by Sarah Morgan
‘I’d love to go for a walk,’ she said firmly, lifting her small chin and giving him the brightest smile she could manage. ‘I’ll just grab some breakfast and then I’ll change.’
They gathered together a picnic and set off from the house, following the coastal path along the edge of the cliff and down towards a rocky bay.
Holly walked steadily, her gaze fixed on the sea and the rocks. It was either that or give in to the compulsion to look at Mark who was striding ahead of her, a rucksack on his broad shoulders, long muscular legs eating up the ground with ease. And if she looked, she’d dream. And dreaming was no way to sort out the tangled mess inside her head.
At a curve in the path he paused, watching the antics of two boats in the bay.
‘What on earth are they doing?’ Mark frowned, his eyes narrowing as he watched the two boats dropping anchor and heard the sound of raucous male laughter. ‘The currents here are deadly so I hope they’re not planning to swim off the boat—especially after drinking. Alcohol and water are a pretty lethal combination.’
‘It’s a pretty cove,’ Holly murmured, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she followed the direction of his gaze. ‘It doesn’t look that dangerous.’
‘Don’t you believe it,’ Mark said grimly, his firm mouth unsmiling as he watched the horseplay on the yacht. ‘The current is strong, the rocks are vicious and the water is freezing.’
Holly bit her lip. She’d forgotten how well he knew this area. ‘Should we warn them?’
Mark shook his head. ‘Technically they’re not doing anything wrong so it’s really none of our business and, anyway, they’re too far away to hear us.’ He stared at the boats for another moment and then gave a small shrug. ‘Come on, I want to show you the view further on. You can usually see seals and basking sharks from the top of that hill.’
By the time they reached the top of the hill they were both out of breath.
‘It’s fantastic!’ Holly stared across the bay, wishing she weren’t quite so conscious of his every movement. He’d dropped his powerful length onto the grass and closed his eyes as if nothing in the world troubled him. Oh, bother, bother, bother! Nothing was ever going to be the same again. Instead of Mark the friend, suddenly all she could see was Mark the man. And what a man...
She stifled a groan, fighting her own thoughts.
Why had she never noticed the powerful swell of muscle underneath his shirt or just how strong and muscular his legs were? She must have been blind.
His voice cut through her thoughts, deep and very male. ‘See any sharks?’
‘Sharks?’ Holly cleared her throat. She hadn’t given the sharks a thought. Hiding her blush, she delved into his rucksack for the binoculars. ‘No. But I don’t really know what I’m looking for.’
‘A fin.’ Mark propped himself up on his elbows, openly laughing at her. ‘You’ve seen Jaws, haven’t you?’
‘I never believe what I see at the movies,’ Holly mumbled, horribly flustered by him. She held the binoculars to her face, relieved to have a reason to look away from him. ‘I don’t see anything. Just sea.’
‘Useless woman—here, let me.’ Mark sat up and took the binoculars from her, his fingers brushing hers and sending a current of electricity running through her body.
He squinted through the binoculars and, safe from detection, she treated herself to a brief look at his profile, her eyes drifting hungrily over the hard ridge of his cheekbones and resting on his rough jaw. Obviously he hadn’t bothered to shave that morning and the dark stubble made him look wickedly sexy. Just looking at his firm, well-shaped mouth made her stomach tumble as she remembered every tingle and thrill that had run through her body when he’d kissed her. He was breathtakingly good-looking and for the first time in her life she was beginning to understand why women behaved so stupidly around Mark.
In fact, if she didn’t rapidly pull herself together, she was going to be joining all those silly females she’d laughed at over the years.
And it was all because of one kiss.
Just one kiss was all it had taken to open her eyes...
‘Nope—can’t see any. I’ve brought you up here under false pretences.’ He lowered the binoculars and turned, his grin fading as he caught her studying him. ‘Holly?’
His dark eyes narrowed questioningly and she swallowed hard.
Oh, help! She’d been looking like a dreamy female, she knew she had!
‘I thought I saw an insect on your neck,’ she mumbled, blushing deeply as she scrambled hastily to her feet and swept her long blonde hair away from her face. ‘Let’s find somewhere for a picnic, shall we? I’m starving.’
‘An insect?’ He repeated her words with gentle emphasis and for a moment his gaze was searching. Then he rose to his feet in a fluid movement and dragged his eyes away from her.
‘That’s usually fairly private.’ He gestured towards another little cove. ‘We could eat there and have a swim if you fancied it.’
Without waiting for her reply, he set off down the path and she stared after him, her heart thumping. Private. The cove was private? She would have preferred a bustling harbour with plenty of people to take her mind off Mark. Private was just going to make things worse.
With a resigned sigh she forced herself to walk after him. He’d only kissed her once, for goodness’ sake! What on earth was the matter with her? What was it about one kiss that had turned her into a gibbering, mooning wreck? Why was she behaving like some teenager with a giant crush?
Still trying to talk sense into herself, she followed him down the path, stifling a groan as she saw him swing the rucksack off his back and strip down to his swimming shorts.
Anyone would think he was doing it on purpose to torment her, she thought, gritting her teeth and averting her eyes. It was bad enough trying not to notice Mark’s incredible physique when he was fully clothed, but when he stripped off...
