The Captain's Lady (2 page)

Abby struggled to grasp what they were saying as the heavy cotton cocooning her mind began to fade. In the background, the familiar language and clipped words rekindled a vague memory. The feel of secure, caring hands gently lifting, a sensation of being moved, and then lowered to a hard surface. The vibration of a motor shook the deck, the awareness of the cold hard surface against her back and then, just as suddenly, a flush of warmth. Peace flowed through her as the vivid dream became clearer. It was a welcoming comfort to her raw senses.

Again that sharp pain exploded in her side. The sound of a faint moan in the distance and the surrealness of the moment gradually converged. She realized the moan had come from her. Her eyelids were heavy as she battled to open them, then the hazy images of several uniformed men appeared. She blinked to clear her vision. An immense shadow swept overhead. Her breath caught at the sight of the most magnificent brown, gold-flecked eyes, hovering in glowing radiance like an angel's. The angel dissolved into a man in a short sleeve tan uniform. There was unmasked concern in his eyes, along with confidence and strength emanating from his muscular frame. She was overcome by a need to reach out and touch this warm apparition, then deluged in a blur of questions.
Was this real or a hallucination?

Again the sear of pain shot through her, this time from sturdy hands probing her ribs. Carefully sucking in a breath, she heard the comforting words of reassurance murmured from another man nearby. She looked at the light, rumpled hair on his round freckled face, and the kind blue eyes that met hers. His mouth moved, but the sound was muffled. Confused and unsure, she heard stuttered words as in a raspy voice she asked, “W-where am I?"

A steady hand feathered along her shoulder and she once again looked up, connecting with the already familiar brown eyes of this ruggedly handsome angel.

"It's going to be okay."

His words were soothing and filled with hope.

Eric watched the flow of emotions, stunned by the magnificence of her baby blue eyes. They reminded him of the clear blue ocean of some of the cleanest southern waters he had ever seen. Only there was fear lurking in those eyes.

"Are you an angel?"

"Oh that's one he's definitely not been called before.” The muttered words came from one of the crewmembers, and were followed by resounding snickers from the crew hovering behind.

Smiling at the obvious disillusionment, he rasped a steady hand over the rough growth of beard that insisted on appearing so early in the day. “I'm Captain Hamilton with the US Navy; you're aboard my ship, the USS Larsen. We recovered your dinghy off the starboard bow. Can you tell me how long you were out there? Where you came from?"

The unmasked confusion in those fragile eyes turned to desperation. “The United States Navy?” The emotion in her voice was heartbreaking as tears spilled over, slowly tracing a path down the sides of her face.

A strong hand closed around her trembling one, gently anchoring it over her chest. Abby blinked but could see only the outline of the captain overhead. Reaching up she swiped at the pooled tears, trying to make some sense of the scene before her.

Her physical weakness was apparent. But there was a strength and fight that existed deep within that shaky hold, and it refused to let go. A measure of relief mixed with uncertainty strained in those glorious blue eyes. He spoke to reassure. She was so vulnerable, and something else he could not quite put his finger on. Never having seen it in a woman before, it left him with a fierce desire to protect her. “Can you tell me your name?"

"Abby. My name is Abby Carlton,” she said, her voice dry and raspy.

"Abby. You're safe."

The freckled-faced man again moved in front of the captain. He carefully lifted her head and pressed a cup to her lips. “Abby, take a drink of water."

But he didn't need to tell her. She groped desperately with her lips. He allowed her to take a small sip before pulling the cup away and lowering her head.

"How long was I ... out there?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

The gentle squeeze of reassurance on her arm began to ease the thick confusion that riddled her mind. Abby was glad the other man moved back, allowing the captain once again to watch over and shield her from the others.

She fought to gather some semblance of time. “I don't know, maybe two days.” Her voice shook as the agitation rose. Then she braced her hand on the gray, non-skid surface of the deck in a vain attempt to sit up.

Anticipating this, Eric placed his hands on her shoulders, staying any further progress. “No, just lie still Abby, the doc needs to see how badly you're hurt.” Two crewmen lowered a litter beside him; he stood and moved back to allow them room.

