Page 54 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse
Mercer stood on the shore and waved his fingers. “Come on now. You’ve nowhere to go.”
Rebecca looked over her shoulder at the lake. It wasn’t horribly deep here, but if she were to jump in, the water would still swallow her with its numbing temperatures and insistent waves.
Concern flickered on Mercer’s face as he read her thoughts. He glanced past her to the lake and then back again. “Come here, Rebecca.”
She considered.
You are a chilling reminder...The words repeated again in her mind. The man’s voice wasn’t Mercer’s, and in her soul she knew it didn’t belong to her brother, Aaron, either. What should she do now? If she obeyed Mercer, she would return to captivity and perhaps endanger Aaron even more, if she couldn’t producewhatever it was Mercer demanded. But if she leapt into the lake ... would she join Annabel permanently?
What about her baby?
Rebecca stared at the water.
“No!” Mercer’s shout was muffled behind her.
Rebecca wasted no time. Flinging herself into a wave, she dove underwater. Her breath was stolen in an instant. The frigid cold locked her lungs, and she could not inhale either air or water. Tiny spears attacked her nerve endings, which protested the inhuman coldness of the lake.
She no longer worried about Mercer or Bear. When her feet hit the sandy bottom, she pushed off with all her strength, rising to the top of the waves and standing. The water was chest-high, and even as her face broke into the air, Rebecca’s mouth was still open, still gasping to take in the blessed oxygen that would allow her mind to clear.
A wave careened into her, pulling her under with a force that sent her to the bottom of the lake. Rocks grazed her legs, and she couldn’t find her footing, as the rocks were slippery and cut into her feet. She was deep enough that the force of the insistent waves continued to hold her under just as her nose and mouth broke the water’s surface for air.
She was going to die.
She was going to drown.
She was—
Arms hooked under hers and hauled her upward. Rebecca clawed at the air and at the hands holding her. She was able to suck in small amounts of oxygen even as the cold syphoned the remaining energy from her body.
Her shoulders collided with wood, which scraped her back as she was yanked from the lake. The edge of a flat-bottomed skiff bruised her as she fell into the boat, a sodden and breathless pile.
Oars lifted over her head as someone lowered them into thelake and began a steady but urgent rowing, keeping parallel to the shoreline.
Rebecca managed to look up at the silhouette of the man. It was neither Mercer nor Bear. She noticed the grim set to his face. When he glanced down at her, she saw the man was Abel. There was murder in his eyes, and Rebecca knew in that moment he would kill for her.
“Get blankets.” Abel’s command was a distant echo in Rebecca’s ears. Her body was jostled as he carried her into the lighthouse after hefting her from the skiff. “Lock the doors. Set a watch.”
Edgar’s voice muttered something in return, and for a brief second, Rebecca felt the lightkeeper’s gentle hand on her cheek.
“God help her.” His words brushed over her as Abel carried her through the house. It was tricky getting up the narrow stairway. Rebecca tried to open her eyes, tried to lift her arms to wrap around Abel’s neck, but her body refused to cooperate.
Abel was in Edgar’s room and seemed to have no intention to go farther. Maneuvering up the spiral stairs of the lighthouse to the attic was out of the question. He didn’t bother to ask permission as he laid her on Edgar’s cot. His fingers found the buttons of her wet dress, and he hurried to remove it.
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca heard him breathe as he finished stripping her of her wet garments, doing his best to cover her with a blanket as he did so.
Garments removed, Abel tucked another quilt around her body, leaving her feet exposed. He sat on the end of the cot and rubbed them vigorously with his hands, inspiring her blood to flow and bring warmth to her toes.
“S-so c-cold,” Rebecca struggled to tell him.
“I know.” Abel wrapped the quilt around her feet and climbed onto the cot next to her, pulling her blanket-clad body into hisarms. He held her for several minutes, the warmth of his body enveloping her.
Once her teeth began to chatter less, he lifted his face to peer into her eyes. “I’m going to go heat some rocks for the bed warmer. Stay here.”
All she could do was nod. She had no intention of going anywhere. For the first time in what seemed like days, warmth was beginning to spread through her extremities. Exhaustion pulled at her, but fear was awakening again, and Rebecca struggled to sit up. There was a window at the head of the lightkeeper’s cot, and one to the left of her, with the cot pushed into the corner. When Edgar slept here, it would provide him with a perfect view of the lake and the light from the lantern, as well as ships in the distance. Now it gave Rebecca a clear view of the shore. If Mercer and Bear were coming...
No.
She saw no one. No one but Edgar, who was standing in the midmorning sun, a rifle propped in his elbow, his stooped shoulders as straight as he could make them. No longer did Edgar look like a weathered old lightkeeper. Instead, he appeared to have summoned the man of his youth, a fierce defender ready to go to battle.
