The Magic of You
Page 30

"You must come lickety-split," Taishi yelled over the sound of the wind before he got the door closed behind him. "No one steering the ship."
Warren took time only to draw on his pants
and boots as he asked, "Where's the helmsman?"
"Run off in London, lucky no-good fellow."
"Then who's been manning the wheel?"
"Captain and first mate."
"So what's happened to them?"
"Wave slammed captain against wheel, crack his head. No can wake him."
"And the first mate?"
"No can find. Possible he washed over the side, too."
"Too?"
"Three others know about," Taishi explained. "Seen one go over myself."
"Christ," Warren said as he buckled his belt, already heading for the door.
Amy was suddenly blocking his way, having run around him. "You're not going out there, Warren!"
Of course he was. They both knew he had no choice. But she wasn't in a state of mind to accept that just now.
And that her fear was now for him instead of for herself was obvious and a bit disconcerting. Never having been with his family when he'd faced situations like this, Warren wasn't used to being worried about. In
fact, he couldn't remember the last time 373 someone had feared for him--except Amy, when they'd faced those thieves. It caused a strange though not unpleasant feeling that he didn't have time to examine.
He took her small, pale face in his hands and said as calmly as he could, "I've done this a dozen times, Amy. I could probably do it in my sleep, so there's no reason for you to fear for me."
She didn't accept that. "Warren, please--was
"Hush, now," he said gently. "Someone has to steer this ship who knows what he's doing, and I know enough to strap myself to the helm so accidents don't happen. It's going to be all right, I promise you." He kissed her once, hard. "Now get dressed, wedge yourself between the mattress and the wall, and try to get some sleep. You haven't had much since you came in here."
Sleep? The man was positively daft. But he said no more than that, was out the door before she could grab him back. She stood there in the center of the cabin, her hands clasped to keep them from trembling, and softly keened. This wasn't happening. Warren hadn't gone out into that raging
nightmare that was tossing the ship about like so much flotsam.
But he had, and she'd never see him again. He was going to be washed overboard like the first mate, buried beneath that churning ocean.
Once the thought took root, Amy went into a full-blown panic. She flew at the door and started beating on it, screaming for Taishi to let her out. Deep down she knew he'd never hear her, that no one could hear her over the roar of the waves and the pouring rain, but she kept beating against the wood anyway, until her hands were scraped and numb.
Of course, no one came to unlock the door. They were all too busy fighting to keep the ship afloat and as intact as possible. But Amy could care less about their problems. She had this irrational certainty that if she could just watch Warren, he'd be all right. And as long as she could see him and know that he was safe, she'd be all right. But she couldn't do that unless she could get out there.
She was finally so frustrated at her helplessness that she literally attacked the door, hitting it and kicking it, and even rattling the knob. But when she
did the last, she was knocked to her 375 knees as the wind suddenly thrust it open. Yet no one was there. The damned thing hadn't been locked. Taishi had either forgotten about it or assumed she'd have to be crazy to want to go out on deck just now.
"Bloody hell," she mumbled as she pushed herself up from the floor.
The unexpectedness of getting what she wanted brought her back to her senses a bit, long enough to realize she was still na**d. But that certainly didn't change her mind, or her conviction that Warren wasn't going to be all right unless she was there to watch over him. She merely grabbed the first thing that came to hand, her chemise, and pulled it on even as she ran out the door.
That was as far as she cot. The wind slammed her light weight back against the cabin wall, so strongly she could barely move. And then the wave came, smashing against her before it pulled her away from the bulkhead and carried her right to the edge of the ship.
Chapter 36
Warren had to steer the ship by the feel of the wind alone, since visibility came only in short bursts, when it came at all, despite its being no later than midafn. The heavy rain lashed his bare chest like needles, his long hair slapped repeatedly into his eyes, and the waves that crashed against him and pushed him into the thick rope that tied him to the wheel were freezing.
He'd wished more than once already that he'd taken an extra few moments to don a shirt, and not just because of the cold. His back was being scraped raw by the rope that kept him locked to the helm.
He'd told Taishi to bring him a rain slicker as soon as the wind let up a bit, but it hadn't yet. He imagined they were going to have to pry his fingers off the wheel if this storm continued into the colder night.
It was one of the worst storms he'd ever encountered, and he'd been in some bad ones. They were fortunate that the mainmasts were still standing, but then, the rigging had been lashed down before the worst of the wind had begun. And only one of the water barrels had broken loose of its ties, though when it rolled
over the side, it took a large portion 377 of the ship's railing with it.
Warren was confident of his own ability, but he didn't know this ship like he knew his own, so he had no idea how much punishment she could take. And there was no sign of the storm blowing over, though it wasn't getting worse. He didn't think it could get much worse.
And then his heart nearly stopped. The wind had parted the rain for bare seconds, but the time span was long enough for him to see Amy pushed up against the rail--the broken rail. And she was no more than inches from a path straight into the sea.
Amy would never know how she'd grabbed onto the rail and was still holding it when the wave that had carried her there was gone. But she held on for dear life. Every so often a wave would wash over her, and it would be long, terrifying moments before she could breathe again. But she didn't once think of fighting her way back to the cabin.
When the storm cleared up a bit, she'd pull herself to the quarterdeck, somehow, or at least get closer to it so that she could watch Warren without his knowing it. That is, if she could see anything at all.
She hadn't counted on the rain coming down so hard that she couldn't see two feet in front of her, which was why she didn't see Warren coming, and screamed when she was suddenly yanked away from her precarious hold. But the strong arms that crushed her against a hard chest were sturdy, the neck she grabbed hold of more reassuring than splintery wood, and the voice that shouted in her ear,"I'm going to beat you black-and-blue this time," was the sweetest she'd ever heard.
