Robert kept a tight hold of Ianthe’s hand, muttering under his breath as they hurried along the edge of the harbour wall towards the lifeboat station, a large wooden shed with a steep slipway into the water.
‘The boat’s in here!’ he shouted over the tempest, pulling her into the shelter.
‘Phew!’ Ianthe pushed back her hood once they were inside, revealing red cheeks and glittering eyes.
‘Changed your mind?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Not at all.’
He glowered, knowing it was useless to argue. Insane as it was, he didn’t have a good enough argument to stop her from helping. Just as long as she didn’t do anything crazy like want to go out on the lifeboat itself—which he absolutely would not allow—she ought to be safe enough.
‘There are blankets and medical supplies in that cupboard. We won’t be able to take a cart in this weather so you’ll have to carry everything you need. Hopefully you’ll have some help, but I’ll need some people to carry oars, too. Just remember to wrap up the blankets so they don’t get wet. And walk on the leeward side of the boat for shelter.’
She nodded, rifling through the cupboard and making a pile by the door as men started to arrive. Robert watched for a moment, nodding in approval before turning his attention to the volunteers.
‘Ready?’ He pushed open the doors of the shed with an effort, then shouted directions to the others as they lifted the boat up and carried it backwards out on to the harbourside. Once there, they rested it precariously on its side, before flipping it over so that the hull was pointing upwards, making it easier to carry. Slightly easier anyway, he thought ironically, counting the number of volunteers. There were twenty-four altogether, himself included, twenty for the boat, another four for equipment. That would have to be enough.
‘All right, lads? Nice evening for a stroll, eh?’ There was a cheer as he took his place at the head of the lifeboat and they lifted it up on to their shoulders, setting off at a crawl.
He twisted his head, trying to catch sight of Ianthe. There was no risk of her not keeping up at such a slow pace. The biggest danger was in the fierce gusts of wind trying to blow them into the harbour. As they reached the bridge, however, he caught sight of her, walking exactly where he’d instructed, holding a huge tarpaulin bundle in her arms. There were a couple of other women with her, too, also carrying bundles. He gave a reluctant smile. Unpredictable and skittish as she was, there was something indomitable about his wife, too. He doubted he’d have been able to stop her from helping even if he’d tried.
They reached the eastern side of the harbour and turned right, away from the steep cliff steps and towards the road that ran along the side of the Esk before curving gently up the hillside. It was a longer route, but they had no choice. The storm was showing no sign of abating and the stone steps were streaming with water. If even one man slipped and fell, the rest might go down with him, dragging the boat down on top of them. He couldn’t risk that.
Instead, they trudged on for what felt like hours, stopping every so often, though not for long. Rest brought no relief, only an increase in anxiety as he looked out at the turbulent sea, thinking of the stricken ship. At least when they were moving, they were doing something. When they stopped, he could feel precious seconds slipping away, seconds that might be needed later. There were only a couple of hours of daylight left and they had to make the most of them.
At last they came within sight of the bay, a secluded cove with a sweeping expanse of sand and rock. At any other time, the view might have been beautiful, but now his gaze was drawn inexorably towards the vessel on the sandbank. It was still in one piece, though barely. Towering waves were pounding the sides as if determined to break them apart, enveloping the rigging in a raging torrent of froth and foam, while the mast was broken already, hanging uselessly over one side as if admitting defeat, though he could see men clinging to it, too, their desperation obvious even from a distance.
The sight seemed to give his own men fresh impetus as they accelerated their pace down the narrow path that led to the beach, going so fast that he had to warn them to be careful. At long last, however, they made it, dropping the boat on to the sand before flipping it over again.
‘Ianthe?’ He hurried over to her as the men distributed oars, needing to make sure she was all right before doing anything else.
She smiled, though her exhaustion was obvious. ‘Aren’t you glad I wear sensible boots now?’
‘Extremely.’ He managed an answering grin.
‘Be careful, Robert. Please.’
He didn’t need any other encouragement, sweeping her into his arms and kissing her with an ardour he hadn’t known he possessed, savouring the taste and feel of her lips until they were both breathless.
‘I will.’
He released her just as abruptly, striding back down the beach and jumping aboard the lifeboat as it launched into the water.
Ianthe watched the lifeboat bounce up and down on the roaring waves, half-terrified, half-enthralled by the sight. It didn’t seem possible that something so small could attempt something so daunting, but it was ploughing through the water like a teetering arrow seeking its target.
