His arms flailed as he grasped for something to cling to. His hands scraped a rock and a fingernail tore from his forefinger, but he barely felt it. His head came up and he drew in a breath before the sea took him under again. His backside scraped sand on the bottom, and then the current shot him to the surface again, suddenly twenty feet out. When his head next broke the surface, he found himself rolling out to sea in the grip of an undertow. He weakly tried to swim to shore, but the strong current carried him farther away. His arms came up but were puny weapons against the power of the sea.
He would never make it to shore.
EIGHTEEN
KATIE CHEWED HER scone but it was like choking down sand. The sun shone through the window into the parlor, but its cheery presence wasn’t enough to lift her from the gloom that had encased her since Florence had confronted her hours ago. What was she going to do? If the good folks of Mercy Falls found out her real heritage, any respect she’d managed to earn for herself would be gone. No one would take kindly to being deceived for all these years.
Jennie played at her feet, and Katie didn’t smile when the baby giggled at her. She felt like crying instead.
“Katie, dear, is something wrong?”
Katie glanced at Lady Carrington. Her green eyes were filled love and concern. Katie managed a smile. “I’m not hungry. I didn’t sleep well last night.” She took a sip of her tea.
“I saw you speaking with a woman earlier. You haven’t been yourself since. Who was she, my dear?”
The tea scalded Katie’s tongue and she choked. Setting down the cup, she searched for some way to avoid Lady Carrington’s question. She smelled the stew on the stove. “Does the stew need to be stirred?”
Lady Carrington sniffed the air. “I think perhaps you’re right. I shall be right back.” She put her tea on the table and rose.
Katie leaned against the back of the sofa and let out the breath she’d been holding. Her head throbbed and she still felt sick. Of all the things she’d tried to control over the years, this was the one she’d always known would become a wildfire if any wind blew on the spark.
She longed to speak to Mama. First to be sure she was truly making a recovery and then to ask for advice. But no, she couldn’t tell her of Florence’s demand. Not now when she was so sick. Papa was no help either. He was still incoherent. It was Katie’s duty to protect her mother, to smooth the rough road ahead. If she had the money, she’d gladly give it to Florence to make her disappear, but as far as she knew, there was little money for them to even live on.
She rubbed her forehead and got up. A shout came from outside, and she went to the front door to see what was causing the commotion. The buckboard was parked at the foot of the hill below the lighthouse. Philip ran up the slope toward the house.
He shouted again. “I need help!”
Her pulse picked up speed. She threw open the door and stepped out onto the porch. “What is it?”
He reached her. “Something’s happened to Will!”
A brief vision of Will’s dark smiling eyes flashed through her mind. He had to be all right. “He’s been hurt?”
Philip stood panting and red-faced from his run up the slope. “We found a chest in a cave. He sent me to the buckboard to get a rope to haul it up. When I got back, he was gone. The gun I’d given him was lying on the cave floor, and I found blood by the opening to the cave. A piece of his shirt was caught on the ledge hanging out over the ocean. As if—as if he went over the side.”
“And the chest?”
“It was still there.”
She tried to place this cave of which he spoke. “Are you saying the cave was in a rock face overhanging the sea?”
He nodded. “Just south of here, down Hanging Rock Road. We walked about an hour beyond the end of the road down the beach.
He had to have a rope or someone to help in order to get up with the chest.”
“Could he have climbed down?”
“No way. It’s a fifty-foot drop.”
“You fear he—he fell?” She covered her mouth in horror and wanted to close her eyes against the mental picture of Will’s broken body on the rocks.
Philip went even whiter. “He wouldn’t have left of his own free will. He was waiting for my return with the rope, and he would have been stranded on the ledge without help.”
She didn’t want to believe anything could harm that strong man. “I’ll come with you. We must call the constable. Get a search party.”
“I’ll have Lady Carrington call the constable. You and I will go by boat to search for him. If he fell into the sea, perhaps he needs our assistance.” She could only pray he was still alive. Anyone diving into the sea was more likely to hit rock than water.
She stepped back inside and told the older woman what had happened.
Lady Carrington promised to call the constable. “Take my yacht.
It’s moored down at the dock.”
“Thank you so much!” Katie returned to find Philip gazing out to sea. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I thought I saw something out there.”
“I saw binoculars in the well house,” she said. “I’ll fetch them.” She rushed around the side of the house and threw open the wooden door to the building that housed the pump for the well. A pair of binoculars hung on the wall by the door. She grabbed them and stepped back outside. The currents could have carried Will close to the lighthouse from where Philip had told her they’d been. She handed the binoculars to Philip. He trained them on a spot just to the left of the lighthouse.
She prayed for Will as his brother scanned the waves.
Philip lowered the binoculars. “It’s just driftwood,” he said, his voice sharp with disappointment.
“Let’s take the binoculars with us. If you suspect he’s adrift, we’ll need them. The constable will be searching the land,” she said. “Lady Carrington has a small yacht moored nearby.”
