Much Ado about a Widow (The Widows' Club Book 4) Page 12

  Abruptly, Georgie became extremely aware of Lord St. Just’s body so close to hers, their arms entwined, giving off enough heat that her pelisse was scarcely necessary. Dear Lord, more inappropriate thoughts about the marquess. This would never do if they were to be onboard together for some days. However, she had no earthly idea how to stop such notions.

  Lulu barked, putting her paws up on the side.

  St. Just’s long silence suddenly struck her. He’d asked her a question ages ago. What was it? “Oh, no, my lord. I have never in my life seen such an awe-inspiring sight.”

  A sharp gust of wind made her stagger into her companion’s side. The jolt was like a lightning strike, sizzling through her veins from her hair—which might indeed be standing on end—to her curling toes. She could do nothing but cling to him as the ship dipped and a splash of spray cascaded over the bow rail, spattering them with cold seawater. “Let’s get you back to the safety of the mast. The wind’s picked up rather quickly, which means the waves will likely do the same. We wouldn’t want you drenched and catching a chill.” He grinned and reversed their course. “Not when you’ve just begun to enjoy sailing.”

  “Of course.” Swiftly, she stepped away from him and moved toward the towering timber in the center of the ship. “Come, Lulu.”

  The ship dipped violently forward, and a giant wave of water cascaded over the bow.

  Georgie shrieked and grabbed St. Just’s arms again.

  “I’ve got you.” He grabbed her about the waist, his strong arms anchoring her to his rock-hard chest, and she relaxed against him.

  Frantic barking drew her attention to Lulu, drenched by the huge wave.

  “Oh, Lulu! Come here.” Georgie bent down and beckoned to the dog.

  The ship pitched forward again. Georgie lost her footing on the slippery planks and tumbled to the deck.

  “Careful, my lady.” With St. Just’s help, she staggered to her feet, righting herself just as Lulu slid forward and disappeared over the side into the merciless waters of the Channel.

  Chapter Ten

  “Lulu!” Lady Georgina screamed—a sound as piercing as any bosun’s call Rob had ever heard—and began fighting to get out of his embrace.

  “Lulu! Oh, dear God.” Clawing at his arms, she twisted to and fro until she suddenly threw herself against him with full force. Catching him off guard, she broke free of his hold and staggered toward the rail, still shrieking. “Lulu.”

  “Georgina.” Rob darted after her, afraid she’d jump overboard to try to save the animal. “Come back. She’s gone.”

  The drenched deck pitched again, and his feet went out from under him. He hit the planks and slid toward the bow, fetching up against the rail with a force that shuddered through his whole body. Shaking his head, he picked himself up and ran to the bow where Georgina stood, still screaming and sobbing.

  “Lulu. Oh, please, please, help her.” She turned miserable eyes on him, heavy with tears that poured down her cheeks. “Can’t you save her? Turn the ship around? We can’t just let her drown.”

  “I’m sorry, my—”

  “No!” She slammed her fist into his chest with enough force to make him stumble backward. “You do not get to be sorry. You have to save her. You brought us on this ship.” Her eyes flashed green sparks in the setting sun. “She’s your responsibility. Save her.”

  Over Georgina’s shoulder he could just make out the tiny head, still valiantly swimming toward the stern of the vanishing ship. Impossible to lower a boat in time. The frigid water would claim her before they could get it to her.

  Georgina searched his eyes, then dissolved into renewed tears at the hopelessness she found there. “No, no, no.”

  She laid her head on his chest, sobbing as though her heart had broken in two. Perhaps it had. Her tears scalded him through his wet shirt, searing him all the way to his soul.

  Damn.

  He wrenched her away from him. “Keep your eyes on her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  Stunned, she swallowed hard, then nodded and quickly faced the sea and pointed. “There. There she is.”

  Rob dashed aft, calling for Chapman.

  “Aye, Captain.” The lad sprang up from nowhere.

  “Haul to and lower the boat.”

  “Haul to, Captain? Why?” Confusion rent the boy’s face.

  “Man overboard.” Rob raced to the starboard side. “Where is she?” he called to Georgina who had moved astern, tearing his jacket off over his head as he ran.

