The deafening roar of water. It swallowed her every sense, filled her ears to bursting. Cora didn't know if the surface was above or below her, but she knew she had to swim, it was her only chance.
The Grand Dame clipper ship had made it safely from England, 'round the tumultuous Horn and onward into the vast Pacific Ocean to bring Cora to meet her betrothed, a colonel in the Royal British Navy and a man as unknown to her as the vast stretches of sea between them. He had been posted to guard the fledgling breadfruit plantations of Tahiti, and he had written to her and her family, promising a secure home and prosperous existence there.
As her pale legs kicked toward the surface, Cora's racing mind grappled between instinct and the unbearable sensation that she was destined to die just as she reached the threshold of her future. She'd not set foot on land in months and now she would she never smell the exotic flowers or touch the swaying palms promised to her in so many letters.
After three months at sea, just as the sunset silhouette of the Tahitian Islands came into Cora's blue-eyed focus from the creaking bow of the great ship, the looming clouds that had followed them for days and rumbled far in the distance seemed to grow ever larger. A wind picked up and tangled Cora's brown curls -- pricking her skin with goosebumps and thrusting her nipples into the silk lining her corset. But it was the first drops of rain that had sent Cora to retire in her stately room below deck.
Late in the season for a cyclone, it proved furious nonetheless. While Cora lay dreaming of redeeming the tomboyish ways of her youth and proving to her father she could make a fine wife, waves transformed the ship's gentle rocking into something increasingly violent. It was when a servant shook her awake that the reef suddenly tore through Cora's sleeping quarters and her world went black, senseless but for the rush of water.
Though seconds seemed to drag into hours and the pressure of the current seemed an anchor that threatened to pull her ever downward, Cora knew she must keep kicking. With one, last thrust of her finely muscled legs -- legs honed from climbing the gnarled oak trees of her family's country estate -- Cora broke the surface and gasped for air as the driving rain stung her face. Then, as if by miracle, an arm grasped her waist and held her aloft the waves.
Some merciful mermaid, some sea angel it seemed, was pulling her along. When Cora felt the sand dig between her toes, she let her mind drift back into unconsciousness. She was alive. She had found Tahiti.
Indeed, it was rather Tahiti that had found Cora.
It was the smell of some strange wood burning that awaked her, and then the feeling of a warm poultice that had been set on her shoulder. How many days had it been? Had her husband found her and set her in a fine bed?
But the softness upon which she rested her head was no pillow. For when Cora opened her eyes, she saw only smooth brown flesh. Thighs. They peeked from a palm frond skirt. And another smell, something muskier than the fire crackled her senses. It all became alarmingly clear.
