An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(61)

Dalla clung even tighter to Hugh's arm.

The cannonball had barely skimmed over the surface of the deck, likely a measuring shot, but if Derek didn't get more distance between them, the next one might put a hole right in the middle of his ship. He imagined Agnarr down in the hold, likely terrified, and turned to insist that Dalla go down below decks and comfort him.

Just as he was about to tell her that, she released her grip on his arm, apparently thinking the same thing.

She started for the opening in the deck to go down as another cannonball whizzed over the foc'sle, barely missing two of the sailors.

Derek shouted. Hugh cautioned Dalla to be careful, and all the while his gaze was pulled inexorably toward the shoreline, where only now he saw the white caps produced by waves crashing against previously unseen shoals.

“The shoals!” he shouted to Derek. “The shoals!”

“Aye, brother, I see them!”

Hugh watched as Derek jerked hard on the ship's wheel and the rudder slowly turned the bow of the ship away from the shoals. Nevertheless, he felt a rough buffeting further down, and could only pray that the rocks didn't rip a hole in the hull of the ship.

Another boom of a cannon sounded, this time much closer and much louder.

“Down!” Derek shouted.

As one, he and Derek flattened themselves onto the deck as a cannonball shot over their heads, taking a chunk out of the mast and two of the spokes of the ship's wheel before flying over the other side of the ship.

Hugh stared at his brother in dismay. Did he have the gift? How could he have known—

“I did serve in the army for a while, remember?” Derek asked, both of them still flattened on their chests on the deck, their faces merely a hands width apart. “I'll never forget the sound of an approaching cannon shot.”

In the next moment, Derek leapt up, grabbed the ship's wheel, and continued to pull hard around, pointing the bow of his ship out to sea.

A brief flash of lightning illuminated the skies, the roiling waves, the jagged rocky shoals, and in the distance beyond, the landscape of the shoreline. Hugh sat up and watched in dismay, even though he heard the sound of screaming and shouting.

He glanced behind and saw the ship pursuing them lurch dramatically upward, then crash downward.

Then, a sound he'd never heard—it wasn't the thunder, it wasn't the sound of waves crashing against the shoreline.

Derek whooped. “She's on the shoals! She's breaking up!”

Hugh's heart pounded, his face pelted with salty ocean spray, his clothes now drenched in frigid water as he clung to the base of Derek's wheel, staring in horrified wonder as the ship, perhaps only a league distant, came to a sudden and spectacular halt as the rocks of the shoals savagely tore open a portion of the ship's hull. It came to a stop so suddenly that the stern rose slightly before the ship tipped slightly to port, leaning dangerously over the jagged edges of the rocks.

Hugh witnessed figures jumping ship, heard the terrified screams of those trying to leap toward salvation, the calls of the wounded and dying.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and noticed Dalla peeking above the deck. She was trying to come topside again.

He shouted at her. “No, Dalla! Stay there!”

A crash of thunder swallowed his words. She kept scrambling upward.

“No Dalla! Stay there!” he shouted again. He released his grip on the steering column and started to scramble in her direction. “Dalla, no! Stay there!”

“Hugh! Hang on! I'm making a sharp turn!”

Hugh glanced at his brother, saw him roughly maneuvering the ship's wheel, legs spread wide, his sailors immediately grasping for ropes, rigging, or something solid to hang onto.

Hugh, on his hands and knees, stared at Dalla, who had continued to climb upward and had just reached her feet and turned to look at the ship splintering onto the shoals.

She stood frozen for several seconds, the wind, the rain, and the waves lashing her.

She turned to him, the smile on her face fading when she realized what was happening.

At that very moment, as she also scrambled for something to hold onto, a wave crashed over the mid-deck.

One moment, she was there.

The next, she was gone.





35





The force of the wave knocked Dalla off her feet and took her over the side. She barely managed to grasp a lungful of air before she went over and was pounded down into the frigid waves, her body spinning, plunging, ever deeper, the current tugging her this way and that, as if it strove to pull her apart.

She didn't know which way was up, which was down. The salt water burned her eyes and she squeezed them shut, her arms reaching out, seeking for something to grasp onto.

Nothing.

The waves carried her where they would. Soon, her lungs began to burn with their need for air. Her ears rang. White stars danced in front of her closed eyelids. This is how it was all going to end? Was this how she would die? In a violent sea, perhaps crushed upon the rocky shoreline or swept out to sea, never to be seen again? No! She had to fight. She had to live. She wanted to—

At that moment, she realized that she wanted to be back at Hugh's side. Desperately.

The water kept pushing her downward, but she cupped her hands and kicked her legs, trying to find a current. Her lungs felt as if they would explode at any moment.