Highland Enchantment (Highland Brides) (6 page)

Just swinging his pole from the water, the driver shrieked as Liam crashed into his side. He staggered, dropped his pole, and toppled through the opening in the rail.

Liam skidded to a halt, barely keeping himself from the water.

"Liam!" Rachel yelled, but he was already racing toward the front of the ferry, and suddenly, in a wild rush, the wind blasted them again.

With the suddenness of death, waves lapped angrily against the ferry, washing it side to side.

Bereft of the benefit of the ferry driver's pole, it tore at its rope.

Shocked and terrified, Rachel clung to a bag of supplies. "What have you done?" she shrieked.

"Didn't you..." Liam turned back to her, his legs braced wide against the rock of the raft. "Didn't you feel it?"

"What?"

He gestured wildly toward the waves that tore at their flimsy vessel. "The evil! He meant you harm."

"What?" He was making no sense. The wind tore at her as she staggered to her feet and searched the water. "What are you talking about? Twas Hawk's man you've..."

"He's found us," Liam rasped. The truth struck him with terrifying force, slamming with white-hot intensity into his brain. "He is here!"

Rachel jerked toward him.

"What? Who?" she gasped, but he could no longer pull his gaze from the shore.

A handful of men stood near the galloping waves. Just some unidentified men, nothing more horrible than that, and yet Liam could feel the moment the terror crept over her, could feel her fear as clearly as he could feel her fingers curl into his sleeve.

"Who is it?" she whispered.

"He's found us," he whispered. "But he'll not have you."

"Who?"

"Not while I've breath in my body!" he rasped, and ripping through the bonds of his terror, he dropped onto the deck of the ferry and pulled out his knife.

"Liam! Nay!" Rachel screamed, but she was already too late.

The rope snapped beneath his blade. The ferry tilted wildly sideways, torn from its path by the ravenous waves.

Rachel fell, grasping a bag that rolled at her feet.

"Hold on!" Liam yelled. He crawled toward her, fighting against the rolling movement to her side. "Don't let go!"

"Liam!" she shrieked, and slid a few inches toward the yawning waves. He grabbed her arm, frantically pulling her closer.

"He'll not follow. Not fast enough," he yelled into the wind.

A towering wave torpedoed over the side, drenching them with frigid water and sliding them toward the edge of the raft. Rachel gasped for breath. Two bags swirled madly, slipped overboard and out of sight. Beneath them, the ferry bucked like a crazed steed. She grabbed a railing post.

"Who'll not follow? Who?" she rasped.

Waves leapt over them. The wind howled about them. They were tossed and tortured and dizzied, and yet, suddenly all seemed quiet except one thought in Liam's mind. "He is too late."

"Who?"

"Too late."

"Liam. What..." she began, but the ferry bucked again. Beneath them, timber creaked.

"Hold on!" he yelled. "It's coming!"

The dull roaring rushed louder.

"What's coming?" she shouted, her fingers like talons on his arm. "What?"

Liam rose to his knees. His cape whipped behind him. His hair, torn loose from its mooring, slapped across his cheek.

"What's coming?" she screamed.

"The waterfalls!"

"Waterfalls? Liam! Nay!"

"Twill not be so bad. Not so high. Hang on, Rachel. You can do this! Hang on."

A wave big as a fortified castle swept down on them. The raft swamped, guttered, and was tossed high.

Rachel screamed. Liam yelled.

The edge of the ferry dipped then bucked toward the sky. Their bodies were swept off the floor.

Hung from their aching arms, they dangled in midair.

For an instant, for one fractured, horrified second before he was slammed to the floor boards again, Liam saw the falls, saw the foam, saw the crashing water, and a thousand lifetimes below saw the river swirl away into peace.

"Dear God!" he rasped. Twas far bigger than he remembered. They'd never survive. Never!

"How—" Another wave swamped them, washing the words from her mouth. "How far? How far a drop?" she gasped.

"Hold on!"

The ferry moved faster now, but smoother—the paved road to hell.

He found her hand and pulled it between them. Her eyes, wide with terror, turned up to him. So beautiful. The eyes of a saint.

