by Lecia Cornwall, Sabrina York, Anna Harrington, May McGoldrick
She stared in horror at the depth of the water in the bottom. They were doomed.
“Why do you have to be so damned big?”
Bracing herself, she heaved just as a wave lifted his body. Managing to get his head and his arms into the craft, she paused to catch her breath. The wind was whipping her wet hair into her eyes, and she pushed it back with one hand even as she clung to his tartan with the other. She had no idea how she could get him into the boat, and he was pulling that side dangerously low.
Macpherson groaned.
“Thank the Lord!” she gasped.
She had to save him. He’d come out into a raging river to rescue her, and this was his reward.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m so sorry. Really, I am.”
Reaching over him, Elizabeth took hold of his thick belt. She was starting to feel as if the heavens were beating on her. The gusts continued to batter away. She was soaked to the skin and feeling exhausted, but she couldn’t think about that now. She was responsible for him. She was responsible for getting him into this mess.
“We can do this. But you must help me,” she pleaded to the warrior, tugging again to no avail. “Wake up, you great ape!”
Breathing heavily, Elizabeth rested her face against his head, and she saw the swelling and the cut above his temple.
“I did that. I know I did that,” she whispered in his ear. “But you’re not going to let a wee bump get you down, are you? Show me some of that Highland spirit.”
He groaned again and a booted ankle hiked up over the side. At the same time, the boat tipped further, and she froze as more water poured in.
“We’re going to drown,” she muttered. “But at least we’ll do it in the safety of the boat. Keep on coming.”
Reaching to help him, she grabbed hold of the kilt. The boat pitched again and the wool cloth pulled up over his legs. Sprawled across his back, Elizabeth found herself looking at a bare, muscular arse. She blinked, unable to tear her eyes away.
“No time for that,” she murmured, righting herself and hauling him by the belt.
This time it worked, and Elizabeth fell backward as he rolled himself in over the side.
Unfortunately, it worked far better than she expected. His head rested like a stone on her chest, his hair in Elizabeth’s face. His body covered the rest of her, pinning her down and immersing all but her face in the sloshing water at the bottom of the boat.
“Nay, Highlander. This will not do.”
* * *
His head hurt. He wanted to sleep. But the troublesome sea beast had dragged him into the deep. The creature had to have a dozen hands and feet. Kicking him, squeezing him, pinching him, poking him in the ribs, tugging at his hair. He tried to get a grip on the attacking appendages, but the kraken had too many to contain.
“Highlander!” Someone was shouting in his ear. He couldn’t answer, not until he’d tamed the fiend.
Feet. He trapped a pair of them. Hands. There were too many. He growled when the creature latched its teeth onto his ear. He lifted his head and forced his eyes open.
He was nose to nose with a woman.
“At last!” she yelled into his face. “We’re drowning. We need to get off this boat. Oh, Lord. Focus your eyes.”
The small boat, the woman, how he’d come to be here—it all came back to him in a rush. The troublesome creature of his dream was no kraken. It was Elizabeth.
“Please tell me that you’re awake.”
His head was pounding. Why did she insist on yelling?
“Quiet, lass,” he barked, matching the sharpness of her tone. “I wasn’t asleep. You took an oar to my head.”
“I didn’t know it was you.”
Before he could respond, her face sank back beneath the surface of sloshing water. She came up a moment later, sputtering and butting him in the forehead. He thought his brain was about to explode.
“Are you trying to knock me out again?”
“Nonsense, you ignorant beast. I’m drowning.”
Drowning? Everything around him was still foggy. He blinked, repeating what she’d said.
Of course. They were still in the boat. The two of them were sprawled in the bottom, and she was trapped beneath him, working hard just to keep her face above water. The blasted thing was nearly full of water.
It would only take one more powerful wave. Then the craft would go to the bottom, and they’d be left floating in the river.
“Where are we?” He pushed himself back onto his knees. “How long was I out?”
She sat up, clutching the edges as he looked around. A gust of rain slapped him in the face. They were in the middle of a full blown tempest.
“I don’t know,” she replied, trying to pull her legs out from beneath him. “I was too busy saving your life to pay any attention.”
Once they were out of this mess, he’d have a few things to lecture her on, starting with that point.
Alexander squinted toward the river’s edge on either side. The river had widened out considerably, though with the sheets of rain and near darkness, it was difficult to see exactly how far they were from either bank. The wind was howling, kicking up waves and threatening to send them under at any moment. They had to be below the abbey, but how far was hard to say.
“Where are the blasted oars?” he demanded, looking around him.
“It was them or you,” she replied over the wind. “I decided to keep you.”
Perhaps he’d not be too harsh in his lecture.
They struck some half-submerged timber, and the current shoved the boat sideways. That was all it took. They swamped, and Alexander grabbed her arm.
“Swim ashore,” he ordered. He pointed to what appeared to be the riverbank.
He had no opportunity to say anything more. The boat sank beneath them, disappearing in the black water and leaving him kicking to keep his head above the surface. Fighting the current, he looked for her. She was nowhere to be seen.
