Ocean of Fire (5 page)

Finally she became aware of someone calling her name. Wearily she turned to Steve.

“Time to change watch,” he said. “You’re freezing.”

“I… I’m all r…right,” she stammered through chattering teeth, wondering why she was denying the obvious.

As she followed him along the deck, she realised she could barely feel her limbs. Her legs felt rubbery and uncoordinated, making it an effort to put one foot in front of the other. Even her vision had blurred to such an extent she could barely see where she was going.

Somehow she made it to her bunk. She collapsed on it without changing out of her wet clothes. It was too much bother, too much of a chore. Sleep welcomed her into its numbing embrace. Dark silence engulfed her, and Nicole slipped gratefully into oblivion.

All too soon hands shook her awake, voices talking loudly all at once, but Nicole couldn’t understand what they were saying through the cottony feeling in her head. She tried to open her eyes, but they simply refused to obey her mental command. Her body issued a silent protest, and she wished they would just leave her alone. What on earth was wrong with her? She felt so numb she couldn’t even move.

Whoever had been trying to rouse her must have given up, deciding to leave her to her slumbers. She knew she’d get into trouble for it later, but she didn’t care as she slipped into welcoming darkness once more.

The warmth surrounding her shivering body slowly started to thaw the icicles lodged in her bloodstream. She welcomed it, snugging closer to it. Vaguely she was conscious of her heat-source moving. Somebody was in the bunk with her, but Nicole was too exhausted and confused to wonder who it might be. Strong arms around her shoulders protected her from the tempest raging outside, which was all that mattered.

Nicole must have drifted back to sleep again, for images of a handsome dark pirate holding her against him filled her mind. Their legs were entwined, and she felt the warmth from his hard thighs through her leggings. Her hands were inside his jumper, her palms pressed against the wall of his chest, being defrosted by the heat of his big powerful body.

In her dream he gently kissed her cheek and stroked her hair. His lips were warm and soft against her sensitive skin. She could even smell him, potent and masculine. She buried her face against his neck, feeling the gentle throbbing of his pulse against her skin. He felt so real, not like a dream at all, making Nicole wish it could go on forever.

But such perfect dreams weren’t meant to last. All too soon she drifted into another plane of consciousness, and the sensual imagery faded. Like the tide washing away seashells on the shore, the ocean took with it the strong, beautiful man of her dreams.

Philip expelled a deep sigh of relief when Nicole finally stopped shivering. That had been a close call. The brief and terrifying moment when he’d thought of her dying in his arms had sent an agonizing shudder of anguish through him, an emotion so powerful it made tears sting his eyes.

When he’d come across her lying on the bunk still in her saturated clothes, shivering and barely conscious, he’d almost cursed Peter Cameron to hell and back again. Of course he was too busy trying to secure a position to notice his own daughter was suffering from a severe case of hypothermia.

Philip had tried to tell her not to go out there into the storm, but had the silly girl listened to him? No of course not.

Well, one good thing had come out of it; he was now lying beside her with her soft slender body snuggled up against his. But it had taken a long time to work the chills and shivers out of her. Body heat was the only sure cure for hypothermia, and if he derived some pleasure from the experience, it was the price he was prepared to pay for performing the duty. Since she was so keen on likening him to a pirate, she’d probably try and have him keel-hauled once she found out just who had kept her warm after her brush with death.

She wasn’t like her father after all, he decided. Oh, she was determined and stubborn all right, meaning she worked just as hard as the rest of them, but she had a sensitive side, one he saw whenever she conversed with Steve. Now why couldn’t she talk to him like that? Philip really did want to get to know her better, both physically and intellectually.

If he was truly honest with himself, he’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted the one he now held in his arms, her soft curls caressing his cheek, and her intoxicating feminine scent swamping his senses. He felt his gut contract and his body tense from the hot wave of desire that rocked through his loins.

Not now, he thought shifting away from her, trying to get his throbbing body back under control. This wasn’t the time or the place.

Reluctantly he climbed out of the bunk, and as he did so Steve and Jim clattered down the steps.

“Great timing mate. Your turn up on deck,” Steve said. “Has she defrosted now?”

Philip nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He could still feel the heat coursing through his veins, and thanked heavens that the light was too dim down here for them to see the evidence of his desire.

Nothing that a cold blast of southerly air wouldn’t cure, he thought ruefully, as he shouldered on his windcheater, and laced up his boots. He hadn’t slept in over a day

and felt a bit light-headed as he stood up. He certainly hadn’t been able to sleep with Nicole’s soft little body in his arms.

“You can take the helm.” Peter told him once he was on deck. Philip noticed that the storm had abated and the swell was down. “Keep her pointing dead south. Roy will let you know if there’s any change. He’s on the GPS.”

Philip nodded, and took his place by the wheel. In all the months he’d been sailing with Peter Cameron in preparation for this race, he had never worked the helm. He hadn’t asked for it either.

“How’s Nicole?” Peter asked at last.

“She’s going to be okay,” Philip replied, glad to hear he was finally showing some interest in his daughter’s wellbeing. Philip had been starting to wonder if this race was more important than his own flesh and blood.

“That daughter of mine has a habit of getting a man to do things against his better judgement. I really have to stop pandering to her whims.”

Stunned at the revelation, Philip stared up at the middle aged man. “If you haven’t been able to do it to date, what makes you think you can now that she’s all grown up?”

Peter stared back at him for a moment through hooded eyes, and then shook his head. “You have a pretty good point there. But if she thinks she’s coming on another Hobart race with me, she can forget it.”