  “There.” Georgina pointed far to the stern, where the dog was almost swallowed by the waves.

  “She?” Chapman looked at the lady, his frown deepening. “Who’s gone overboard?”

  “I have.” Rob stepped onto the rail, balanced precariously long enough to say a swift prayer to St. Jude, then dove into the dark waters.

  Freezing blackness engulfed him, the intense cold like a thousand needles of ice piercing every part of his body. The shock drove the air out of his lungs before he could stop it. Panicking, he fought to clear his head. Had to breathe. Furiously kicking his feet, Rob sped toward the surface, lungs on fire for air he couldn’t reach.

  The light became brighter until he burst through the surface, gasping in a lungful of blessed, cold air. Panting to get as much into him as quickly as he could, he groaned when the frigid water registered once more on his body.

  Move. He had to swim or freeze. Whipping his hair out of his face, he turned in a circle until he spotted the Justine, alarmingly far away. But the sails had dropped, bless Chapman. Christ, he couldn’t just bob here in the water watching the ship. If he didn’t start moving he’d freeze to a solid statue before he could reach the dog. Got to swim. Where was the wretched beast?

  “Where is she?” he called to the lone figure on the stern.

  “There.” She pointed behind him.

  He twisted toward what he hoped was the correct direction. With no land as point of reference, he could be swimming anywhere. The choppy water continued to push him up and down as he scanned the surface. Where was she? The waves shifted, and Rob caught sight of the little head, scarcely above the water, yet paddling furiously toward him.

  “I’m coming, Lulu.” He stretched out and began to swim toward her, all the while praying they had got the boat in the water by now. If the current didn’t cooperate—and if they didn’t have a great deal of luck—he and Lulu would freeze to death before Lady Georgina’s eyes.

  * * *

  Georgie screamed again when Lord St. Just plunged off the railing of the ship into the murky, freezing water. Dear Lord, the fall alone should kill him.

  Holding her breath, she peered at the spot where he had gone in, willing him to surface. Nothing. Nothing for so long. Her lungs ready to explode, she glanced over the waves, trying to catch a glimpse of Lulu. And there she was, doggedly paddling toward the Justine. Good girl. Although she wasn’t swimming as swiftly as previously. Was she beginning to falter? Had Lord St. Just’s heroic action been for naught?

  Lungs aching, Georgie swung her attention back to where the marquess had dove in and praise God, there he was. His sleek, dark head had broken the surface. She gasped in a thankful breath. He lived—at least for now.

  The figure in the water looked up at her. “Where is she?”

  “There!” Georgie pointed behind him, to the small, struggling Lulu. Dear Lord, she looked so tiny in the vastness of the Channel. Even Lord St. Just looked insignificant against the stark, endless sea. Would he make it to Lulu in time?

  As if in answer, St. Just stretched out on top of the water and began swimming vigorously toward Lulu. Powerful muscles in play as he crawled across the choppy waves, effortlessly. At least he made it look effortless. The poor man must be freezing. As was Lulu.

  “Do something.” She snagged one of the mates scurrying past her. “We have to help him.”

  “Aye, m’lady. We’re putting the boat in now. Cartwright, you’re the fastest on the oars. In you go
. Pardon me.” The man sprinted past her toward the small boat that had brought them to the Justine as the youngest of the sailors was climbing into it. “Pull with all your might, Mr. Cartwright.”

  “Aye, Mr. Ayers.” The sailor’s eyes were fixed ahead of him, and he gripped the oars. “Lower away.”

  Wiping tears from her eyes, Georgie ran back to the right side and peered over. St. Just’s head was the only thing she could see. He turned around, as if searching for something.

  Lulu. He couldn’t see her because of the waves. She could see the dog not many yards away from him, but he suddenly started swimming in the opposite direction.

  “No!” She screeched, climbing onto the rail, holding onto a rope for dear life. “That way.” She pointed frantically at Lulu. “Behind you.”

  He didn’t hear her, for he continued on his same path, away from the little dog who had almost stopped paddling. No, no, no. “Lulu!”

