Page 8 of Forever My Lass

Fear twisted his gut as the instinct for survival demanded he climb back to safety. His earlier panic hardened every muscle in his body as he pressed himself deep into the kelp lining the rock. In the back of his head, his father’s voice taunted him for being a coward. It was enough to make him ignore the sickening twist of his gut as his hand found a small indentation in the rock to serve as a natural anchor.

Despite his fear, he forced himself to shift his position until his hip pressed into the kelp. Water from a wave sprayed up over him, and he shook his head to clear his vision. It took him several seconds to find the boy in the roiling sea, but he finally caught sight of him trying to swim to the rocks.

“Come on, lad,” he shouted. “Swim toward me.”

The moment the boy turned his head in Iain’s direction, shock pounded its way through him. A woman. He watched her fall beneath the surface, then bob up again and abruptly alter her course to where Iain clung precariously to the rock formation.

Her progress was hampered by waves trying to drive her backward, but she continued to swim in his direction. It was obvious the woman was a strong swimmer, but he could tell she was tiring. Fingers digging into the stone anchor, he crouched and stretched out his hand.

“Take my hand, lass. I’ll not let go.”

At his shout, he saw her push herself through the water with another powerful breaststroke until she was almost within his grasp. Iain stretched his body out over the water as far as he could. In the back of his head, he heard a shout of warning, but he buried it deep in the recesses of his mind.

Icy fingers skimmed across his, but she slipped out of reach a second later as the water pulled her away from him. Bleak resignation swept over her pale features the moment he failed to catch her hand. The defeat in her brown eyes sent a powerful rush of adrenaline through him.

Determined not to surrender her to the depths of the North Sea, Iain stretched himself outward even further until he was holding his entire weight on the tips of his fingers. Another wave pushed her closer to him, and he caught hold of the sodden material of her shirtsleeve. With a hard tug, he used her shirt to pull her closer to him.

Reluctant to lose its prize, the sea fought back with a wave that hit her from the side. Her sleeve tore away from the shoulder of the shirt, and his heart sank. Suddenly, the woman’s feet broke the water’s surface as she kicked herself forward. It was just enough for Iain to wrap his hand around her wrist, then tug her into his side. Without prompting, her arms wrapped around his waist as he pulled her into his chest and her head came to rest on his shoulder. Tremors shook their way from her body into his, and he bent his head to press his mouth against her ear.

“Ye did it, my brave lass,” he said with admiration.

The only answer he received was a muffled sob. She was entitled to the cry. Few people could have done what she had, including him. Iain knew his fear would have made it almost impossible to do anything but flounder in the water until the sea dragged him under. In the back of his head, Iain heard his father’s voice shouting at him for surviving and not Thane.

A loud cry from above made him look up to see Angus holding a rope that he cast down to him. Satisfied the woman had a secure grip on his waist, Iain released his hold on her and caught the rope. It was looped off with a hitch knot so it could be placed over their heads and tightened under their arms, enabling the Scotsman to pull them up to safety. Gently, he dropped the sturdy hemp over her head.

“I need you to put your arms through the rope.” At his instruction, her arms tightened around him as she silently rejected his instructions. “Just one at a time. My man, Angus, will pull you up to safety.”

After several seconds, she hesitantly lifted one hand up and through the loop. With his fingers still digging deep into the indentation to hold them steady, he made her grasp the section of rope stretched taut over their heads.

“Now the other one.” When she hesitated, he pressed his mouth to her ear again. “Come on, my brave bonnie lass. You’ll be safe in less than a minute. Just put your other arm through the rope.”

As she pulled her arm away from him, he heard a chorus of shouts from above. Iain glanced over his shoulder and saw a large wave cresting as it headed straight for them. Although she’d not put her other arm through the loop, Iain tugged hard on the rope so it closed snug around her. She jerked her head toward him in surprise, then looked over her shoulder. A wordless cry parted her mouth as her gaze swung back to him.

“Pull her up now, Angus,” he shouted and released his hold on her the instant he felt the Scotsman tug on the rope. As the woman was pulled upward to safety, Iain tightened his grip on the indentation and grabbed a stalk of kelp just as the wave slammed into his back and pounded his body into the rock.

The brutal force of the wave knocked the air out of him before it sent the sea crashing down over him. Water filled his nose and mouth, stealing the last bit of breath he had. For a second time in his life, he experienced what it was like to drown. The sea retreated and left him coughing up water, threatening to choke the life out of him. His forehead pressed into a patch of slimy kelp, Iain clung to the rocky formation, pulling in deep breaths of life-sustaining air.

Wet, rough hemp slapped lightly against his cheek, but he didn’t move. The rope hit him again with greater force, and Iain opened his eyes. A cold knot twisted his stomach as he glanced over his shoulder and saw an even larger wave rising upward to lash out at him.

“Christ Jesus,” he groaned.

His fingers were numb from biting into the indentation of the rock, and he was certain not even his death-like grip would save him from the strength of the wave heading toward him. Releasing his hold on the stalk of kelp, he shoved his head and arm through the lifeline. Deep inside, a voice ordered him to let go of the rock, but he couldn’t move.

“Let go, you bloody bastard,” he snarled with fear, but his mind refused to obey. A hard tug of the rope made the noose under his arm dig painfully into his side, and he looked up to see Angus glaring down at him.

“Now, mon, before ye drown.”

With a low growl of fear, Iain let go of the rock and wrapped both of his hands around the thick, braided rope. He muttered a harshly worded prayer and allowed Angus to pull him to safety.

Chapter 3

May, Present Day

Madeline’s stomach lurched as a wave crashed over the bow of the sailboat. When they’d sailed out of the Aberdeen harbor two hours ago, the weather had been wonderful. The owner of the bed-and-breakfast had said she’d picked the perfect day for sailing. He’d told her it was warmer than usual for the end of May, and that she’d be fine on the water with a lightweight jacket.

As the sailboat had traveled south, she’d chatted with the other four passengers on the boat, as well as the captain. Captain Mury and his crew had entertained them with stories about Scottish clans and famous shipwrecks. Everything had been perfect until the clouds appeared over the beautiful Scottish coastline. Over the next few minutes, the clouds darken, and the captain quickly turned the boat around. His demeanor confident and calm, the captain told them not to worry about the change in direction. He’d indicated Aberdeen was the closest harbor, and he simply preferred to err on the side of caution for everyone’s safety.

It hadn’t taken long for the man at the helm to appear uneasy. Madeline was beginning to wonder if the captain had made a mistake by turning around. She glanced over her shoulder at the black storm clouds hanging over the water. Thirty minutes ago, they’d not been so dark, and she was certain they were even closer now. Worse, the water had become increasingly choppy and violent. Each wave the boat bounced over gave her a bit of air time up off her bench seat.