Scarlet Butterfly Read Free Page B

He couldn’t take her back in a storm. And he couldn’t stay on deck in the rain.
    Striding into the galley, he pulled on a shirt he’d left hanging on the back of a chair. He’d have to go below for pants. Suppose he woke her? He hesitated, finally deciding that this was his ship; the shirt was enough. He uncovered Bully, who cocked his head and made a crude comment about what he would like Sean to do with himself.
    “Watch it, old boy. I didn’t think I left you covered. But you do remember the story about the blackbirds, don’t you? I don’t know much about making bird pies, but I could turn you into parrot stew.”
    Bully seemed unusually subdued. As if he knew about the woman, he remained quiet.
    Sean made a pot of coffee, grilled a cheese sandwich, and listened to the radio as the storm intensified. Hurricane Circe—appropriate name, he thought—wouldn’t hit land, but the weather system would kick up enough rain to make the river rise.
    He’d already checked the moorings, extending the linkage to allow for the rising water. Though he was anchored to a dock on a small saltwater lake, the lake was fed by the St. Marys River, which joined theAtlantic a few miles south. Because the ocean was so close, the lake and the river were subject to the ocean’s tides. Often a storm swept in from the sea and played havoc with the river and its inhabitants, as it did now with the
Butterfly
.
    Damn! After a long, hot, quiet summer, the season was about to change. And the thing that Sean Rogan hated most in life was change.
    As predicted, the storm had settled offshore. They’d be lucky this time, catching only the fringe rain that accompanied it. Sean checked the masts again and secured the inner workings of the schooner. He was tired and wet, and even a little cold.
    Cold
. The woman. She was covered only by a sheet.
    He covered the distance to his quarters in a second, then slowed to a tiptoe as he reached the bed. In the darkness he could hear her, but he couldn’t see without a light and he was reluctant to wake her. Cautiously, he reached out and touched her shoulder.
    Icy cold.
    Damn, he didn’t want her around, but he didn’t want her to freeze to death either. He searched for a blanket, found one, and covered her. She didn’t move, didn’t respond to his touch or the noise he was making. Maybe she was dead.
    Sean groaned. If he wasn’t already in the spotlight, he would be if some woman had sneaked on board and died. The press would rehash all the painful events of the Rogans’ lives, including the death of his sister. No, this intruder couldn’t be dead. He heard her breathing. But she wasn’t warming up, either.When a second blanket made no change, he took a chance and shook her.
    “Hey, Sleeping Beauty, are you okay?”
    Her only response was a moan and a single word that she whispered over and over.
    He leaned down, touching her lips with his ear before he could understand.
    “Cold—cold.”
    He’d never wanted a phone, never needed one. Until now. He couldn’t get to his truck without exposing her to the elements and more shock.
    As a blast of cold air swept across the cabin, physically shoving him to his knees on the bed, the answer came to him. Almost without a thought he shed his shirt, swept back the covers, and slid beneath them, pulling the woman into his arms. Heat could be transferred body to body, even to someone suffering from exhaustion and chills.
    Sean began to massage the woman—gently, once he felt the fragility of her body. The silk garment was all she was wearing; no panties, no bra—though a cursory examination of her body suggested that she had little use for a bra.
    Her head found a place beneath his chin and nestled there, her soft hair a faint tickle on his chest. He shifted her, pulling her even farther over his body. Her right arm fell limply beside her, the other curled around his neck.
    Sean took a deep, ragged breath. He was suddenly doing his part to raise the