“Elizabeth,” he shouted as her head popped up a few yards away. As quickly as she appeared, she went under again.
Swimming hard, he closed the distance. She surfaced, her arms flailing as he reached her. When she started to go down again, he grabbed the back of her cloak and drew her up.
Gasping for breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was digging her feet into his thighs, trying to climb his body.
“Go easy, lass. Float with the current,” he ordered, trying to loosen her death grip on him.
“I don’t know how to float,” she cried, holding even tighter. “I can’t swim!”
Of course. What need would a pampered royal castle dweller have for so basic a survival skill?
A wave washed over them, pushing both their heads underwater. She was practically sitting on his shoulders by the time he managed to fight his way to the surface. Spinning her in the water, he threw his arm across her chest. As he began kicking for the shore, she continued to fight him. But from the diminished depth of the scratches she was carving into his arm, he knew she was beginning to tire.
“I have you, Elizabeth,” he said in her ear. “Trust me.”
She heard him and stopped fighting. Turning her head, she looked over her shoulder at him. For a brief moment, their gazes locked. Her face had taken on an ashen hue; her lips were blue and trembling. Her body was still locked in a spasm of fear.
“I promise. I won’t let you drown,” he said.
He felt her begin to relax against him, letting him support her.
A curtain of rain and wind-whipped waves surrounded them, but Alexander did his best to keep the water from washing over her face and adding to her fright. Avoiding debris, he swam in the direction of land, or what should have been land.
They moved across the current that was carrying them quickly downriver. All he could see was brown choppy water flowing over what should have been fields.
After two days of hard rain and then this tempest, the flooding river had widened past its
normal bank. Forests beyond were merely a murky black blotch in the gray-green light. He could see nothing of the pine-covered mountain ridge to the north.
His boots touched the bottom, but the current was still strong in the shallower water. He was in thigh-deep water before he judged it was safe to release Elizabeth. Her eyes were wide as she took in the landscape around them. The wind—even stronger now—pummeled them, and Alexander held her hand as they waded through the moving lake of water toward the black forests and higher ground.
Daylight was fading fast, but even in the stormy twilight, nearly everything was inundated for as far as Alexander could see. In the distance, he could make out the crown of a brae, standing like a tiny island against the flooded meadows.
“This isn’t easy travel. You’re doing well,” he encouraged.
“Thank you for not taking my head off.”
“We’ll have time for that later,” he said, looking ahead and pretending to ignore the look she sent him.
“I apologize for lying about my name.”
Alexander glanced at her. Her cloak streamed out on the current. The green dress was ruined, black with water and mud. The braid had come loose and her hair whipped around her in the wind. The woman was a mess. Far different from the flawless beauty who’d come through the tavern door not so many hours ago. And still, in spite of everything she’d endured already, Elizabeth was showing a toughness he would never have expected.
“I am also sorry for not receiving your messenger,” she continued.
He didn’t want to think about any of this now. His priority lay in finding shelter. He pushed on. The ground beneath the fast-moving flood was soft and treacherous. They were both slipping and fighting to keep their heads above water. By the time they reached the protruding hill, the light was gone and she was dragging. Rushing water was piling up against a boulder at the base of the hill. Holding on to it, he helped her up onto solid land.
“And I apologize for splitting your head open with the oar.”
He had to give her credit for that one. She swung that wood as well as any Highland lass could have done.
Together they made their way up the slope. Shielding his eyes against the wind, he looked around him to get his bearings. He could see nothing of the countryside that he knew had fallen victim to the encroaching river. The storm showed no sign of easing. Alexander wondered if this refuge would be covered by the rising river before morning.
A thatched roof appeared beneath the crown of the hill. They nearly stumbled against it before they even saw it. It was a sheepcote with three crumbling turf walls and a thatched roof that had caved in long ago.
Elizabeth sank down onto a block of stone outside one corner of the building. “Is there anything I have forgotten to apologize for?”
Alexander crouched down and felt around the area along a side wall where the roof still provided a little protection. The corner was small, but large enough for the two of them, relatively dry, and out of the wind.
“Well, do you have anything to say?” she asked, standing up when he came out.
“Aye.” He took her hand and led her to the entrance of the hovel. “Welcome to your new castle.”
Chapter Six
If only he knew how she now perceived the Highlands and the Macpherson’s ancestral home after all her travels.
“Aye, m’lady,” he said. “Welcome to your future.”
Oh Lord. Perhaps he did know.
Still, Elizabeth didn’t need any prodding to get in out of the raging tempest. The place smelled of sheep, which was curiously comforting. As she sat in the dry corner, however, her sense of relief at being out of the wind and rain quickly gave way to misgivings about their predicament. The plan, as poorly conceived as it was, could not have gone more wrong. She was trapped now in the middle of a flood with her Highlander, pirate, rescuer, soon-to-be husband. The two of them alone on an isolated mound of mud. Her reputation was ruined. France was gone. Her dreams of independence were lost. Elizabeth wished she could believe in one shred of the happily-ever-after that Queen Margaret imagined.
She frowned, watching Alexander pull down handfuls of thatch and wood battens from their roof. She remained silent, realizing he was attempting to start a fire.