  Her shout must have carried all the way to the dog, because a muffled “yip” carried back to Georgie, and Lulu began paddling toward her voice once more. Even more miraculously, St. Just had seemed to hear that “yip” as well, for he reversed course and headed straight for Lulu.

  “Lady Georgina!”

  Clara’s shocked voice startled Georgie so badly she almost toppled over into the water. Now that would have been a hobble. She clutched at the rope and turned toward the maid, blinking in the sunlight.

  “What are you doing up there, my lady?” The maid’s indignant voice sounded almost comical. “And where is Lulu?”

  * * *

  The small but distinct “yip” coming from behind him brought Rob’s head up. He spun around and caught a glimpse of the struggling animal. There she was, thank heaven. “Hold on, Lulu.” He spat water and wearily struck out toward her once more.

  Lulu must have seen him as well, for she paddled toward him faster, with frantic strokes, whimpering constantly.

  Poor thing was likely almost done in.

  He was almost done in if it came to that. Despite his vigorous swimming, the cold had penetrated his skin, sucking the heat from his body at an alarming rate. He could no longer feel his fingers or feet, though the latter kept pumping of their own accord, despite the fact that his boots now seemed made of lead. If the crew hadn’t gotten the boat in the water by now, neither he nor Lulu would live to tell the tale.

  The rough waters parted, and Lulu slammed into his face, whimpering and shivering. He stopped swimming and gathered her into his arms, relief and joy unexpectedly coursing through him. “I’ve got you. You’re going to be all right.”

  Lulu licked his face, the warmth of her tongue heating his frigid skin for only an instant, but that spark spread throughout him. “Thank you. And you’re welcome. Now let’s get back to my ship.”

  Glancing all about, he finally located the Justine, stopped in the water, thank God. Even better, the boat was in the water as well, coming toward them at a fair clip, but much too far away for his liking. It would be a close thing. Lethargy had already begun to steal over him. He wanted nothing more than to simply stop struggling and let the boat come to them. Shivering uncontrollably, he clutched Lulu to his chest. She was so cold and wet she could give him no spark of warmth to help him along. God, but he was cold. Closing his eyes he tried to imagine a blazing fire with toasty blankets all around him, a hot grog in his hand.

  “Yip.”

  A splash brought him out of his dangerous daydream to find Lulu had leaped out of his slack arms into the water again, and was swimming briskly for the boat that suddenly loomed much closer. Shaking his head to dispel the deadly vision that had tried to lull him into a stupor and possibly death, Rob forced himself to follow the animal and struck out again.

  “Captain!” The welcome shout sounded closer than he expected. The light had truly begun to go, the rowboat a huge black shape closing on them fast. He pushed himself to overtake Lulu. He’d have to lift her into the boat, then try to pull himself in as well. An arduous operation that was going to be, given his frozen and exhausted state.

  Finally close enough, Rob grabbed Lulu’s collar and took a moment to tuck her under his arm securely. The boat was heading straight for them. Cartwright had begun to slow its progress. This would be the agonizing part, simply waiting in the frigid water for help to arrive.

  Shivering violently, Rob began to pray.

  * * *

  “Get down from that railing, my lady, or you’ll end up in the water too.” Clara’s no-nonsense tone penetrated Georgie’s fear-laden brain and she grasped the rope tighter and jumped to the deck.

  “I’m quite all right, Clara.” She swung back around, her gaze going directly to the boat, thankfully now almost to Lord St. Just.

  “Who went into the water?” Peering over the railing, Clara gasped. “That’s not his lordship?”

  “Yes, it is. He went in to save Lulu.”

  “Lulu!” The color drained from Clara’s face, leaving it a pasty white.

  “She got washed overboard. But it looks as though he’s got to her. And the boat is almost to them now.” Georgie grasped the rail, pushing at it as though she had oars and could help speed the little boat.

  “Cartwright’s a good man with a strong back.” Beside her, Ayers spoke up, his gaze on her hands. “He’ll have the captain and your dog back here before you know it.” He narrowed his eyes. “That water’s powerful cold, though.”

  The pit of Georgie’s stomach churned.

