Bring help!"

She breathed a furtive sigh of relief when he nodded
and
rose
, his footfalls amazingly light for a man so
large as he lunged from the cabin.

That meant she had mere seconds to
effect
her escape. Lindsay jumped to her feet and waited only an instant before
careening after him out the door. The shadowy passageways like a maze, she
nonetheless knew she was headed in the right direction when she dashed through
the ship's kitchen; she remembered the small galley from when Dag had carried
her to Jared's quarters.

She heard a startled oath, the astonished cook dropping
his spoon with a clatter to the floor while his two assistants gaped at her
from their stools, where they sat peeling potatoes and chopping onions; then
the galley was behind her and she was plunging into another passage. Please,
please, she had to be close . . .

With a relieved cry, she spied the companionway leading
out of the hold, her heart thundering against her breast as she stumbled up the
narrow steps. Thundering so loud that she barely heard her name being shouted
above the whistling wind,
her
only thought to clamber
over the railing.

Then she was falling through space, icy water closing
over her head before she'd even thought to catch a breath.

Chapter 15

"Damnation, Dag, she tricked you, the little fool!"

Jared dropped his pistol and wrenched off his cutlass
as he ran to the railing; pulling off his boots, he scanned the dark, choppy
waves in vain for a blond head. The currents were treacherous here, and
unaccustomed fear gripped him. He didn't wait any longer. Grabbing a handful of
rigging, he hauled himself onto the railing and dove into the sea.

Only when he broke the surface, chilled instantly to
the bone and sucking air into his lungs, did he remember one of the reasons he
disliked swimming so much, especially around the British Isles. The water was
simply too damned cold.

And thus, deadly.

"Over there, Jared! She's swimming for shore!"

Walker waved him toward starboard. Jared clenched his
teeth and lunged powerfully through the water, relief twisting his gut when he
spied Lindsay valiantly struggling against the rough, foam-flecked waves. He
could see that she was an accomplished swimmer but already tiring, her slim
arms growing less rhythmic with each stroke. And with two hundred feet yet to
go before she reached the beach, he knew she would never make it, the icy cold
slowing her down.

As it was slowing him down, too. Jared squinted through
the gathering night to see that the galleys returning to the ship wouldn't get
to them in time. Spitting out mouthfuls of salt water, he kicked with all his
might to reach her, not surprised that she didn't try to fight him when he
caught a small, frigid foot in his hand. Her movements jerky, her lips blue,
her fair hair plastered like a cap to her head, she barely acknowledged him
when he grabbed her around the chest and began to swim with her back to the
ship.

Her glazed silence chilling him as much as the sea,
Jared knew there was nothing he could do for her out here. He swam as hard as
he could, relief filling him again when Walker flung a noosed rope out to him.
Jared looped it over his head, right
arm
and shoulder.

Taking care to keep Lindsay's chin well above the
waves, he allowed his men to haul them to the ship, saving his strength for the
rope ladder. The blasted thing nearly hit him in the head when it was dropped
over the side, but he couldn't have been
more glad
to
see it. Yet he soon found that the icy water had nearly sapped him, for when he
tried to climb, Lindsay's weight, although slight, was more an unwieldy burden
at that moment than he could have imagined.

He couldn't suppress a groan of gratitude when someone
suddenly splashed into the water beside him, Walker flinging water from his
hair when he surfaced.

"Damn, it's cold!"

Jared nodded, Lindsay more ice in his arms than flesh,
which only chilled him further, his own arms beginning to grow numb. "Quick,
man, take her."

Walker did, climbing the rope ladder with little
trouble while Jared waited for the two of them to be hauled aboard. Then he
followed, his legs feeling like heavy, leaden weights as he forced one foot
after the other; he smiled his thanks when Walker clamped a strong hand around
his wrist to pull him over the railing.

"I know you said the wench was none of my
concern—twice—but I thought this time you might make an exception."