With well-honed precision and confidence, the crewmen lifted her, allowing the blanket to fall away. The rumble of voices from the crew masked Eric's shock as his stomach tightened at the sight of her advanced state of pregnancy.

Glimpsing the fear-widened eyes as the crewmen adjusted the straps to secure her to the litter, he squatted beside her, placing his sturdy hands on her shoulders, then moving his face closer to hers. “Abby, I need you to look at me. Calm down, you're safe. Right now, we're strapping you to the litter to move you to sickbay. I need you to tell me that you understand."

Abby searched his eyes, then reached out, snatching at his shirt-front as uncontrolled panic rose up and threatened to take hold. She wanted to regain control over her slippery emotions. To do so, she focused on the intensity and powerful magnetism, the subtle weatherworn lines, and allowed his soothing words to penetrate her wounded soul.

"Take a breath. Slow down. Let it out slowly. Come on. That's it. Good girl. Keep your eyes on me, Abby.” His even and controlled words forced her to concentrate on him alone. The tenuous grip eased as he covered her hands in an unyielding hold. “Good girl.” His smile was intoxicating as he reached up and smoothed back her hair, a gentle caress of his thumb feathering across her forehead, lingering for a few seconds; long enough to imprint the soothing touch deep into her senses.

"Captain, I need to get her to sickbay."

With a firm nod, he gave the order without turning away. “Okay, Doc. Abby, I'm right behind you.” With a tender squeeze of reassurance, Eric released his grip.

The crewmen moved in, lifting in one swift motion with a steady, practiced control. Stepping back to allow them room, Eric fell in behind as they carried her toward the hatch. The XO ordered all the crew back to work.

"How bad do you think it is, Doc?"

"Don't know,” he whispered. “I think her ribs might be cracked and she's definitely dehydrated, but I'm most concerned about the baby.” Stopping briefly while the crew maneuvered her through the passageway, he seized the opportunity to drive the point home. “We're not equipped for this."

"I understand.” They fell in together behind the litter. “You just say the word and we fly her off."

In sickbay, Larry took charge. Abby was lowered onto the exam table. The crewmen paused briefly, gazing at Abby lying helpless on the table.

"That'll be all,” Eric dismissed them.

Moving to the foot of the exam table, he crossed his arms as Lt. Lynn, his assistant, sheared Abby's garments and replaced them with a sheet. For a moment, Eric wondered about the appropriateness of staying to watch. But when he looked into her eyes, the silent plea that reached out was all the permission he needed.

He picked up the edge of concern as he listened to the discussion, the issued orders, then the relayed results between the Doctor and Lt. Lynn. He caught a direct glance from the doctor, a curt reminder of his earlier concerns.

Each time she looked up, that protective presence loomed at the foot of the table. Arms crossed, watching. This strength reached out and gave her hope that she was indeed safe. While releasing a careful sigh, the spell was broken by a gentle touch on her shoulder. Only then did she realize the doctor was talking to her. “How far along are you in your pregnancy?"

She hesitated when someone placed a towel over her breasts before pulling the sheet down to expose her swollen belly. Hands probed and groped. “I'm not sure. I think I have another three weeks."

A short nod. “When was the last time you felt the baby move?"

Shaking her head, Abby felt a wave of panic soar when she could not remember. “I don't know. It's been a while. Is my baby okay?"

"Right now I just want you to stay calm. I'm checking everything out and in a minute we're going to listen to the baby's heart."

Abby did not miss the look exchanged with the captain. Although unable to see his face, she sensed rising anxiety.

The captain appeared at Abby's left side. Looking down, he held her shimmering gaze, refusing to allow the frightened eyes to peer away. “Let the doc finish his exam before you panic, okay? Just relax."

"Okay.” She turned her head into the warm comfort of the supportive hand, which now lightly brushed the side of her face.

"Abby, I'm going to listen to the baby's heartbeat; this may be a little cold.” He placed the stethoscope in a few spots on her belly, counting the beats while looking at his wristwatch. Nodding a visible relief, he draped the stethoscope around his neck and smiled down at her. “The baby sounds good."

The sharp pinch in her chest was a stark reminder she'd been holding her breath. Letting it out in a whoosh, she felt raw emotions flood to the surface and tears escaped in a flurry.

