by Shana Ab
She forestalled his argument. “It's the only logical thing to do, du Morgan,” she said, still a whisper, because she wasn't sure if the invaders were nearby or not. “One of us has to go down there. You're too heavy for the rope.”
“I think not, MacRae.” His face hung over hers. He moved until his body pressed her back down to the stone, so that she couldn't escape without a struggle. “Time for a retreat.”
“Don't be stupid! We have to be certain they're gone!”
“Suppose they aren't,” he said, the calmness in his voice beginning to fray. “Suppose they're hiding, Lauren—that it's an ambush. Suppose they're just waiting for a fight, and all they get is you.”
He was right. She knew it, but she was right, too. She couldn't leave here without knowing absolutely that what she saw below her was the truth. In fact, it would be better if it were an ambush, that the Vikings were trapped down there. Because the alternative gave her chills of terror.
“ We have to be sure,” she said to him, because she didn't know what else to add.
His lips were pressed to a grim line, the green of his eyes somehow vivid, enhanced by the ocean light.
“I can't let you do it,” he said at last.
“I have to,” she said, softer now, close to pleading. “You know I do.”
He didn't move, and he didn't release her from his gaze, though she thought she saw some change in him at her words, a streak of what might have been pain behind his steady look.
“Let me go, Arion,” Lauren said, and his name slipped out almost gently.
Now there was no mistaking the change in him, a swift intent, his head lowering to hers. He kissed her, his lips claiming hers roughly, his hands coming up to frame her face.
Lauren felt all her being rise up and dissolve, shock and pleasure and complete desire. He tasted of salt and desperation; his fingers trembled against her cheeks. His lips were firm yet soft, caressing hers, and the desire in her made her free hand come up around him, pulling him closer, tangling in his hair.
He made a wordless sound, shifting again, covering more of her body, and his weight and form felt welcome, urgent. He was all hard muscles and unyielding lines, pressing into her, and she reveled in it, she wanted more.
His tongue was stroking her lips now, urging her to open her mouth, and so she did, and Arion let out another sound, masculine and low.
It hummed through her and found an answer, the stinging delight of him, how she couldn't get enough of him, taste enough of him. He was pain, he was the sparking joy, and she fell spinning into the desire, letting it fill her until there was nothing but Arion.
He dragged his lips from hers and began to kiss her cheeks, her throat, his breath hot and rushed against her skin, pushing against her now in a slow rhythm that made her weak. Lauren closed her eyes and tilted back her head, allowing him more, eager for whatever he had to give her.
She felt him take a deep breath against her neck, sudden coolness, and then he stopped, still pressed there, unmoving.
The world came back to her in excruciating detail— the hard stone against her back, the dampness of it soaking through her tartan and tunic. The turbulent lapping of the water below them, sloshing against the cavern walls. The warmth of this man's body, covering hers.
Arion lifted his head. She stared up at him, at the appealing planes of his face, the fall of ebony hair the only softness to him.
He said slowly,“My God.”
Lauren placed her hand against his shoulder and pushed lightly. He moved off her with almost insulting speed, backing up into the tunnel, leaving her completely. The shadows took away his expression, but she could imagine what he was feeling. It couldn't be anything less appalling than what was racing through her.
She had embraced her enemy—she had loved it, she had wanted more of it. She would have done anything for him in that moment; he had held her captive with just his touch and she had unfolded against him and followed his will, whatever his desire.
She wanted him—him!—the Earl of Morgan.
Lauren sat up, looking around her at the blue highlights of the small tunnel until she saw the rope again, still wrapped around her arm. She picked up the slack and held it out to Arion. His hand came out of the darkness, his fingers closed around it.
“Hold this,” she instructed.“Tightly.”
Before he could respond she rolled into the gap in the stone, falling through with frightening speed until the rope caught her, biting into her arm, pulling her up short from the water.
Lauren dangled in midair, swaying, looking wildly around the grotto.
