Stephane snorted in derision. “Sentimental old fool. He was too rooted in the old ways. I could not allow you or Davide to ascend the throne in my stead. The only way I could prevent that was to get rid of you all. But I couldn’t do it alone, so I enlisted the aid of others.”
Her chest swelled with sorrow to hear the hatred for their father in his voice. But her sorrow quickly faded as rage mounted in its stead.
That her own brother had been responsible for their parents’ deaths was too much for her to comprehend. Her hand gripped the handle of the dagger tighter, and she pulled it up to her waist.
“So you would kill me?” he asked mockingly. With a motion of his hand, two soldiers rushed up the incline. They stopped on either side of Merrick, their swords pointed at his chest.
“I wouldn’t advise doing that,” Stephane chided. “It would be a shame for the Englishman to die.”
“Kill him, Isabella.”
She blinked in surprise at Merrick’s voice. She had forgotten him entirely in the shock of seeing Stephane alive. She glanced between the two men, uncertainty flickering in the back of her mind.
Then she raised her eyes slowly to her brother once more, hatred emanating from every pore. “I could kill you right now,” she hissed, pointing the dagger at him.
“But you won’t.” He nodded at the two men behind her, and she whirled around, expecting an attack. To her horror, one of the soldiers planted a foot in Merrick’s chest and sent him toppling over the side of the cliff.
“You may have need of that knife to free your lover,” Stephane sneered. “Kill me or save him. It’s your choice.”
The world slowed around her, her brother’s voice a distant echo. Everything came down to this. She could avenge her parents’ deaths as she had sworn to do and put a knife through her brother’s heart, or she could let him slip through her fingers while she saved Merrick.
Revenge or love. Revenge had ruled her for too long. Love was her only chance to live. And she loved Merrick. Loved him as she had never loved anyone else.
Slipping the blade of the dagger between her teeth, she bolted past the soldiers and dove cleanly over the side of the cliff.
She plunged into the icy waters, the shock of it nearly causing her to inhale. With powerful strokes, she pulled herself downward, her eyes searching for Merrick, praying it wasn’t too late.
Then she saw him, bouncing along the bottom, the current pushing him farther out to sea. He struggled against his bonds, his movements jerky, like a puppet on strings.
She put a hand out to halt his movement, and their eyes locked. Putting her feet down, she dug them into the rocks to prevent herself from being sucked away. She sealed her lips over his and breathed into his mouth. Then she reached around him to free his hands.
Working rapidly, she slashed the bonds at his feet and hands. Once the ropes fell away, he kicked off the bottom, propelling himself to the surface. She pushed upward with her arms, intent on following him, but her body was pulled tight.
In panic she looked down to see what held her. Her foot was caught in the rocks. She dropped the dagger and bent over pulling frantically at her ankle. In her haste to free Merrick, she hadn’t even felt the constriction on her foot.
She kicked and pulled, her lungs screaming for air. The ocean floor swirled before her, spots dotting her vision. Despair flooded her. After everything she had endured, it appeared she would die after all.
Simon burst to the surface sucking great mouthfuls of precious air. Relief as he had never felt before drained him of strength. Weakly, he looked around waiting for Isabella to break surface beside him. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her how much he loved her.
He struck at the water with his arms as he twisted round and round in search of her. Fear constricted his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs. She should have surfaced by now.
His heart thumping painfully in his chest, he took in a great gulp of air and dove beneath the surface. He swam quickly down, looking for sign of her.
She was where he had left her, her braid floating eerily about her head. She struggled weakly, pulling in vain at her foot. He slammed into her, and as she had done for him, he breathed into her mouth offering a much needed burst of air. But she didn’t respond. Her body went limp against him.
Not caring if he ripped her foot completely from her body, he reached down and yanked with all his might. All that mattered was that he get her to surface immediately.
Her ankle came free, and he rushed them to the surface, his arm tightly wrapped around her waist. When they bobbed above the water, he grasped her face in his hand and shouted at her.
“Isabella! Isabella!”
Her face was ashen, and worse, she didn’t breathe.
With strength and speed he didn’t know he possessed, he churned down the shoreline where the great wall of the cliff gave way to a small stretch of beach. Seconds later, he pulled her limp body from the water and laid her on the sand.
Tears rolled down his face, mixing with the water that cascaded from his hair. She had to live. He couldn’t go on without her.
Taking her by the shoulders, he shook her, trying to do anything to awaken her. He turned her over and pounded on her back. His despair mounted when she remained motionless.
