The Bride's Rescuer. Charlotte Douglas
dove overboard fully clothed in a futile attempt to drown the anguish that consumed him.
CELIA WALKED DOWN THE sandy path toward the dock. With his strange reclusiveness, Cameron might turn and sail away again if he saw her, so she stepped off the path and into the covering shade of the mangroves to await his arrival.
The sloop, its white sail shimmering in the sun like the wing of a giant gull, glided across the smooth green waters of the bay. The boat tacked, and the sail shifted to its port side, exposing Cameron at the tiller. With his bare feet propped against one side of the boat, his hair blowing in the wind, and the look of pleasure illuminating the handsome planes of his face, thrown back to catch the full blast of the blazing sun, he erased the image of an unhappy recluse with an unsound mind that she’d carried with her all morning.
The ripple of muscles beneath his tanned skin, revealed by his shirt flapping open in the breeze and slacks rolled to his knees, projected a vibrancy and power that made him seem one with the elements of wind and water surrounding him. Her confidence ebbed when she considered coercing the dynamic being before her into doing anything he didn’t want to do.
As the boat neared the dock, Cameron lowered the sail, and the craft slid silently toward the shore. He tossed a line around a piling with the easy grace of long experience, pulled the boat alongside the dock, and levered himself on strong arms with corded muscles up onto the pier, where he tied the boat fast.
She stepped out of the mangroves and onto the dock behind him. He straightened from tying up the lines, and, at over six feet tall, would tower above her. His height made him appear even more threatening, but she gathered her courage and called to him. “Mr. Alexander, I need to talk with you.”
He turned at her call, and his voice rolled like thunder up the pier. “You should know better than to sneak up on a man like that.”
Undaunted, she stepped forward. The hot, weathered wood seared her bare feet. If he thought he could bully her, he was in for a surprise. She straightened her shoulders, thrust her chin high, and walked toward the giant who stood glaring at her with topaz eyes.
“I instructed Mrs. Givens to tell you that I wanted to be left alone.” The bitterness in his voice lashed out at her, and she hesitated.
Where was the gentle man who had carried her to her bed the night before? Was this alter personality a sign of his mental instability?
She came within a few feet of him, close enough to read his expression and block his exit from the dock, but not so close she had to crane her neck to look up at him. To crack the barrier his anger erected, she smiled her sweetest smile, but his stony grimace didn’t waver.
She changed tactics and attempted to appear businesslike. “Mrs. Givens told me you want to be left alone. That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
His expression didn’t change, nor did he speak. He stood like a colossus with his bare feet planted squarely upon the pier and his balled fists upon his hips while the sun beat down on him.
A trickle of perspiration slid between her breasts. She wouldn’t allow him to intimidate her. She had too much at stake. “I must return home immediately, and I’d be very grateful if you’d take me as far as Key West in your boat.”
“No.” He didn’t bellow this time, but spoke in a soft, low voice. His cool, intractable tone disturbed her more than his yelling had.
“Why not? It’s a reasonable request.” She hoped her voice didn’t reveal the trembling she felt inside.
His hard frown turned to an icy look. “I’m sorry, but I owe you no explanation. I said no, and no is what I mean.”
He took a step toward her, but she held her ground. “If you really want to be left alone, you’d jump at the chance to be rid of me as soon as possible.”
She waited, but received no response. His strange, golden eyes weren’t focused on her face but at the thin fabric of her blouse, pulled taut over her bare breasts. His strange expression drew a blush to her face and sent a tremor through her stomach. His face flushed beneath his tan, and he jerked his gaze to a point past her shoulder.
She trembled at his reaction. Cameron might be crazy, but he was a man, after all, one who hadn’t seen a woman other than Mrs. Givens in years. All the more reason to leave his island as quickly as possible.
“While I appreciate your hospitality,” she said, striving to maintain her reasonable tone, “I don’t want to intrude on it for twelve weeks. A quick trip to Key West would solve both our problems.”
“Miss Stevens.” His soft, controlled voice projected menace and power. “I will say this only once more, so be convinced that I mean it. I will not take you to Key West.”
She dreaded staying on the island more than she feared his anger. “Then tell Noah to take me.”
“You can travel there on the supply boat in twelve weeks.”
“As I said, I can’t wait—”
“I’m sorry, but you have no choice.” His face assumed the intractable expression she recognized from the previous night.
Her temper snapped out of control. “You are the most arrogant, pigheaded, selfish—”
“Selfish?” His coolness irritated her. “I’m offering to house, clothe and feed you for several months. I call that hospitality, not selfishness.”
“Call it what you like, but you’re not doing me any favors.” Tears of anger welled in her eyes, and she dashed them away with the back of her hand, furious she’d allowed him to witness her distress, and even more furious when it failed to move him.
His expression remained unchanged. “That’s all I have to say. Now stand aside and let me pass.”
When she stepped quickly from his path, a splinter from the rough wood of the pier drove deep into the instep of her right foot. “Ow!”
Her yell reverberated across the water, frightening an anhinga from his mangrove perch. When she lifted her foot and extracted the offending sliver, the movement overbalanced her, and she tumbled backward into the bay and plunged underwater. Panic surged within her, fueled by memories of her shipwreck that she longed to forget, but her terror was short-lived. Her feet struck bottom, and she gained a footing in the chest-high water. Muck squished between her toes as she coughed, sputtered, and pushed her streaming hair back from her face.
Cameron peered over the dockside with a fleeting expression that might have been a smile. He reached out his hands to her, and she grabbed them. Knotting the powerful muscles of his arms, he lifted her easily out of the water onto the pier. The soles of her feet were slippery with muck, and she slid against him. His arms closed around her like a vice, driving the breath from her lungs.
A shock like an electric current raced the length of her body where she molded against him, and when she tried to pull away, his embrace tightened. She pressed her hands against the broad expanse of his bare chest and pushed. The heated look in his eyes disoriented her.
What was wrong with her? Just because he had given her the shirt off his back, just because he’d rescued her with such gentleness didn’t give her a reason to respond to him—especially when he refused to take her home.
She shook her head to dispel the giddiness, spraying droplets like a wet dog. When Cameron released her, water dripped from her clothing and pooled around her on the dock.
Like a man enchanted, he stared, as if looking at her was somehow painful. For a moment, time stopped as she faced him on the dock, drinking in the sight of him while his gaze swept over her. Then he turned and marched off the pier, abruptly breaking the spell.
A moment later, a door slammed and her host disappeared into the house. Now more than ever she wanted to flee Solitaire, before he—or her response to him—drew her into a situation she couldn’t control.
THAT NIGHT, CLAD ONCE again in one of Mrs. Givens’s voluminous nightgowns,