Page 67 of The Return of the Heir

The wind was stiff, allowing the ship to move quickly towards the waters beyond Dunvegan. Alastair and Tormod leaned against the railings as they looked over the open water for any signs of a boat. It was too late in the day for many fishermen to be out, so any vessels that remained would be possible options to explore.

“There,” Marcus called down, pointing at a small boat with two passengers inside. “To the left of the bow.”

His heart leapt as Alastair fixed on the location with his spyglass. Only to feel his heart sink to his stomach again. “’Tis two fishermen.”

Moments passed as the ship sliced through the water and wind tugged at their bodies, sending Alastair’s hair to dance about his face.

Hair.Gwendolyn’s hair would do the same. He stopped searching the boats on the water for anything other than long, flowing golden locks.

“There. To the starboard side. I see her. Hurry!” Alastair watched as Garrick forced Gwendolyn to stand. Her hands were bound before her. To her feet, he’d tied a large rock. Her golden hair tangled wildly about her face. Even so, he could clearly read the look of desperation in her eyes.

Garrick shouted something.

Gwendolyn’s face hardened.

Alastair’s breath caught as Garrick advanced on her, no doubt finding it harder to get her to leap to her death than he expected. The thought should have made Alastair smile, knowing Gwendolyn was a fighter to the end. Instead, Alastair looked on as panic snaked through him. They wouldn’t make it to her in time.

*

Gwendolyn watched asGarrick inched forward in the boat. She might be able to stall him for a few moments, but eventually he would force her overboard. Her head pounded where he had struck her, but the sensation was slowly ebbing and her faculties were returning. She only hoped that would happen before he forced her into the loch.

“No one will come to save you this time,” Garrick taunted. “Alastair MacLeod is a fool if he thought I could not get to him, get to you, anytime I wanted. I will have my revenge against the MacLeods for all they’ve done to me.”

Garrick might not think it possible, yet she knew Alastair would come for her. It surprised her how confident she was about that fact. He might not have come to save her on their wedding day, but then he hadn’t known she needed saving. This time he would know. This time he would come.

“Murdering me will serve that purpose?” Gwendolyn asked. She had to keep Garrick talking, with his eyes on her face, while she tried desperately to loosen the bonds at her feet. She had to rid herself of the rock before he forced her overboard.

“Losing you will cut the MacLeod to his core. I’ve watched the two of you together from within the castle walls. Never have I seen the MacLeod look at anyone the way he looks at you.” Garrick crept forward.

She inched back, sending the small vessel rocking back and forth. The motion gave her a crazy idea. She wasn’t about to let him kill her without a fight.

Tamping down her fear, she allowed Garrick to get closer, then closer still before she lurched to the left and again to the right, sending the tiny boat rocking wildly back and forth. The boat dipped, then pitched to the left just as she caught sight of a sailing vessel, heading in their direction.

Her heart leapt. Alastair. It had to be him. Yet it was too late to stop what she’d set in motion.

“Nay!” Garrick cried as they both plunged over the side and into the ice-cold water.

Everything around Gwendolyn was a chaos of motion and water. She tried to concentrate as the rock pulled her farther from the light, from air, from life. She brought hands to her feet, pulling and twisting the rope. Her fingers started to tingle, going numb from the cold. Her lungs ached. Still she fought the urge to take a breath, until finally the rope gave way. The rock continued to fall while her descent slowed.

Desperate for air, she thrashed her bound arms and kicked her feet, trying to make her way back to the surface, but the water pressed in on her. Her gown tangled about her legs, weighing her down further.

Nay!She wasn’t ready to die, not when Alastair had come for her. Instinctively, Gwendolyn kicked her feet and pumped her arms, fighting her way towards the light. Pain seared her chest and panic exploded inside her. She wanted to cry out as the need to breathe overwhelmed her.

Gathering what was left of her strength, Gwendolyn forced herself up. In a surge of effort she broke through the surface and hitched in a convulsive breath, taking in water instead. As she choked and coughed, she felt herself sinking once more.

Garrick’s hands were on her shoulders. A jolt of fear shot through her, paralyzing her limbs. A cry of defeat echoed inside her. Yet she refused to give up. Mustering the remnants of her strength, she struggled against his iron grip. He might drown her, but she would not make the task easy for him. But instead of pushing her beneath the water, he reared back as an explosion rent the air.

Despite Garrick’s release of her, her head dipped below the water and she was too tired, too cold to fight it. A heartbeat later, another pair of hands propelled her towards the light. Air touched her face and for a shocked moment, she forgot to breathe.

She looked into Alastair’s familiar dark gaze. Anxiety, pain, helplessness stared back at her.

“Gwendolyn, for God’s sake, breathe!”

Alastair’s plea jolted her back to her senses. She dragged in a shallow breath. Her lungs clenched, then spasmed, and she coughed up the water she had inhaled.

As she continued to sputter and cough, Alastair pulled her tight against his chest as he swam back to the ship. He grabbed hold of a rope and tied it around them, and slowly the two of them were hauled aboard.

Alastair set her on the deck and slashed through the rope at her wrists before cradling her against his chest. “Take a deep breath,” he ordered.