His heart crashed to his feet.Oh God. The old skiff. It had belonged to a fisherman who’d had a hut at the end of the beach. He’d died a few years back, and the boat hadn’t been used since. By now, the wood would be dried out. It would leak like a sieve.
Why hadn’t he thought of it? It made perfect sense. But she wouldn’t realize…
He pulled hard on the reins, turning his mount in one smooth motion. A strange emotion gripped him—a fear so strong, it could only be panic. He lowered his head to the thick, powerful neck of his destrier, and he rode. As fast as he’d ever ridden in his life.
By the time Flora realized what was happening, it was too late. But she turned the boat around back toward shore anyway. Thoughts of escape had given way to a fight for survival.
At first, she’d thought it was her inexperienced paddling filling the skiff. Soon, she realized it was something else. In the darkness, she hadn’t been able to see what was happening, but she could feel the water rising. Slowly but surely, it climbed farther and farther up her leg.
Her boat was leaking.
She tried paddling, hoping that the current she’d fought against so determinedly only moments before would take her back to the beach. But the skiff had grown so heavy, it was barely moving. The shore that had only minutes ago seemed so close now seemed infinitely far away. She hadn’t traveled more than a few hundred yards, but it didn’t matter. She couldn’t swim a foot, let alone the distance to safety. When it was clear that she would never make it back to shore by paddling, she started bailing. Scooping the icy seawater with her hands and tossing it out as if her life depended on it. Ignoring the obvious fact that it did. So focused was she on her task, for a while she forgot to be scared.
She gave a valiant effort, but it kept filling. Higher and higher. The skiff, in turn, began to sink lower and lower. The sea had claimed it, and it would not give it back.
But she wouldn’t give up. Not as long as there was a chance.
She didn’t want to die.
Still bailing, she glanced back toward shore. And blinked, thinking her eyes might be playing tricks on her. But no. Her pulse leapt. There was no mistake. Peering into the haze, she could see the castle glowing brightly in the darkness. Even from here she could see the unmistakable signs of life. Perhaps someone had noticed her gone and they were looking for her? Hope swelled in her chest. He would find her. She knew it deep in her heart. Knew it with a certainty that could not be assailed. If it were humanly possible, Lachlan Maclean would save her. She just had to hold on long enough for him to reach her.
She wanted to stand up and wave her arms, but she dared not stop bailing. “Help me!” she cried out in the darkness over and over until her voice grew hoarse. Someone had to hear her.
With a renewed burst of energy, she bailed, scooping out the water as fast as she could. Not wanting to acknowledge the futility of her efforts. The orange glow of a torch appeared upon the shore. A horseman. A feeling of euphoria crashed over her.
They’ve found me.Tears of joy streamed down her cheeks, and she yelled again. Yelled as loud as her voice could carry.
“Here! I’mhere!”
The skiff had drifted back toward shore, but it was clear the rider couldn’t hear her. She cursed the mist, the darkness, and everything else she could think of.
A few minutes later, the orange light that had seemed a beacon of life faded. Taking with it her last ray of hope, leaving only desperation and despair in its black wake.
The cruel disappointment almost killed her. Her weary body screamed to just give up. She was freezing, and her arms and back ached with the effort of paddling and then of bailing.
She wanted to cry out with frustration and rage and the unfairness of it all, but the scream lodged in her throat. There was no one to hear.
Only that much maligned streak of stubbornness kept her scooping the icy seawater with her frozen hands.
Lachlan intercepted a few of his men near the castle and sent them back with instructions to launch thebirlinnsand search every inch of the sound between here and Mull—in case he was right. With most of the men roaming the countryside, it would take time to find others to man the boats. And time was something he didn’t have.
Never had he so badly wanted to be wrong.
He calculated how long it would take the skiff to fill, and fear gripped his chest.
Once he’d reached the rocky precipice above the inlet, he dismounted and raced the rest of the way down the narrow path to the beach. His worst fears were realized when he looked down the white spans of sand and saw that the old skiff was indeed gone.
His breath lodged in his throat as he scanned the horizon above the sea through the fog.Be there, damn you….
Nothing. Damn it, where was she? He ran into the water and tried again. Peering hard into the darkness, cursing the mist that shrouded the moonlight, blurring night and sea into one murky cauldron.
His eyes moved purposefully, intently, back and forth over the waves….
There. His gaze caught a movement perhaps a hundred feet from shore. A shimmer of something silvery. His heart stopped and then raced full force. Her hair. The boat was all but sunken under the water, which was why he hadn’t seen her at first.
Why was she still holding on to the boat? Why hadn’t she just started swimming? The answer hit him. She didn’t know how to swim. How could she be so reckless to try to escape in a damn boat? Understanding eviscerated the tenuous hold he had on his control. She’d been that desperate to get away from him. Apparently, a watery death was preferable to the idea of marriage to him.
“Flora!” he yelled, running farther into the sea toward her.
