The Lightkeeper's Woman

Let me live. I swear I’ll make amends. I’ll never miss church again. I’ll give more time to the poor.

Please, I don’t want to die.

A viselike grip wrapped around the collar of her dress.

Death had come to claim her.

She clawed at the hand and kicked her legs wildly. She would not go into the underworld without a fight.

But her body was beyond exhaustion and Death was too strong. It pulled her through the water.

Then suddenly, she broke through the surface of the water. Air! She sucked in oxygen as rain pelted her face. The hard edge of a boat scraped against her belly before she unceremoniously landed in the bottom of a boat.

Alanna collapsed on her side, coughing. Chilled to the bone, she lay still for a moment as she filled and refilled her body with oxygen. Slowly, her mind cleared enough for her to realize she was safe.

“Mr. Crowley?” she said, her eyes still closed.

“Crowley’s gone.” Anger tinged a raspy voice.

“Where?”

He draped a worn blanket over her shivering body. “Back toward the mainland.”

Her teeth chattering, she clutched the rough blanket with trembling hands. So cold. “He left me.”

“Yes.”

She huddled under the blanket. “Am I dead?”

“No, you’re very much alive.”

She nearly wept with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Black-booted feet braced on either side of her. “Don’t thank me yet. We’re far from safe.”

She opened her eyes. Rain dropped on her face, making it difficult to focus.

Her rescuer’s face was turned toward the lighthouse’s steady beacon, but she could see that he was dressed in a heavy black coat and wore a stocking cap. His shoulders were broad, his legs powerfully built. Large callused hands gripped the oars.

Tears tightened her chest. What little strength remained, the cold now sapped. Struggling to think, she closed her eyes and slipped into unconsciousness.

Caleb glanced down at Alanna. Curled on the bottom of his boat, she was breathing, but she looked painfully small and her blond curls were matted against her pale skin.

She’d need warm, dry clothes soon or the cold would suck the life from her. But for now, all he could do for her was get her to shore.

Caleb set his sights on the lighthouse shore. His body was well conditioned to the hard work but soon the winds would be too much for him.

The dory bumped against the sandy shore thirty minutes later. He jumped from the boat and yanked it onto land. Rain pelted his face as he tied the boat line to the moorings of a small dock.

He quickly stowed the oars in the boat bottom and lifted Alanna into his arms. Even with the weight of her damp clothes and cape, he could tell she’d lost weight. Alanna had always been vibrant and alive, never frail.

The years had taken a toll on them both.

The thought offered Caleb no satisfaction as he hoisted her against his chest and started toward the small white-framed cottage just a hundred yards from the base of the lighthouse. A black shutter had come loose from its lock and banged in the wind against the side of the house. A rooster-shaped weather vane atop the roof spun wildly in circles.

He glanced up toward the lighthouse to make sure the light still burned bright. Satisfied when he saw its steady flash, he strode up the five steps to the porch and pushed through the front door.

Water dripped from his clothes and Alanna’s skirts as he strode down the darkened hallway toward a back room he reserved for the rescued. He laid her on a bed outfitted with fresh sheets.

Caleb pulled off his wet gloves and lit a lamp and then the preset fire in the hearth. He waited until flames flickered, sparked and spit out the first bit of warmth.

He drew back, shrugged off his coat and hung it on the back of a wooden chair before turning his attention to Alanna.

He raised the lantern. Her damp blond ringlets blanketed her face and her gloved fingers were curled into small fists as if she still fought for her life.

He touched her cheek, needing to reassure himself that she was real. Her skin felt cold, but her breathing sounded stronger.

The wet clothes were seeping the warmth from her body and if he didn’t undress her soon, what the storm hadn’t accomplished, hypothermia would.

He set down the lamp on a small bedside table and flexed his fingers. His outrage remained as raw as the day of the inquest—the day she’d refused to see him.

Annoyed, he reminded himself that he’d stripped many a near-drowned sailor. And buttons and bows aside, the job remained the same.

The sooner he set about the task, the sooner it would be over.

Lifting her foot, he yanked at the laces of her boots, then tugged each off and tossed them on the floor. “Why couldn’t you stay away?”

She moaned softly at the sound of his voice but remained unconscious.

Caleb unfastened the clasp at the base of her throat and pulled off her cape, made five times heavier by the water. He was amazed she’d stayed afloat as long as she had wearing the contraption.

Most men or women couldn’t swim, but Alanna’s father had had a healthy respect for the sea and had insisted his daughter learn as soon as she could walk.

And she’d always been a fighter.

There’d been a time when he’d known her body intimately. Touching her had been as natural as breathing. Now he felt like an interloper.

Irritated, Caleb stripped off her clothes as quickly as he could manage. He then grabbed a blanket from the edge of the bed and laid it over her. He tucked the folds around the edge of her slim body and moved her to the other, drier, side of the bed.

An involuntary shiver escaped her lips as if she were finally wrestling the chill from her bone. She looked so small, so helpless.

Caleb stood back and dug a hand through his wet hair. His fingers brushed the rough skin of the scar on the right side of his face. “You shouldn’t have come.”

As he turned to leave, she rolled on her side and curled her knees up to her chest. “Caleb.”

Chapter Four

T he instant Alanna stepped out onto Patterson Shipping’s docks Caleb Pitt had noticed her. He’d also not been happy to see her. Still, Alanna kept walking, drawn like a moth to a flame.