Having said this, he headed below, leaving Philip in control of the vessel.

He relished the feel of the wheel, knowing their course was in hands, but what he really longed for was take Nicole back into his arms. She had felt so dammed good there.

It took Nicole a while to work out where she was when she woke in the morning. Feeling more disorientated than usual, she wondered why her bed kept moving beneath her.

Then she remembered. She was on board
Gail Warning
heading for Hobart.

Opening her eyes, she saw daylight through the portholes, and noticed that the storm had abated. They were still riding the rough swell of the ocean, but the waves were nowhere near as treacherous as they had been during the night.

She wondered what time it was, and bought her arm up to glance at her watch. Eleven thirty. Eleven thirty in the morning? This meant she had been asleep for... well over twelve hours. She’d missed two watches.

Why on earth hadn’t anyone woken her?

As she struggled to rise, she became conscious of a leaden lethargy dragging at her limbs. It felt as though all her energy had been sapped, leaving her as weak as a newborn kitten. Had her lack of food intake affected her health? A heady dizziness assaulted her when she finally managed to sit up, and she brought a shaky hand to her forehead.

“I wouldn’t be getting up just yet if I were you,” an all too familiar male voice said from above her. Nicole glanced up to see Philip Pelayo leaning over her bunk. His usually intense eyes were dull and circled with weariness, and he had the dark shadow of a beard starting to spread across his jaw, making him appear even more piratical than usual. “Here, drink this,” he commanded.

“What is it?” she queried, glancing suspiciously at the steaming mug he held out to her. “An Arsenic cocktail?”

“No, it’s vegetable soup, exactly what someone who’s been as sick as you needs right now,” he told he gruffly.

“I haven’t been sick. I just overslept,” she muttered, only too aware that somewhere along the line she’d lost track of half a day.

Philip said nothing more as he held the cup closer, so she was obliged to accept it. Taking a sip, she discovered how welcoming the warm liquid was. Then she glanced around the cabin. Most of the bunks were occupied with sleeping men, but she didn’t see her father among them.

Nicole slowly drank the soup, conscious of Philip watching her as he continued to lean against the bulkhead beside her bunk. It was unnerving having his dark eyes observing every move she made.

“Haven’t you got anything else to do?” she finally snapped in irritation.

His dark brows came together as he frowned down at her. “Plenty, but when some silly female who shouldn’t even be here gets herself life-threateningly ill -“

“I’ve just been a bit seasick, that’s all.”

“Is that what it’s called now? Then how about telling me why your body temperature dropped so dangerously low, you became hypothermic... Yes, Nicole, you were
that
ill.”

“No!” she gasped. “You’re lying.”

His frown turned into an angry scowl. “I would never make something like that up. Ask your father if you don’t believe me.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” Nicole felt like throwing the remaining contents of her cup in his face. Perhaps he’d read her thoughts, for he removed the mug from her grasp. With his free hand, he took hold of one of hers.

“Look at you!” he said, squeezing her slender fingers between his larger ones. “You’re so goddamned dainty I’m surprised you’ve made it this far.”

“Stop it! Leave me alone,” she protested, trying to snatch her hand away, but he only moved to bring his harsh face level with hers, so that he was looking directly into her eyes.

“Do you know what would have happened to you if I had gone away and left you alone? Do you have any idea?”

Nicole closed her eyes, lying back down. She couldn’t cope with his anger any longer. She was too tired to argue with him.

“You would have been dead. That’s how ill you’ve been,” he said grimly.

As he released her hand she realized he was telling the truth. Memories of how cold and sick she’d been filtered into her mind.

Then she felt his fingers graze her cheek, and she remembered something else; a strange, haunting dream about being in the arms of someone just like him.

“Sleep now, my sweet. We’ll be there soon. Soon you’ll be safe,” he murmured, and for a crazy moment her dream felt so real, she could have sworn it had really happened, which of course was ridiculous. There was no way Philip Pelayo would ever have entertained the notion of crawling into the bunk with her, which only made her even more annoyed with herself for having such a pleasant dream about him in the first place.

“I’m surprised he allowed you up on deck so soon,” Steve remarked as Nicole sat down beside him at the stern the following afternoon. She squinted against the mid-afternoon sunshine at him. There was a strange enigmatic smile playing on his lips. Sure she’d gotten into another argument with Philip, this time about her state of health, but why was everybody acting as though he knew best? Even her father hadn’t bothered to contradict him. Perhaps it was because everyone was tired and eager to reach the finish line.

The arrogant so and so sat perched on the cabin, keeping an eye out for the first sign of Tasman Light at the entrance to Storm Bay. That had been the cause of their argument. She’d wanted to witness the significant landmark, but he’d insisted she wasn’t well enough to come on deck yet.

“He’s not my keeper for goodness sake. I feel fine,” she asserted. Tired and still a bit weak, but well enough to sit on the deck in the warm sun, she added mentally.

Jim, sitting on the other side of Steve, sniggered. “But I bet he likes to think he is.”

Her father, as usual at the helm, cast a concerned look in her direction. Nicole was certain he’d never let her sail with him on another Sydney to Hobart race. Pirate Pelayo had very effectively seen to that.

Nicole wasn’t given time to ponder Jim’s strange comment, for all of a sudden Philip called out, “There it is,” and pointed towards the shore. Sure enough, she saw the silhouette of a lighthouse perched on a rocky outcrop of land. They had reached the last leg of their journey. Providing the wind stayed on their backs, they should sail into Constitution Dock before midnight.