“His blood was up, the rising wind was in his hair, and he was sliding smoothly over the river's surface, guiding the raft with a rhythmic play of the stern oar that was as natural to him as breathing. He had escaped and the woman he loved was with him. It couldn't last, and he knew it. But for this small piece of time he was a contented man. The woman he loved. God, yes, beyond doubt. He had not meant it to happen. But then he had learned early in his ventures at sea that things seldom went as ...planned. A crooked smile curved his lips as he glanced down at Melly. His pleasure vanished. She was huddled on her side in the center of the raft, knees drawn up, eyes tightly shut, face white as death. He remembered her cry as he’d hauled her aboard the raft, the stiffness of her body against him, the way she had clung before he set her on the wet logs. He had thought her reaction only surprise and revulsion at being on the dirty, water-slicked craft. That wasn't it at all. Melly was afraid to the point of terror of deep water.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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