“Dammit!” she heard Arion say, far above. She stayed focused on the cavern around her, a tilting chaos of light and dark—but it did appear empty of people. One foot clipped the head of the beast that made up the prow of the boat, knocking her into a slow spin.
“Lauren!”
“Give me more slack!” she ordered, again hitting the boat.
The solitary ledge was too far to the left for her to land there without more momentum. If she tried now she would only hit the pointed rocks that formed its outer edge. Arion was muttering something now, but she couldn't make it out. She felt the rope twitch, and she began to move up, not down.
“No!” she cried, tilting her head back to see him. “Not yet! I've got to see—”
“That is enough,” he grated through clenched teeth, still pulling her higher, hand over hand. “Of all the senseless, idiotic things to do, you have to start playing hero now—”
“Arion, wait, I just need to get over to that ledge! Then I can see how they left!”
He ignored her, the expression on his face close to fury. Lauren looked around the grotto again, quickly trying to spot any other escape for the invaders, trying to see how they might have been able to penetrate Shot's most vulnerable weakness.
There was a series of rapid popping sounds above, and both she and Arion looked at the same section of the rope at the same time—the section that had just split apart against the sharp edge of the opening, leaving only one thin strand to hold of the four that had been twined together before. Then they looked at each other.
Time slowed down. Lauren saw Arion's face change, his look go from anger to surprise to alarm. She heard the fateful creaking of the rope over the slapping of the waves below her, over even the rhythmic sound of the rowboat hitting the wall of the cave. She swayed gently over it all, her hand numb from holding on so tightly to her end of the line.
Her gaze shifted from Arion to the thinness of the remaining strand, the only thing stopping her from plunging into the surging ocean below. It looked sturdy. It looked like more than enough to hold her weight.
And then it snapped.
Lauren didn't feel herself falling, only the complete shock of frigid water engulfing her, filling her nose and her mouth. Then she bounced off the underwater cavern rocks, stunned, unable to move her arms or her legs. Everything was murky and dim, heavy and cold. She couldn't think of what she was supposed to do—move, fight, breathe—
Don't breathe!
The current was sucking her toward brighter waters, the open ocean. If she was swept out there, she might be hurled against the cliffs or, worse, pulled out to sea.
Lauren kicked and began to struggle, pushing off the rocks with all her strength, fighting the pull of the current. The grotto was much deeper than she had thought, and the surface was not close. With one last, hard shove, Lauren gave herself up to the flow of the water, just trying to move up. After what seemed an eternity, her head cleared the water. She felt cool air on her face and took a deep, coughing gasp of it.
Something dark and blurred went by her and instinctively she grabbed at it, fingers slipping and then catching on slick stone. Water rushed back into her face, blinding her, and she turned her head and pulled herself closer to her anchor. She heard her name being shouted, a man's voice.
Lauren looked up and around. She had managed to grasp one of the last jutting bits of
rock that stood between her and the mouth of the grotto; it lay near the end of the ledge she had seen before. From above she had thought the cave to be shallow, but now she saw that her guess had been wrong—in fact, it was quite deep. The farthest stone the Vikings could tie their craft to had been near only the middle of the cavern.
Close to the center of the ceiling was the opening she had come through, the splintered end of the rope still visible. Booted feet were descending through the hole, followed by large, muscular legs, a heavy tunic.
“No!” Lauren tried to shout, but the water clogging her throat made it nothing but a rasp. She coughed, clinging to her stone. “Don't come down here! There's no time! We won't be able to—”
The earl dropped through the opening, disappearing with a neat splash into the dark blue waters. She looked around frantically at the rippled surface of the cave water, searching in vain for any sign of him.
Damn him! If he had hit his head on one of those underwater rocks, she was not going after him! It would be exactly what he deserved, for doing something so witless, for risking his life to come after her….
He didn't surface. Lauren began to drag herself along the ledge of stone, still looking, and when she was almost to the center of the cavern again she took a deep breath and dived down into the dimness once more.
