Libby shielded her face with her arms as she plowed through a stand of evergreens, her scream of surprise cut short when the small car slammed into the frozen farm pond on the other side of the trees. Both airbags exploded, punching Libby in the chest and face with the force of a cannon ball.
She slapped the slowly deflating airbag away, coughing on the packing powder that had shot through the interior of the car when the airbags had deployed. Water and ice cascaded over the hood, seeping into the cracked windshield, and the sound of the hissing engine and gushing water turned Libby’s shock to terror.
The car settled deeper into the pond.
Libby grappled with the buckle on her seat belt as freezing water rushed over the floorboards. She finally got free, but couldn’t open the door. It was locked, and she couldn’t find the release button on the new-model rental. She tried rolling down the windows, but they were electric and wouldn’t work either. So she pulled her wet feet up onto the seat and started kicking at the driver’s side window. After several forceful kicks, she caught a glimpse of a man wading through the water toward her. His steely glare followed the path her car had taken, and then his piercing, gun-metal eyes came to rest on her.
The car settled deeper into the pond.
The idiot. Why wasn’t he rushing to help her get out before she drowned? Libby kicked the window harder, and yelled at the man to do something.
But he only continued to glare.
Until finally, and ever so slowly, he tried to open the door, only to find it was locked. He pointed at the gearshift and motioned for her to put the car in park.
Sitting upright, Libby pushed on the gearshift until it was in the park position. She heard the distinct sound of all four locks clicking open. She immediately lifted the handle and tried to open the door, but it still wouldn’t budge.
And the car continued to settle deeper into the pond.
Libby started beating on the window again.
The man broke more of the ice around where he stood, braced one booted foot to the right of the car door and took hold of the handle. With a powerful tug he pulled open the door, and gallons of water rushed into the car, sweeping Libby into the passenger seat. She banged her head on the opposite window and cursed.
But she quickly shut up when her ungracious and still glaring rescuer ducked into the car. The guy was huge, and the most ferocious looking man she’d ever laid eyes on.
And he was cursing back at her.
Something about murdering his prize Christmas trees.
Or was he wanting to murder her?
“You little fool,” he growled as he reached toward her. “You won’t drown because the pond is not deep.”
More shaken by his attitude than his size, and deciding she wanted to escape him as well as the sinking car, Libby drew up her knees, planted her feet on his chest, and shoved.
Her action was so unexpected, the giant reared up, bumped his head on the roof, and went sprawling backward into the pond with another colorful curse of his own. Libby scrambled over the seat and out the door before he could recover, only to find that her legs refused to hold her up.
She fell on top of the giant.
Powerful arms wrapped around her. They both sank under the surface this time, and Libby swallowed half the pond as she struggled to get free. His strength mocked her efforts. And with one of his vise-like arms wrapped around her waist and his other hand cupping her bottom, he simply stood up.
Libby instantly stilled when she found herself looking into deep gray eyes that were no longer glaring.
They were laughing.
And the giant’s hand on her bottom felt more like a caress than an attempt to secure her.
So much for first impressions—she was a soaked, shivering mess who couldn’t even keep her car on the road, and he was a knockdown gorgeous mountain of man who couldn’t even control his hormones long enough to fish her out of a pond without copping a feel. But before she could tell him what she thought of his anything-but-heroic rescue, the chaos of the crash finally caught up with her and Libby slumped forward and very quietly—and most unwisely—fainted.
Loving the Highlander Page 29