"Rachel." He breathed her name and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "I'm sorry..." His voice broke. Water crashed over them. He should shut up, prepare for the worst, but there was no hope. All they had was this one sparkling moment. Twas a moment for truth. Lies were swept away like hapless flotsam.

"You are all that is good, Rachel," he whispered. "It has always been so and I have always known it. No matter what I have said."

The ferry tilted, swept along more and more swiftly. Their gazes met.

"Liam..." Her heavenly lips parted, but there was no need for her to speak, for he knew what she would say, knew the truth as he knew his own name.

"I will love you forever, for eternity and beyond," he said, and then they fell, thrust over the cliff like flightless sparrows.

The ferry broke apart like a ship of matches and flew into a thousand tiny splinters. Liam saw Rachel scream. Saw her mouth open, felt the vibration of her terror, but the sound was lost in a roar of water. They fell into the frothing spray like dolls of rag, their feet scrambling, their hair billowing, but even now he could not let her go, could not risk eternity without her.

They struck the water together. The surface was as hard as glass, jarring him like the blow of a hammer. He tried to hold on to her hand, tried with all his might to keep her near him, but the shock of the landing drove them apart.

"Rachel!" He screamed her name, but she was already gone, ripped beneath the waves. He yelled again. The current swirled, taking him too.

It dragged him under. His leg struck something hard and sharp, numbing him with the force. But in that instant, he realized his opportunity. Kicking wildly, he sought purchase on the very thing that had wounded him. His feet struck something firm. His body pistoned through the frothing water, but whether he was going up or down, he had no way of knowing. An object rushed past him. He grabbed for it and missed. He was rolled and tumbled. His head struck something solid. Blackness rushed in, but there, in the back of his mind, he saw Rachel, drowning, falling.

"Nay!" he shrieked. Water filled his mouth and screamed into his lungs.

Gagging and fighting, he searched for the surface, and just when he thought his lungs would burst, his head broke above the waves.

Air seared his chest with sweet pain. He gasped, dragging in mouthfuls until he was sucked under again. He spun and rolled, froth all around him. Something brushed his arm. He grabbed for it.

His fingers seemed to close on nothing, but when he rolled again, he realized he was dragging it with him. Desperate, he held on tight, his fingers paralyzed with the hope that it would pull him back up.

Air again, like a flash of heaven before he was tossed back under. But in an instant, he surfaced.

He was on his back, being dragged along through the night. He filled his lungs, gasping for breath. It came more easily now. Terror dulled a mite. The roar in his head quieted. He was leaving the falls behind. Or was he losing consciousness. But no. The frantic rush of the waves was slower, the water almost clear. Lowering his feet, he kicked frantically for the bottom, and suddenly his entire torso was free of the water and he was crouched on the shore, his legs curled under him and his right arm twisted behind him as he stubbornly clung to whatever had dragged him to safety.

Fighting to draw in air, he rasped in a few painful breaths. His stomach churned, his lungs ached. But he had no time to choke or vomit or pass out.

"Rachel!" He croaked her name, already searching.

It was then that he heard the coughing.

Turning weakly he saw that his fingers had not caught a branch at all. But Rachel's sleeve.

She coughed again, facedown in the water.

He managed to draw her into his arms, to pull her against his chest, to hold her as life returned to his body and hope to his heart.

She sucked great draughts of air raggedly into her lungs.

She was alive. He laughed, because he could manage nothing else.

Their eyes met, their souls melded. It was true what people said about near-death experiences; it made everything clear. He could see the truth in her eyes. She loved him, always had.

She moved closer, her lips slightly parted. He bent forward, awaiting her words. Her lips moved again, and then she bent double and vomited in his lap.

Liam waited until 'her spasms passed, then pushed her hair back and stared into her pale face.

"Dammit it, Liam, what have you done!" she croaked.

He recoiled as if struck. "I saved your life."

"Saved my life? You nearly killed me!"

"Nay." He shook his head. "You were in mortal danger. Davin—he was going to kill you."

"Kill me! Are you daft? He was my guard."

He was baffled. Stunned. "So you did not feel the evil?"

