She’d told him that nothing frightened her, but she’d been lying. Her greatest fear was that he would perish, and she would be left on her own in the godforsaken spot.
“Are you all right?” he asked as she settled next to him.
“Just a tad unnerved—by the silence and the isolation.”
“Which is certainly understandable.”
“Do you imagine anyone will ever find us?”
“Of course they will. We’re in the shipping lanes. Ships must travel by here all the time.”
She’d kept a constant vigil, but she hadn’t seen the least hint of a vessel.
“What if they don’t?” she said. “What if no one ever comes for us?”
“You can’t think that way.”
“No one will look for me.”
Helen would miss her, and Helen would eventually grieve, but months might pass before she realized that Harriet had vanished.
“Well, plenty of people will miss me,” Tristan said. “They’re probably organizing a full-scale search even as we speak.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Let’s do. I refuse to allow you to sink into the doldrums. Not so early anyway. After we’ve been here a year or two—”
“A year or two!” She was aghast.
“I was joking, Harriet.”
He reached out and patted her hand, the gesture sending a jolt of sensation up her arm. Tristan was still too incapacitated to engage in any sexual activity, but their attraction remained blatant and impossible to ignore.
“Will we starve?” she inquired.
“No.”
“Will we freeze to death?”
As it was insufferably warm, the question was ludicrous, but he chuckled and answered it kindly.
“Definitely not.”
She didn’t know why she was being so petulant and unhelpful, but she was perplexed over why nothing ever went as it should.
Her life had been one disaster after the next. Who was set adrift by pirates and lived to tell the tale? The event was just one, in a long line of calamities that seemed specifically designed to test her mettle.
Why was she so unlucky? Why had she been singled out for such drama and heartache?
Although she grasped the fact that it wasn’t Tristan’s fault they’d been targeted by his pirate-brother, she couldn’t move beyond the notion that he’d caused the incident. The idea made her ill-tempered, made her want to snap at him, to blame him.
“Come,” he said. “I need to show you something.”
“I’m too tired,” she grouched.
“I know, sour puss, but come with me anyhow.”
He was being too considerate, and she felt petty and ungrateful. When he stood and extended a hand to her, she hesitated, then linked their fingers, recognizing that she couldn’t stay on the beach forever.
He pulled her to her feet, and while she should have drawn away, she didn’t. She clasped hold of him as if he was her last tether to sanity. She was extremely distraught, and it was all she could do to keep from flinging herself into his arms as if she was a tiny child.
She wanted him to insist everything would be fine, and she couldn’t bear to be separated from him for a single second, being absurdly terrified that she might blink and he’d disappear.
While they’d been growing close in his cabin, their predicament in the longboat—with her not knowing if he would live or die—had altered their relationship. They were joined in ways she didn’t comprehend, as if their connection now existed on a celestial plane that was too difficult for mere mortals to fathom.
They wandered from the dunes into the trees and brush, and they walked slowly, letting Tristan catch his breath.
She hadn’t ventured out much herself. She’d stuck to him like glue, like a leech on a thigh, and as they progressed, it became apparent that they were on a path humans had hacked through the foliage. Soon, they were in a clearing, staring at the remnants of a hut that someone had built from twigs and sticks.
Tristan approached the front—there was no door—and tried to enter, tried to bring her inside with him, but she dug in her heels.
“How did you find this place?” she queried.
“I was exploring.”
“While I was napping? I thought you’d dozed off, too.”
“No. I decided we should get off the beach, that we should have more protection from the elements.” He kissed her sweetly, tenderly. “It’s all right, Harriet. Don’t be afraid.”
“Who does it belong to? What if they come back?”
“They won’t come back.”
“How can you be sure?”
An odd expression crossed his face. He looked troubled, and she studied him, then gasped.
“They’re dead, aren’t they? The people who were here, they perished.”
“I found...a...skeleton. I’m certain it was the occupant.”
“What happened to him?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say he suffered an accident. He was lying at the bottom of a ravine.”
She wondered if he was telling the truth. Had the person starved?
Since they’d arrived, she’d been so dazed that she hadn’t focused on long-term concerns such as victuals or shelter. She’d been foraging on the beach, had been sipping rainwater from pools up on the rocks.
Could the island provide sufficient sustenance? Even if there was food aplenty, what did she and Tristan—a city dweller and a sailor—know about existing off the land?
“Were there signs of others ever being here?”
“No. We’re quite alone.”
As he uttered the word alone, his tone underscored their dilemma as nothing else had.
Like a spoiled toddler, she plopped down to the ground and started to cry. She hated to seem so weak, but she couldn’t help it. She was weary and hungry and more miserable than she could ever remember being.
The soles of her feet were lashed with cuts from the rough sand. Salt from the ocean had crusted her hair. Her fair skin had been burned by the relentless sun, so she itched and chafed.
Her eyes were sore, her limbs were sore, and her entire body ached as if she was coming down with an ague.
“Are you crying again?”
“Yes.”
“Stop it. I’ve told you before: I can’t abide feminine hysterics.”
“You haven’t begun to see hysterics. I’m scared, and I’m unhappy, and I won’t pretend otherwise.”
He knelt down and took her hand.
“It’s not as bad as all that,” he claimed.
“It’s pretty bad.”
He gazed around and sighed. “Yes, I suppose it is. It could be worse though.”
“How? How could it possibly be worse?”
“You could be trapped with an ogre—instead of me.”
“You are an ogre.”
“I promise I’ll grow on you.”
His attempts at humor failed, and she cried even harder. She wished she would simply wake up and discover that she’d been dreaming, but unfortunately, her quandary was all too real.
He sat and pulled her onto his lap. He was silent, holding her until the torrent was spent. As she calmed, he kissed her again and dried her cheeks with his thumbs.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“No.”
At her continued petulance, he laughed. “For pity’s sake, Harriet. Buck up, would you? We have to make some plans.”
“What sorts of plans?”
“I don’t intend to perish here. Do you?”
“No.”
“Then we must figure out how to carry on.”
“I haven’t a clue what to do.”
“You’d be surprised how easy it will be. I’ve been scouting the area, and if we have to be stranded, the spot has ample bounty. There is fruit in the trees and a fresh-water stream. We may even catch some fish.”
“Fish! You’re mad. I’m from London; I don’t know how to fish.”
“Well, I do.”
“You do?”
“Yes. When I was a boy, I passed several summers in Scotland with one of my friends from school. His name was Aiden Bramwell, and his father was an African adventurer. He would take us camping in the wilderness. I realize I don’t look it, but I’m quite capable in a pinch.”
“I’m not capable at all.”
He shrugged. “You’ll learn to be.”
“Yes, I imagine I will.”
“And don’t be sad. I can’t bear it when you are.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just so overwhelmed.”
“One step at a time, Harriet, and I’ll be right here with you. I’ll never leave you alone. Not for a moment.”
In her deteriorated state, the reassurance was exceedingly welcome, and she wondered if he felt the strange connection that now flowed between them. She’d once heard that survivors of a disaster were irrevocably linked, and it appeared to be true—on her end anyway.
“Let’s get up and get moving,” he said, sounding like the ship’s captain he was. “The day is waning, and we ought to accomplish a few chores before dark.”
They rose and explored the immediate vicinity, then set to work, shoring up the dilapidated hut.
The poor, departed soul who’d dwelled in the shack before them had been a civilized man rather than a savage. He’d left behind a cooking pot, a fork, and many pieces of sharp glass that could be used for cutting. He’d made a broom and had woven grass mats and blankets.