But first, she wished to tell how she’d lied to him? So be it. If her confession caused him pain, it would be only too fair. His eyes were open. But after all he’d done to her, she would never believe that his heart was open as well.
He dropped to his knees beside her and sat back upon his heels. “Isobelle, forgive me. Forgive?—”
Her arm swung around. A large stone jarred his attention as it tried to force its way into his skull. Then it was gone. But the pain remained. The noise remained.
Isobelle stood over him as he fell onto his back. Her bottom lip tucked itself behind her teeth. She shook her head and tears dripped onto his face.
Then she, too, was gone. But there was nowhere for her to go?—
Nowhere but the sea!And she could not swim!
“Nooo!” He rolled. Found his feet, stumbled, searched the darkness for the whiteness of her gown. Saw nothing.
He turned.
There! Already so far into the water. How fast she moved! How anxious was she to run into the arms of death!
God help him, what had he done? He’d driven a beautiful creature out of her mind. But he could undo it. He could bring her back if only he could get to her before it was too late.
“Isobelle! Wait! Forgive me! You are free!”
He rushed into the water, blinking over and over, but the white was gone. His skull threatened to come undone beneath his hand, but he could not pause to recover. She was out there, drowning.
“Isobelle!” Waist-deep now.
As if rising to the sound of her name, the white gown surfaced. Twenty feet away!
He lunged, pulled his hand away from his head and swam as furiously as he could. He needed air. He had to pause. Had to breathe.
There. She was still there. Above water. Pushing the water out of her way.
“Isobelle! You are free! Come back!”
The vision turned and faced him, treading water. She could swim?
He laughed. She could swim! Praise be, she’d lied to him!
“Isobelle, forgive me. Come back! The boat. In the morning. Forgive me!”
He stopped fighting the water, allowed it to cover him. The cool liquid soothed the ache in his head.
Air. He needed air. And he needed Isobelle’s forgiveness.
He kicked, over and over, until the water parted.
She’d come closer. She stayed above the water easily, but her breathing was labored. She could have never lasted long. Even if she could swim, she likely hadn’t done so often. Trying to swim from the island would have been suicide. At that, she might have succeeded!
“Gaspar! Are ye badly hurt?” She sounded so close, and yet, she was still beyond his reach.
Again, he allowed himself to sink. Ah, the relief. Like sleeping when one is tired. So tired. But he needed air again.
He kicked and fought his way to the surface once more and found Isobelle there, coming for him. He permitted her to pull him close, then with a furious kick, he rose above her in the water, wrapped his arm around her, across her chest, and took a firm grasp beneath her arm. Then he began dragging her back to shore in spite of the screaming in his skull. After a few half-hearted struggles, she settled down and allowed him to take her.
When they reached the shallows, he stood and helped her to do the same. Then he took a step away from her.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I was wrong to take you from your home. I was wrong to expect you to change. If I’d have succeeded, I would have never forgiven myself. You may leave the island as soon as Icarus arrives with the boat, Isobelle. I vow it.”
She looked at him askance as she filled her lungs over and over again. “Then it wasn’t a lie, to lure me back to shore?”
