Shipwrecked (2 page)

She was perfect
from her fine boned figure to her golden hair; in fact, she was just what he
needed.  The excitement of finally seeing Anna Stanton with his own eyes after
passing weeks making the inquiries that had led him to her door was enough to
cause butterflies of giddy excitement to flutter in Murdock’s stomach.

“If you are here
to collect on my Father’s debts, you know damn well that there is nothing left
to collect!”  Anna said sternly, suddenly angered by this vile man, the next in
a long stream of similar individuals that she had been burdened with dealing
with since her father’s untimely death.

“Let’s not beat
around the bush, Anna.  What if I offered you a solution?  A solution that
would fix all of this…” Murdock offered, eyebrows arched in enticement as he
looked past Anna and into the shambles of her formerly well furnished,
prestigious home. 

Anna was suddenly
self conscious as she watched Murdock’s eyes scan the bare flagstone walls and
the empty foyer of Stanton Place.  Her pride stung as she remembered the
luxurious tapestries that had hung on the walls of Stanton Place and the
imported furniture that had filled its rooms. 

It wasn’t that she
had particularly loved any of these fine things, in fact it wasn’t that at
all.  Anna knew that she could live quite happily without any of the paintings,
tapestries or hand carved furniture that had adorned the Stanton Place of her
youth.  The problem was that her Mother had needed these things.  As each of
her prized possessions were sold at auction or carried away by eager neighbors,
Anna had watched a little more of the life drain out of her dear Mother.  The
ruin of Stanton Place was killing Claire Stanton, piece by piece.

“Have you ever
thought of traveling to the New World, Miss Stanton?”  Murdock asked his loaded
question, eyes shimmering with anticipation. 

“Let’s not beat
around the bush, Colonel Murdock,” Anna said sternly, parlaying Murdock with
his own words.  She was quickly growing annoyed with Murdock’s vague questions,
and her annoyance was evident as she folded her arms across her chest and took
a defensive stance in the doorway.

“I like your
spunk, Miss Stanton,” Murdock said appreciatively, never having liked the games
that most women played.  He preferred the direct approach that men more often
took.  “I quite believe that your current situation has made you wise beyond
your years in the way of dealing with business,” Murdock remarked approvingly
as he beheld the lovely young lady standing defensively in the doorway of the
shambles of her home.  She was absolutely, positively perfect, and Murdock was
determined to make this proposition take hold.

“Lay it on me,
Murdock,” Anna said, shifting her weight to one hip as she held Murdock’s
appraising gaze.  Anna Stanton was not the kind of woman who was easily
intimidated.

“I’ll be frank
with you, Miss Stanton, and I hope that I do not offend your fair notions by
doing so,” he said, eyebrows rising again as if in question.  “There is a lack
of well born women folk that are willing to travel to the New World.  At
present, men fair out number womenfolk four to one in the colonies and many of
our fine English Officers are hard pressed to find well bred women to take to
wife.”

Murdock paused,
looking up at Anna who was standing like a statue in the doorway, considering
the words that he had just spoken.  It donned on him that she had not invited
him inside the house, and that she stood like a sentry, guarding the doorway. 
The only difference was that she was a much more beautiful than the typical
sentry.  She had striking blonde hair and her hazel eyes were bright and clear,
resting beneath brows that were knitted together in contemplation of his
proposal.  Her nose was straight and her lips were full.  Murdock noticed that
she chewed on the corner of her full bottom lip, a habit that he knew that she
would stop if only she had been aware that she was doing it.  Anna Stanton was
a rare beauty, poor or not.  Murdock knew that his client would be most
pleased, most pleased indeed if he could interest Miss Stanton in the proposal
of marriage.

“My client wishes
to find a well bred English Lady to take to wife.  I know that despite your
present circumstances that you were born and bred into privilege, Miss
Stanton.  You are exactly the kind of Lady that my client is looking for.” 
Murdock said hopefully, hanging eagerly on Anna’s response.

“And what sort of
financial compensation would this marriage entail?” Anna asked directly, chin
held high and teeth gritted together.  She couldn’t believe that she had been
brought to this; contemplating selling herself to save her Mother, to save the
Stanton Family name.

