Page 130 of Aurelia

“No!” he shouted. “Crewe would have my head if I allowed you to go back in. Now, help me pull!”

Weeping openly, Aurelia grabbed the chain and they both pulled, almost tumbling out of the skiff when it suddenly went slack.

“He has come loose,” Sir Gideon said as he pulled hand over hand. “Take the oars, Aurelia. We’re drifting close to the cliff.”

She shipped the oars awkwardly, her entire body shaking from the cold, her arms like jelly as she tried to row.

“Here he is,” Sir Gideon said, and leaned over. “You must stay where you are or we shall tip over.” He groaned as he grabbed onto something heavy and then heaved.

One arm flopped over the side and Sir Gideon heaved again.

Roland slid into the boat like an enormous, landed fish.

Sir Gideon quickly turned Roland onto his side.

Aurelia inched closer but already felt the skiff beginning to unbalance, so she stopped. “Is he—”

Roland convulsed and water spewed from his mouth.

“He is breathing,” Sir Gideon replied tersely. “But he had water in his lungs; we must get him inside as quickly as possible. Keep rowing while I wrap him in his coat.”

Aurelia pulled for all she was worth, spurred into a near frenzy by the knowledge that Roland’s life might depend on her rowing.

Chapter 29

Roland’s mouth tasted foul—as if he had eaten old straw—and his head felt as though somebody had stuffed it full of rags. As for his eyes, the one that worked burned like lantern oil had spilled into it and the other felt as if somebody had packed it full of sand.

He tried to open his functioning eye and groaned at the stab of pain.

“Thank God! You are awake,” a familiar, much-beloved voice said beside him. A cool, soft hand stroked his forehead and arm.

“Your hands feel so good. Why is it so bloody hot in here?” He forced his eye open a crack, hissing at the stinging. “And where is here?”

“We are in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Temple. It seemed advisable to treat you here rather than move you up to the castle. But if you feel better today, Dr. MacMillan says—”

“How long have I been here?”

“Just over a day. Dr. MacMillan said you took in a great deal of water and must be careful of your lungs. And—and your leg is broken, just above your foot.”

Roland was about to ask which one but then tried to move them and yelped like a kicked cur. “How unmanly,” he muttered.

She chuckled and the sound was a balm that numbed the myriad of aches and pains in his body.

“Are you in pain, Roland? Dr. MacMillan left me laudanum and—”

“No laudanum.” So that was why his head felt like a desiccated gourd. He squeezed her hand. “Are you—”

“I am fine. I made it to the boat unscathed. It was you who suffered. Do you recall what happened?”

It all came back to him, the excruciating pain of having his foot torn from the rock. “Got stuck. Couldn’t get loose.” Each word was like chewing on glass, but he had to know. “Is my leg bad?”

“The doctor was able to set it swiftly enough that it should heal nicely. It will take some time, but you will walk just as well as you always have.”

He heaved a sigh of relief and then immediately groaned at the burning pain in his chest. Sleep pulled at him, but he needed to make sure of one last thing.

“Do not tell anyone about Arthur and Rebecca and—”

“Shhh,” she murmured, kissing his cheek. “Gideon and I have told everyone that Arthur was showing me some rock pools when we were caught by the tide.”