Chapter 9 #3
At first, she’d thought it was her inexperienced paddling filling the skiff. Soon, she realized it was something else. In the darkness, she hadn’t been able to see what was happening, but she could feel the water rising. Slowly but surely, it climbed farther and farther up her leg.
Her boat was leaking.
She tried paddling, hoping that the current she’d fought against so determinedly only moments before would take her back to the beach.
But the skiff had grown so heavy, it was barely moving.
The shore that had only minutes ago seemed so close now seemed infinitely far away.
She hadn’t traveled more than a few hundred yards, but it didn’t matter.
She couldn’t swim a foot, let alone the distance to safety.
When it was clear that she would never make it back to shore by paddling, she started bailing.
Scooping the icy seawater with her hands and tossing it out as if her life depended on it.
Ignoring the obvious fact that it did. So focused was she on her task, for a while she forgot to be scared.
She gave a valiant effort, but it kept filling. Higher and higher. The skiff, in turn, began to sink lower and lower. The sea had claimed it, and it would not give it back.
But she wouldn’t give up. Not as long as there was a chance.
She didn’t want to die.
Still bailing, she glanced back toward shore.
And blinked, thinking her eyes might be playing tricks on her.
But no. Her pulse leapt. There was no mistake.
Peering into the haze, she could see the castle glowing brightly in the darkness.
Even from here she could see the unmistakable signs of life.
Perhaps someone had noticed her gone and they were looking for her?
Hope swelled in her chest. He would find her.
She knew it deep in her heart. Knew it with a certainty that could not be assailed.
If it were humanly possible, Lachlan Maclean would save her.
She just had to hold on long enough for him to reach her.
She wanted to stand up and wave her arms, but she dared not stop bailing. “Help me!” she cried out in the darkness over and over until her voice grew hoarse. Someone had to hear her.
With a renewed burst of energy, she bailed, scooping out the water as fast as she could. Not wanting to acknowledge the futility of her efforts. The orange glow of a torch appeared upon the shore. A horseman. A feeling of euphoria crashed over her.
They’ve found me. Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks, and she yelled again. Yelled as loud as her voice could carry.
“Here! I’m here!”
The skiff had drifted back toward shore, but it was clear the rider couldn’t hear her. She cursed the mist, the darkness, and everything else she could think of.
A few minutes later, the orange light that had seemed a beacon of life faded. Taking with it her last ray of hope, leaving only desperation and despair in its black wake.
The cruel disappointment almost killed her. Her weary body screamed to just give up. She was freezing, and her arms and back ached with the effort of paddling and then of bailing.
She wanted to cry out with frustration and rage and the unfairness of it all, but the scream lodged in her throat. There was no one to hear.
Only that much maligned streak of stubbornness kept her scooping the icy seawater with her frozen hands.
Lachlan intercepted a few of his men near the castle and sent them back with instructions to launch the birlinns and search every inch of the sound between here and Mull—in case he was right.
With most of the men roaming the countryside, it would take time to find others to man the boats. And time was something he didn’t have.
Never had he so badly wanted to be wrong.
He calculated how long it would take the skiff to fill, and fear gripped his chest.
Once he’d reached the rocky precipice above the inlet, he dismounted and raced the rest of the way down the narrow path to the beach. His worst fears were realized when he looked down the white spans of sand and saw that the old skiff was indeed gone.
His breath lodged in his throat as he scanned the horizon above the sea through the fog. Be there, damn you.…
Nothing. Damn it, where was she? He ran into the water and tried again. Peering hard into the darkness, cursing the mist that shrouded the moonlight, blurring night and sea into one murky cauldron.
His eyes moved purposefully, intently, back and forth over the waves.…
There. His gaze caught a movement perhaps a hundred feet from shore. A shimmer of something silvery. His heart stopped and then raced full force. Her hair. The boat was all but sunken under the water, which was why he hadn’t seen her at first.
Why was she still holding on to the boat?
Why hadn’t she just started swimming? The answer hit him.
She didn’t know how to swim. How could she be so reckless to try to escape in a damn boat?
Understanding eviscerated the tenuous hold he had on his control.
She’d been that desperate to get away from him.
Apparently, a watery death was preferable to the idea of marriage to him.
“Flora!” he yelled, running farther into the sea toward her.
He thought her head turned, but he couldn’t be sure.
Without thinking, he dove into the waves and started to swim as if his life depended on it, every stroke strong and determined.
He’d grown up swimming in the waters around the Isles and usually won the speed events when his clan participated in the Highland games, but the current of the sound was ruthless.
The time it was taking to reach her seemed interminable.
He checked her position every time he lifted his head to take a breath.
He was about halfway there when he heard her voice. “Lachlan …”
It was so soft, he thought he’d imagined it. He paused for only a second, then heard it again. “Lachlan …” The plea in her voice cut through him like a knife. He heard her hope. Her trust. She believed in him. And it ate at him. He couldn’t let her down.
“Hurry. I can’t—”
The choking sound stopped his heart. Her head bobbed once with the waves and disappeared.
“Flora!” The voice that tore from him was not his own.
He felt as if his heart were being ripped out of his chest. She was only about fifty feet away.
His body exploded with uncontrollable rage.
He wasn’t going to be able to reach her in time.
“Hold on!” he yelled, even though he knew she couldn’t hear him, right before he dove into the water.
He swam to the place he’d last seen her.
Swam until his lungs were about to explode.
Only knowing that hers were doing the same kept him going.
He tried opening his eyes underwater, but the salt burned and it was too damn dark to see anything.