Despite her best efforts her eyes slid back to him and goose-bumps prickled her skin as she stared at his broad, muscular shoulders and strong legs. Muttering under her breath, she quickly dipped her head and dropped onto the grass, staring intently at the sea. The sea. Cold. Wet. Apparently full of basking sharks. Surely if she concentrated hard enough on the sea, she’d be able to forget about Mark’s body.
‘Coming for a swim?’
He strolled up to her and hunkered down in front of her, his very bare chest only inches away from her eyes. She suppressed a whimper. Great. So much for avoiding him. How could he be so relaxed with her? But, then, why shouldn’t he be relaxed? Mark thought she was immune to him...
‘A swim? In a minute maybe,’ she said weakly, turning aside and rummaging in the rucksack. ‘You go ahead. I need a drink.’ Preferably an alcoholic one to numb her senses.
Mark watched her closely and for a moment she thought she saw a flicker of amusement in those dark eyes, and then he gave a shrug of those broad shoulders and straightened before sprinting towards the sea, leaving her sitting on the grass in a state of total confusion.
* * *
It was late afternoon by the time they started back along the cliff path and by then Holly had her emotions well in hand again.
Just Mark, just Mark, just Mark, she recited steadily as she plodded back up the cliff behind him, her eyes fixed firmly on the rough ground.
As they reached the path above the rocky bay Holly noticed a small group of people gathering and pointing. She frowned and screwed up her eyes against the sun. There was something about the way they were standing, looking out to sea—something that wasn’t quite right—
‘Something’s wrong Mark—look!’ She put a hand on his arm, feeling the hard muscle under her fingers.
Mark glanced at the group of people and then out to the bay, swearing softly as he saw what they were looking at. ‘One of those boys is in the water. Damn it, I knew there was going to be trouble.’
He shook off her restraining hand and sprinted up to the group gathered
on the path.
‘What’s happening?’ He barked the question at the nearest man, who shook his head briefly.
‘Nothing good, mate. They’ve all been drinking—we’ve been watching them for most of the afternoon while we were having our picnic. They were larking around and then one of the lads dived in, fully clothed, and he hasn’t come up again. They’ve been trying to look for him but the tide’s coming in and the waves are too rough.’
Mark stared at him. ‘How long has he been in the water?’
‘About five minutes.’
Mark’s lips tightened. ‘Has anyone called the lifeboat?’
‘Lifeboat?’ The man shook his head again, looking helpless. ‘No, there’s no phone—one of us has run back to the village but it’s at least half an hour away.’
‘Holly, there’s a mobile in my rucksack,’ Mark’s voice was sharp. ‘Call the coastguard and an ambulance. Then get yourself down that path and wait on the rocks. I’m going to need your help.’
‘Mark, wait! You can’t—’
But Mark had gone and Holly bit her lip, watching as he sprinted up the path, away from the cove. She frowned slightly. Why was he going that way? What was he doing?
And then she saw it.
A lifebelt and a rope, attached to a post to one side of the path.
Mark grabbed both and returned, jerking his head towards two of the men. ‘I need someone to hold a rope.’
His intention was obvious and Holly felt a rush of panic.
‘Mark, no!’ Holly reached out to stop him but he shook her off easily, his eyes steely with determination.
‘The phone, Holl!’
Holly watched helplessly as he ran down the path towards the rocks as fast as he safely could, the other men close behind him. She knew exactly what he was going to do. The same thing Mark always did when someone was in trouble. Take control. She closed her eyes briefly and faced reality. Mark was going to go into the water after the boy and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
But she could get him help.
Her hands shaking, she rummaged in his rucksack until she found his phone, switching it on and dialling with difficulty as she watched the three men descend to the craggy rocks at the bottom of the cove.
Despite her panic, her A and E training took over and she gave the details to the emergency services quickly and calmly before reaching into the rucksack to see what else Mark carried. Did he have a first aid kit? Yes. She dragged it out and tucked it under her arm. Probably not much use but still...
Stumbling slightly in her haste, she started down the path, aware that one of the women was close behind her.
‘He’s a brave one, your young man,’ she said, and Holly felt her heart lurch. She didn’t want Mark to be brave. She wanted him to be alive, and she knew how many people had drowned going into cold water to save someone.
But Mark was sensible and experienced, she told herself firmly, gasping as her feet slipped on the steep path. He’d been sailing and swimming almost all his life and he knew the rules. He wouldn’t take risks. Would he?
As soon as she arrived at the rocks she could see that he was taking as few risks as possible, masterminding the rescue attempt with a cool confidence that made her relax slightly.
He’d attached the rope firmly to his waist and had made one of the other men responsible for holding the end so that he had an escape route if he got into difficulties himself.
The third man was busy following Mark’s orders, yelling to the other teenagers on the yachts not to go into the water after their friend.
‘No point in having to rescue more than one of them,’ he muttered to Holly as she picked her way over the rocks to his side.
Holly watched, her heart in her mouth, as Mark waded into the water and started to swim, working his way towards the boat with a steady crawl, a powerful stroke that soon closed the distance between him and the boat.
