by Adele Clee
“What about Mary?” Mackenzie’s croaky voice conveyed his unease.
“Doyle has Mary, too. The woman found him digging around the castle at night.” Panic infused her tone. She stared at the shrinking coastline. “I’ve told you what I know, now let me go.”
“Not until you take us to Lady Ravenscroft.” Fabian would banish Ursula from the island once he’d dealt with Doyle.
Without warning, Ursula came to her feet. The boat rocked and swayed from side to side. Vane and Mackenzie stopped rowing and waited for the vessel to settle.
“I can’t go back.” Ursula stared at the murky water, her eyes glazed as if lost in her reflection.
And then she jumped.
The splash covered them in spray.
“Good God!” Vane scoured the water, but she failed to surface. “Has she lost her mind?”
“The sea is bitterly cold,” Mackenzie said gravely. “A strong swimmer would struggle in these harsh conditions.”
A loud slapping and an almighty gasp of breath drew their attention to Ursula who bobbed and thrashed amid the waves. “Help me!”
“Quickly,” Fabian shouted. “Try to remain calm. Try to grab ahold of the oar.”
“I can’t. It’s so cold. It’s—” A rolling wave swept over her and then she was gone.
Mackenzie shrugged out of his coat and stood. “Damn foolish woman. She’ll be the death of all of us.” Without another word, he dived into the icy depths.
“For the love of …” Vane blurted.
Fabian watched the ripples subside as he waited to glimpse his friend. Mackenzie had been his companion for seven years. To lose him now … heaven help him, he didn’t want to think about it. “Mackenzie!”
After what felt like an eternity, a hand burst from the water and grabbed onto the side of the boat. Mackenzie appeared, one arm wrapped around Ursula’s waist. He gasped and heaved as he tried to catch his breath.
“Thank heavens.” Fabian’s racing heart settled. “For a moment, I feared I might never see you again.”
“Aye, my life flashed before my eyes for a second there, too.”
Vane dragged Ursula out of the water. It took both men to haul Mackenzie out.
Fabian stared at his friend. “One minute you tell me that the strongest swimmer would struggle to survive, the next you jump in after her.”
“That water might be cold to you, but compared to the lochs in the Highlands, it’s as warm as a steam bath.”
Ursula sat shivering on the bench, her wet hair plastered to her face. “I’m sorry. Please.” Her teeth chattered, and she gulped for breath. “I’ll do anything to make it right. Anything.”
“Good,” Fabian said, struggling to feel an ounce of sympathy for the woman. “Because you’re going to take us to my wife.”
Chapter Nineteen
In the confines of the dark cave, it was impossible to gauge the time. Hours had passed since Ursula left them to convey the message. God help the woman. Lillian pitied anyone forced to stand in front of Fabian and Vane and deliver such devastating news.
Mary had spoken little. Guilt formed the basis of her reticence. She had apologised numerous times on Doyle’s behalf, despite the man showing not the slightest sign of remorse.
“It should not be long now,” Lillian said merely to bolster Mary’s spirits. “His lordship may find us yet.”
Mary looked unconvinced. “Ursula’s a sly devil. There’s no telling what she’s up to. She’s been close to Doyle for a couple of years, though having seen them earlier something has changed.”
“Your husband is a heartless man.” Lillian pictured Doyle’s snarling grin as he ripped the locket from her neck. “I don’t imagine he’s pleasant company when things don’t go his way.”
“You have the measure of him, although he wasn’t like that in the beginning. When his lordship banished him, I hoped never to see him again.”
Lillian’s heart went out to the woman. When the person who was meant to fight at your side turned traitor, what hope was there? Mary needed a man like Mackenzie. Strong and dependable.
“Mrs Bell found your cloak pin in the pantry. I left it in my bedchamber and shall return it to you once this is over.”
“The pantry? I thought I'd lost it in the cottage.” Mary’s countenance brightened. Were her hands free, Lillian imagined she would have hugged them to her chest. “It belonged to my grandmother, and her mother before that.”