Swimming near the bottom, he reached around blindly, grabbing for anything.
His lungs were burning, screaming for air.
He couldn’t hold his breath much longer.
Think of her. She’s drowning, damn it. He was frantic now.
Reaching wildly around him. Suddenly, mercifully, he felt something.
His fingers tangled in something too fine to be kelp.
Her hair. He could have cried with relief.
He’d found her. Pulling her harshly against him, he wrapped his arm around her stomach, holding her snuggly under her ribs, and shot to the surface.
When his head broke through the water, he gasped in air.
But she still fell limply against him. Lifeless.
“Flora!” He heard the raw panic in his voice.
Panic that had shred the last bit of his reserve.
He couldn’t lose her. Instinctively, he jerked her hard against him, hitching his arm against her stomach.
The swift movement caused her to spasm, and she choked, seawater gurgling from her mouth.
He turned her around to face him. Cradling her face in his hands, he urged her with his voice.
“Flora. God. I’ve got you. Can you hear me? ”
Her eyes fluttered and closed. But she was alive.
He pressed his lips on her forehead, tasting only salty seawater.
She was like ice. He brought his face to hers, cheek to cheek, and felt the unmistakable wisp of her breath on his neck.
Shallow but true. His skin prickled, every nerve ending flared at the sweet sensation. But he could not savor it for long.
The danger wasn’t over.
Rolling her around so that she floated on her back, he swam her to shore. A much easier proposition than on the way out. Reaching the safety of the beach, he lifted her in his arms, wrenching her from the steel jaws of the sea that had tried to claim her.
He carried her a few feet up the beach and set her down carefully, kneeling beside her.
“Flora.” He shook her shoulders gently. “Wake up.”
She looked so still. So horribly still. “Flora.” He shook her gently, his chest squeezing painfully. “Please wake up. I need you to wake up.” I need you.
Her eyes fluttered again and then—blissfully—opened. And he found himself looking into the achingly familiar fathomless depths. He felt a rush of relief so strong, he could have wept. Instead he kissed her.
He knew there wasn’t time, that he had to get her back, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to know that she was alive.
His mouth covered hers in a searing kiss, as if he could warm the cold from her lips with the heat of his passion. He kissed her with a raw desperation born of fear. With all the intensity of the emotions she’d exposed inside him. He told her with his lips what he couldn’t admit to himself.
In that one brief instant, he told her so much. When he lifted his head, her eyes met his and he could see her surprise.
“Lachlan, I …” Her eyes fluttered again, then closed as she slipped back into unconsciousness.
For a moment, he thought she’d died. Fear gripped him again as pressed his hand against her chest, relieved to feel the precious beat of her heart.
He swore, still breathing hard as he gathered her in his arms again.
The currents of the sound had sapped him of his strength, but he knew that if he did not get her back to the keep, to warmth, she would die.
There was nothing more he could do for her until he got her back to the castle. Her shallow breath against the open V in his shirt would be all the assurance he would have. He held on to it like a precious talisman. A lifeline that gave him strength where there was none.
His breath came hard and heavy between his lips. His legs burned with each dragging step across the sandy beach. Her normally insignificant weight grew heavier and heavier as he climbed swiftly and steadily up the rocky path. Pressing on. Using every last reserve of energy.
He wouldn’t let himself think about how cold she was.
How long she’d been in the freezing water.
He swallowed. How long she’d been underneath.
He wouldn’t think about the pallor of her skin resting against his sopping shirt.
Her bloodless lips. The dark shadows under her eyes. It was just the moonlight.…
God take him, she wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t let her. As if by the sheer force of his will, he would defy anyone, God or man, who sought to take her from him.
She was his. She’d belonged to him from the first moment he’d seen her. And not because of his devil’s bargain with her cousin Argyll that would ensure his brother’s safety and his clan’s future. No, the truth was far more elemental than that.
The fierce pounding in his chest did not lie. Gilly had been right. He did care for her. For the first time in his life, he couldn’t deny an emotional attachment to a woman—he’d thought himself dedicated to his family and clan alone. He was wrong.
Finally, he’d reached the top of the path and his horse.
Beyond exhausted, he was moving mechanically, instinct, forged by years of pushing himself to the limit of endurance, taking over.
He needed every last ounce of it right now.
After laying her across his saddle, he mounted behind her and nestled her in his arms again, then rode hard for the keep.
He didn’t take the time to explain to the men he passed along the way but simply ordered them to spread the word that he’d found her and to return to the castle.
No longer able to feel her breath against his skin with the wind of his ride, he held his hand against her chest, needing the surety of her beating heart, but terrified by how soft and faint it was—and how dangerously slow.
He entered the gate to a flurry of activity. Activity that stopped as soon as he came galloping inside, soaking wet with his precious bundle limp against him.
Gilly and Mary must have been watching by the door, because they appeared beside him before his feet hit the ground. Some of his men, appraising his condition, moved to help him, but he held them back, his whole body shaking with effort. No one else would touch her. She was his.
“You found her, thank God,” Gilly said. Drawing nearer, she gasped and voiced the fear that had made the courtyard as quiet as a tomb from the moment he entered. “What happened? What’s wrong with her?” Her voice broke into a sob. “Is she dead?”
“No!” he said savagely. “She still breathes. But I need to get her inside and warm.” He plowed up the forestairs, savoring the blast of heat as he entered the keep. Not hesitating, he headed straight for the stairs.
“Where are you taking her?” Mary asked, hustling along beside him.
His face was grim as he gave his sister a fierce stare. “To my bed.”