  As though he’d suddenly thought of something, the sailor bolted past her for the passageway, calling, “Mr. Barnes!”

  Shaking off her fear, Georgie hurried to the farthest part of the stern to catch a better glimpse of the boat in the deepening twilight. “Do you see him?” she asked the only crew member remaining on deck.

  “Aye.” The lad pointed. “There. Mr. Cartwright’s on him now.”

  “Oh, thank God!” Georgie flew to the railing, Clara right behind her. “Where is he? Oh, there. There.”

  Muffled barking ensued as Lord St. Just clasped Lulu around her middle like a huge wriggling sausage and heaved her over into the boat. With Cartwright’s assistance, St. Just crawled into the boat as well and sat huddled in the bottom, Lulu in his arms, as the sailor reversed their course and headed back to the Justine, the boat fairly flying toward the ship. After pulling alongside, Cartwright swarmed up the ladder, and he and the others slowly raised the boat until Lord St. Just and an excitedly barking Lulu came into sight.

  Crying with a fierce joy, Georgie scrambled toward them, slipping on the wet planking and ignoring everything but the sight of the two drenched and shivering creatures crouched on the bottom of the boat. “Lulu! Oh, Lulu.” She snatched the shaking animal up out of St. Just’s arms, clutching her wet little body to her chest.

  Lulu whimpered and buried her very cold nose into Georgie’s neck. Goose flesh rose all along her spine, but cold had never felt so good to her. She ripped open her pelisse and shoved the dog against her gown, wrapping her in the warm woolen folds of the coat, totally disregarding the ruin of both garments. What did she care about that? Lulu was safe.

  And cold. The water that had streamed off Lulu now soaked into Georgie, and she shivered. “Goodness, you are like a block of ice, Lulu.” Perhaps the deck, even colder now the sun had all but set, was not the best place for her to make a fuss over the little dog. They should retire to the cabin where she could dry Lulu off and make certain she had taken no other hurt. But first she must thank their champion. “I want to thank you, my lord—”

  The sight of St. Just, slumped in the bottom of the boat, unmoving, sent a pang of fear coursing through Georgie. Dear God, don’t let him die. She thrust Lulu into Clara’s arms. “Take her below.”

  Clara nodded, grasping the wiggling Lulu, and hurried toward the passageway.

  “Is he dead?” Georgie sent a frantic glance at Ayers, who had run up with a blanket that he was now tucking around his captain. She bent swiftly over
St. Just’s still form, dread in her heart.

  “I don’t think so, my lady.” The doubt, both in Ayers’s voice and eyes, sent Georgie into a panic. Almost afraid to touch St. Just, she laid her hand lightly on his shoulder. His thin shirt was plastered to shockingly cold flesh, face glowing ghostly pale in the early twilight. She choked back a sob. “My lord?”

  No response at all.

  Blinking away tears, Georgie shook him gently at first, then harder until finally he groaned and opened his eyes.

  “Lulu?” His hoarse voice cracked, and he coughed deep in his chest.

  “Thank God, Captain.” Ayers staggered in relief as St. Just sat up in the boat.

  “She’s fine. Here, let me help you.” Georgie put her hand under St. Just’s arm, and between them she and Ayers got him out of the boat, steered him to a bench and sat him down.

  Shaking his head, he waved her away. “Tired. Just need a rest.”

  “Captain, are you all right?” Cartwright and Chapman ran up to him, their faces pinched and anxious, more blankets in their hands.

  “Fine.” St. Just hung his head, as if too weary to raise it.

  “He needs to warm up.” Georgie couldn’t stand by and do nothing. The marquess looked all in. She could not leave him until she knew he was safe.

  “Aye, he does.” Ayers stood St. Just up again, drew the sodden blanket away, and pulled his shirt over his head.

  “What are you doing?” Stunned at the sight of the man’s bare chest, Georgie stood rooted to the deck. A sense of impropriety warred with anger that they would deliberately expose a freezing man to the elements. “Are you mad?”

  “No, my lady.” Ayers’s hands were busy at St. Just’s fall now. “We’ve got to get the wet clothes off him or he’ll freeze for sure.”