Even though it was midsummer, she was chilled to the bone. Water was dripping from her chin and nose, and every bit of clothing on her was soaked and filthy. She pushed the hair out of her face and stared, fascinated by her future husband.
He was crouched by the opening of the sheepcote. As he worked, drawing sparks from a flint with his dirk, the wet shirt stretched across the bulk of his muscles, molding to his broad chest and shoulders like a second skin. His hair had come loose and draped down his back. The kilt hung heavy around his legs. She knew those legs were all muscle and sinew: hard, sculpted, powerful. Elizabeth’s gaze was uncontrollably drawn to them anytime he crouched. Her mouth went dry. The marriage bed would be the least of her hardships. And his face. His face.
Shite and hellfire. He was watching her inspect him.
“You’re shivering so hard, lass, your teeth are going to fall out.”
She tried to keep her teeth from chattering, without success, and emptied her mind of all images of his body. Also without success. She kept her eyes on the tiny flames he was urging to life. Considering the open end of the building and occasional blasts of wet wind swirling through, she didn’t hold out hope that his efforts would do much to warm her up. He didn’t seem affected by any of it.
Just a normal day in the Highlands.
“Take your clothes off. You’ll be warmer naked than wearing all those wet things.”
Naked. Images of the two of them naked—for warmth—made delicious heat rush into her belly. Oh no, that wasn’t happening.
“I’m perfectly warm.” She pressed her back against the wall. To prove it, she took off her cloak and laid it over her drawn up knees. It only worsened the miserable dampness.
He broke up one of the pieces of wood into slivers and added it to the fire. As he blew on the tiny flame, Elizabeth shivered and pulled the garment up to her chin. Hopeless. She’d die of a chill before the night was over.
She froze as something crawled onto her shoulder. Wind, rain, and death by chill were instantly forgotten. Her body caught fire. She knew what it was before she saw it out of the corner of her eye. A snake.
Not just a small snake. A monster. Long and brown, its eyes glistened. A black tongue shot out and its head swayed threateningly. An adder. She was a dead woman!
Elizabeth leaped up and away from the wall, screaming. It was still on her shoulder, its tail wrapping around her neck, its demonic eyes looking into her face.
She pushed at the creature’s head as she threw herself at Alexander, who was standing now by the fire. Before she could reach him, the adder dove toward her neck and found an opening above the collar. Its head disappeared and the rest was quickly following. She screeched and tore at the neckline of her dress, ripping open the stitches. Blinded with terror, she yanked and pulled, fighting her clothes.
Alexander had her by the shoulders. “What’s wrong?”
“An adder,” she screamed. “In my dress! Get it out!”
Grabbing the neckline in both hands, he tore the garment open with a single motion and shoved it down her arms.
The adder had found the top of her shift and was quickly moving down between her breasts.
“Be still. Let me get it.”
She couldn’t. She was spinning and jumping, trying to shake the creature free. The Highlander’s hand went down the front of her shift, and she felt his arm against her breasts. And then, the monster was gone.
“I have it,” Alexander told her. “Calm yourself. You’re fine.”
She opened her eyes and stared down at her exposed breasts. It was gone. It was really gone. He was holding the snake by the head, and she saw it wrap its body around his arm like a whip.
Elizabeth pulled up the shift to cover her
self. Her body shook violently.
“It’s not an adder.” He brought the vile creature closer.
“Don’t,” she shrieked, stepping back. But her back immediately hit the wall, and she turned around, certain she was about to be attacked by a dozen other snakes. She had nowhere to go. No place to escape to. She’d never been so near a snake. Perhaps there were more of them already on her! Slapping at her skirts, she tried to pull the dress back up. The entire front was torn open. She held it closed over her chest.
“Since you live here,” he was saying, “you should learn the difference.”
“I don’t live with snakes or sheep.” She sounded shrill, but that was only natural under the circumstances.
“You live in Stirling. You can’t lock yourself behind palace walls.”
“I don’t lock myself behind anything. And this is not a stroll in the gardens. This is country. And I hate the country.”
“Look at the blasted thing. It can’t hurt you, lass.”
“This is madness. Everyone knows an adder can kill you.”
“I tell you it’s not an adder.”
The Highlander was holding the snake up, but he wasn’t bringing it any closer. The creature was wrapped around his wrist. Clearly, he wasn’t going to get rid of this killer until she paid attention.
Even as she forced herself to look, Elizabeth had to admit that he’d been quite heroic coming so immediately to her rescue. Twice now, on the river and now here.
“So what is it then?”
“A slow-worm.”
She looked at the size of it. It was at least twice the length of her arm. She’d felt it trying to encircle her waist.
“That is no worm.”
“A slow-worm,” he said again. “It can’t hurt you, but you were right to be afraid. And you were right to be thinking it was an adder. Unless a person got a good look at it, anyone might make the same mistake.”
Unexpectedly, a sense of warmth flowed through her. The Highlander was not ridiculing her for the way she’d responded. She looked up into his eyes, beautiful and serious in the fading light.
“So how can you tell one from the other?”