She turned away, unable to bear the sight any longer, searching instead for a sheltered spot on the hillside, somewhere to take the crew once they were rescued, but there was nothing, nowhere, not so much as a dip where they could build a fire. There’d be nowhere to warm them whilst they waited for the carts Robert had arranged to collect them once the storm was over.
‘They’ve reached them!’ one of the other women called out.
‘What’s happening?’ She didn’t dare to turn her head.
‘They’re throwing a line. It’ll take a couple of trips to get them all, I reckon.’
Two trips! Her heart stalled. She could barely stand the tension of one.
‘Is the line holding?’
‘Can’t tell. Wait...’
‘What?’ She whirled around just in time to see a particularly huge wave hit the side of the merchant ship, sending the rigging teetering over precariously. Instinctively, she gripped the other woman’s arm for support.
‘They’ll be swept away!’
‘No.’ The other woman shook her head with an air of authority. ‘That ship’s stuck fast on the sandbank, don’t you worry. Your husband’ll get them back. Look, he’s pulling some of them in now!’
Ianthe watched in agitation as the lifeboat came about, heading back towards the shore with five members of the shipwrecked crew aboard. Once it reached the shallows, she ran with the other women to help, splashing out into the water to help the weary sailors back on to dry land, wrapping blankets around their shoulders as they sank to the ground in weary relief.
‘Does anyone need bandaging?’ She moved between them, passing around a bottle of gin as she tried not to notice the lifeboat bobbing away again.
‘Thank you, miss.’ One of the crewmen grabbed her hand, squeezing it in gratitude. ‘We thought we were done for.’
‘You’re safe now.’ She smiled reassuringly. ‘We’ll get you back to Whitby soon.’
Though exactly how they were going to manage such a feat, she thought anxiously, was a whole other matter. The rescued sailors were exhausted, shivering and probably starving, too, lying immobile on the sand as they watched their sinking ship with expressions of morbid fascination. Some of them looked half-unconscious already. None of them were in any fit state to walk, though if they stayed where they were they’d freeze for certain. Not to mention that the lifeboat crew would be wet and exhausted, too. It was already obvious that the few supplies she and the other women had managed to carry weren’t going to be anywhere near enough. They needed more help and quickly.
‘They’re coming back!’ a sailor called out and she looked up at once. He was right. The lifeboat was swinging around a second time. Just in time, too. The ship looked as though it were about to be snapped in two by the force of the waves. Urgently, she counted the number of heads in the lifeboat, shoulders slumping with relief as she caught sight of black hair.
That was it. She couldn’t just stand there and watch any longer. If they didn’t find help or shelter then all of this would have been for nothing. They’d freeze before the carts ever came for them.
‘I’m going for help!’ she shouted over the wind to the woman standing beside her.
‘It’s almost dark!’ The woman looked at her as if she’d run mad.
‘That’s why I have to go now!’
She grasped her skirts in one hand and made her way determinedly back up the cliff path, walking as fast as she dared. The sky was a mottled dark grey, though the rain had eased slightly, allowing occasional moonbeams to break through the cloud and illuminate the path ahead of her. Her feet felt like lead, but she refused to stop and turn back. There had to be somewhere she could go, someone to turn to for help, even if she had to walk the whole way back to Whitby and demand that the carts follow her at once!
She reached the top of the cliff at last and sat down, straining to get her breath back. Strange how being outside now didn’t bother her. She wasn’t afraid of the open space or the sky or even the wildness of the elements any more. Instead, she let out a sob of relief as she made out the faint shadowy outline of the lifeboat below, finally returning to shore. Robert was safe. Until that moment, she hadn’t truly realised how much she cared, but now she knew the full, terrifying extent of her feelings. She hadn’t come to rescue the crewmen, though she’d truly wanted to help. She’d come because the thought of being away from him, of his being in danger without her there to help, had been too much to bear.
She heaved herself back to her feet, turning in the direction of Whitby before spinning around again abruptly, hoping her eyes weren’t deceiving her and she wasn’t simply imagining what she wanted to see—a cluster of lights in the distance, just below her in the next bay. Lights—which meant houses! She started towards them at once, slipping and sliding her way unsteadily down another path as she made her way towards a row of fishermen’s cottages.
‘Help!’ She pounded frantically on the first door.
‘What on earth?’ The door swung open almost at once, revealing a middle-aged woman with a friendly face and curly hair tied up in a scarf. ‘What are you doing out in this weather, miss? Come inside.’
