Page 22 of A Temptress in Tartan

The seamen at the rail lowered a boat hook that Lachlan attached to the fisherman’s clothing. They hauled him up. His body was limp, his face white, and he was streaming with water when they deposited him on the deck. The seamen pumped the man’s legs up toward his head, hoping to rid him of the seawater he had breathed. After several attempts, the man coughed, sputtered and gave up the water in his lungs. Color returned to his face as he struggled to open his eyes.

In the meanwhile, Lachlan dove beneath the surface once more, continuing his search. He came to the surface and dove down again. He did so four more times before the captain shouted for the men to haul Lachlan back on board. Of the six, five had been saved.

There was a strained quietness when Lachlan returned on deck. His clothes were plastered to his well-muscled chest and thighs, and he too was streaming with water before a seaman dropped a blanket about his shoulders.

“You gave it a good try, m’laird.” Another seaman clapped Lachlan on the shoulder.

“’Twas obviously the man’s time to meet his maker,” yet another said.

Lachlan nodded solemnly then turned to the five men huddled on the deck, wrapped in blankets. “What was his name?” he asked, his voice oddly hoarse.

“Dillon Kemp,” one of the men replied, turning to face Lachlan.

A muscle jerked in Lachlan’s jaw. “I shall remember him with a prayer.”

*

Lachlan looked back toward Elizabeth. He saw the distressed look on her face and felt every muscle in his body tense as he fought the urge to go to her and in front of all these men, pull her into his arms. But he would not drown her in embarrassment. There had been one too many drownings today already.

Even so, her gaze clung to his—as though asking for something, but what, he had no idea. Finally, she glanced away and stepped back as the captain approached.

“Let us get these men below deck and into dry clothing,” the captain barked at the seamen closest to the fishermen. “Everyone else, resume your stations. There is nothing else for us to do here. Fill the sails and let’s be on our way.”

As the fishermen stood and moved to follow the seamen below deck, one man paused as his gaze lit on Elizabeth. “Lizzie! Sweet Lizzie, is that you?” The dark-haired young man moved toward Elizabeth.

Lachlan saw Elizabeth’s eyes widen in recognition. “Roland Carswell?”

“Aye, Lizzie! God’s teeth, but you are a welcome sight!” the young man cried out as he enveloped her in a wet embrace.

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “How was it you were on that boat, Roland? I am so relieved you are safe.”

Lachlan stared at Elizabeth, locked in the young man’s embrace, and felt suddenly heavy inside. Obviously the two were friends. And from the looks of it possibly even more than that.

“After years of searching for my purpose, I’ve decided to become a minister. The king approves. He is sending me to the University of Edinburgh to train. I sought passage across the Firth with these men in order to save more of the stipend I was given.”

With a soft smile, Elizabeth put her hand against Roland’s cheek. “I’m pleased you found a purpose in this life, but trying to be thrifty almost cost you your life.”

Roland placed his hand over hers, and Elizabeth’s cheeks grew pink and her breath hitched. Lachlan took a step toward her then forced himself to pause, despite the strange urge inside to rush forward and grab her away.

“What were you doing so far from home?” Roland asked. “You never leave the safety of your clan.”

Elizabeth cast a furtive glance Lachlan’s way. “I’m married now.”

Lachlan felt a momentary respite. At least she had admitted to someone from her past her new status.

“Married?” Roland’s eyes filled with challenge as his hand dropped from her face. He turned toward Lachlan. “You would force your beautiful wife on such a dangerous journey?”

“I’m not forcing her to do anything. And, if you must know, we are headed to our new home . . . together.”

“Is this true, Elizabeth? Do you want to go with this man?” Roland asked, his voice filled with scorn. “There was a time when your dreams were all for me.”

“You left Perthshire, Roland. You left me behind.”

His features hardened. “I had to if I was ever going to become my own man. I had hoped you would wait for me.”

Elizabeth looked away. “Things change.” Her tone was brusque. “Besides, you have your new life as a minister to look forward to. That’s what you always wanted . . . to guide the spiritual lives of those for whom you care.”

Roland threw Lachlan a cold look before he captured Elizabeth’s chin with his fingers, returning her gaze to his. “I’d always pictured you as part of that life.”