With a warm blanket thrown over his shoulders by
another sailor, Jared met Walker's wry smile with a weary, shivering one,
though he could see that his friend's dark eyes were dead serious. The sea had
long been a benevolent mistress, but they both knew she could become their tomb
as well. Yet thankfully, once again they had cheated her. But where . . . ?

"Lindsay?"

"Dag already took her down into the hold. I don't
know, Jared—"

"What do you mean, you don't know?"
Forgetting the cold, forgetting his fatigue, Jared left Walker staring after him
and dropped into the hold, regretting his sharpness even as he followed the
ominous trail of seawater to his quarters.

The first thing he saw was Dag shoveling coal into the
iron stove, but his eyes went to where Lindsay lay wrapped in a blanket upon the
bed.

And she was so quiet, too quiet . . .

Jared went to her at once, wrenching the blanket off
his shoulders to cover her, only to realize she still wore her sodden garments,
which clung to her like a deadly second skin.

"Dag, go—I'll see to her."

The big Norwegian rose from the stove, his concerned
gaze flickering from Lindsay back to Jared's face. "I—I s-s-sorry, Cap-
tain
."

"I know. It's not your fault. She'll be fine, I
promise. Now go. Have Walker head us back into the Channel as soon as the
galleys are hoisted aboard."

Dag nodded solemnly, but seemed reluctant to leave
until Jared sensed what might be wrong and added, "I won't punish her,
Dag. I think she's been punished enough, don't you? I'm going to do everything
I can to help her."

A ragged moan from the bed made Dag's eyes widen, and
he hastened to the door, looking stricken. But Jared couldn't worry about him
now. He shut the door behind the Norwegian and went back to the bed, where he
gently cupped Lindsay's ashen face with his hand. She was shivering from head
to toe, her lips almost white.

"Lindsay, can you hear me?"

Her only answer was another low moan, which still
encouraged him. But those wet clothes had to go, and fast.

As Jared unfolded the blanket from her trembling body,
his gaze fell upon the improvised money belt at her waist and the gold guineas
shining dully beneath the near-transparent lilac silk.

Blasted clever chit. Yet the heavy coins were probably
as responsible as the numbing cold for dragging her down in the water. Had she
truly thought she could triumph over so many elements working against her? Or
had she been so desperate that she was willing to escape him at all costs?

His throat tightening even though he told himself it
didn't matter one whit what she might have felt, Jared drew his lips ruthlessly
together and tore away her wet clothes from collar to
hem
.
Guineas scattered noisily across the plank floor. Limp shreds of lilac fabric,
sheer white muslin and a soaked pair of slippers made a tangled web at his
feet. A delicate lace corset with pale pink rosettes gave way easily beneath
his hands.

Gave way to reveal the most beautiful breasts he had
ever seen,
ripely
shaped with taunting apricot-tinged
nipples, but Jared sucked in his breath and focused upon rubbing warmth into
Lindsay's limbs, her fingers, her chilled toes. Yet he was a man, his eyes
straying again and again to her breasts, the firm loveliness of her belly and
the dusky curls between her thighs, not blond or dark, but hauntingly in
between.

Nor could he seem to control his body, despising
himself as he felt
a tightness
against the seam of his
wet breeches. Blast and damnation, the chit was barely snatched from the maw of
death and here he was . . . !

Focusing with extreme force of will upon the task at
hand, Jared was relieved when he saw color creeping into Lindsay's cheeks, her
limbs becoming warm and pliant. She hadn't moaned again, but she was breathing
peacefully, which encouraged him all the more.

After wrapping her in both blankets, taking care that
her feet were snugly covered, he picked her up and carried her to the stove,
which was radiating a blessed heat that warmed him, too. Giving no heed to his
sodden clothes, he kicked the stuffed desk chair in front of the stove, sat
down and drew Lindsay close against him. To his surprise, he felt her nestle
even closer as if seeking added warmth, an instinctive move, he was certain,
since she hadn't yet opened her eyes.

And if she did, he thought grimly, slumping wearily
against the chair back, he doubted she would be happy to find herself in his
arms. He wasn't a hero any longer to her after all, not noble and gallant and
gentlemanly, but a despicable pirate.

