argue!” she shouted. “You’re strong enough to pull the canvas down. When I let go, you’ll have the brunt of the weight. Hang on!”
The woman was daft. He noticed her swipe a dagger from her boot and wedge it firmly between her teeth. Like hell he’d let her go! Let another sailor risk his neck to cut the tangled rigging. She wasn’t going anywhere. And she realized that soon enough, squirming in his arms when he refused to release her.
Another wave slammed onto the deck, fiercer than the last. The body pressed hard against him was gone, his arms empty. Damian’s heart stopped beating.
“ Mirabelle! ”
The added pressure on the rope, leaving him struggling to control it, had his frantic eyes sweeping the deck up ahead, and his heart pumping blood once again.
He was definitely going to throttle the woman when this was over. She had slipped out from under his embrace in the confusion of the pummeling waves, and was now gradually making her way over to the mainmast, gripping the brail for support. Though visibility was scarce, he watched her shadowy figure every step of the way, and unbeknownst to him, it was a long while before he took another gulp of air.
Mirabelle choked back the rain and coiled her arms around the mainmast. What the hell did Damian think he was doing, trying to hold her back like that? He hadn’t said a word to her in more than a week, had barely glanced her way, and now, when all their lives were at risk, his despotic tendencies returned? The temperamental bounder. If he wasn’t kissing her, he was berating her. If he wasn’t ignoring her, he was crushing her in his embrace. And always at the most importune times!
Removing the knife from her mouth, Mirabelle began to saw at the interwoven lines. The heavy bonds refused to give way, though, so she intensified her efforts. But with her fingers numb from the frigid waters, her progress was slow.
Curse the wretched storm! The squall had come from nowhere, giving no more than a moment’s notice of its imminent arrival. There was so little time to pull in the sails, and virtually no time to batten down the ship.
Mirabelle couldn’t even spare a glance to see if the crew were still holding on to the brails. She prayed that they were. The Bonny Meg had been through worse storms than this, but she’d had her sails furled at the time and weathered the turmoil.
The mast groaned and splintered. If they survived Poseidon’s current wrath, it wouldn’t be by much.
Her teeth clenched in defiance of the storm, Mirabelle sliced through the bonds at last. The canvas came skidding down, the crew grappling to tie it flat against the boom.
Another slash of lightning sliced through the angry heavens, and Mirabelle caught sight of the jibs still flying. It was never-ending, the pitfalls to this voyage. They’d already done battle with one tempest on their way to
New York
, and were now fighting their second. The mainmast had nearly collapsed, and now the jibs were threatening to tatter to pieces. She had to lower them. Inflated by the surging winds, the ballooned sails could mean the difference between the ship staying in one piece and being ripped apart.
Had she already cursed the storm? Well, she cursed it again.
Lodging the knife between her teeth, she slung her arm over her brow and pushed her way over to the bowsprit. Hoisting her knee up onto the rail, she crawled along the extended spar.
The grueling minutes it took for her to reef the sails seemed to stretch on forever. When at last she brought the jibs down, she inched her way backward along the spar…but she didn’t get very far.
Mirabelle gawked in awe of the black wall of water racing toward her. There was no time to think or even fear. Instinct took over and she draped her arms around the bowsprit, holding it tight. But it was futile, she knew. She would never withstand such a monstrous comber.
Like shards of glass lacerating her skin, the surge pummeled her. It was so
The woman was daft. He noticed her swipe a dagger from her boot and wedge it firmly between her teeth. Like hell he’d let her go! Let another sailor risk his neck to cut the tangled rigging. She wasn’t going anywhere. And she realized that soon enough, squirming in his arms when he refused to release her.
Another wave slammed onto the deck, fiercer than the last. The body pressed hard against him was gone, his arms empty. Damian’s heart stopped beating.
“ Mirabelle! ”
The added pressure on the rope, leaving him struggling to control it, had his frantic eyes sweeping the deck up ahead, and his heart pumping blood once again.
He was definitely going to throttle the woman when this was over. She had slipped out from under his embrace in the confusion of the pummeling waves, and was now gradually making her way over to the mainmast, gripping the brail for support. Though visibility was scarce, he watched her shadowy figure every step of the way, and unbeknownst to him, it was a long while before he took another gulp of air.
Mirabelle choked back the rain and coiled her arms around the mainmast. What the hell did Damian think he was doing, trying to hold her back like that? He hadn’t said a word to her in more than a week, had barely glanced her way, and now, when all their lives were at risk, his despotic tendencies returned? The temperamental bounder. If he wasn’t kissing her, he was berating her. If he wasn’t ignoring her, he was crushing her in his embrace. And always at the most importune times!
Removing the knife from her mouth, Mirabelle began to saw at the interwoven lines. The heavy bonds refused to give way, though, so she intensified her efforts. But with her fingers numb from the frigid waters, her progress was slow.
Curse the wretched storm! The squall had come from nowhere, giving no more than a moment’s notice of its imminent arrival. There was so little time to pull in the sails, and virtually no time to batten down the ship.
Mirabelle couldn’t even spare a glance to see if the crew were still holding on to the brails. She prayed that they were. The Bonny Meg had been through worse storms than this, but she’d had her sails furled at the time and weathered the turmoil.
The mast groaned and splintered. If they survived Poseidon’s current wrath, it wouldn’t be by much.
Her teeth clenched in defiance of the storm, Mirabelle sliced through the bonds at last. The canvas came skidding down, the crew grappling to tie it flat against the boom.
Another slash of lightning sliced through the angry heavens, and Mirabelle caught sight of the jibs still flying. It was never-ending, the pitfalls to this voyage. They’d already done battle with one tempest on their way to
New York
, and were now fighting their second. The mainmast had nearly collapsed, and now the jibs were threatening to tatter to pieces. She had to lower them. Inflated by the surging winds, the ballooned sails could mean the difference between the ship staying in one piece and being ripped apart.
Had she already cursed the storm? Well, she cursed it again.
Lodging the knife between her teeth, she slung her arm over her brow and pushed her way over to the bowsprit. Hoisting her knee up onto the rail, she crawled along the extended spar.
The grueling minutes it took for her to reef the sails seemed to stretch on forever. When at last she brought the jibs down, she inched her way backward along the spar…but she didn’t get very far.
Mirabelle gawked in awe of the black wall of water racing toward her. There was no time to think or even fear. Instinct took over and she draped her arms around the bowsprit, holding it tight. But it was futile, she knew. She would never withstand such a monstrous comber.
Like shards of glass lacerating her skin, the surge pummeled her. It was so
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