He stared at her. “You can sail?”
“A bit.”
“I’m an expert seaman,” he said.
He led her down the stone steps to the road and down to the pier where the boat floated. Under less stressful circumstances, she would have delighted in exploring the hold and expansive deck. She stepped into the boat as he held it steady. He hopped in with her and grabbed the rigging on the small craft. The sails flapped then billowed with air. Once the rope was loosened from the piling, the wind caught the canvas and the boat picked up speed. She moved to the bow and brought the binoculars to her eyes. Finding a man in this vast sea would be as difficult as finding an unbroken seashell on the rocks.
She put down the binoculars. “So you believe the pirates who took the ship stashed that chest? And that they found Will, I mean Mr. Jesperson, at the cave, that they—disposed of him?”
Philip paled. “I hope not, but the evidence—” He broke off, his voice choked.
She shielded her eyes with her hand and stared out at the rippling waves, hoping to see Will’s hailing wave. The thought that he had been harmed made her shudder.
Philip steered the boat with obvious expertise. “I think we should keep it about a hundred yards offshore,” he called above the flapping of the canvas and the rush of the wind.
“There’s a riptide that runs along here,” she said. “I’ve heard it said that the current hugs the shoreline only about fifty yards out. Perhaps we should go in a little closer.”
He nodded and moved the rudder. The boat veered toward shore.
Katie looked through the binoculars again. She saw an albatross floating atop the waves, several pieces of driftwood but no man in the whitecaps. “How far is this cave?” she asked.
“We’re a ways out yet,” Philip said.
“How long since you left him?”
“About three hours. If he’d gone over the side just before I got back, that would have been about two hours ago.”
She prayed that God would buoy him up and keep him safe until they found h
im. Spending that kind of time in fifty-degree water would be deadly.
Philip pointed. “There is where we left the buckboard.”
“Then we should be seeing him if he is in the water.” She redoubled her efforts to find anything in the sea. “Will!” she screamed over the sound of the wind and waves.
Her eyes ached from the brilliance of the sun bouncing on the water.
A gull flew up with a startled squawk. She moved the binoculars to that direction. At first she saw nothing but whitecaps and moved on.
A flutter of something made her return her gaze. “I see something!”
A white face appeared then vanished in the water again. “It’s a man!”
She pointed in the direction, twenty feet closer to shore. Will clung to a piece of driftwood. One hand waved weakly, then the movement made him lose his grip on the log. He made a grab at it but it floated away.
His head went under the water and she screamed. “He’s drowning!”
“Take the rudder!” Philip yelled to her when they were ten feet from Will.
She moved back to where Philip was shucking his shoes and jacket.
She steadied the rudder as he tossed the anchor overboard. The boat slowed as the weight took hold.
“Haul down the sails!” He dove overboard and with swift strokes, aimed toward Will.
Praying frantically, Katie raced to the mast and yanked down the sails. By the time she returned to the railing, Philip had reached the spot where they’d last seen his brother. He floated and glanced around. Katie saw a dark head break through the waves behind him. “There! He’s there!”
Philip turned around and grabbed him by the collar. Katie grabbed a life preserver and tossed it at the two men when she was sure Philip had seized hold of Will. Philip snatched at it with his other hand and missed. The preserver floated on past. She pulled it back to the boat and hefted it again as Philip fought to keep his brother’s head above the water. This time it landed nearer the two, and she nearly shouted with victory when she saw Philip grab hold of it and slip it over Will’s head. Philip towed his brother toward the craft.
She rushed to the stern and grabbed Will’s arm as the back of the boat slewed in the water. Panting, she helped Philip get Will into the craft then held out her hand to assist Philip, but he shook his head.
He waved off her help and grabbed the side of the boat. “Tend to Will,” he gasped. He treaded water, gasping for oxygen.
Katie turned to Will, who was lying on his stomach on the deck. She pressed her fingers to his neck. Nothing. Panicking, she slid her fingers to another spot and tried again. There. A slight pulse pumped against her fingertips. But he wasn’t breathing. She pressed on his back until seawater spewed from his mouth and nose, but she still saw no signs of his lungs filling with air.
“Please, God, let him breathe,” she whispered. She rolled him over and wiped his face with her skirt. A shadow loomed over her, and she realized Philip had managed to get aboard.
“He’s not breathing,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. She tipped his head back and pinched his nose closed. She’d only watched a demonstration about this technique and had never tried it, but she couldn’t stand by and let Will die.
Running over the steps she remembered, she checked to make sure his airways were clear then pressed her lips to his and began the kiss of life. His lips were cold and tasted of seawater. She tried not to believe she ministered to a dead man. When he didn’t respond, she pushed on his chest and tried again. Nothing.
“Breathe, breathe,” she begged. Her eyes burned, and her throat ached with holding in her emotion. She shook him and screamed into his face. “Don’t you die, Will Jesperson!”
