Read Online The Reef by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online
Authors: Nora Roberts
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waving and swirling over her shoulders and naked breasts. Her skin was like a pearl, white and gleaming.
Her eyes were the same, green and amused.
As if a tide had swept him, he was helpless to do anything but go to her.
Her arms went around him, satin chains. Her lips parted for his and were sweet as honey. When he touched her, it was as if he’d waited all his life for that alone. The feel of her skin sliding under his hand, the quiver of muscle as he aroused her. The drum of pulse under flesh.
The taste of her sigh was in his mouth. Then the slickand glorious heat enveloped as he slid inside her, as her legs wrapped around him and her body bowed back to take him deeper.
It was all dreamy movements, endless sensation. They drifted, rolling through the water in a soundless mating that left him weak and stunned and blissfully happy. He felt himself spill into her.
Then she kissed him, softly, deeply and with incredible sweetness. When he saw her face again, she was smiling. He reached for her, but she shook her head and danced away. He gave chase, and they frolicked like children, darting around the sunken ship.
She led him to a chest, laughing as she tossed back the lid and revealed the mountain of gold. Coins spilled as she dipped her hand in. The glint was like sunlight, and scattered with it were jewels of great size. Diamonds as big as his fist, emeralds larger than her eyes, pools of sapphires and rubies. Their color was dazzling against the cool gray of the world around them.
He dragged his hand through the chest, spilled a shower of star-shaped diamonds over her hair and made her laugh.
Then he found the amulet, the heavy gold chain, the blood and tears that studded the pendant. He could feel heat from it, as if it lived. Never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful, so compelling.
He held it up, looked at Tate’s delighted face through the circle of the chain, then slipped it over her head. She laughed, kissed him, then cupped the pendant in her hand.
Suddenly fire exploded from it, a spear of violent heat and light that slammed him back like a blow. He watched in horror as the fire grew, in size and intensity, covering her in a sheath of flame. All he could see were her eyes, anguished and terrified.
He couldn’t reach her. Though he fought and he struggled, the water that had been so calm and peaceful was a whirlwind of movement and sound. A tornado of sand funneled up, blinding him. He heard the lightning crack of the mast splitting, the seaquake roar that burst through the bed of sand and silt to tear through the hull of the ship like cannon fire.
Through it he heard screams—hers, his own.
Then it was gone, the flames, the sea, the wreck, the amulet. Tate. The sky was overhead, with its half disk of moon and splatter of stars. The sea was calm and ink-black, barely whispering against the boat.
He was alone on the deck of the Sea Devil, dripping sweat and gasping for breath.
C HAPTER 4
T ATE TOOK TWO dozen pictures of ballast and cannon as she and Matthew explored. He humored her by posing at the mouth of a corroded gun, or manned the camera himself to take shots of her among the rocks and patient fish. Together, they attached a crusted cannonball to a flotation and sent it up to the second team.
Then, after a tug on the line, the work began.
Maneuvering an airlift well requires skill, patience and teamwork. It was a simple tool, hardly more than a pipe, four inches in diameter and about ten feet long with an air hose. Pressurized air ran into the pipe, rising and creating suction that would vacuum water, sand and solid objects. It was as essential to a treasure hunter as a hammer to a carpenter. Used too quickly, or with too much power, it could destroy. Used too carelessly, the pipe would become clogged with conglomerate, shells, coral.
While Matthew ran the airlift, Tate examined and collected its fallout that spewed from the top of the pipe. It was hard and tedious work on both
Her eyes were the same, green and amused.
As if a tide had swept him, he was helpless to do anything but go to her.
Her arms went around him, satin chains. Her lips parted for his and were sweet as honey. When he touched her, it was as if he’d waited all his life for that alone. The feel of her skin sliding under his hand, the quiver of muscle as he aroused her. The drum of pulse under flesh.
The taste of her sigh was in his mouth. Then the slickand glorious heat enveloped as he slid inside her, as her legs wrapped around him and her body bowed back to take him deeper.
It was all dreamy movements, endless sensation. They drifted, rolling through the water in a soundless mating that left him weak and stunned and blissfully happy. He felt himself spill into her.
Then she kissed him, softly, deeply and with incredible sweetness. When he saw her face again, she was smiling. He reached for her, but she shook her head and danced away. He gave chase, and they frolicked like children, darting around the sunken ship.
She led him to a chest, laughing as she tossed back the lid and revealed the mountain of gold. Coins spilled as she dipped her hand in. The glint was like sunlight, and scattered with it were jewels of great size. Diamonds as big as his fist, emeralds larger than her eyes, pools of sapphires and rubies. Their color was dazzling against the cool gray of the world around them.
He dragged his hand through the chest, spilled a shower of star-shaped diamonds over her hair and made her laugh.
Then he found the amulet, the heavy gold chain, the blood and tears that studded the pendant. He could feel heat from it, as if it lived. Never in his life had he seen anything so beautiful, so compelling.
He held it up, looked at Tate’s delighted face through the circle of the chain, then slipped it over her head. She laughed, kissed him, then cupped the pendant in her hand.
Suddenly fire exploded from it, a spear of violent heat and light that slammed him back like a blow. He watched in horror as the fire grew, in size and intensity, covering her in a sheath of flame. All he could see were her eyes, anguished and terrified.
He couldn’t reach her. Though he fought and he struggled, the water that had been so calm and peaceful was a whirlwind of movement and sound. A tornado of sand funneled up, blinding him. He heard the lightning crack of the mast splitting, the seaquake roar that burst through the bed of sand and silt to tear through the hull of the ship like cannon fire.
Through it he heard screams—hers, his own.
Then it was gone, the flames, the sea, the wreck, the amulet. Tate. The sky was overhead, with its half disk of moon and splatter of stars. The sea was calm and ink-black, barely whispering against the boat.
He was alone on the deck of the Sea Devil, dripping sweat and gasping for breath.
C HAPTER 4
T ATE TOOK TWO dozen pictures of ballast and cannon as she and Matthew explored. He humored her by posing at the mouth of a corroded gun, or manned the camera himself to take shots of her among the rocks and patient fish. Together, they attached a crusted cannonball to a flotation and sent it up to the second team.
Then, after a tug on the line, the work began.
Maneuvering an airlift well requires skill, patience and teamwork. It was a simple tool, hardly more than a pipe, four inches in diameter and about ten feet long with an air hose. Pressurized air ran into the pipe, rising and creating suction that would vacuum water, sand and solid objects. It was as essential to a treasure hunter as a hammer to a carpenter. Used too quickly, or with too much power, it could destroy. Used too carelessly, the pipe would become clogged with conglomerate, shells, coral.
While Matthew ran the airlift, Tate examined and collected its fallout that spewed from the top of the pipe. It was hard and tedious work on both
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