Anne Marie Duquette - Castillo's Bride

Where was he? How long had he been there?

Jordan Castillo came slowly to consciousness. He was too weak to move, too weak to even open his eyes, but he could feel things. From the familiar rolling beneath him, he knew he was on a ship. He breathed a sigh of relief.

His will had been sorely tested. He’d been frightened that he’d lose his battle with death, and Jordan Castillo wasn’t a man who frightened easily. As long as he could still feel pain, he knew he was alive.

He could hear what went on around him. Even now he listened for the woman’s voice. Aurora Collins—that’s who she is. They were supposed to meet at the pier. She was the woman who’d saved him…the same woman who could salvage his family fortune.

Jordan exhaled, his broken ribs protesting.

There it was again. Her voice.

Dear Reader,

As a navy veteran who married a career navy man with a lifelong love of the sea, I just had to write a book about people like us—people who feel completely at home on a boat. People who are endlessly fascinated by oceans.

Our children feel the same way. My husband took our son out in a real canoe while he still wore diapers. Our daughter swam laps across an Olympic-size pool at the age of six—and complained loudly every time a new lifeguard tried to send her to the wading pool. The topper is my niece Julie, another water baby who grew up on boats. Her very first word wasn’t “Mommy” or “Daddy,” but “Fish.” Fish! I think that sums it up right there.

Naturally the people in this story are fictitious, but the waters, the harbors, landmarks and marine terminology are real—and a big part of my life. My husband and I have scuba dived the great kelp forests off our coastline, and Oceanside Harbor is the very place where we dock our own harborcraft. Our boats, Neptune’s Bride, the Silver Dollar and Tempest Tantrum, were used as models for this novel. The many military and civilian sailors we’ve known and sailed with have helped inspire my story, a story about people passionately in love with the last unexplored frontier on our planet—our oceans.

Captains Jordan Castillo and Aurora Collins share this love…and fall in love with each other. Like all real sailors, they are only truly happy when they’re with other people who feel the same. I hope you enjoy their adventures in the beautiful waters outside San Diego, California. Bon voyage!

Anne Marie Duquette

Castillo’s Bride

Anne Marie Duquette

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE

San Diego, California

June 24, 11:45 p.m.

JORDAN CASTILLO struggled frantically on the moonlit beach, his movements alerting the woman who paced some distance off, waiting for him. She immediately stopped, her lithe swimmer’s body hidden beneath the shadowy pier, her sandal-clad feet just above the water-mark.

Bad enough that another human being was in grave danger. But this was the man she’d waited weeks to meet—the one man who could help her save the tortured lives of her sister, Dorian, and Dorian’s husband and child. Castillo now battled for his life, and Aurora Collins knew she had to do something.

She’d planned to meet him at his downtown hotel, a meeting that hadn’t occurred. The three silent men she watched now had kidnapped him—that was the only thing she could call it. Somehow they’d lured him from the hotel lobby, then forced him into a car. She’d seen it all from the parking lot and followed them.

She stood uncertainly by the pier, staring at the desperate tableau taking place, wishing she’d recharged the battery in her dead cell phone, which lay uselessly in her car.

Her night vision—vision developed through years spent at sea—registered the identity of the man she sought. His once-handsome face was covered in blood. His clothing was torn, his arms covered with welts as he tried to protect his head from swinging bats. She watched in horror as three other men clubbed him again and again.

Aurora gasped as the outnumbered man fought back against his opponents’ crushing blows with silent fury. Not a single plea for mercy escaped his lips. He battled hard, but it wasn’t enough. One of the men delivered a final, smashing strike to Jordan’s head. Their victim sprawled on the sand like limp kelp.

I have to save him.

Aurora took an involuntary step toward him, away from the protection of the pier. Immediately she rethought her action, moved back into the shadows. She was strong in the Pacific waters, with or without scuba gear. She’d been born on the ocean’s edge. Had run away from home at sixteen to return to the Pacific. Now she captained her own ship and made her living from the ocean, but she dared not race to his side, leaving the safety offered by the pier. A lone woman, unarmed, had no chance against three armed men.

Before her horrified gaze, the attackers carelessly dragged the unresisting body over the sand and toward the entrance to the pier.

My God. They’re going to throw him off like a piece of rotten bait.

Fury swept through her, and she quietly waded through the frothing surf line and headed out to deeper waters, staying beneath the overhead pier for cover while she swam.

The current tore at her long, sun-bleached hair, just as it would tear at the man and drag him down to the dangerous black waters below. The rocky bottom would dash him to pieces—if he didn’t drown first. Aurora shuddered, wishing she had her swim fins; they made it easier to fight back against the rip.

But she was already committed to the rescue, and couldn’t second-guess herself now. Her strokes had carried her almost to the end of the pier when she saw Jordan’s body fall, heard the heavy splash, felt the slight displacement in the water surface and watched the unconscious man begin to sink.

I must save him.

Aurora kicked with all her strength to reach him. She sucked in a breath of air and dived deeply. The current grabbed her body and pulled her even deeper. Aurora didn’t resist. She let it lead her toward him.

Her eyes stinging from the saltwater, she scanned the ocean depths. Luminous creatures much brighter than her watch eerily lit the scene. Nothing. Blood pounded in her ears as she was dragged deeper yet. If she didn’t find him soon, she would need to surface for air.

Just a few more seconds. I can last a little longer. If I surface now, I’ll never find him.

Suddenly the current pulled her into a collision with him. Jordan spiraled limply down the current’s path toward the bone-crushing concrete at the base of the pilings. Pulse racing, lungs burning, she thrust out her arms to encircle his chest from behind.

She kicked hard for the surface, Jordan’s limbs trailing between hers. Fear spread icy tendrils through her veins. Her own lungs needed air—and the injured man had been under far longer than she had.

We’re not surfacing fast enough. She kicked harder, moving both legs together repeatedly in a dolphin kick, to clear the dragging undertow. I’m not going to make it. I need to breathe now. Dear Lord, help me.

Her prayers were answered. A cluster of unevenly timed waves headed toward shore and fought with the backwash. The rip abruptly changed direction to push Aurora and Jordan toward the surface. Lungs bursting, Aurora fought the pain of suffocation. Her body had done what all drowning victims’ did—the throat sphincter had automatically clamped shut, keeping water out of the bronchial tube. Those who drown suffocate to unconsciousness first; only then does the sphincter release and the lungs fill with fluid.