He had to live. She couldn’t bear it if he died. She pushed his chest then filled her lungs again and blew oxygen into his mouth. Were his lips a bit warmer? She was nearly afraid to hope. She drew in another deep breath and leaned down.
He coughed, and she rolled him onto his side. Water ran from the corner of his mouth. His eyes opened and she nearly cried with relief.
“Where’s your hat?” he asked through a strangled voice before he closed his eyes again.
Katie let out a laugh of surprise and then sank back on her heels and gave in to her tears.
NINETEEN
WILL WANTED TO feel those warm lips on his again. The ones that had called him from a deep, cold place. He shuddered as the cold sank further into his bones. He’d been sure he was dead. There was little he remembered other than an eternity of fighting the cold and the waves until he’d given up all hope of surviving. Then he’d felt warmth and passion, a call he couldn’t resist. Katie. He opened his eyes and watched the beautiful woman who had saved his life weeping beside him.
Katie must have seen his involuntary movement because she glanced at his brother.
“Where do you think we could find a blanket?” she asked, wiping her face.
When she moved to follow his brother, Will grabbed her hand. She turned back toward him with her blue eyes wide.
“You kissed me,” he said. “Somehow it made me want to come back.”
Color rushed to her cheeks but she held his gaze. “It wasn’t a kiss. I was putting air into your lungs.”
He clutched her hand more tightly. “Your mouth was warm. I was cold—so cold.” An explosion of shivers shook him. He wanted to pull her down to him and wrap his arms around her, bask in her warmth.
She put her hand on his forehead. “Your brother is looking for a blanket in the hold. We’ll head for shore and the doctor shortly.”
His eyes strayed to the strands of gleaming brown hair that the wind had released from its pins. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. “You don’t have your hat,” he said.
Though she smiled, the anxiety still stayed in her blue eyes. “So you said. I rushed out with Philip to try to find you and quite forgot it.”
A lady never went out without her hat. He could see a smattering of freckles across her nose and a pink tinge already on her forehead.
Miss Katie Russell was no typical lady, only concerned with propriety and decorum. He’d never known a woman to put herself out in such a way for another. He struggled to sit up then bit back a groan. His chest burned when he tried to pull in a deeper breath. His head throbbed and his skin felt as though it had been stripped away.
She placed a warm hand on his chest. “Lie still. I don’t want you to further harm yourself.”
He put his cold hand atop hers. “What is the saying . . . when someone saves your life, it belongs to them?”
She flushed a deeper pink. “Anyone would have done the same.”
When she tried to withdraw her hand, he kept it pressed to the place over his heart. “I don’t think so. You’re a remarkable woman, Miss Russell.”
“It’s Katie,” she said. “You can call me Katie.”
He nodded. “With something like this between us, I think first names are in order. In fact, I thought I heard you call me by name when I was in the water.”
Sparks of awareness pulsed between them. Will told himself it was because she’d given him the kiss of life, but he suspected it was more than that.
His brother returned with a wool blanket in his hand. He tucked it around Will. It smelled musty but the warmth it offered was all Will cared about. “Thanks,” he said. Shudders wracked him again.
Philip crouched beside him. “What happened?”
When her gaze sharpened with interest, Will struggled to sit up again, and this time, with Philip’s help, he made it. He leaned against the side of the boat and Katie helped him wrap the blanket all around him.
“I was about to bust open the lock on the chest when a rope fell to the ledge. Our pirate friends.”
“What makes you say it was them?” Philip asked.
“Before they knew I was in the cave, I saw one open the chest. Where else would ship equipment come from? I saw a logbook, compass, other instruments. I’d wager it’s from the missing
ship.”
“Why hide that stuff? They could send it to the bottom of the sea with the ship.”
Will rubbed his aching head. “It was one of several chests. I guess they took them all in case there were valuables. They’d want to know what they had in their possession before they ransom it back to the shipping company.”
“Was it the men you saw on the hillside?” Katie asked. “The ones you questioned me about?”
He nodded. “And they are planning something else.”
Philip winched up the anchor. “Why do you think they have something planned?”
“I heard them say something about a ship bound with money coming in two days.”
“Did they name the ship?” Katie asked.
Will shook his head.
“Bet we can figure it out,” Philip said.
She glanced at his brother. “What a thrilling life you must lead as a detective! I think I should like to help you find the pirates.”
“The Pinkertons’ reputation lately has made all detectives appear that they’re accepting bribes and hobnobbing with criminals,” Will said. “You’d lose your precious respectability.”
She turned away and studied her hands. “What makes you think I care a fig about respectability?”
“You’re quite eager to take on any and every responsibility that looks your way. That usually denotes a strong streak of respectability.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“That’s true,” Philip put in. “Case in point: taking charge of the little girl when she’s not even mine.”
“What is the truth about Jennie’s heritage?” she asked. “We really must sort that out. Quite soon.”
“See, there you go again. You can’t help but take charge.” Will moved his head and winced.
“Can we save this conversation until he’s doing better?” Philip asked.