“My client is an
Officer in the King’s Army in the New World.  He would pay handsomely for a
bride of your upbringing, of your status,” Murdock ventured, seeking to bolster
Anna’s pride.

            “How
much?” Anna asked sternly, shifting her weight to her other hip and unknowingly
scrunching her eyebrows together into a fierce scowl.

“Enough to fix all
of this, enough to bring Stanton Place back to its former glory.”

Anna thought for a
minute, again chewing absentmindedly on the flesh of her lower lip. 

“I’ll do it,” she
whispered, not believing that she had uttered the words out loud.  “I’ll do
it,” she repeated, this time with a ring of pride in her voice.  She hoped that
her father would be proud of her, and had the sudden image the Earl of Stanton
might just be rolling over in his grave.

Chapter Two

“Stay together!” 
Rowan thundered against the sheets of rain and ocean water that pummeled his
face as he looked into his brother’s eyes.  He knew that staying together was
their only chance at survival.  The storm raged around them, and the
Mary
Catherine
bucked to the right, preparing for her final descent into the
depths of the Atlantic.

 Rowan grabbed his
younger brother’s arm a little too firmly, causing Malcolm to wince. Fear
played openly across the boy’s face, and the trust that shown in his eyes when
he looked up at Rowan caused Rowan’s heart to clench.

 “
Lord, please
keep him safe,”
Rowan chanted in his mind, sending one last prayer for his
little brother’s safety heavenward.

“On the count of
three, we jump,” Rowan ordered, glancing at Quinn long enough to shoot him a
challenging glare, daring him not to follow.

“One….Two…Three!”
Rowan exclaimed, still holding Malcolm’s arm as the Murray brothers jumped into
the hostile waves of the Atlantic Ocean.

Malcolm surfaced
first, thankful to find that Rowan still had a hold of his left arm.  He was
trying to be grown up and stoic about this adventure, but the truth was that he
was bloody scared out of his right mind.  Rowan broke the surface of the water
and was surprised that it was warmer than he had expected.  He scanned the
water for Quinn, and reached out to grab his older brother’s shirt as he broke
the surface sputtering sea water.  He pulled Quinn towards them and thanked God
that they had remained together after jumping into the sea.

“Malcolm!” shouted
Quinn above the thundering noise of the waves.  “Try tae conserve yer
strength.  I ken that ye can swim, we all can, but we might be in the water for
awhile.”

“Alright,” nodded
Malcolm, eyes bulging from the terror of being adrift in the massive ocean at
the mercy of a raging storm.  At only 16 years of age, this was far more
adventure than Malcolm had bargained for.

“We’re gonna make
it!” Rowan yelled over the deafening waves, reassuring his little brother.  “We
just need tae stay together if we can.”

The sound of
desperate screaming drew their attention back to the sinking ship.  The
Mary
Catherine
was now lying helplessly on its side, taking in water quickly
with each passing wave that pummeled her hull.  The unfortunate souls that
could not swim clung to the sides and the railings of the vessel, screaming
frantically for help, mercy or any miraculous form of salvation.  A giant wave
swelled behind the ship and crashed over the top of it, wrenching the last passengers
from their grips on the ship and casting them to their deaths in the ocean.

“Lord have mercy
on them,” whispered Quinn under his breath.  Part of him still wished that he
had gone down with the ship, had remained shackled helplessly in the cargo hold.

The brothers
treaded water, working against the water to remain next to each other in the
waves.  The screams from the people who could not swim had gradually died off
as they had succumbed to their watery graves.  The ship was now completely
gone, falling towards its resting place at the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Help!” sputtered
a terror ridden female voice amongst the waves.  “Get off of me…you’re pulling
me under!” There was desperation heavy in her voice as she fought off a man
that could not swim, who was using her as a raft to save himself from certain
drowning.

Rowan looked over
his shoulder and saw the man clawing at the young woman, trying to climb atop
her and keep himself out of the water.  She fought him ferociously, sputtering
and kicking as he pushed her beneath the water. 

