Part 10 (1/2)

'Guy... that's why he was so hostile to me, isn't it?' she said, understanding suddenly lifting her voice. 'He saw through your plan from the start and thought I was your accomplice, either through design or ignorance. Either way, he couldn't help but feel contempt for me.'

The mask of affection and concern fell completely from Tony's face. 'You can think what you will,' he jeered. 'But can you write such drivel? It's sheer supposition. And a very unattractive picture of you, I might add: an ambitious reporter, struck silly by a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, throws herself at a wealthy man. When she's put in her place, she writes a false and malicious story in revenge.'

'That's not true!' she seethed.

'Isn't it? It's your word against mine, my dear, and I doubt very seriously whether anyone would believe you. Think about it for a moment, Sarah. You haven't got a single fact to back up any of your ravings. There's a word for that, Sarah- slander.' He jabbed a finger warningly in her face. 'If you print a word about these theories of Guy's-or these fantasies of yours about me trying to seduce you-my lawyers will break both you and your newspaper.'

They faced each other, anger snapping like an electric current between them. The harsh jangle of an alarm cracked the silence. 'Now what!' barked Tony, his eyes darting about the room in panic.

'It's the lifeboat call,' said Sarah, her voice a strangled whisper.

He burst past her, almost knocking her off her feet. He jerked open a closet door, pulled out a coat and lifejacket, and fled without a glance at her.

'Well,' she said, following after him, 'so much for the beautiful manners of the well-bred Mr Freeland!'

Stiff and awkward in their life jackets, Katie, Emily and Sarah huddled in the shelter of a stairway, beneath a fringe of dagger-sharp icicles. The officer in charge of their group had done his best to rea.s.sure them that the alarm was only a precaution, but they all sensed that the crisis had reached a critical point.

Katie's eyes were bright with unshed tears, her voice wistful. 'I haven't had a chance to say goodbye to Patrick, you know, Emily,' she said almost apologetically. 'I haven't seen him alone once since the storm hit.'

'Katie,' said Sarah brightly, 'this isn't the end for us-no one has given up! This is just some silly rule. Guy told me so!'

Astonis.h.i.+ngly, Emily's voice held no fear. 'I don't see any point in fooling ourselves, Sarah. A person has a responsibility to face something like this squarely. I only wish I could have had one moment with my husband. But I won't, you know... he'll do his duty to the last second. That's just the way he's made.'

'Maybe we can't always say our final goodbyes, my dear,' said Emily. 'But I believe with all my heart that where there's love between a man and a woman, it's not really necessary. Patrick knows your heart and thoughts are with him now, just as John knows mine are with him. The words don't have to be spoken aloud.'

Katie looked gratefully at Emily, one small tear sliding unheeded down her cheek. How lucky these women were, thought Sarah. Even now, faced with the possibility of their deaths, they found a transcending strength in the bonds of love they shared with their husbands.

She and Guy had spoken no words either. At least, none of the right ones. For too long her stubborn pride had kept her from admitting the truth. It was Guy who had commanded her respect and admiration; Guy to whom she had been instinctively drawn. And it was Guy whom she loved.

I love him, she thought, astonished. Yes... I love him, I love him. She said it over and over to herself, at once intrigued and enchanted by the Tightness and simple beauty of it.

The door slid open and a group of men, bulky in oilskins and lifejackets, crowded the deck. Sarah's heart rose squarely to her throat as she picked out his profile.

'Patrick,' said Captain Price, 'you and your men do everything within your power to help Guy.' Then, turning to Guy and laying a hand on his shoulder, he said simply, 'Good luck, son.'

'I can't believe it,' breathed Katie. 'He's actually going out there to try to make that repair!'

They surged forward to the sleet-glazed rail as the men clambered down the stairs to the main deck. Under lines festooned with swords of ice, Guy shrugged off his life-vest and bent to receive the thick safety harness the men heaved over his shoulders.

The reality of the sacrifice he was preparing to make in order to ransom their lives broke over Sarah with equal measures of pride and dismay. She studied his face through misting eyes. Already it was glazed with sharp crystals of ice. His brows and lashes were white and bristling.

His body was about to endure an appalling ordeal. A body she had once, for a brief moment, held so close to her own... and then rejected. If only she could hold him to her once again and comfort him with her own warmth! The rush of longing for him that swept through her left her weakened.

'Sarah?' Katie tugged at her sleeve. 'He'll make it-you'll see.'

'Oh, Katie,' said Sarah miserably, 'it's all wrong between us, and now I'll never be able to make it right!'

'Do... do you care for him, Sarah?' Katie asked gently.

Sarah nodded, blinking back the tears.

'Look! He's going.'