Perhaps it was that her eyes were better adjusted, or that she had been just too confused before, but now she discerned the outline of the grotto floor, the strange and twisted shapes of the stone that reached up and then dipped down, the swaying clusters of seaweed that grew in the niches. She even saw the tenacious bands of starfish clinging to the edges of the cavern walls, rough masses of barnacles or mussels hidden in the grooves. But she did not see Arion.
The current was her foe again, pulling at her feet, taking the folds of her tunic and tartan and using them against her, making them heavy, resistant to her swim-ming. Where was he? If he had been dragged out to sea she might never find him….
She had to rise to take in air, this time keeping one hand against the hull of the Vikings' boat to keep her steady as she panted. Her hands and feet were already numb; she barely felt the hardness of the wood beneath her palms. Lauren went back down.
Still nothing. Only the shadow of the rowboat above her, the seaweed dancing below and alongside her, showing her the rising push of the tide. Could he have become caught beneath a sea rock? Trapped, running out of air, unable to free himself—
Something yanked at her hair, pulling her backward, and then an arm came around her neck with brutal force, leaving her flailing in the water, towing her up with abrupt speed.
They surfaced together, Arion's arm still tight around her neck, and Lauren had both hands on it, trying to pull him off her. She felt him swimming with strong, powerful strokes, bringing them both up against something solid. It had to be the ledge again.
The arm around her neck loosened, then let go. Lauren turned just as Arion grabbed her tartan, and then the collar of her tunic, hauling her up close to him. He kept one hand on the ledge, the other holding her to him, water sloshing around their necks. In the next second he was climbing up it, dragging her along, and Lauren was scrambling to find holds in the smooth stone where there were none.
After a struggle they were on its narrow top, sitting slumped against the wall of the cavern, panting, with the ocean lapping over their feet.
She was exhausted. There was no feeling left in her fingers or feet; her hair hung down in clumping strands around her, dark red against the sodden mess of her tartan. A look over at the earl showed her a similar view. He was dripping, the black of his hair plastered against him, sea water gleaming off his skin. There was a clear, coming storm in his eyes.
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, and all the wrath from before was still there. “Are you deranged? What a stupid thing to do—”
“Me?” Lauren sat up straighter.“You English lunatic! Everything was fine until you had to fall in after me!”
“Oh, yes, I could see that. You were perfectly fine, trusting a rope that obviously wouldn't hold even a child! Yo u were fine in that water, drowning!”
“I was not drowning! I was looking for you!”
“Certainly you were,” he mocked. “That's why you were floating there like a sack beneath the water—to save me.”
Lauren stumbled to her feet, water running down her, all the coldness in her banished in her fury. “I shouldn't have wasted my time on you! You're nothing but a heartless, insolent—”
In a flash he was standing as well, drawing his sword with a look that choked off the rest of her words. He moved so quickly that she barely saw the blur of his arm, pushing her up against the stone and then behind him, sending her reeling to the ledge. It happened too fast for her even to break her fall, and her shoulder took the blunt of the force, a streak of fiery pain running through it all the way down her spine.
Behind her was a scream, truly savage, and then the sound of sword against sword, sharp strikes, again and again. She rolled over and curled up, trying to avoid Arion's feet as he lunged and shifted over the wet rock, battling a Viking who had come from nowhere.
Lauren dragged herself out of Arion's way and stood again, drawing her own dagger. She wasn't wearing a broadsword today, not even the light one Da had had made for her, because she honestly had not thought the invaders would attack again so soon.
She would not allow Arion to pay for her mistake. Her dirk was sharp and deadly, and she was skilled in its use. Lauren stood as far back as she could on the ledge, giving Arion room, ready to leap into the fight when she was needed.
The Viking was yelling, every clash of the swords prompting a new scream from him, a thick and inarticulate sound, his eyes wide and bloodshot. Arion fought silently, ceaselessly, countering each blow with one of his own, slowly edging the other man back, away from Lauren. She followed them, keeping her eyes pinned on the Northman, waiting for any opportunity to help Arion.