"Evil! I was safe and protected until you—"

"You were not safe," he argued, but now that the trauma was past, things seemed less clear, like the memory of nightmares fading in the morning's light.

"You think me safe down here?" she asked.

She had a point there. "We'd best find somewhere to spend the night," he said.

"I had somewhere to spend the night. I had a tent and food and guards. Davin—"

"Davin!" The name all but stuck in his throat. Uncertain emotions smoked in his head. "Why would you trust him so after all we've been through?" he asked, and fought to stand up. Once on his feet, he found that his leg burned only slightly more than the fires of hell.

"You're mad," she said, and stumbled to her feet.

Liam took a single step, felt the strength drain from his injured leg, and tumbled toward the water like a stringless marionette. But he had no wish to look like a weak-kneed fool, so he grappled wildly, searching for something to hold on to.

Her skirt was the only thing available. He snagged his fingers in it as he fell.

With a small shriek, she toppled down beside him.

They sat in the water face-to-face, panting, half-drowned. Nevertheless, Liam could not help but notice certain things. Firstly, her cape had disappeared. Secondly, her cap was gone, spilling her hair in wild disarray. Thirdly, and most importantly, her gown had been ripped down the front, exposing one shoulder and the high, pale rise of her right breast.

"Is this the sort of view that kept Davin so close to your side?" he asked.

"What are you..." she began, but in a moment she realized where his attention lay."Sweet Mary!" she rasped, and lifting a hand, tried to scrape up enough fabric to cover herself. It was pretty much a hopeless endeavor.

And despite everything, the pain in his leg, their present state of hopelessness, her wrath, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"Get on your feet," she growled.

To his mild surprise, he managed to do just that. His leg throbbed and his head spun, but one glance at her haughty expression cranked up the devil in him. "Hell of a ride, wasn't it?" he asked.

Lightning streaked through an ebony sky, and a half-mile away the falls roared. "We'd best find some kind of shelter or the night won't be as pleasant as the journey."

"Mayhap you've a bonny house close to hand."

"Certainly," he said. Pain was crashing through his leg. Unconsciousness seemed a pleasant diversion, if somewhat cowardly. "But I thought you might prefer my castle. The solar is quite lovely in the—"

"Shut up," she said. "And let me..." Her words stopped midsentence.

"What?" Liam braced himself and jerked his attention to the right, then the left, ready to do battle, to brave the dragons and face the foes. But no foes caught his attention. He realized quite suddenly that she was staring directly into his face. He stared back. "What is it?" he asked warily.

He watched her lips move. But finally she shook her head. "Tis nothing," she said.

"Nothing?"

"I remember..." she whispered, then paused as if confused. "Something."

He canted his head at her. She was watching him with a strange expression, as if she were seeing things that weren't really there, as if...

Back on the ferry! He'd said he loved her. Had gasped out that foolish declaration as if it were truth. But that's when he'd been lulled into thinking they would both die and she'd have no chance to bludgeon him to death with his own idiotic words.

How was he to know he'd be unlucky enough to live through such an experience? What kind of God would allow that?

"Rachel," he said, drawing back a scant few inches and preparing to deny everything, to conjure up his best lies and stand behind them until death. "You were scared out of your wits back there. I doubt if you remember much."

"There's a shelter not far from here," she murmured.

He wouldn't have been more surprised if she'd said she'd left her winged mount tied to the sun.

"What?"

She shook her head. "I...remember it."

"You've been here before?" he asked dubiously.

"Nay." Her tone was wrought with uncertainty.

Reality dawned on him. He scoffed softly. "If you're about to conjure up a castle, you'd best have at it. Otherwise, you can save your witchy act for the peasants."

She snapped from her trance, exhaled shakily, and managed a glare all in one quick motion.

"Were I able to conjure up anything, I'd design a gag," she said, and turning away from him, strode quickly into the woods.

In less than a heartbeat she was out of sight.

Taking a deep breath, Liam limped after her.

The wind howled around them like spirits, cutting wickedly through the trees and driving the cold straight to Liam's bones. Rain slanted through the leaves and stung his face with biting intensity.