An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,60
weak smile. “I saw how you looked at me. It wasn’t because you wanted to teach me to swim.”
True enough. He flashed her a rakish grin. “Why do you think I tied us together tonight? So I get first glimpse of you all wet.”
But his teasing did little to alleviate her growing fear or stop her shaking.
The bridge was coming on quickly, now less than a hundred yards away.
“Sit in the bottom of the boat.” He helped her off the wooden seat and down against the hull. She flinched at the cold water soaking into her stockings and skirt. Before this was all over, though, at the very least she’d be drenched. “And hang on tight.”
He sat on the seat behind her and wrapped his legs around her waist to hold her down in the boat.
The man nodded knowingly at Pearce’s preparations. “Ye’ve shot the bridge before, then?”
“No,” he answered, keeping his gaze straight ahead at the oncoming starlings and the swirling water funneling through them. His hands tightened their grip on the sides of the narrow boat. “Just charged French cannon at Waterloo.”
The waterman put one oar into the skiff and lifted the other from its pin to drag it behind the rear of the speeding boat like a rudder. He turned the oar and pointed the boat toward the center arch, lining it up right between the stone piers.
“There will be rapids when we reach the arches, and a drop of several feet when we come out the other side,” Pearce warned her as the bridge sped toward them. “But hang on tight to the boat, and everything will be fine.” Ten, nine, eight… They barreled at top speed toward the stone starlings. “I’ll protect you.” Five, four, three… “I’ll always protect you.”
She glanced back at him. Only for a moment, but in that pause, he felt the unbreakable connection between them. It was still there, even after twelve years apart, as tangible as the strip of cloth now binding them together.
The skiff hit the rapids beneath the arch and dropped, slamming against the river’s churning surface.
Amelia screamed as the tumbling water tossed them ferociously. The skiff rose and fell like a bucking horse. Each plunge lifted them several inches from their seats, only to be slammed down when the hull slapped onto the surface. Water splashed over the sides in great ice-cold waves that drenched them through to their skin. They floated helplessly, tossed by the tide and churning black water like a leaf in a gale.
“Look out!” the waterman shouted as the skiff spun off course and smacked into the stone starling. Crack! The boat bounced away, shoved back into the tide by the racing current.
The waterman put his full weight against the oar with a screaming groan of exertion that pointed the boat back toward the middle of the arch.
“Hang on!” Pearce yelled, tightening his legs around her like a vise.
Propelled by the tidal current, the boat shot out from beneath the arch. The little bow plunged away as the skiff dropped over the six-foot-high waterfall created by the water rushing through the narrow arches. For a breathless moment, they were suspended in the air. Then the boat slammed onto the water, throwing them so hard that Amelia nearly bounced out of the boat and the waterman tumbled down into the bottom behind Pearce. The swirling eddies caught the skiff and sent it whirling toward the bank.
Pearce grabbed the spare oar and shoved it into the water to stop the spinning. His back muscles strained as he dragged the paddle deep into the rushing current to pull them back straight and pointed downriver.
“I got ’er!” The waterman took the oar from Pearce and regained his seat. A few expert strokes had them headed smoothly for the north bank.
Amelia lay on the bottom of the boat, still gripping the sides for dear life and shuddering in the layer of cold river water sloshing around her.
Pearce gently lifted her onto the seat next to him. He pulled her against him, cradling her in his arms. She clung to him as she fought to gain back the breath that the wild ride had stripped from her.
“It’s all right,” he murmured reassuringly. She buried her face against his shoulder but never sobbed with fear the way any other Mayfair lady would have. Not his Amelia. She was far too brave for that. “We’re safe now.”
She nodded against his waistcoat, her hands clutching at his lapels.