And then she was there, arms extending, cold fingers grasping his neck and shoulders.
“Tavish.” The intimate whimper of her voice enveloping him.
Isla’s voice. That of the girl he loved.
“I have ye, lass,” he panted, a hand wrapping around her waist. “Ye be safe with me.”
Her eyes met his, open and tender. A window to the soft heart of her.
The years melted away, vanishing like hoarfrost in the warmth of summer sun.
They were just Isla and Tavish. Best friends, reaching for one another as they always had. The press of her hands—one clinging to his shoulder, the other on his chest—and the soft give of her body under his palms.
A second passed.
Maybe two.
The briefest flash of fantasy where the past seven years had never happened. A wee liminal space where they still loved each other. Where their hearts still beat in harmony, and she still wanted a life with him.
And then reality came crashing back down.
The Isla before him was not the lass he had known—her body more rounded, her cheekbones and jaw more refined.
Her gaze shuttered, and she pushed away, treading water. “I can swim without assistance, Captain.”
Shouting intruded from overhead.
Tavish glanced up to see Miss Forsyth and Miss Crowley sobbing on the bridge, staring down in horror.
Och.
He was an acquaintance effecting a rescue, not a husband desperate to save his wife.
“Let’s get ye to shore,” he said, breathing hard.
Isla nodded.
Tavish turned, giving her his back. “If ye wish, ye can hold my shoulders, and I’ll tow ye to the bank.”
The firm weight of her hand grasped the side of his neck.
Slowly, Tavish kicked for the shoreline.
“Ye be a better swimmer than I recall,” he couldn’t help but say.
She said nothing for a long moment.
And then, “The swimming hole is precisely where you left it. I might have practiced over the years.”
He barely stopped a grin.
That’s my lass, was his first thought. Chased quickly by a second—She is not for yourself.
A glance at the edge of the lake confirmed this.
The other gentlemen were just now arriving, calling and reaching for Isla. Grayburn shook out his greatcoat.
Tavish’s feet brushed against the silty bottom of the lake. Pushing upright, he dragged Isla forward.