Guy climbed the few steps to the catwalk that ran out to the bow over the tangle of pipes that littered the deck. Patrick made one last check of the tool pack strapped to his back, then gave him two smart slaps on his bottom. Guy turned and raised his hand in a gesture of farewell, and for a second, Sarah was sure his eyes looked up and fixed on hers.

She stretched out her hand as if she might touch him, and opened her mouth to call out his name, to tell him, but the wind stole her words. Devastated, she watched him turn his back to her.

The Enterprise groaned and heaved herself clear of the sea. Guy, the line and clamp of his harness gripped in one hand, sprinted down the long steel path. As the next wave hit, he slammed the clamp -on to a metal safety bar that ran the length of the catwalk. Wedging himself between two large pipes, he held on with all the strength of his legs and arms.

A wall of glittering green water descended on him, hiding him from their eyes for agonising seconds. It finally swirled away, threatening to snap the cable that now looked so pathetically thin and suck him with it.

Again and again he performed the same desperate ritual: fighting forward a few feet, crouching, being pounded and spun around by the sucking, receding wave. It was bone-crus.h.i.+ng, exhausting work. They watched his painful progress in silence. Thoughts for their own wellbeing were forgotten as they followed the life-and-death drama of a single man.

When he reached the forward storage tank, he dropped down from the catwalk to the deck and snapped the harness on to a length of pipe beside the damaged valve cover. He had at least partial shelter there from the brunt of the waves. He pulled the tool pack from his back and set to work at once. He was forced to labour slowly and clumsily in insulated gloves, since the frozen metal would have torn the flesh from bare fingers.

He was only a small dot of colour that far away. His progress was followed through binoculars pa.s.sed from hand to hand down the rail. After long, dragging minutes, the man who held the gla.s.ses trained on his distant, toy-like figure gave a shout. Guy was waving his arms in a slow arc, giving them the signal that he had secured the damaged cover. A roar went up from the crowd.

'He's done it-by G.o.d, the man's done it!' someone cried. 'We'll get out of this yet!' And for the first time in many hours, they allowed themselves to hope.

But for Guy there was still the long, deadly run back to safety. He had to make it. After he had saved them, fate would be too cruel if it tore him away from them now. Silence fell on them again as he began to retrace his steps.

He was within one final sprint to the end, close enough for them to see the agony etched across his face. He was drawing on the very last of his reserves. The sinews of his neck stood out in sharp relief. His teeth were exposed in a clenched, hard line. As another dark wall of water rose above him, he lowered his head like a bull, his legs pumping furiously.

This time his luck did not hold. He managed to snap his harness to the bar, but as the water crashed over him, he could not find a hiding place. The pulling force of the retreating wave lifted him off his feet. The safety line pulled tight. Then, as a horrified gasp rose from the crew, it snapped with a noise like the crack of a pistol.

Sarah let out a long, agonised scream, sure she would see him swept overboard. Like a rag doll, he was tossed against a stand of pipes. As the Enterprise rose once more above the water, he was left hanging from the pipes, limp and seemingly without life. In the tiny whirlpools swirling beneath his dangling feet, a pool of blood grew large and tinted the water pink.

Patrick and his men made a desperate dash for him. There would be no second chances, they knew. The next wave would certainly pull him overboard. In the lull before it hit, they cut his swinging form free and dragged him in to safety.

Sarah stood in the doorway to the infirmary. They did not even see her, so fierce was their concentration. They knew his temperature had fallen close to the point where life can no longer be sustained. Warming him would have to come first, before they dealt with the head wound that had drained him of blood and consciousness.

His boots were yanked from him, releasing rivers of icy water. Scissors laid bare his arms and legs. Someone tore away his sweater front, exposing the tangled mat of curling dark hair. The skin that Sarah remembered as so hot and smooth was now frighteningly blue and shrivelled.

Her eyes followed the line of his narrow hip to where it swelled into the powerful muscle of his thigh. How very beautiful he was, she thought, grief constricting her throat.

A blanket snapped down over his body and four pairs of hands began kneading, urging life back into him. Silently, Sarah slipped out into the corridor.

By mid-morning, the storm had abated. As Patrick predicted, the sea was gla.s.sy smooth. Life aboard the Enterprise resumed its peaceful, graceful rhythm. People gathered in little knots to discuss their adventure and Guy's heroism, but an outsider would have seen nothing to indicate that anything out of the ordinary had happened.

Their elation over their own survival was tempered by the knowledge that Guy had not regained consciousness. As soon as the s.h.i.+p was within range of the coast, Sarah watched the Enterprise's Safety Officer leave as he had come. But this time, the helicopter was a Canadian Armed Services' rescue vehicle, and this time the pa.s.senger was strapped to a stretcher. There was no flas.h.i.+ng, hostile glance from him. Sarah gazed down on to eyes that were closed and sunken.

He didn't even bother to knock. Sarah looked up from her packing to see Tony barging into her cabin.