It was a strange feeling. She was far more accustomed to the busy streets of London or the press of a crowded ballroom. At seeing and being seen.
Here there was none of that.
After several long minutes she began to relax. She scooted toward the edge of the boat and leaned over, staring out at the water, letting her fingers skim its surface.
Her breaths came slow and deep. The tension in her shoulders eased. And somewhere in the back of her mind, she admitted to herself that she was beginning to enjoy her summer here in Scotland.
Her thoughts drifted, back again to that day in the garden with Mr. Gresham. Trying to decide if she wished she could undo it. Undo that moment, that kiss, and the punishment that came with it. She wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get to know her grandmother. Or explore her mother’s past.
A cold slosh of water filled one of Arabella’s boots. She looked down, horror filling her as she realized the entire bottom of the boat was filling with water.
Grabbing the oars, she rowed desperately, but the boat hardly responded, heavy as it was. Arabella looked around, but just as before, not a soul was in sight. Even if she yelled and screamed there was no one to hear her.
She glanced down at herself, cursing her heavy dress. She was barely proficient as a swimmer, and the bank now seemed very far away. Ice-cold water swilled around her skirts.
Why did this country seem so intent on getting her wet?
She turned, heart sinking to see the bridge so far away. But up ahead and off to her left, her eyes locked on a tree that rose out of the water, holding firm against the pull of the river.
It was her one chance. Heart thudding with both relief and desperation, she rowed hard. Water lapped the bottom of her thighs now and her arms burned from the effort of her struggle.
But she didn’t dare stop. The rush of the current pushed her steadily forward, and she rowed furiously to the left. By the time she was a few feet away, she had no choice but to try and lunge for the tree.
Arabella gasped at the shock of cold river water as she slipped beneath the surface before her head bobbed up and her hands closed around the trunk. Legs locked around the tree, she held on tightly, watching as the boat disappeared beneath the water.
She leaned her forehead against the trunk, breathing hard. Should she try to swim for shore? Or wait for someone to cross the bridge and call for help?
“Well, well, well,” came a voice behind her. “Miss Hughes, we meet again.”
Arabella stiffened.
She knew who it was before she turned.
Mr. McKenzie. The man himself, perfectly dry. His boat, perfectly unsunk.
Oh, she could curse.
He managed to maneuver his boat near the tree and grabbed at one of the branches, holding his boat in place beside her. The lines of his body were relaxed, his mouth curved up in a shameless smile. “It seems I always find ye in a spot of trouble, Miss Hughes.” He spoke to her as casually as if they were in the sitting room sharing afternoon tea.
She was half tempted to grab for the side of his boat to tip him out. “I’d appreciate very much if instead of being the cad I’ve come to expect, you kept your mouth closed and assisted me into your boat,” she said through gritted teeth.
“And I’d very much like tae do just that.” His mouth twisted as if in consideration. “But if I recall correctly, ye said ye wouldn’t get intae my carriage if I were the last man on earth. Do ye feel differently aboot boats, then?”
MISS HUGHES HAD occupied more than her fair share of Gavin’s thoughts this past week, remembering the suspicion she’d eyed him with during dinner that first night. The fierce look of displeasure she’d given him on the cliffside stairs. And the hostility she’d shown him during the bonnet incident.
But that was nothing to the look she was giving him now.
She scoffed and turned her head away, unwilling to answer.
He had to give her credit. She was nothing if not consistent. To hold on to her pride even with the icy river water swirling around her...
Stubborn lass.
But as the owner of an extensive property in the Highlands, Gavin had dealt with his fair share of stubborn sheep. And he’d learned that sometimes the best way to deal with such obstinacy was with brute force.
Gavin leaned over and hooked his hands beneath Miss Hughes’s arms, tugging her upward. Fighting against the drag of the current and the weight of her saturated clothing, he pulled her back against his chest and heaved her over the side of the boat.
For one breathless moment, they remained in a heap at the bottom of the boat as it rocked back and forth.
