Stormspell Read Free

in an emergency.'
    The man quirked an eyebrow. 'But you wouldn't call this an emergency?'
    'I didn't say so.' Ruth was confused by his mocking humour. 'But—if you insist on coming with me—'
    'I know.' He took a deep breath, if you could just help me up . . .'
    Ruth bent so that he could put his uninjured arm about her shoulders, then straightened slowly as he struggled to his feet. He was much heavier than she had expected, and she staggered a little under his weight. But more disturbingly, it was the first time she had been so close to any man other than her father, and his hard body weighing down on hers was both distracting and unfamiliar. His body was much different from her father's; for one thing, it was firm and muscular, whereas his was soft and flaccid, and the long thigh pressing against her hip was disruptively masculine. It gave her a curious sensation in the pit of her stomach, one that was not entirely unpleasant, and she glanced sideways at him. as if seeking a similar response. But the man beside her was only intent on gaining his balance, and he apologised for his weakness as sweat beaded on his forehead.
    'I'm sorry.' he muttered, holding his injured arm to his chest. 'I feel so bloody dizzy. I must have lost more blood than I thought.'
    Ruth caught her lower lip between her teeth. 'Won't you stay here and let me get assistance?' she pleaded, but he shook his head.
    'I'll make it.' he determined, through gritted teeth, and she had no alternative but to acquiesce.
    It was an arduous walk to the bungalow. True to his word, he made it. but she knew he was in pain every step of the way. How could he be otherwise, with his flesh gaping almost to the bone, and the weariness of exhaustion upon him? She could hear his laboured breathing, feel the warmth of his breath against her temple, for even in that slumped state he was taller than she was. and smell the sweat on his body as he strove to sustain what little strength he had left.
    Celeste must have seen their approach, because as they neared the bungalow she came hurrying out to meet them, round and black and bustling, her ample girth' wobbling beneath the loose flowered smock she wore, her face creasing into a dozen different expressions as she endeavoured to identify their unexpected visitor.
    'What been going on. Missy?' she exclaimed, examining the man beside her with a shrewd inquisitive gaze. 'What you been doing, spending so long at the beach? Don't you know your daddy's awake and been asking for you this last half hour?'
    Ruth sighed. 'You can see what's been going on. Celeste,' she protested impatiently, aware of the older woman's sudden interest. 'I found— him—' this, as she realised she didn't even know his name. '—washed up on the shore. His arm's quite badly injured. Can you help us indoors?'
    'I wish you wouldn't talk about me as if I wasn't here.' objected the man huskily. 'I may be tired, but I'm not unconscious—yet.' He acknowledged Celeste's curious stare. 'I presume you have seen a white man before?'
    Celeste's cheeks dimpled. 'Oh. yes'm, sir. I seen a lot of white men. But they ain't all as pretty as you are.'
    'Celeste!' Ruth made a sound of disbelief. "Celeste, will you mind your own business, and help me? Look if you could position yourself here—we could get up the steps—'
    'I can get up the steps myself,' the man insisted, releasing his hold on her to reach for the handrail. He succeeded in making the transfer, but he swayed as he clung to the wooden banister, and Ruth exchanged an impatient look with the black woman as she went to help him again.
    'It's this way.' she said, propelling him along the hall towards her bedroom, and pushing open the door with her foot, she edged him to the bed. She sagged, too. as he slumped down on to the mattress, and weakness made her grasp at the door frame for support. It had been a strain for both of them, and she could feel the moisture trickling down her own back.
    'Thanks.' he said,