His Majesty's Mistake

Getting to her feet, she shouted for help. The wind was so loud she was sure it devoured her voice. She shouted again anyway. And again. No one came.

The rain slashed down and the wind tore at her hair and Emmeline sat on the wet beach with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she struggled to think of a way to get off the private beach.

She couldn’t think of anything that might be safe. She’d have to ride the storm out.

Time slowed, blurred. Minutes became hours. Darkness was now rapidly descending, and the wind still howled, but Emmeline thought she heard an engine.

Had Makin returned? Had he heard she was missing and flown back to find her?

But no one could fly in this weather, and the intense winds would make it impossible to land safely on the small island airstrip.

Emmeline fought panic. The wind kept screaming, the tide kept rising, and the waves were breaking just feet away from her now. If the tide got much higher, she’d be swimming soon.

She suddenly stilled. Was someone shouting her name?

Could it be? Or was it more wishful thinking?

A light glowed overhead. Someone was up there. She rose unsteadily shouted for help.

The yellow light shifted. “Emmeline?”

Makin.

Her heart stopped. “Down here! Makin, I’m here!”

He moved the lantern, crouching on the edge of the terrace above her, at the place the staircase used to be. She couldn’t see his face, the lantern too low, shining down on her, but she found his size and shape so very reassuring.

“What are you doing out here?” he shouted.

“I was trying to find you—”

“Have you lost your mind? It’s a bloody hurricane!”

“It wasn’t when you left.”

“Stay right there. Don’t move.”

He reappeared in minutes, anchoring a long rope in one of the metal rings which had supported the stairs.

Emmeline squinted against the darkness, trying to see through the rain, as Makin took the rope, wrapped it around his waist and rappelled down the crumbly face of the cliff. He was like a pirate in one of those old movies, leaping from the rigging of one tall ship onto the rigging of another.

With the lantern flickering she could see that the rain had soaked his shirt, flattening the fabric, outlining his back and the corded muscles in his arms.

He continued his descent until he could reach her. “Give me your hand,” he said, bracing his feet against the rock.

“Makin, you can’t—”

“Don’t! Don’t ever tell me what I can and can’t do. I know what I can do. Now give me your hand.”

Biting her lip she put her hand into his. His fingers immediately closed around hers. “Hold tight,” he commanded, as he slowly pulled her into the circle of his arms, his body sheltering hers as he adjusted his grip on the rope.

“Turn and face me,” he said, his voice in her ear. “Wrap your legs around my waist—”

“Makin—”

“Not interested, Emmeline. Do as you’re told. Slide up and wrap your legs around my waist. Lock your feet by your ankles. And hang on tight. Got it?”

She nodded against his chest and, heart pounding, she felt him begin the arduous climb back up the cliff.

The rain was pouring down and she could feel his heart thud against hers as he lifted them, hand over hand, up the rocky face.

Makin was breathing hard as they reached the top. With one foot on the top of the cliff, and the other still planted on the rocky face, he pushed Emmeline onto the flat terrace before pulling himself up and over to join her.

Emmeline stared at him wide-eyed as he dragged a hand through his hair and shoved it off his face. “You are in so much trouble,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “You have no idea how angry I am. You could have been hurt. You could have hurt the baby—”

“I was trying to stop you.”

“I was coming back.”

“I didn’t know.” She was shivering now, chilled by her wet clothes as well as his furious expression. “And I’d said all those terrible things, Makin, said hateful things, and you were right to go—”

“I would never leave you.”

“But you took off—”

“I had something to do.”

“I didn’t think you were coming back.”

“You have so much to learn, but I’m not doing this now. Go to the house. Shower, dress, have a snack and then meet me in the living room in half an hour. You do not want to be late. Understand?”

Emmeline showered, dressed, sipped some hot sweet tea and nibbled on some buttered toast and was in the living room in twenty minutes, not thirty. Makin wasn’t there. But someone else was.

A tall, lean man with graying blond hair and darkly tanned skin turned around when he heard the click of her heels. He was wearing jeans and cowboy boots and a Western-style belt with an enormous oval silver buckle.