The sound came again. But it wasn’t Amy.
It was a man’s voice.
“Father!” the child screamed and began to struggle in her arms again.
Georgina fought to hold the girl, but she heard a deep and familiar voice. “Kirsty?”
Oh God... no, she thought. Not him.
“Kirsty!” he shouted.
“Here, Father! We’re here!”
She heard him swear, the same word he’d used when she kicked him. Georgina looked down. This little girl was the oaf’s daughter?
There was the sound of a splash, and instinctively she turned toward it. A foolish mistake.
Turn away from him, not toward him!
But before she could move or even breathe, a man’s muscled arm closed around her and the girl, almost lifting them from the water with one swift motion. Without a word, he swam back through the currents, carrying them along with an almost supernatural power.
They hit the shore so quickly Georgina was stunned. She couldn’t decide if they were really that close to shore or if he actually swam that well. She struggled to stand but couldn’t because he held her too tightly; his arm was clamped around her waist.
He never said a word, but every time she tried to move he tightened his grip on her and pinned both her and the child closer to his chest. He moved sluggishly up a steep dune, then dropped them in the damp sand, falling to his knees next to her.
She held the little girl, who was strangely silent and still as she lay sprawled on Georgina’s body.
For a few moments no one spoke. The only sound was the rush of their breathing. His. Hers. The child’s.
Georgina started to move, but he planted a hand in the sand above her shoulder and straddled her hips with his hard knees. He moved too quickly for a man who had swum so hard. Her arms and legs felt as limp as the soaked ribbons on her gown.
She met his hard look. “Amy’s still inside a cave.” Odd how her voice was smaller and breathy. Weak. It didn’t sound like her.
He didn’t respond.
She cleared her throat. “The tide’s coming in.”
“Calum!” was all he said.
Someone loomed over them.
The oaf looked up. “The other one’s stuck in a sea cave.”
“Which cave? Where?” It was the brother’s panicked voice.
She pointed where the fog floated slightly, showing the thin slice of light that was left. Her hand was shaking.
“The caves to the south,” Eachann answered him. “It must be the one near the point. Hurry, Calum. The tide’s rising.”
A second later Calum MacLachlan was gone and all she heard was the sound of someone running down the beach.
She was racked with a sudden chill, as if someone had just thrown water on her. She was soaked and half spent, a small child lying so still on her and Eachann MacLachlan kneeling over them. He was braced on his forearms. Cold water dripped from his hair onto her neck and shoulders.
Plop. Plop. Drips that were like numbers counting down toward something ominous—perhaps the moment the world would come crashing down on her.
Georgina raised her chin to meet the look she expected to see. It took every ounce of strength she had left to hold her chin up and not shake. Her body seemed on the verge of shattering. She could feel the shakes coming as she looked at him.
But he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed on his daughter, his expression so hard it looked ready to crack.