Feeling an unsettling pang, Jared looked down at her
face, at her silvery hair drying in soft tendrils, at her hands tucked like a
child's under her chin.

So beautiful. So reckless. So lost in ridiculous
romantic fantasies. But maybe now she was learning just how brutally realistic
life could be—and the lesson had only begun.

With a low curse, Jared leaned his head back and closed
his eyes.

***

Lindsay awoke with a start, feeling as if she were
being roasted alive in front of a blazing fire. Why was she so warm— Oh, Lord!

Her discomfort forgotten, she stared with incredulity
at Jared's face only inches from hers, his eyes shut peacefully, his lips
slack, his breathing deep and slow. He was asleep, that was clear. But how had
they come to be . . . ?

Telling herself to think calmly, rationally, Lindsay
peeked over the edge of the blanket and realized they were both sitting in a
chair, or rather, she was sitting atop his lap, his arms even in sleep securely
around her. She glanced at her surroundings as incredulously and recognized
Jared's quarters—memories suddenly flooded back to her.

Memories of tricking Dag, and water so bitterly cold
she had almost considered calling for help. Yet she had set out for shore, and
she remembered her mounting fear, as insidious as the icy chill penetrating
every fiber of her stricken body, that she wasn't going to survive. The beach
was too far, the water too cold, dear God, the heavy coins making it so
difficult to swim.

Lindsay tightly closed her eyes and swallowed back the
frightening memories, the blazing warmth that had awakened her moments ago not
half so oppressive now. It was so much better than the frigid cold—meaning
life, not death. Thank heaven someone had come to her rescue . . .

Her eyes flaring open, Lindsay stared once more at the
handsome face so near to her own.

No, not someone.

Jared.

She couldn't be sure, she'd been so cold, so numb, so
dazed, yet something told her that he had braved the freezing water for her,
had risked his life for her. Jared had rescued her again.

Suddenly she couldn't resist, her fingers trembling
slightly as she lifted her hand to touch his face. To touch the hard, smooth
plane of his cheek, then run her fingertips over the gold stubble along his
jaw, the prickly sensation sending a shiver of longing coursing through her.

She even went so far as to move her thumb gently across
his lips, so masculine and yet so sensual, until another vivid memory overtook
her—of hunger and plunder and a kiss so powerfully possessive that her face
began to burn. She snatched her hand back, berating herself even as the
near-painful
longing swelled mutinously within her.

Of course he had come after her, ninny! And not because
he had feared she might drown, but because she knew his precious secret and
might gain the shore to shout it to the farthest reaches of the British
empire
.

Tears springing to her eyes, Lindsay felt even more an
utter fool as she blinked them furiously away. Suddenly too warm again, the
blankets like a suffocating cocoon, she could see that the main culprit was a
black iron stove only a foot or so away from the chair. Dismissing the thought that
Jared might be sitting so close because of her, she freed her arms and pushed
herself off his lap, but the blankets so entangled her legs that she fell with
a startled "oomph" to the floor.

"Would you like some assistance?"

Raising herself awkwardly on her wrists, Lindsay felt
her face burn with embarrassment as she glanced at Jared over her shoulder.
Wide awake now, he was staring at her with the most curious smile on his face,
making her even more acutely aware of how ridiculous she must look.

"No, thank you, I can manage on my own."

Emitting a small grunt, she struggled to her feet,
irritably waving Jared back to his seat when he started to rise.

"Then I suggest you hold onto those blank—"

"I said I can manage— Oh!"

It happened so fast, the blankets slipping from her
body to pool on the floor, that Lindsay could only stare down at herself in
horror, realizing too late that she was utterly, completely naked. With a
shriek, she grabbed one of the blankets and plastered it to her breasts, doubly
horrified when she glanced up to see that Jared hadn't looked away as a
gentleman might, but was still staring right at her. Boldly, blatantly staring,
and—and he was laughing, too!