The Lawman's Vow. Elizabeth Lane

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СКАЧАТЬ black lashes crusted with salt, classic features like the pictures of the gods in her book of Greek legends. He appeared far too young and vital to be dead. But the world was a cruel place. Every piece of wreckage the tide swept into the cove was a testament to that cruelty.

      Such a man would be missed, she thought. Somewhere he was bound to have family, friends, maybe a wife or sweetheart. If she could find any information on him, a name, an address, she would write a letter and send it with her father the next time he went to San Francisco.

      But the stranger had no coat or vest. Whatever he’d worn against the weather, the sea must’ve torn it away. That left his trouser pockets as the only place to look.

      Leaving the driftwood chunk within reach, she crouched next to him and worked her fingers into his sodden hip pocket. As she’d feared, it was empty. Groping deeper to make sure, she gasped and drew back. One hand reached for her makeshift weapon. A corpse would be cold and rigid. But her fingers had sensed living flesh.

      Trembling, she worked her hand under his collar to touch the hollow alongside his throat. The faintest throb of a pulse ticked against her fingertip. Heaven save her, the man was alive!

      “Look out below!” Daniel shouted a warning from the top of the cliff, alerting Sylvie that he was about to fling the shovel down to her.

      “No, wait!” she shouted back. “Never mind the shovel. Get some water in the canteen. Close the stopper tight and toss it down.”

      “Is he alive?”

      She hesitated. “Barely.”

      “Can I come down?”

      “No. He might be dangerous. Hurry!”

      The silence from above told her Daniel had gone to fill the canteen. Turning back to the stranger, she dropped to her knees and scooped the sand out from under his face to give him more air. He was utterly still, no movement, no sound, but the breath from his nostrils warmed her wet fingers.

      What now? With effort, she could probably move him. But what if he had broken bones or internal injuries? Pushing and pulling would only make them worse. Still, there was little she could do without turning him over.

      For now, he was lying to one side, his left arm pinned under his body. Maybe she could hollow out the sand on that side and use his sinking weight to help her roll him over. That would be the gentlest way to turn him. What happened after that would depend on how badly he was hurt.

      Moving to his left, she began scraping away the sand along his length, her bare hands hollowing out a space beneath him. She dug furiously, reaching as far under him as his bulk would allow. As he sank into the recess, his body began to rotate onto its side.

      So far her idea was working. But the physical contact was more intimate than anything Sylvie had ever experienced with a man. As the backs of her hands rubbed across bone and solid male muscle, she felt herself growing curiously warm. The unaccustomed heat flowed through her, simmering like the ruby-red jam she made when the wild strawberries ripened in midsummer.

      Caution shrilled warnings in her head. She was alone here with a child to protect. Her father had taught her to assume the worst of any stranger who showed up. Saving this man could be the most dangerous thing she’d ever done. But Christian decency demanded that she try.

      She could hear the breath whispering in and out of his nostrils. She could feel the warmth of his skin and hear the low rumblings of an empty belly. But he hadn’t opened his eyes or uttered a sound.

      Two years ago her father had brought home a dog-eared medical book. Sylvie had read it so many times that she could quote parts of it from memory. But she wasn’t a doctor. And she certainly wasn’t a miracle worker. The plain truth was, the man could die right here on the beach.

      But she wouldn’t let herself think of that now.

      Her fingers pawed the sand, widening the hollow she’d made. His body was already tilted. Now all that remained was to roll him onto his back.

      It was easier than she’d expected. He tumbled over with an audible grunt, the first sound she’d heard from his lips. Sylvie’s breath seemed to stop as she studied him.

      His eyes were closed, his hair sand-plastered to his forehead. A purple bruise lay along one cheekbone, a bloodied gash above his temple. For all the battering, he had a noble face—almost princely with its chiseled nose, strong jaw and lightly cleft chin. His features were marred only by a puckered scar that pulled at a corner of his mouth. That slight imperfection gave him a sardonic look, as if he were smiling at some secret joke.

      Was this the face of a good man—a man she could trust with her safety and Daniel’s? Or would saving him turn out to be the worst mistake of her life?

      Transfixed, Sylvie leaned over him. Her finger skimmed a trail down his bruised cheek. Her touch sent a quiver through his body. Sensing it, she drew back, almost afraid to breathe. A sense of possession stole over her, as if, in saving the man’s life, she’d somehow made him hers.

      His closed eyelids twitched. His throat worked. A moan emerged from between his lips, then a single labored word.

      “Catriona…”

      The name stung like the brush of a nettle. It didn’t matter, Sylvie told herself. She’d known all along he might belong to someone. And wasn’t it a good sign, that the first word out of his mouth was a woman’s name? If he had a wife or sweetheart, how bad could he be?

      “Here’s the water, Sylvie.” Daniel’s voice made her start. She glanced around to see him standing just behind her, holding the canteen.

      “I told you to stay up top,” she scolded him.

      “I wanted to see.” He stared down at the stranger. “Maybe he’s a prince.”

      “A prince? Whatever are you talking about, Daniel Cragun?”

      “A prince from the sea, like the one in your story.”

      Sylvie shook her head. “That’s make-believe, silly. He’s just a man.”

      “No! Look!” Daniel pointed to where the stranger’s left hand lay against his side. On his middle finger was a heavy gold signet ring, set with a sapphire the size of Sylvie’s thumbnail.

      Under different circumstances, Sylvie would have been intrigued. Right now she had more important things on her mind.

      “Get back and stay back,” she told her brother. “I don’t want you too close when he wakes up.”

      Kneeling, she cradled the man’s head in her lap, reached for the canteen and twisted out the stopper. She’d need to be careful, lest she cause him to choke.

      Raising his head, she tilted the canteen and gave him just enough water to wet his lips. He jerked reflexively, coughing and sputtering.

      “Careful,” she said. “Just a sip.”

      He groaned, stirring against her. His eyelids fluttered and opened.

      His eyes were a deep, dark blue, as blue as the sapphire on his finger. They stared up at her in blank surprise.

      “Where СКАЧАТЬ