But there—running along the path from the direction of the stables—a familiar figure in riding clothes.
“Papa!” Leah screamed with every ounce of breath in her lungs. “Papa, help us!”
Hugo froze at the sound of his daughter’s voice carrying across the morning air, raw with terror and desperation. He’d been heading to the stables for his usual dawn ride when the cry reached him.
“Melanie!” He heard the scream of terror from his middle daughter.
Please tell me they’re not doing what I think they’re doing.
He broke into a run, his boots crunching on the gravel path as he made his way through the ornamental gardens toward the water. But instead of laughter and splashing, he could hear something that made his blood run cold.
Screaming.
Real, genuine, terrified screaming.
God help me, they’re going to be the death of me.
The scene that greeted him when he crested the small hill overlooking the lake was exactly what he’d feared. One of his daughters stood on the large rocks that jutted out into the water, still in her nightgown and bare feet, dripping wet and looking like she’d faint. Two of them were in the waters, one unconscious and the other unable to get to shore.
Christ!
Hugo didn’t remember diving into the lake. One second, he was standing on the bank fully clothed, and the next, he was thrashing through the cold water toward where his daughters were.
Please let her be all right. Please let her be?—
He got to them quickly, thank God, where they were flailing with their nightgowns tangled around their legs. With a burst of strength he didn’t expect, he grabbed both of them and started swimming back, frantic.
Suddenly, Melanie came too, sputtering and gasping when he hauled her against his chest, her small hands clinging to his jacket with desperate strength.
Rosalie gasped, “Melanie!”
“I’ve got you,” he said roughly, treading water as he held them close. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
“Papa?” Melanie’s voice was small and scared, nothing like the confident little imp who’d been jumping rocks moments before. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He began swimming toward the shore, both their weight making his movements slow but manageable. “Just hold on to me.”
By the time they reached the shallows, Leah was waiting anxiously on the bank, her face pale with shock. The reality of what could have happened—what had nearly happened—was written clearly across her features.
“Rosalie Emilia Rothburn!” His voice cracked across the morning like a whip the moment they got out as Melanie sat weakly on the ground. “What in God’s name do you think you were doing?”
All three girls spun toward him, their faces shifting from fear to guilt in the span of a heartbeat. But it was Rosalie who stepped forward, her chin lifting with that stubborn defiance that reminded him painfully of himself at that age.
“We were practicing, Papa,” she said, as though jumping into a lake at dawn was the most reasonable activity imaginable.
“Practicing what, exactly?” he stalked closer to the water’s edge, noting with growing alarm how far from shore they’d managed to get. “Drowning?”
“R-Rock jumping, papa,” Melanie piped up helpfully, wringing water from her sodden nightgown. “Rosalie showed us how yesterday, and we wanted to try it again!”
“Is she hurt?” Rosalie asked, her voice shaking.
“No, but not thanks to you,” he snapped, his fear transforming immediately into fury. “What were you thinking, encouraging them to attempt something so dangerous?”
Rosalie’s face flushed red. “It wasn’t dangerous! I’ve done it dozens of times without?—”
“You’re eighteen years old and an experienced swimmer!” Hugo set Melanie down carefully, checking her over for injuries even as he glared at his eldest daughter. “They’re twelve and fifteen! Did it never occur to you that what’s safe for you might not be safe for them?”
“But I made sure they could swim first?—”
