Marion Lennox - Cinderella - Hired by the Prince / The Sheikh's Destiny

The whale was maybe fifteen feet from the boat. The anchor flew over the far side of her and slid down. As it slid, Ramón was already striding aft, a far more secure place to manoeuvre, and he was starting to tug the rope back in.

‘Cut the motor,’ he snapped. She did, and finally she realized what he was doing.

The anchor had fallen on the far side of the whale. As Ramón tugged, the anchor was being hauled up the whale’s far side. Its hooks caught the ropes of the net and held, and suddenly Ramón was reeling in the anchor with whale attached. Or, rather, the Marquita was being reeled in against the whale, and the massive creature was simply submitting.

Jenny was by Ramón’s side in an instant, pulling with him. Boat and whale moved closer. Closer still.

‘Okay, hold her as close as you can,’ Ramón said curtly as the whale’s vast body came finally within an arm’s length. ‘If she pulls, you let go. No heroics, Gianetta, just do it. But keep tension on the rope so I’ll know as soon as I have it free.’

Ramón had a lifeline clipped on. He was leaning over the side, with a massive gutting knife in his hand. Reaching so far Jenny was sure he’d fall.

The whale could roll this way, she thought wildly, and if she did he could be crushed. He was supporting himself on the whale itself, his legs still on the boat, but leaning so far over he was holding onto the netting. Slicing. Slicing. As if the danger was nothing.

She tugged on. If the whale pulled away, she’d have to release her. They’d lose the anchor. They had this one chance. Please…

But the whale didn’t move, except for the steady rise and fall of the swell, where Jenny had to let out, reel in, let out, reel in, to try and keep Ramón’s base steady against her.

He was slicing and slicing and slicing, swearing and slicing some more, until suddenly the tension on Jenny’s rope was no longer there. The anchor lifted free, the net around the whale’s midriff dislodged. Jenny, still pulling, was suddenly reeling in a mass of netting and an anchor.

And Ramón was back in the boat, pulling with her.

One of the whale’s fins was free. The whale moved it a little, stretching, and she floated away. Not far. Twenty feet, no more.

The whale stilled again. One fin was not enough. She was still trapped.

On the far side of her, her calf nudged closer.

‘Again,’ Ramón said grimly as Jenny gunned the motor back into action and nosed close. He was already on top of the cabin, swinging the anchor rope once more. ‘If she’ll let us.’

‘You’ll hit the calf,’ she said, almost to herself, and then bit her tongue. Of all the stupid objections. She knew what his answer must be.

‘It’s risk the calf having a headache, or both of them dying. No choice.’

But he didn’t need to risk. As the arcs of the swinging anchor grew longer, the calf moved away again.

As if it knew.

And, once again, Ramón caught the net.

It took an hour, maybe longer, the times to catch the net getting longer as the amount of net left to cut off grew smaller. But they worked on, reeling her in, slicing, reeling her in, slicing, until the netting was a massive pile of rubbish on the deck.

Ramón was saving her, Jenny thought dazedly as she worked on. Every time he leaned out he was risking his life. She watched him work—and she fell in love.

She was magnificent. Ramón was working feverishly, slashing at the net while holding on to the rails and stretching as far as he could, but every moment he did he was aware of Jenny.

Gianetta.

She had total control of the anchor rope, somehow holding the massive whale against the side of the boat. But they both knew that to hold the boat in a fixed hold would almost certainly mean capsizing. What Jenny had to do was to work with the swells, holding the rope fast, then loosening it as the whale rose and the boat swayed, or the whale sank and the boat rose. Ramón had no room for anything but holding on to the boat and slashing but, thanks to Jenny, he had an almost stable platform to work with.

Tied together, boat and whale represented tonnage he didn’t want to think about, especially as he was risking slipping between the two.

He wouldn’t slip. Jenny was playing her part, reading the sea, watching the swell, focused on the whale in case she suddenly decided to roll or pull away…

She didn’t. Ramón could slash at will at the rope entrapment, knowing Jenny was keeping him safe.

He slipped once and he heard her gasp. He felt her hand grip his ankle.

He righted himself—it was okay—but the memory of her touch stayed.

Gianetta was watching out for him.

Gianetta. Where had she come from, this magical Gianetta?

It was working. Jenny was scarcely breathing. Please, please…

But somehow her prayers were being answered. Piece by piece the net was being cut away. Ramón was winning. They were both winning.

The last section to be removed was the netting and the ropes trapping and tying the massive tail, but catching this section was the hardest. Ramón threw and threw, but each time the anchor slipped uselessly behind the whale and into the sea.

To have come so far and not save her…Jenny felt sick.

But Ramón would not give up. His arm must be dropping off, she thought, but just as she reached the point where despair took over, the whale rolled. She stretched and lifted her tail as far as she could within the confines of the net, and in doing so she made a channel to trap the anchor line as Ramón threw. And her massive body edged closer to the boat.

Ramón threw again, and this time the anchor held.

Once more Jenny reeled her in and once more Ramón sliced. Again. Again. One last slash—and the last piece of rope came loose into his hands.

Ramón staggered back onto the deck and Jenny was hauling the anchor in one last time. He helped her reel it in, then they stood together in the mass of tangled netting on the deck, silent, awed, stunned, as the whale finally floated free. Totally free. The net was gone.

But there were still questions. Were they too late? Had she been trapped too long?

Ramón’s arm came round Jenny’s waist and held, but Jenny was hardly aware of it. Or maybe she was, but it was all part of this moment. She was breathing a plea and she knew the plea was echoing in Ramón’s heart as well as her own.

Please…

The whale was wallowing in the swell, rolling up and down, up and down. Her massive pectoral fins were free now. They moved stiffly outward, upward, over and over, while Jenny and Ramón held their breath and prayed.

The big tail swung lazily back and forth; she seemed to be stretching, feeling her freedom. Making sure the ropes were no longer there.

‘She can’t have been caught all that long,’ Jenny whispered, breathless with wonder. ‘Look at her tail. That rope was tied so tightly but there’s hardly a cut.’

‘She might have only just swum into it,’ Ramón said and Jenny was aware that her awe was echoed in his voice. His arm had tightened around her and it seemed entirely natural. This was a prayer shared. ‘If it was loosened from the shore by a storm it might have only hit her a day or so ago. The calf looks healthy enough.’

The calf was back at its mother’s side now, nudging against her flank. Then it dived, straight down into the deep, and Jenny managed a faltering smile.

‘He’ll be feeding. She must still have milk. Oh, Ramón…’

‘Gianetta,’ Ramón murmured back, and she knew he was feeling exactly what she was feeling. Awe, hope, wonder. They might, they just might, have been incredibly, wondrously lucky.

And then the big whale moved. Her body seemed to ripple. Everything flexed at once, her tail, her fins…She rolled away, almost onto her back, as if to say to her calf: No feeding, not yet, I need to figure if I’m okay .