“Anabelle!” John’s whoop brought a flicker of a smile to the stunning woman’s face. In her native land, Anabelle would have been a queen. Tall and straight-backed, she carried herself with undeniable grace.
Though she could captivate a man’s attention, Rourke peered past her into the black doorway, looking for the woman who’d danced through his thoughts every day for the past four years. She’d been lovely then. How much more beautiful she would be now. Why had she left without a word? Why hadn’t she written? If not for her friend Caroline, he wouldn’t even know where she had gone or that she was still unwed. That news had sustained him and given him hope.
Soon he would know if that hope had been misplaced.
He headed for the doorway, but John pushed past him to get to Anabelle. Instead of rushing into her husband’s arms, the woman extended her hand, a signal that she dare not embrace. That meant her mistress was near. None but Rourke and the minister knew of their marriage.
“Elizabeth?” Rourke peered into the inky void.
Instead of the golden-haired object of his dreams, a plump elderly woman stuck her head out of the deckhouse. “Who are you to use my niece’s Christian name?”
Rourke froze. The captain had said there were two women plus Anabelle, but in his eagerness to reach Elizabeth, he’d forgotten. “Forgive me. Is Miss Benjamin all right?”
A slender figure moved behind the matron. “I-I-I’m fine.”
Though Rourke could not make out her features, the trembling voice was Elizabeth’s.
John, meanwhile, had looped the safety rope around Anabelle’s waist.
“Tell your man to stop helping that slave girl,” the elderly woman demanded. “Ladies must be rescued first.”
John looked like he would knock the portly woman to her backside.
Rourke pushed past him. “We’ll bring all of you to safety.”
“My niece and I first,” the woman demanded. “Tell your darkie to take my niece and leave the slave until last.”
“No, Aunt Virginia. I will wait.” Elizabeth appeared, so lovely in the moonlight that for a second Rourke could not think or move.
Before the matron could protest, John whisked Anabelle away.
Rourke extended his hand. “Come with me, Miss Benjamin.”
Her wide eyes shimmered in the moonlight. “Please escort my great-aunt.”
The woman jutted out her chin. “The young should go first. Someone my age is expendable.”
“No, Aunt Virginia.” Elizabeth retreated into the darkness to affirm her decision.
With a creak, the hulk shifted a bit lower. The women cried out. Rourke steadied the matron and then reached for Elizabeth.
“I am all right,” she said from deep within the passageway, each word firmer than the last. “Please bring my aunt to safety.”
Rourke hated to leave Elizabeth behind. That settling of the wreck meant the hulk could break apart at any moment. Yet he couldn’t ferry them both at once. He must make a choice. Four years ago he’d chosen the beauty over her brother, only to lose her.
This time he extended his hand to her aunt.
The moment Elizabeth heard Rourke’s voice, her resolve shattered. The feelings she’d had for him hadn’t diminished over four years. If anything, they’d grown stronger. She’d begged him to rescue Aunt Virginia in the hope that another crewman would come for her. She couldn’t trust herself in Rourke’s arms.
She drew in a deep breath. Charlie needed her. Father needed her. That had to be her focus, not some childish infatuation. Once Rourke left with Aunt Virginia, Elizabeth blew out that breath and collapsed against the passage wall.
Relief soon gave way to fear. It gnawed at the pit of her stomach and weakened her knees. The ship was breaking apart. The spars now dipped into the ocean. The starboard rail was underwater. Each large wave shook the wreck. If it sank before someone came for her, she could perish. Though she knew how to swim, the weight of her clothing would drag her to the bottom.
She closed her eyes, knowing she ought to pray, but she had stepped away from unquestioning faith the day Charlie was hurt. Her prayers then had gone unanswered. What God let the innocent suffer? Cook had scolded her, saying that God wasn’t to blame, but she’d still cast fault in His direction. It was easier than the truth.
“Hold on!”
Rourke’s shout opened her eyes. He was inching Aunt Virginia forward, almost completely supporting her bulk. The memory of his strength only intensified the longing she was trying to quench. When he asked for her, she had wanted to run from the passage and take his hand. She wanted to feel again the beat of his heart against her cheek. In his arms, she would be safe. How she wanted that, but it could not be. Her father held wreckers in contempt. He would never approve of Rourke as a suitor.