My Heart's Desire (Barrett 1)

And then she felt nothing at all.

Chapter 17

HE SAW HER GO down.

Drake felt his heart lurch as Alex crashed into the sharp edge of rock and disappeared from view. He was but fifty feet away. With long, powerful strokes he reached the spot where she had been. He combatted the force of the river and dived beneath the surface.

Thank God for the bright color of her gown. With a strength born of fear Drake reached her side and pulled her limp form against him. It took three or four hard kicks until he had broken the surface. He gulped in air and forced Alex’s head above water.

“Alex!” His voice shook. “Damn it, Alex, answer me!”

She did not.

But against his strong forearm Drake could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest that told him she was breathing. She had been under water for only a few seconds, so she could not have taken in much water.

Satisfied that his wife was alive, Drake turned his attention toward reaching safety. A quick look told him that the lifeboats were no longer an option. They were too far off, close to the Canadian shore. The men would never hear his yell.

In the middle of the river La Belle Illusion was disappearing from view, as graceful in death as she had been in life. The American ship had deserted the scene, victoriously returning home. Apparently they were satisfied with the sinking of their English nemesis together with her valuable cargo. Possibly merchantmen were not nearly such sought-after prisoners as military men. Or perhaps the Americans believed the crew of La Belle to be dead, unable to survive the fatal onslaught. Whichever the case, the battle was over and La Belle Illusion was gone.

This was no time to dwell on what had been lost. Drake scanned their surroundings, holding Alex securely with one arm and struggling to stay afloat with the other. The Canadian shore was far off in the distance. Considering Alex’s depleted condition and his own deteriorating strength, swimming there would be impossible. They were, in fact, too close to the American shore for Drake’s peace of mind. There had to be another alternative.

He found it. Just behind them began a sprinkling of the small green dots of land that were scattered throughout the Saint Lawrence.

Those glorious islands that Drake had shown to Alex on their trip to York, the Thousand Islands, known for their lush foliage and exquisite greenery, beckoned to them. To Drake they meant salvation.

He wrapped his arm more tightly about Alex beneath her arms, forcing her head to remain above water. With one savage motion of his other hand he tore her petticoat and the skirt of her waterlogged gown from her body, eliminating the additional weight that hindered them. Then he assessed the islands within swimming distance, contemplating his options. Just off to the west was the answer to Drake’s prayers. A tiny island tucked away in utter solitude. Determined, he set out for the haven it promised.

After what seemed like an eternity, Drake dragged himself and a still-unconscious Alexandria onto the golden shore of the island. He crawled onto the sand and collapsed, gasping, as he lay beside his oh-so-still wife. He felt the rough texture of the sand against his face, grateful to be alive. He was exhausted, utterly spent, but he would not succumb to the allure of sleep. Not until he knew Alex was all right.

Drake rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow, staring down anxiously into Alex’s face. He had been watching her for hours. Evening had long since fallen, but the June night was still filled with lingering rays of sunlight, enabling him to see her clearly. She was so still, so frighteningly pale, with a huge gash on her forehead that would no doubt swell and bruise, and another swelling on the back of her head where the boom had grazed her. Just how serious the injuries were, Drake could not be certain. Nor would he be until she awakened.

Tenderly he smoothed the wet strands of hair from her delicate face. He stroked her cheek, which felt cold to his touch. To reassure himself he lifted her wrist and pressed his fingers to it. The pulse was there—faint, a little erratic, but there. He moved closer, pressing himself against her side and wrapping his arms tightly around her for warmth. He would hold her all night if need be, infuse her with his strength, but damn it, she would live. She had to live.

And then Drake did something he hadn’t done since he was a boy.

He prayed.

It was after dawn before his prayers were answered.

Alex’s first thought upon awakening was that she had died and gone to heaven. The sky above her was brightening to an intense shade of blue, and towering trees filled with plush green leaves rose all around her. The rhythmic sound of flapping wings heralded the appearance of graceful birds that soared about, and the smell of deep grasses and lush, aromatic flowers teased her nose.

She turned her head and abruptly decided that this could not be heaven, after all. Knives shot through her skull, making her moan and close her eyes to block out the pain. Her body felt weak, drained, her limbs too heavy to move. What was wrong with her and where was she?

“It’s all right, sweetheart.” Drake’s voice seemed to come from a great distance. “Everything is fine now. Open your eyes, princess, please.”

He sounded so worried. She forced her eyes open and met his deep green gaze, the dark brows knit with concern. He was drawn and haggard, his black hair disheveled, and a shadow of a beard covered his face. Actually, he looked for all the world like a pirate.

She giggled. The movement caused her to moan again with pain.

“And just what is so funny?”

She blinked, dazed. “Apparently I am dead. The scene looks much like what I had expected of heaven. But the pounding in my head and your strong resemblance to the devil himself leads me to believe that I fell short somehow and am, instead, banished to hell.”

He grinned. “You look pretty dreadful yourself, wife.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “And I am sorry to disappoint you, but you are very much alive. Thanks, of course,” he added modestly, “to my quick thinking and superb skill.”

“Ever arrogant and cocky,” she sighed. “Perhaps I do live after all.”

“How do you feel?”