Page 24

“Charlotte!”

A splash up ahead had him urging Bella forward.

“Here!” Her voice was weak, but he heard it. He swung to his right. Another wave rolled by, and he saw her face seconds before it disappeared beneath the surface.

Keeping the reins firmly in one hand, William leaped out of his saddle. He landed on his feet, the water reaching his chest. Wading forward, he raked the water in ever-increasing circles until he felt her arm. Grasping it, he pulled her up. She emerged, spluttering and flailing her limbs. Releasing his hold on Bella’s reins, he pulled her against his chest.

“Calm yourself,” he said. “I have you.”

“I … I … c-cannot … s-swim.” A racking cough overtook her, and she clung to him so tightly he thought he might lose his own ability to breathe.

“But I can,” he said. “And if you will trust me, I will get you to safety.” He pried her fingers from around his neck and swept her into his arms. “Come. Before the next wave hits.”

“B-but, M-Mr. R-Ryland. Y-you m-must go a-after him.”

William waded over to his horse and caught Bella’s floating leather straps in between his fingers. “You are infinitely more important than Mr. Ryland.”

Her wide eyes met his, but then she tensed and was seized with another bout of coughing. Tightening his arms around her, he started back for the beach.

The water had dropped to his thighs by the time her hacking calmed, and with no water to offer buoyancy to her clothing, the weight of her sodden riding habit pulled at his shoulders. He dragged his feet through the last remaining inches of seawater, grateful when Thomas materialized out of the darkness and took Bella’s reins from him.

“I have the sheep secured, my lord,” he said. “What more can I do?”

“Lend me your jacket,” he said. “Mine is too wet to be of any use, but we must get Miss Densley out of these sodden clothes and into something warmer.”

Charlotte gasped, squirming to be free of his arms. “N-no, W-William.”

“Hold still or I shall drop you,” he said, clasping her more tightly. “This is not an issue of modesty or propriety, Charlotte; this is a matter of life and death. If you were to attempt riding home in these wet clothes, you would perish from cold before we reach Tribbley Hall.”

“W-will you at l-least t-turn away?”

“Thomas and I will both turn away. If you need assistance, however, you have only to ask.” He paused. “Are you ready to try your feet?”

“Y … yes.”

Slowly, he set her down. She was trembling with cold. He waited, not moving his arms away until he knew she was steady. “Very well. Thomas will hold his jacket out for you and we will both face the other way.”

He took a few steps and stood beside Thomas with his back to her. He waited. He heard the slap of wet fabric, followed by a rip. And then Charlotte’s voice.

“I-I c-cannot, William. M-my fingers w-will not …” Her voice broke.

“I’m turning around, Charlotte.” He pivoted. Her teeth were chattering so violently, he could hear them. He eyed the dark swathes of fabric clinging to her legs. “How do I undo these ridiculous outer garments?”

“T-the s-skirt is t-tied. Th-there’s a knot.”

“Show me.”

Her trembling hand reached for his and she placed it on her hip. “Th-there.”

He felt the ribbons. They were wet and tied tightly. “Thomas,” he said. “Do you have a knife on you?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Hold it out to me, if you please.”

Moments later, a short blade glinted in the moonlight at the end of Thomas’s extended arm. William reached for it, pulled the ribbons free of the skirt, and sliced through them. He tugged at the heavy fabric and it shifted. Charlotte took ahold of it and pulled. It slid to the sand in a wet heap, leaving her standing in her shift.

William took a breath. “Now the jacket.”