The Elusive Lady Winston (Regency Rendezvous Book 5) Page 17
Struggling with the broken spar, she used the last of her strength to free it from the rocks. Then, fatalistically, she kicked weakly, trying to escape from what had felt like a safe, sheltered spot.
Much of the storm’s fury had been spent, but the cold rain continued to beat down and the waves were no less treacherous. This time, Hannah steered away from the lights, away from the men on the rocky beach. She clung to the piece of wood and struggled against the current, knowing that the wreckers had positioned themselves to let the ocean carry the ship’s treasures to them.
Exhausted and unable to kick her numb feet any more, she felt the waves crash her once more against the jagged shoreline. The spar hit the rocks with a jolt that sent pain arching through her shoulders and back. Darkness pressed all around her, and despite the sharply serrated surface of the boulder that had caught the spar, she pulled herself up and out of the water.
Warmth trickled down her wrists. Her saturated skirts caught on the rock, but she ruthlessly ripped them free and scrambled over the boulder to a small patch of sand between the large black stones.
She fell to her knees.
You can’t stay here—it isn’t safe, she told herself urgently. Her body shivered uncontrollably as rain beat down upon her head and shoulders. The fresh water washed away the burning salt, but did nothing to bring warmth back to her icy skin. Thankfully, the darkness was too complete to allow her to see much of her raw hands and ruined gown. Cold stones pressed against her knees, absorbing what little heat her limbs retained, but she closed her eyes for the moment, too weak and tired to care.
Unfortunately, her mind cared—too much—dredging up memories of Mrs. Lawrence, laughing at some wry, humorous tidbit, and Officer Trent, bending forward to offer a steaming cup of tea to her. She could almost feel the smoothness of the bone china cup and smell the scent of hot tea. Her thoughts spun in tight, frantic circles, on the edge of panic, trying to escape into the warm safety of memories instead of facing the stark reality of her situation.
The cove where the wreckers were busily scavenging couldn’t be far, though the storm muffled the sound of their rough voices. The men would be searching for survivors, ready to club any who could still draw a breath. She had to escape from the beach and the restless sea.
Inland—it was the only way to safety.
But if she left the beach, wouldn’t the villagers, anyone who lived nearby, be just as deadly? The men—the wreckers—had to live nearby. What would they do if a limping, bedraggled woman came to them for aid?
No survivors. They’d club her and throw her body back into the sea. Maintain their silence and their secrets.
Unable to help herself, she vomited, saltwater burning her mouth. One trembling hand went to the lumpy pocket she’d tied around her waist. Her jewelry was still there, for what that was worth. Bitterness whipped through her. Jewels were useless as a bribe. Why would anyone accept one bangle and leave her alive—and potentially dangerous to their interests—when they could murder her and have everything she owned? Her stomach heaved again, but she swallowed until the nausea passed.
First things first—all the jewelry in the world won’t matter if I die here amidst these rocks.
She may have been born in Boston, but she was no sheltered Miss who’d seen nothing of the world except rose-covered wallpaper. Her father had cherished an unyielding, urgent need to travel, to see what lay beyond the next river or forest. And her mother refused to allow him to go alone, so she’d dragged their family with him, step by step, until accident, sickness, and then death had claimed Hannah’s brothers and sisters, her mother, and finally, her father.
Everyone except Hannah. She’d survived the loss of her family, and she’d survive this. And maybe then she’d finally find the one thing she’d longed for through all the hardships and pain of loss: a home of her own in the country of her father’s youth. England.
Even if that country seemed ready to kill her the moment she set foot on its rocky, inhospitable shore.
No matter. She’d get away from the beach and she’d survive, no matter what foul deeds the men on the beach did. She’d live and go to London as she planned, and become the toast of the town. And she’d find her own home.
Hannah fixed her gaze on the jagged darkness of the rocks rising in a cliff towering over the shore. There was a path there—there had to be. And she would find it before the men could find her.
ORDER ON AMAZON
More Regency Rendezvous Romances
The Devil of Montlaine
The Blue Drawing Room
The Archaeologist’s Daughter
Ice and Embers
The Earl’s Encounter
P.S. I Loathe You
Romancing the Rogue
The Stablemaster’s Daughter
The Enigma of a Widow
A Rake Like No Other
About the Author
Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. She’s a multi-published author of historical, paranormal, and contemporary erotic romances. When she isn’t devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys hiking and researching ancient history, mythology, and weaponry. She lives in Northern Ontario with her husband and two daughters.
www.laynapimentel.com
Other Titles
Hardened Desire
A Gift from Fate
His Unexpected Submissive
Shadowed by Sin
Scandal at Vauxhall
A Sinful Education
Her Deviant Lord
Saved