Page 24 of Any Duke in a Storm

She was right that the clouds gave way to one or two soft moonlit patches on the port side of the ship, while the starboard side remained dark, which meant that Saint must have been hoping to steer them out of the storm’s path. The mast creaked as theSyrensped toward the bottom of another trough, her hull groaning at the steep descent. If the main mast snapped, the damage it could cause would be terrible.

“Stay steadfast, girl,” she whispered. “Don’t give up on me now.”

Her gaze flicked to the figure on the quarterdeck, a burst of reluctant admiration spiraling through her at the sight of Saint. If she’d had any doubt that he was a captain in his own right, it was forever erased. Hands firm on the wheel, his muscles straining through his soakedtransparent shirt, he stared down the punishing storm without a single iota of fear on his face. His mouth was a slash, his brow drawn with resolve.

Lisbeth exhaled a breath. If she had to give up control of theSyrento anyone, even for a short while, she was grateful it was him. His gaze caught hers as if summoned, and her lungs squeezed in her chest. For a moment, the sounds of the rain and wind stilled, and they were in perfect accord—two minds with one purpose—getting them out of this alive.

Lisbeth blinked rain out of her eyes when she caught his lips moving and frowned. She couldn’t hear him, the wind snatching his words away. His gaze was no longer on her, she realized.

“Bess!” That shout wasn’t his. It was high-pitched and came from behind her.

She whirled, eyes going wide with terror as she saw Narina’s small frame chased by a horrified Smalls. “What are you doing? Get down below!”

“I’m fine,” Narina shouted. “I wanted to give you this for luck. It’s Saint Christopher.” In her hand she held out a tarnished necklace. “Don’t worry, I tied myself to a rope, too!”

The crest of another immense wave, one Lisbeth could see the curling lip of in the dimly lit sky, rose high and plowed into the stern. Water crashed over the deck in a powerful frenzy. The ocean would not relinquish any prize so easily. That realization was all too evident in Narina’s terrified eyes as her feet swooshed out from under her and she went careening across the slick deck.

“Smalls!” Lisbeth screamed, hurrying to untie her own rope that wouldn’t let her move another inch toward the girl. “Get her!”

But it was much too late.

In dizzying, chilling slow motion, Lisbeth watched as the childish loop Narina had fashioned unraveled from the power of the wave, her small hands scrabbling for purchase on the slippery boards. A wild scream tore from her throat as she was tossed against the rowboat and washed over the side.

The knot at Lisbeth’s waist finally came loose and she didn’t hesitate. She ran and dove over the railing, straight into the inky depths of hell.

Raphael watched the scene unroll as if from a great distance—the wave crashing, the girl being swept off her feet, and Bess, that brave irrational fool, hurtling over the side in the middle of a hurricane. The child was certainly lost; she had no hope of surviving the rough seas. But Bess…at least she had a chance with that vest she had on. It would keep her afloat.

“Fuck! Smalls,” he bellowed. “Grab the wheel. Keep her on the port side. We’re almost out of the path. Storm’s moving right, stay on this course.” He pointed to one of the nearby boatswains. “Get Estelle at once!”

When the man obeyed and an ashen Smalls had taken his place, Raphael leaped over to where the loose rowboathung drunkenly to one side. “Help me get this loose and down!” he ordered, jerking the paralyzed deckhands into action. The clouds lessened as Smalls steered theSyrenfurther away on the path Raphael had indicated and moonlight flickered on the wave crests. With the wind and the wild currents, Bess could be anywhere, but he had no time to lose.

Estelle clambered on deck, fear all over her face. “What the hell happened?” she demanded. “Where are you going?”

“Your fool captain decided to go for a swim.”

Her eyes popped. “She fucking what?”

“The girl fell over and she went in,” he explained brusquely. “Sail west and then head for Nassau,” he added, watching as the rowboat descended via the pulleys into the thrashing waves. Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed hold of a rope and swung himself down. “We’re hours away from the mainland, if that. With luck, we will make it there, too.”

“Saint.” He peered up into the quartermaster’s pinched face, her fingers flexing on the rail. It was the most emotion he’d ever seen from her. “I’ll go with you.”

He shook his head. “You’re the only one who can get theSyrenout of this.”

Estelle’s throat worked as she swallowed, tears indistinguishable from the rain. “Please…”

“I’ll find her, don’t worry.”

It was an impossible promise, but he made it nonetheless. Raphael grabbed the oars and braced againstthe churn of the waves. The lifeboat was sturdy enough, bobbing up and down over the choppy water as it was designed to do. Within minutes, the shadow of theSyrengrew smaller as the distance between them widened, lost to a fog that seemed to thicken on the tail end of the storm.

Wasting no time, he pulled out the F. Barker & Son compass that he’d taken from Bess’s desk. He’d been attempting to steer theSyrenwest, and he estimated that Narina and Bess had gone off in a northwesterly direction. After he consulted the compass in the meager light, he situated the boat and got to work, pulling hard on the oars. The currents could have dragged her anywhere, but it was somewhere to start. By his guess, it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes since she’d gone over.

“Bess!” he shouted with each stroke. More patchy moonlight lit the seas as the storm veered east, and while the seas churned in its wake, he could see that the rainfall was lessening.

“Bess! God damn you, Bess, answer!”

Raphael rowed until his arms ached and his muscles burned with strain. He stood, holding on to the sides as he scanned the ocean. Dawn was on the horizon, the wisps of light a welcome respite. The waves ebbed and flowed, nowhere near as wild as they had been. Just when despair nearly crashed over him, he spotted a bobbing shadow. It could be anything…a barrel, a piece of some other unfortunate ship, orsomeone. Grabbing the oars, he turned the boat and rowed toward it.

A fucking barrel. His heart sank.

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