The Package Deal. Marion Lennox

now.’

      They surely would. He was doing his best but she was practically dragging him.

      Left to his own devices, he’d have lain where he was until the storm passed. Or not. This diminutive woman was giving him no choice.

      ‘Mary—’

      ‘Shut up and keep going.’

      ‘You don’t have to—’

      ‘Lie down and we lie down together,’ she muttered, grim with determination. ‘I don’t give up. I might get it horribly wrong, but I don’t give up. Ever.’

      He had no clue what that meant. All he knew was that she was iron. She wasn’t faltering. No matter how steep the ground grew, she wasn’t slowing.

      But she stopped talking. She must be as close to the edge as he was, he thought. If he could only help...

      And then suddenly, blessedly, the ground flattened. His leg jolted with the shock of a change of levels but she didn’t pause.

      ‘Heinz... Heinz’s waiting just round this corner.’ She was gasping for breath, not bothering to disguise her distress now they were on level ground.

      ‘Heinz?’

      ‘My...my guard dog.’

      Somehow she hauled him another few steps, around a bluff that instantly, magically chopped off the screaming wind. Ten more steps took them towards darkness...the mouth of a cave? Five more steps and they were inside. The rain ceased. The light dimmed.

      ‘Welcome to my lair,’ Mary managed, and that was all she could get out.

      ‘I can’t...’ she muttered—and she folded into a crumpled heap.

      What the...?

      Somehow he dropped beside her, fumbling to lift her head, to clear her face from the sandy ground. Was this a faint? Please, God, let this just be exhaustion. To have hauled him so far...

      This woman had put her own life on the line to save his. She’d given her all and more. Her faint had to be from sheer exhaustion, he told himself fiercely. It had to be. If it was worse, he’d carry the guilt for the rest of his life.

      Her eyes were open, dazed, confused.

      ‘Hey,’ he managed. ‘It’s okay. We’re safe now. You’ve saved me, now it’s your turn to relax.’

      He was so close to the edge himself. He could do so little but he did his best. Somehow he got his arm under her shoulders. He lifted her head so her face was resting on his chest instead of the rock and sand. He felt her heartbeat against his.

      Somehow he hauled her deeper into the cave, tugging her along with him. His leg jabbed like a red-hot poker smashing down.

      They were out of the wind. They were out of danger.

      He held her but he could do no more. The darkness was closing in. The pain in his leg... He couldn’t think past it.

      Exhaustion held sway. He closed his eyes and the dim light became dark.

       CHAPTER TWO

      SOMETHING WARM AND rough was washing his face.

      Someone was hauling away his clothes.

      How long had he let darkness enfold him? Too long, it seemed. Things were happening that were out of his control.

      Who was he kidding? He’d been out of control ever since the yacht’s mast had snapped. Or ever since the cyclone had turned and headed straight for them.

      His sodden jacket and sweater were off. There was a towel around his chest.

      His pants were coming off. He grabbed at them but too late—they were down past his knees and further.

      The face washer was working faster.

      ‘Heinz, leave the man alone. He’s all sandy,’ a voice said. ‘He’ll taste disgusting.’

      His rescuing angel was alive and bossy again, and for a moment relief threatened to overwhelm him. She’d survived. They both had.

      He opened his eyes. There was a light to his left, a flame, a crackling of wood catching fire.

      A dog was between him and the flame. A scruffy-looking terrier-type dog, knee-high, tongue dangling for future use and his tail waving hopefully, like adventure was just around the corner.

      His pants disappeared. He had what seemed like a towel around his torso. Nothing else?

      A blanket was lowered over his chest on top of the towel. Fuzzy. Dry. Bliss!

      Not over his legs.

      ‘Now let’s see the damage.’ The bossy, prosaic voice was becoming almost a part of him. He wanted to hold on to that voice. It seemed all that stood between him and the abyss. ‘But first let me wriggle a blanket under you. I need to get you warm.’

      Two hands held him, hip and chest. They rolled, slowly but firmly, just enough to haul him on his side. His leg responded with even more pain, but her body held him close enough to her to stop his leg flopping. The rolled blanket slipped under, unrolling so he had a base that wasn’t sand. Her hands rolled him the other way and he was on a makeshift bed.

      It had been a professional move.

      She was a roller-derbying medic?

      ‘Who...who are you?’

      ‘I told you. Mary to my friends. Smash ’em Mary to those who get in my way.’ She hauled something else over the top of him, some kind of quilt. Soft and deep.

      He was naked? How had that happened?

      He wasn’t asking questions. The blanket was under him. The quilt was on top. The beginnings of warmth...

      If it wasn’t for his leg he could give in to it but his leg was reminding him of damage with one vicious jolt after another. The fearsome throbbing left room for little else, pushing him back to the abyss.

      She had a torch and was playing its beam down on the source of pain. He felt light fingers touching, not adding to the pain, just feather-light exploring.

      ‘I want an X-ray,’ she said fretfully.

      ‘I’d assumed you’d have the equipment,’ he managed, trying desperately to get his words to sound normal. ‘X-ray equipment in the next room.’ What else did she have in this cave? That he was lying on a blanket under a quilt with a fire beside him was amazing all by itself. The pain eased off for a moment but then...

      Jake.

      Jake was suddenly front and centre, his body dangling precariously from the chopper.

      ‘Who’s Jake?’ she asked. Had he said his name aloud? Who knew? His head was doing strange things. His body was no longer under his control.

      ‘My...my brother,’ he managed. Hell, Jake... ‘My twin.’

      ‘I’m guessing he was on the boat with you.’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Idiots,’ she said, bitterly. ‘Off you go, great macho men, pitting yourselves against the elements, leaving your womenfolk lighting candles against your return.’ She was still examining his leg. ‘I remember my dad singing that song, “Men must work and women must weep...and the harbour bar be moaning...”’ I bet you didn’t even have to work. I bet you did it just to prove you’re he-men.’

      It was so close to the truth he couldn’t answer. He and Jake, pushing the boundaries for as long as he could remember.

      ‘No...no womenfolk,’ he managed.

      ‘Except me,’ she said bitterly. ‘Lucky me. Was Jake with you? Could he be down on the beach as well?’