Enraged by the
man’s cowardice, Rowan swam towards the couple, skilled arms carrying him
deftly through the waves.  They were no more than twenty feet away, and he
cleared the distance in mere seconds, being an expert swimmer.

“Get off of her,
ye bastard!” Rowan yelled as he pushed the middle aged man away from the young
woman.  The man was wild with fear, clawing and grabbing at the woman’s dress,
sputtering as he inhaled the salty ocean water.  Treading water with his legs,
Rowan ripped the woman’s dress from the grips of the frantic man, trying to
free her so that she could swim.   The man caught her wrist and pulled her
beneath the water, again trying to climb atop her so that he could keep afloat.

Enough was
enough.  Rowan pulled back his fist and punched the man square in the jaw. 

“Leave her be!” he
commanded as he pulled the woman out of the grips of the man, clasping her
against his chest and kicking powerfully with his legs to put distance between
them and the desperate man.  Rowan leaned onto his back and pulled the woman to
his chest, wrapping his right arm under her right armpit and across her
breasts, tethering her to him as he swam away.

“It’s alright,
I’ve got ye,” he whispered against the salty skin of her cheek.

A sob racked her
body, and she relaxed against his muscled chest as he swam, allowing her head
to fall against his shoulder in exhaustion.

“Thank you,” she
said simply.  “He was going to pull me under, and I was so scared.”

Rowan immediately
noticed the ring of an English accent in her voice, and he gritted his teeth in
response.  He had more than one reason to hate the English.

“Can ye swim,
lass?” Rowan asked as he pulled her through the waves towards his brothers,
noticing that the waves were dying down as the worst of the storm had now
passed.

“Not very well, I
can keep myself afloat, but my dress keeps getting tangled up,” she said,
brushing her hair back from her face.

“Well, we need tae
get ye out of it then,” Rowan said matter-of-factly.

“My dress?” she
asked flabbergasted, her body tensing against his chest.

“Well, if ye canna
swim with it on, ye need tae get out of it,” Rowan said, this seeming to be a
perfectly logical solution in his mind.

“But I’ve only got
a shift on underneath my dress!” she exclaimed, clearly unnerved by Rowan’s
suggestion.

“It seems tae me
that if ye have the choice between drowning or stripping down tae yer shift,
the more logical choice would be tae get rid of yer dress,” Rowan said, vowing
that he would never understand women.

“Will you look at
me?” she asked, still tense against his chest as he closed the distance between
them and his brothers.

“No, I won’t look
at ye.  I promise tae be most respectable,” he grumbled, thinking that this was
surely a silly lass to be concerned with such modesty when she was in jeopardy
of drowning.  Then he realized that his right arm was in quite a precarious
position, right between her lovely breasts, pulling her lithe body close
against his as he swam.  Mayhap he would sneak a peek at her when she took of
the dress.

“Alright, can you
unlace the back of my dress then?” she asked, leaning forward to bear her laces
to him.

Rowan stopped
swimming and treaded water, struggling to rip out the laces from the back of
her gown as the salt water splattered his face.  He tore the laces free, and
felt the bodice of her gown give way.  Seeking to help her out of the confines
of the dress, he pulled the sleeve down her arm and jerked it roughly when it
seemed to catch on something.

“My bracelet!” she
screamed, flailing frantically in the water.  “Oh my God, is it caught in the
sleeve?” she asked frantically, hands searching the fabric of the soaked gown. 
“You lost it!” she screamed angrily, eyes piercing Rowan like daggers.  “It was
all I had left of them!”

“It’s gone lass,
I’m sorry, the sleeve was stuck and I just pulled it…” Rowan trailed off,
feeling guilty that the loss of this bracelet had upset her so much. 

The woman clung to
his shoulders and he helped her slip out of the skirt of the gown.  When her
legs were free, she started to tread water, now able to swim for herself.      Still
her hands clung around his shoulders, and it was only then that Rowan realized
how beautiful the young lady actually was.  Her blonde hair was unbound and
hung loosely about her face, curling slightly from the sea water.  A smattering
of freckles dusted her nose and her large hazel eyes were rimmed with thick
black lashes.  She clung to him trustingly and her hazel eyes focused on his.