Alaric’s hands balled. He looked out the window into the night, toward the shadowy movement of the water. Terror thudded in his chest. “The loch.”
***
In her dream, Emma drifted.
Surrounded by inky waves, she couldn’t resist their cool, silken pull. They lulled her, drawing her deeper and deeper into their embrace.
Yet something stopped her.
Don’t leave me.
She clung to the voice, yet the darkness was so strong. Overwhelming. The tides of oblivion rose quietly, inexorably around her…
***
Alaric saw the rowboat on the mist-shrouded loch. Glazed by moonlight, it floated, a silver leaf upon the glassy black surface. It was sinking.
He sprinted toward the water, stripping off his jacket and boots as he ran. He passed Patrice, didn’t stop, her voice following him with the eeriness of a spectre.
“It’s too late. You can’t save her.”
The hell I can’t.
He dove into the icy water, slashing the waves with sure strokes.Hold on lass, hold on,his heart thundered. The tides grew choppier, washed over his head, yet he pushed on, spitting water, kicking out against the churning depths. His muscles strained. His lungs burned. A single imperative drove him on.
Get to the boat and save his woman.
He saw the boat yards away, wrapped by tendrils of mist, its sides half-submerged. He battled the waves with renewed vigor, surging forward with powerful kicks. His hands closed on the wooden edge, and he hauled himself up.
Emma.The water was just closing over her face.
He yanked her up by the shoulders, shouted her name.
Limp, lifeless, she didn’t respond.
He wrapped an arm around her, nestling her back against his chest. Vigilantly keeping her head above the water, he fought the currents with his free arm. The fog grew thicker, obscuring the way to safety, bearing down upon him. Fatigue turned his muscles to stone. Emma remained slumped in his desperate grasp.
“You stay with me, Emma,” he gritted out. “We do this together. Either way.”
“Strathaven! Where are you?”
Kent’s voice reached him, a buoy in the darkness.
“Over here!” Alaric shouted. “I’ve got her.”
Moments later, a yellow glow burned through the mist, followed by the bow of a boat. Kent dropped the oar and reached out, hoisting Emma aboard. Chest heaving, Alaric followed and knelt beside her.
“How is she?” he said raggedly.
In the light of the single lantern, Kent’s face was bleak as he covered his sister in his jacket. “She’s breathing, but her pulse is weak.”
Panic seized Alaric. He cupped her chilled face. “Wake up, love.”
She didn’t reply, didn’t so much as flicker an eyelash at his plea.
His terror burgeoned until he could barely breathe.
“Devil take it, Emma,” he choked out, “you made me a bluidy promise, and youwillkeep it. You come back to me right now. You fight this!”