She reached for his arm, pulling him close while Eric allowed her the release she so desperately needed, all the while whispering encouraging words of support. Abruptly she reached up to swipe at the tears pooled in her eyes with the back of a shaky hand. Embarrassed by the outburst, a heated blush crept up her neck at the severe hold she had on this man whom she barely knew. “I'm sorry.” Then she stiffened as wariness dimmed the light in those baby blue eyes. She pulled back, taking refuge behind an invisible barrier.

He glanced over at Larry, noting the subtle incline of his head. He touched her shoulder gently. “I need to talk to the doc for a minute."

"Lieutenant, check her vitals again in a few minutes and see if you can get some juice into her."

"Yes sir."

Keeping a close watch as the two men moved across the room, Abby tried to make out the words they spoke in muted tones. Weary and unnerved by the sheer uncertainty of the situation, she clenched the sheet covering her naked body. Then a distinct movement beside her blocked the captain and doctor from view. Lt. Lynn was wrapping the blood pressure cuff once again around her arm, squeezing the pump, methodical as he rechecked her vitals. Taking off the cuff, he slipped his hand underneath her shoulders to support her neck and head.

"Abby, I want you to take a drink of juice for me."

Gripping the cup, she held it to her lips, relishing the sweetness of the apple juice.

"So, Doc, tell me, what's the verdict? How is she?” Eric said, glancing Abby's way.

Larry squeezed the back of his neck, wincing. “She's extremely dehydrated and I suspect her body is breaking down protein, which could be a problem for the baby. Although once we get her hydrated and get some food into her, we should see an improvement.” Crossing his arms and cocking his head to the side, he studied this battered waif lying on the exam table. “I am concerned about her ribs; she's tender, but I don't think they're broken or cracked. Her right ankle is slightly swollen and from the looks of things I would say there's a mild sprain. But it's definitely not broken."

Clenching his jaw as Larry ran through details of her injuries, Eric felt the familiar twitch in his cheek, the suppressed offense at the visual image that popped into his mind of someone beating her.

"Whoever did this didn't just slap her around, they used their fists on her. It looks like her face got the worst of it; the bruises are a few days old.” He sucked in a deep breath before continuing, “The baby seems okay. The heartbeat is strong. But remember, I'm not an obstetrician. I can only do cursory examinations.” He gestured at Abby with the flat of a hand.

Eric looked over his shoulder at the dark purple bruise outlined on her cheek, and the slightly swollen left eye, which was the same collage of coloring as her jaw. Her lips were dry and cracked. Underneath the damage from the sun, it was clear to see a swollen and split lower lip. He could almost envision the backhand that clipped her there. Obviously it was the source of the sprinkled blood on her now-discarded dress. A murderous blanket of vengeance waved its hand in his face, as he thought,
just let me find who did this and give me five minutes alone with the bastard.

Her startling beauty suddenly struck him, as he continued to watch her from across the room. It was soft, subtle, hidden beneath the colorful palette of bruising that shadowed her face. He could even imagine, past the swollen belly, the curves that had been in all the right places, perfectly proportioned.

Eric himself was no saint, he had been in his share of scraps and fights, but it went against everything he believed in to hit a woman. Any man that would stoop so low was not a man in his book. You were supposed to love and protect them, not use them as punching bags. This was almost too much for him to fathom. It brought a vivid memory crashing back; an incident that happened a few years ago when they were in homeport in San Diego. One night at the local pub, while playing pool with a few friends from the Navy, he watched a scene unfold between a drunken sailor and his girlfriend. Their irritated voices had gained in volume when the sailor started getting a little rough with the girl. Abruptly he reached over and slapped her across the face. An instant fire rose up in Eric and boiled over before he could contain it. Unable to turn away, he saw red flash before his eyes, just as his carefully hidden demons showed themselves. Before his friends realized what was going on, he stormed over and heaved the sailor up by his shirtfront. He laid in two good jabs to his face before his friends grabbed him and hauled him off the sailor, now sprawled on the floor. Blood trickled down from his mouth. His eyes were a portrait of iciness as he sat there; not once did he try to fight back. The girls’ reaction disgusted Eric when she ran over to the sailor, crying and screaming obscenities at Eric for hurting him.