‘There’s a shipwreck!’ Ianthe grasped the woman’s hand desperately. ‘The crew have been rescued, but they need shelter. Help me...please!’
A man emerged out of the darkness of the cottage, already pulling on a coat and hat. ‘I’ll get the others.’
‘There you go, miss.’ The woman smiled reassuringly. ‘The lads’ll go and fetch them. Why don’t you come in and rest? I’m Nancy.’
‘No.’ Ianthe shook her head. She’d no intention of resting, not until Robert was there beside her. ‘I have to go with them.’
‘All right then.’ The woman moved away from the door for a moment, before returning with a mug of tea. ‘But drink this first. You look like you need something.’
‘Thank you.’ She gulped the liquid down gratefully, feeling a deep sense of relief as a group of fishermen started to gather behind her with lanterns.
‘Now then, miss.’ The man at the head gave her a terse nod. ‘Let’s go.’
* * *
Robert was the last man out of the lifeboat, relishing the feeling of wet sand beneath his feet as he threw off his cork life jacket and staggered back up the beach. It had been one of the worst rescues they’d ever attempted, the currents even more treacherous than he’d anticipated, but amazingly they’d succeeded without any losses. That fact alone made him feel buoyant despite the freezing conditions. The dangerous part was behind them. Now they just had to get the hell out of there.
He looked up at the cliffs with a fresh sense of dread. He’d left instructions for carts to follow and collect them once the storm had abated, but it would be slow going at night, and the horses wouldn’t be able to get down the cliff path, which meant that the exhausted men would have to climb up and on to the exposed clifftop. He didn’t relish the thought of telling them so, but it was the only way. They had to wait for another rescue now.
Before he did anything else though, he had to find Ianthe and make sure she was safe. No—more than that—he wanted, needed to pull her into his arms again and kiss her with even more thoroughness than before. Her willingness to help that evening, not to mention the way she’d kept up without so much as a murmur of complaint, had shown yet another side to her character. She’d surprised him again. She seemed to surprise him every day. Somehow he felt as though just seeing her again would give him the strength to get back up the cliff side.
He re-joined the others and came to an abrupt halt. ‘Where’s my wife?’
‘She went for help,’ one of the women answered, though she seemed reluctant to look him in the eye.
‘What?’ He felt a thud like a fist punching him hard in the chest.
‘I warned her not to.’
‘You let her go on her own?’
‘I tried to tell her.’
He let loose a volley of oaths, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. Was she mad? Did he really have to warn her not to go climbing cliffs in the dark? He felt sick to his stomach, picturing everything that might have happened to her. If she’d fallen then he’d never forgive himself.
‘Which way?’
‘She took the path.’
He sprinted towards it, panic giving him a fresh burst of energy, relieved that she’d at least had the sense not to branch off on her own. With any luck, he’d catch up with her before she got too far.
He heard a noise and halted abruptly, eyes narrowing towards a cluster of yellow dots glowing through the darkness, getting bigger and brighter as they bobbed closer towards him. He felt the knot of panic in his chest start to ease. If they were lanterns then they must belong to a rescue party, which meant that there was a good chance that Ianthe was with them, that she’d found help after all, that she was alive...
‘Robert!’
He heard her voice before he saw her, a small figure hurtling out of the darkness and into his arms, flinging herself against him almost before he had a chance to make her out.
‘Are you all right?’ She squeezed him tightly, as if trying to make sure he was really there. ‘I’ve been so worried!’
‘You’ve been worried?’ He jerked away, seized with a sudden fury, wrenching her arms away and holding them tightly at her sides. ‘You?’
‘What?’ She looked surprised by his reaction.
He glowered at her, so full of conflicting emotions that he couldn’t speak, stunned by the intensity of his feelings. She was alive. Which meant that he could breathe again, that his heart could beat again—that same heart he’d thought didn’t function like other men’s, that he’d assumed was incapable of love. He felt as though it had just stopped and restarted.
Not that he was going to let her off the hook so easily. She’d just scared the life out of him, even more so than the rescue had done. Fighting the storm hadn’t frightened him half as much as the thought of losing her, but the realisation that had struck him the moment he’d seen her again had been almost as terrifying. He hadn’t just been worried. He’d been frantic, distraught even. And now he was beyond furious, beyond rational thought, because now he recognised the feeling for what it was. He was in love with his wife and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.