It was too late. The glimmer grew brighter, the moon a clear reflection off the water in the canal. As the horses leapt over the low wall, John swung his leg over the back of his mount and jumped into space.
Chapter Twenty-Three
He hit the water hard, his breath forced from his lungs, but he dove deeper, away from the carriage that would be following.
With Netta inside.
The force of the carriage hitting the water pushed him aside, twisting his limbs. He scissored to the surface, gasping as he broke free. The sounds of splintering wood and groaning metal surrounded him, echoing off the canal walls.
“Netta!”
The door was half-submerged, the carriage tilting to one side. “Netta!” Using his boot against the wall as leverage, he tugged the door open. Relief flooded his veins when Netta looked up at him.
“Are you all right?” they both asked at the same time.
John’s heart slowed from a gallop to a canter, and a shaky chuckle slipped from his lips. “Thank God.” He stretched out a hand. “Come on.”
She shook her head, her hair tumbling about her shoulders. The ends floated on the water that was much too close to her face. “My ankle is stuck.” She tugged at her right leg to show him.
The opposite side of the carriage had split, and large panels of wood pinned her foot in place.
“Perfect.” The door bumped into his side, and he pushed it back. “Are you in pain?”
She smiled. “Only a very little. Nothing to worry over.”
His heart clenched. Netta had just been in a terrifying accident, was trapped in cold, filthy water, and she was trying to make him feel better? She was unlike anyone he’d ever known.
A dreadful squeal raised the hair on the back of John’s neck. He and Netta locked gazes.
“The horses,” she whispered.
“Let’s get you out first then I’ll see to the horses.”
Another squeal. The carriage shifted as one of the beasts thrashed in the water.
“Go!” She shooed him away with her free hand. “I’m fine. Don’t let them drown.”
John ground his jaw. Shit and damnation, neither of his options were good. But he turned and swam to the closest animal. Its nose was barely above water. He’d lost his good knife in the accident, but he still had the dagger up his sleeve. He sliced at the harness, the wet leather fighting his efforts. Finally, the animal was free.
John slapped its rump. “Ha! Get out of here.” He felt his way to the next animal. The horse wasn’t moving except for a slight rise and fall of its shoulders. He cut away its bindings. “Go on, you mangy cur.” Tugging at the bridle, he ignored the wide-eyed panic in the horse’s gaze. “There’s a jetty right over there. Follow your friend.” After a minute of pushing and prodding, the horse moved.
And the nose of the carriage sank farther into the canal.
Netta’s shriek thundered in his ears. He kicked for the carriage door, nearly ripping it from its hinges when it swayed in the current, blocking his way.
His heart stopped as he saw only bubbles in the murky water. Then Netta’s head broke the surface, gasping for air before sinking back down.
John lunged forward, cradling the back of her head and lifting it. Her face was only inches above the water, her nose nearly grazing the carriage’s ceiling.
She gave a shaky laugh. “Now I think my being stuck is a larger problem than before.”
He kissed her temple. “I’ll get you out. Can you brace yourself, stay above the water?”
He pulled his hand back an inch, and she sank back down. He brought her back up, spluttering.
“My neck aches when you hold me above the water.” She scraped her fingers along the ceiling, looking, and not finding, a finger hold. “My legs are twisted under me. I don’t have the leverage to hold myself up.”
“All right, sweetheart.” He kissed her again. “I’ve got you.”
