Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Anthony
Wilde River
The Rita
An explosion tore through the night and the ship shuddered. There was smoke and the unmistakable groan of wood under stress. Shouts rose from below, presumably the boiler room.
The boat listed to one side.
He never trusted steam-powered engines. They were a primitive, brutal technology that failed as often as succeeded. He should have insisted on traveling by coach or even horseback. It was too late now. Saving Nina was his priority.
People ran to the deck. Cries of alarm filled the air as thick black smoke rose from below.
The ship was sinking. He had to act fast.
“Don’t panic,” he said, and scooped up Nina, cradling her against his chest. “Take a deep breath.”
He jumped over the railings into the river.
Nina
Wilde River
The shock of the water stole her breath.
The water was murky and impossible to see.
She kicked her feet and pushed upward for the surface—at least what she hoped was upward, clawing her way through what felt like chunks of ice. Try as she might, upward momentum seemed impossible. The weight of her greatcoat dragged her back down.
She moved slowly. The cold soaked into her bones, weighing her down as surely as her sodden coat.
Her lungs burned. Pearson warned her to take a deep breath but that did not matter when she gasped in shock at the cold.
The water was too dark to see which way was up. She spun, facing Pearson, because she could always feel his presence.
Her head smashed into an unseen obstacle. The pain made her gasp and draw in breath.