‘He’s a bloody good swimmer,’ one of the men muttered in awe, and Holly nodded, her heart thudding unevenly.
‘He is a good swimmer,’ she agreed in a husky voice, ‘but it isn’t always the swimming that counts. It’s the current and the cold. The cold can kill.’
And with that awful thought in her head, she stared anxiously across the mounting waves, watching as Mark swam up to one of the boats, his head barely visible as he spoke to the boys who were hanging over the side.
And then he disappeared under the water.
Holly tensed as she watched, telling herself that he knew what he was doing, that he was still attached to a rope.
And then she saw him surface and take several breaths before diving down again.
Four times he repeated the dive and finally, when she thought she couldn’t stand the tension any longer, he surfaced, holding the limp figure of the boy.
Gasping for breath, he tilted the boy’s head and started to swim back to shore with him, his movements hampered and slowed by the extra load.
The man next to Holly gathered up the slack in the rope and frowned slightly. ‘I wonder why he didn’t take him onto the boat?’
‘Vertical lift,’ Holly murmured, her eyes never leaving Mark as he struggled back towards them. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably in her chest and her whole body felt limp with fear. If anything happened to Mark—
‘What did you say?’ The man standing next to her was looking confused and she shook herself.
‘He doesn’t want to lift him vertically. You should always keep immersion victims horizontal if possible.’
The man steadied himself on the rocks and glanced at her. ‘And what happens if you don’t?’
Holly’s eyes were still on Mark as she delved in her brain for the answer. Why was it? She couldn’t concentrate when she was this worried... She tried to remember what she’d learned in A and E. Circum rescue collapse or something—yes, that was it.
‘You can get a catastrophic drop in arterial blood pressure,’ she told him, never looking away from Mark, ‘for lots of reasons. Hypothermia means that the heart muscle can’t work as well, and if you lift the patient vertically then the effects of gravity tend to increase pooling of the blood in the legs. There’s more, I think, but that’s all I can remember.’
That and the importance of warming a profoundly cold patient.
She snapped into action and searched Mark’s first-aid kit, hoping, hoping—
‘Yes!’
She dragged a small packet out of the bag with a crow of triumph and the man looked at her.
‘What’s that?’
‘A space blanket,’ Holly muttered, ripping it open ready to be used. ‘That boy is going to need warming up. Has anyone got any other spare clothing?’
‘We’ve got towels,’ someone said, and Holly nodded swiftly.
‘Put everything that you’ve got in this pile. The more windproof and waterproof stuff the better.’
‘But it’s June. Surely it isn’t that cold,’ one of the women murmured, and Holly pulled a face.
‘It is in the sea. He’ll be chilled to the bone.’
Seeing that Mark was near the rocks she scrambled down to him, being careful not to slip.
‘What do you want me to do?’
He ran a hand over his face to clear his vision of sea water, his dark lashes clumped together and his handsome face drawn and tired from the exertion.
‘I need to get him out but, Holly...’ He paused to catch his breath, his voice slightly hoarse. ‘We need to keep him horizontal. That’s very important.’
‘I remember.’ Holly gave him a brief nod to indicate that she understood and turned to the men. ‘Quickly, he needs help to lift him out. Keep him flat. Flat, OK?’
Between them the men managed to lift the teenager out of the water and lay him on a smooth rock away from the waves.
‘Did you phone for help?’ Mark squatted down next to their patient, his expression grim.
Holly nodded. ‘Coastguard and air ambulance on the way.’
‘Shouldn’t we be starting resuscitation?’ someone murmured and Holly shook her head quickly.
‘People who’ve been in the water can have a slow pulse that’s very difficult to feel—it doesn’t mean it isn’t there.’
She knew as well as Mark that if they started CPR when the heart was still beating they could trigger a fatal arrhythmia.
She glanced at her watch. ‘Fifty seconds, Mark,’ she said softly, and his mouth tightened.
‘Come on—give me a pulse, damn it!’ He gave a low growl of frustration and shifted his fingers slightly.
Holly bit her lip and checked her watch again. ‘Sixty seconds, Mark. We ought to—’
‘He’s got a pulse,’ Mark interrupted her triumphantly, glancing up as the sound of a helicopter cut through the summer evening. ‘And we’ve got some help. One of you...’ He jerked his head to one of the men again. ‘Can you sprint up that path and say we need a nasogastric tube to relieve gastric dilatation and equipment to set up an IV?’
The man repeated it back to be sure he’d got the right message and then set off at a steady jog to meet the paramedics.
Mark slipped a hand inside the teenager’s shirt, frowning as he touched the skin under his armpit.
‘He’s cold as marble. Let’s wrap him up, Holly.’ He nodded his approval as she produced the space blanket from his first-aid kit and started to cover their patient. ‘Leave me an arm—I need to get a line in. If I can find a vein, that is. His entire peripheral circulation’s probably shut down in the cold.’
As the paramedics scrambled and slid their way to the bottom of the slope, the police arrived along with the coastguard.
‘Everyone’s here now the rescue bit’s over,’ one of the men observed dryly, standing aside as uniformed professionals suddenly surged all around them.