He was still alive. She had nothing else to worry about--for the moment.
By sheer will and balance, and some miraculous luck that kept the waves temporarily out of his path, Warren got back to the quarterdeck without using any handholds. He didn't consider returning Amy to the cabin, not when he didn't have the key to lock her in, and he was afraid she was just crazy enough to try this again.
He couldn't believe how furious he was now that he had her, or how terrified he'd been until he'd gotten his hands on the girl. What could she possibly have been thinking of, to leave the safety of the cabin, and in no more than a blasted chemise?
And there was no time to chastise her for it. 379 He just barely got her thrust beneath the rope attached to the wheel, and squeezed in with her, before another wave rolled in against them, grinding his back into the rope again.
There was no time to reassure her either. He'd left the wheel locked in place, but the ship was still turned off her heading, and it took all of his strength and concentration to get her back into the wind.
When he did finally have a moment to spare for Amy, he no longer had a thought to chastise her. Her small body pressed so trustingly to his soothed him as nothing else could. Her need for his warmth, his strength, satisfied a purely masculine need of his own.
Warren had to shout in order to tell her, "You're doing fine, little one. Just keep holding onto me, no matter what happens."
"I will, thank you," he thought he heard her call back, but he wasn't sure, since she hadn't sounded the least bit frightened now.
Her arms were locked around him beneath his own, her face pressed hard to his chest. At least half her hair had washed over his shoulders. She couldn't be very comfortable in that thin, sleeveless chemise that was soaked to the skin, but there was nothing he could do for that until Taishi showed up with the oiled slicker.
Amy was more comfortable than he could have imagined. Her new position was certainly much better than watching him from some lonely vantage point, which had been her intention. Even the waves that continued to roll in against her back and press her even closer to him weren't so frightening anymore. She could hear them coming, and just held her breath for a while until the water sloshed off her. Warren's warmth was there to keep the worst of the chill away, and she was awed by his strength. As he fought to control the ship against a churning ocean, she could feel every straining muscle, from his legs up.
She had no doubt now that they would come through this storm intact, as long as Warren was at the
helm. Her faith in him was unshakable, especially now that her instinct had kicked in to confirm it. But it was a long time and into the evening before the wind finally died down and the rain finished off as a drizzle, then blew away entirely.
It was the cheering of the crew that told Amy that it wasn't just a lull in the storm, that it was definitely over. She didn't let go of
Warren, though, even when he suggested she 381 could.
She looked up at him instead to say, "I'll stay here, if it's all the same to you."
He didn't object. He'd been staring, repeatedly since the rain had cleared enough for him to see the deck, at that portion of the rail that Amy had been clinging to earlier, which was now quite gone. She didn't know how close she'd come to dying, nor would he tell her. But at the moment, he would just as soon not let her out of his sight.
It was another hour before someone could be found to relieve him. It happened to be the cook, of all people, but it turned out he was the only other crew member with some helmsman knowledge. The Chinese didn't know how to do anything other than minor tasks on board. They weren't sailors, were one and all part of Yat-sen's household. The Portuguese captain whom the lord had hired, along with his ship, still hadn't come around, though his life didn't appear to be in serious danger, and it was hoped he'd be back at the helm tomorrow.
Having been told all this by a very grateful Taishi, Warren only remarked, "It's a damn shame Zhang didn't wash overboard with the
first mate."
Taishi made no reply to that, said merely, "Bring food, lickety-split, and blankets, lots of blankets, and hot water as soon as the ovens working again."
The little man ran off to do as he'd said. Warren didn't start off for his cabin immediately, since Amy was still wrapped around him, though her hold was loose now.
"You haven't fallen asleep, have you?" he leaned down to ask.
"Not yet, but it's a close thing."
He smiled at the top of her head. "Care to tell me now what brought you out here today?"
She squirmed for a moment before replying, "It was just a feeling I had, that if I couldn't keep an eye on you, something terrible would happen."
"I suppose you think you could have done something to prevent something terrible from happening?"
"But I did," she said in a tone that implied he should have figured that out for himself. "My presence made sure nothing did happen."
He shook his head at that illogical reasoning. "You're going to have to let go of me if we're going to get back to the cabin."
"If I must." She sighed and moved 383 back slowly. A glance down at herself, and she added, "I've probably got your belt buckle imprinted on my belly."
She did, and her nipples, and every line of her body, were quite visible. Though her hair was starting to dry in the breeze, her chemise was still plastered to the front of her.
"Anything else?" he asked, in his first attempt at teasing her.
"Well, now that you mention it ..."
He threw back his head and laughed. She was incorrigible, undauntable, an irrepressible minx. She'd just gone through a hellish experience that could easily have ended so differently for them both, but she was already putting it behind her as if they weren't still standing there soaking wet.
She put her arm about his waist to walk back with him. At his sudden hiss, she wiggled around him to see what she'd done. Obviously, she hadn't done that. It turned her stomach, imagining the pain he'd endured all this time, and he'd never said a word.
"What's the damage?" he asked her, guessing what she could see.
She waited until she'd regained her composure before coming back around to say matter-of-factly,
"About five raw spots and a few more minor abrasions. I'd say you'd be more comfortable sleeping on your stomach for a few days, but I think I can manage that."
He was a bit disappointed that she wasn't going to fuss over him. "What have you got to do with it? And I don't happen to like sleeping on my stomach."
"You will with me under you."
Had he forgotten to mention insatiable?