The water was rising. There could be no doubt about it. Minutes ago it had been below the table of the ledge; right now they were splashing through it as it seeped up over the rock. In minutes the entire block of stone would be submerged—and then the cavern itself.
The Viking kicked out suddenly, taking Arion by surprise, sweeping his foot behind Arion's ankle and knocking him down to one knee, raising his sword and then plunging it down to Arion's chest. Lauren leaped forward, dirk raised, a scream on her lips, but before she could reach the invader Arion twisted to the side, allowing the Northman's sword to slice through the water and hit the rock, a terrible clanging sound, almost embedding itself in the ledge from the force of it.
In an instant Arion had moved with lethal speed, shoving his own sword up at the other man, plunging into the water to make the blow.
The Viking stared at the length of steel that pierced his chest, hot blood bubbling up to cascade in ribbons all around the wound. He raised his eyes to Lauren's and she stared back at him, frozen, both of them connected for one unlikely moment in their mutual horror. Then the Viking took a lurching step to the side and fell, headfirst, into the waves. His body slowly sank into the water, a cloud of scarlet blossoming up from where he vanished.
Lauren lowered her dagger, feeling sick.
“My lord!” The words were strange and disembodied, echoing around her.
She turned blindly, trying to block out the sight of the blood, then looked up to the jagged ceiling. Faces crowded the opening above her, men she knew and men she didn't, all of them anxiously scanning the cavern.
“Lauren!” shouted one of the Scots.
“I'm fine!” she answered, and only then had the presence of mind to look around for Arion.
Once again the water was unbroken, only now it was up to her shins, and the tug of the current was tangible again.
“Where is the earl?” someone called, and she shook her head, taking a few steps forward, searching for any darkness beneath the surface that might be a m
an.
Lauren heard demands to lower the rope, and she turned around and shouted up to them. “Don't come down here! The rope will not hold any of you!”
“She's right.” A familiar and strong voice, right behind her. Lauren turned to take in the sight of the earl, lifting himself up to the ledge, then standing, soaked, next to her. He held up his sword, examining it, then sheathed it. He smiled at her look.
“I couldn't let that Northman take it with him,” he said, and Lauren only nodded, feeling queasy again.
“Did you find the invaders, my lord?” shouted someone.
“Nay,” Arion called back. “Only the boat, and one paltry pest.”
“They're out there,” Lauren said, too quietly. Arion came closer to her, putting his hand on her shoulder, frowning. She swallowed the greasy pit lodged in her throat, concentrating on what she needed to say to the men. “They're out there somewhere on Shot. They might be hiding in the tunnels with you, or lost in them. Beware!”
Her words caused a small furor.“In the tunnels?” she heard, muttering.“Here? Is that what she said?”
“Let them come!”
“We'll show them a fight!”
“All of you,” Lauren said, lifting her voice.“You need to get out of there, now!”
“What?”The men above exchanged wary looks.
“The tide!” she explained, fighting away her panic. “It'll be to that hole in just a few minutes. If you get caught in it, you'll drown, Northmen and all!”
Arion moved until he could see her face clearly.
“Lauren, you've struck your head. Look.” He touched her gently on the forehead, his fingertips coming away reddened with her blood.
“They have to get out of there,” she repeated to him, ignoring his hand.“The tide is rising fast. They have to leave now to make it safely back to the surface.”
“You might not be thinking clearly,” Arion said, still gentle. “The water is rising, I agree, but there's time to get us out of here.”
She backed away from him. “No, there isn't! Listen to me, du Morgan. Or at least let your own eyes judge the truth for you.” Her arm indicated the rush of water, now at her thighs. “Most of those men are waiting in tunnels that run below this cavern, and they flood rapidly. There are too many men for them to flee as quickly as they should. They have to go now!”