Wesley
Reynolds will do anything to avenge his family’s banishment from Dundhragon
Castle even throw in with the notorious pirate, MacAlpin. His plan, ruin Lord
Ewan’s trading network. He has a more devious plan for his father’s ‘best
friend,’ the man who abandoned them at the eleventh hour. He’ll ruin the man’s
most precious jewel, his daughter Darla. Wesley’s so close to ruining the trade
network and succeeding he can almost taste it, but revenge is not nearly as
sweet as Darla’s kisses.
Darla
Maxwell, beloved by her parents has no prospects of marriage. Her father and
Lord Ewan search to find her the right husband. Darla’s special gifts are
frightening to many. She has visions that often come true. The murky image of a
man haunts her, she’s sure it’s Lord Ewan’s soon-to-be son-in-law, but the
vision morphs when she meets Wesley. The meaning couldn’t be any clearer to
her, her destiny lies with Wesley.
The Pirate's Jewel - Excerpt
She closed her eyes. Once again, she was
seven. After all these years the memory still haunted her.
The day was cold and damp. The gray mist
that hung low over the water made seeing difficult.
“Why did you insist on coming here
today?” her mother asked as they walked along the narrow rock-littered strip
between the cliff wall and water.
“Something made me come here. Now I fear
I may be too late,” she said softly.
A woman’s frightened scream pierced the
air and brought them to a halt. Darla’s eyes widened. Her pulse quickened as
the cry echoed along the stone wall making it hard to locate its source. The
scream came again, this time desperate and terrified.
Darla’s legs pounded along the shore, her
ears strained for any clue as to where to find the woman. Another wail, painful
and pitiful broke the silence. In the thinning haze not far away, she saw the
woman weeping at the water’s edge by the base of the rock spur that reached far
into the water and disappeared into the gray mist.
“Help me, please. My boy,” the woman
pleaded and pointed into the mist. “He went out in a boat with a friend. I told
him not to go, but he insisted.”
Darla’s mother tried to calm the woman,
but nothing helped.
“I’ll never forget the sound of the boat
crashing against the rocks. I called out to him, but he never answered.” Tears
traced down the woman’s cheeks. Her mother cried with her.
This was why she was drawn here today.
She ran down the rock spur. Pieces of wood floated in the water.
“Here,” another boy called. “I tried to
reach him, but he’s down too deep.”
Without hesitation, she dove in the water
as she had done a hundred times. Down she swam to see what she could find.
Over and over she dove to the bottom and
searched. People gathered on the shore, some out on the spur.
Her mother begged her to stop, but the
agony of the boy’s mother’s sobs pushed Darla to her limits. She wouldn’t stop
until she found him.
She climbed onto the rocks for a wider
look and concentrated, the boy’s friend not far away.
“As above, so below, as within, so
without, I ask for help and a clear mind, show me where the boy to find, so
mote it be.” She repeated the words over and over.
Her hand brushed the small pouch she
wore. Another deep breath and she dove back into the water. It was a foolish
chant, but one that helped her focus. For a moment, she hung suspended trying
to find inspiration on where to search next.
A movement to her right caught her
attention. The vision of her sea dragon rushed up from below and darted in
front of her. She followed and skimmed along the bottom until she reached an
underwater cliff. Could the boy have fallen to the valley below?
She didn’t hesitate. Darla rose to the
surface, took a breath, and dove for the cliff. Deeper and deeper she went
passing the edge of the cliff and deeper still until she reached the valley
bottom. Sunlight barely touched this place. As dark as it was, she managed to
make out debris from the boat. She knew the boy was near and rushed on to find
him.
Her lungs demanded air, but she kept on
going. She feared she was already too late. Mud and debris swirled beyond the
large boulder in front of her. She hurried, reached for the rock and pulled
herself around. The mud settled and the outline of a boy pulling on a rope
caught in the debris emerged.
She wasted no time as she and the boy
worked the clumsy knot until it fell away. With renewed energy, she grabbed
him, kicked off the bottom and pulled for the surface with her free arm. Her
lungs burned as she fought the instinct to take a breath. The light grew
brighter as they raced up, but the surface remained beyond her reach. Her legs
ached, her arm tired, her lungs were on fire.
The boy slipped in her grip. It would be
so easy to let him go and swim to safety, but that wasn’t a choice. She
repositioned him and felt his arm tighten around her.
She kicked hard and rushed to the surface
as if pushed from beneath. She looked down, the image of her sea dragon forcing
her to the top.
Up they went the water brighter with each
stroke. No more air. Just. Keep. Kicking. Pull. Stretch. One. More. Time. With
energy she didn’t think she had, she stretched her arm over her head and felt
air. She looked beneath her. Her sea dragon was gone.
Darla and the boy broke through the
water. Arms grabbed the boy from her grasp. He was safe. They were both in a
boat. But still, she didn’t take a breath. Strong fingers held her chin and
wiggled her face.
She opened her mouth and sprang up
gulping for air.
“Now, now, sit back.” A gentle hand
pushed her down.
“She’s fine,” the man shouted over the
noise. “Come Lass, we’ll have you back to your mother. You gave her quite a
scare. If you’re worried about the other boy, he’s safe.”
Darla didn’t struggle. She didn’t have
the strength. Her arms ached, her chest heaved, thankful for each breath and
thankful the boy had enough strength to help get them to the top.
As the men rowed to shore, she silently
said a prayer of thanks. She had brought him home.
The men moved them quickly from the boat
on to the shore. A tingling at the back of her neck made her turn. She stared
into the dark insolent eyes of the boy on the rocks. He said nothing, simply
turned and walked away.
The men carried the boy to shore, his
mother ran to his side.
“Mother,” he murmured.
The woman bent close to hear him.
Darla turned her head and gazed into the
boy’s eyes that were filled with intelligence and gratitude. Her eyes went wide
and her heart pounded against her chest. She pulled away from her mother and
rushed to him.
He held her hand and bit his bottom lip
over and over. She bent her ear to his mouth but heard only a whisper. His
grasp weakened. A smile spread across his face before water dribbled from his
lips and his eyes clouded over. Nothing she or the others did could save the
boy or console the grief-stricken mother. Her sobs continued as they carried him
away.
Wrapped in a blanket, her mother slid her
arms around her as they sat on the shore.
“What good is my gift if all I am is a
useless witness?” She spat out the words.
“You brought the boy to his mother for
him to say goodbye. Maybe that is why you were here, not to save him, but to
save her.”
That was powerful. I held my breath too, as she struggled back up to the surface.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad you enjoyed it!!
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