“There are many secrets I could share with you, Lara,” Sebastien said, in a voice so deep and warm it transformed her insides to liquid. Just as she began to turn to him, Malcolm raced by her, out onto the dock and then into the water.
The water?
Sweet Jesus! Malcolm could not swim.
To her horror, his running start projected his small body far out over the surface of the firth before he went under. There was no sign of him for what felt like hours, and without waiting, she ran to the edge and threw herself in after him.
The cold water shocked her and she felt it claw at her gown and tunic. She turned around and around, looking for some sign of her brother. Stretching down, Lara searched the bottom beneath her feet.
She touched nothing. Then the weight of her saturated clothing began to drag her down. Gasping and flailing her arms, she screamed as she remembered that she could not swim, either. All she could think of as she sank into the murky waters was one name.
“Sebastien!” she cried out, and then there was nothing but black.
Watching in disbelief, Sebastien could only wonder how people living so close to the sea did not know how to swim in it. He’d spent days teaching Malcolm to float and hold his breath and then how to take strokes to move himself through the water. Lara could climb, she could ride, she could fish, so how was it that she could not swim?
Malcolm’s head came out of the water just as Lara sank into it, so Sebastien dived back into the firth to get to her. Luckily, ’twas in between the tides, so the water was calm. Deep but calm. Waving the boy off, Sebastien took a breath and aimed at the spot where Lara had sunk from view. He could only see a few feet in front of him, so he reached out, trying to grab her gown as it fluttered down to the bottom.
Pulling the heavy garment, he finally got hold of her and encircled her waist with his arm. With powerful kicks, he brought them both to the surface, then dragged her back to the shore. Margaret’s screaming brought soldiers running to his aid. In a very short time, with Malcolm at his side, he carried Lara from the water and laid her on the edge of the beach.
Silence held all in its grip as they waited for her to take a breath. And waited. Just when he reached out to shake her, she convulsed, taking in a huge amount of air and forcing out a similar amount of water. Sebastien rolled her to her side and watched as her coughing turned to sputtering, and then she breathed clearly. Before she became aware of those around her, he waved them off, even the maid, Margaret, who had to be dragged away by Hugh.
Sebastien knelt by her side and waited until she opened her eyes. “I suppose you will never appreciate secrets now,” he whispered to her.
“Malcolm,” she gasped, trying to right herself and find her brother.
“Shh,” Sebastien said, taking her in his arms and rocking her. “Malcolm is well, as you shall be shortly.”
The subject of her worry ran by, calling for Philippe to follow him. With a wave to her, Malcolm threw himself back into the water.
“Philippe! Have a care…” Sebastien pointed in Malcolm’s direction and the squire nodded, acknowledging the order.
“He took to it as though born there,” he explained to her, all the while holding her close. “I did not know you could not swim or I would have warned you.”
“I thought he would die. I saw him go under and thought he…” Her words drifted off and she shook in his arms. He held her in silence, allowing her to cry out her fear. “I have only ever wanted to keep him safe. That is why I sent him from the castle the day of the battle. I thought you would kill him if you found him.”
Confused at first by this shift in her words, Sebastien realized that the shock of thinking Malcolm in danger had released much more, from deep within her.
“Everything we’d heard about the Bruce and what he would do to us… I tried to get him away…even though my father said to stay inside. I tried… I tried…”
“Lara, he is safe. Malcolm is safe,” Sebastien repeated, over and over until she quieted. “Youare safe. Never fear, I will always protect you.”
She leaned back and looked at him, as though seeing him for the first time. “You are so very different than I expected an enemy to be.”
He laughed for a moment and then met her serious gaze. “As are you.” Her teeth chattered and he noticed her lips were blue. “Come, you must get out of these wet clothes.”
He stood up and helped her to her feet. After tripping over the sopping gown, he leaned down and lifted her into his arms. Instead of objecting or struggling as he thought she might, she collapsed against his chest. When they reached the drawbridge, he called out orders, and by the time he climbed the tower to their chambers, Hugh was on his way to retrieve the boys from the firth and Margaret stood ready with drying linens and hot water.
Sebastien released her into her maid’s care, but did not leave the room. Turning his back, he tugged off his own wet clothes and found a dry pair of trews in his trunk. By the time he’d changed, Lara was sitting in the chair wrapped in a thick blanket. With a glance, he dismissed Margaret, who looked for a moment as though she would disobey his order to go.
He threw another piece of wood into the hearth and stoked the fire until it burned hotter. Then he crouched before Lara and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he reached up and touched her cheek. She did not pull away.
“It would have been better if you had forced your way in,” she whispered.
Her words surprised him. “Forced my way in?”
“Into the castle. Into my bed.”
Sebastien shook his head. “That is not my way.” It had never been his way. When others preferred force, he went out of his way to avoid it. Force was the stupid man’s method of getting what he wanted—and he had not gotten this far by being stupid.