“Having a heart to heart are we?” Doyle approached them. He poked the tip of his boot into the fire and stubbed out the dying flames. “That’s enough talking. On your feet. We’re leaving.”
Though it took effort, Lillian stood. She would spit in Doyle’s eye if he dared offer a hand to assist her.
He came to stand in front of Mary, dragged her up by the elbow and pressed his nose against hers. “Don’t think you can run from me.” He drew a blade from a sheath fastened around his waist and waved it in front of Mary’s face. “Stay close else it will be your mistress who pays the price.”
Fear should have crippled Lillian, but a sliver of excitement coursed through her when she imagined all the ways Mackenzie would make Doyle pay.
Stuffing his beaten-leather bag with remnants of food, Doyle slung it over his shoulder, waved the knife and gestured for them to walk.
Although Lillian had been in the cave for hours, the storm had not abated. The rain lashed down in torrents, fat droplets bouncing off the rocks nearby. The clouds were black and heavy, weighed down by the enormity of their burden.
“Keep walking.” Doyle pushed her in the back as she hovered inside the cave mouth. “Water never hurt no one. This is nothing to the likes of the weather at sea.”
With Mary following at her side, Lillian clambered over the rocks. Having her hands tied behind her back affected her balance, and she slipped numerous times, scraped her knee and stubbed her toe.
The constant roar and rush, rush in her ears made it difficult to hear Doyle’s instructions, but they were to head to a cove past the dock. As they battled angry gusts, and waves smashed the shore, Lillian’s thoughts turned to Doyle’s escape plan. No one could steer a small vessel through these waters. No one could swim any distance in such treacherous conditions.
She turned to look at Doyle. “Surely, you don’t mean to navigate the storm in a rowboat?”
The rogue grinned, ignoring the trickles of water rolling off his bald head and down his cheeks. “I’ve experience when it comes to crossing the sea. Ask his lordship. He’s the one who cast me out and left me to the tide.”
“From what I hear, you tried to kill the crew.”
He said something, but it was lost amid the wind howling a warning. She looked out to sea, to the last slivers of light in the distance, disappearing as darkness chased the sun down beyond the horizon.
Cold, wet, and with her skirts clinging to her legs, she trudged on. The frigate groaned and creaked as they passed the deserted dock.
“The cove is just a little further ahead.” Mary pointed into the blackness.
Lillian’s heart raced at the prospect of finding Fabian waiting for them. She had faith that whatever Doyle’s plan, her husband would save her.
“Stop right here.” Doyle’s menacing tone reached her ears this time. He grabbed Lillian’s bound hands and yanked her back.
Lillian squinted to focus through the heavy downpour. A golden ball of light illuminated the four figures on the beach standing next to a rowboat. A rush of relief made her cry out. “Fabian!”
“Lilly! Has he hurt you?”
Doyle had hurt her in a way he couldn’t possibly comprehend. “No.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat when she conjured the image of him snatching her locket.
The figures stepped forward until they stood ten feet away. Ursula and Mackenzie accompanied Fabian and Vane. Drenched, the three men looked ready to commit murder. Ursula stood with her hands clasped to her chest. Her lips were blue, and her shoulders shook.
Mackenzie held the lantern aloft, the flame ever flickering. “Tell me you’re all right, Mary.”
“I—I have had better days.”
“Have you brought the money?” Doyle said but offered no excuse or explanation for his villainous crimes.
The coins jingled when Fabian threw a linen bag onto the wet sand. “It’s all there. Come and get it.”
Vane’s penetrating gaze failed to frighten Doyle. In a sudden move, he grabbed Lillian around the waist and brought the blade to rest at the spot where her locket once sat.
Fabian cursed. “Mark my words, you’ll pay for this, even if I have to track you to the far ends of the ocean.”
“Fetch the bag, Mary, and bring it here.” Doyle’s foul breath drifted past Lillian’s cheek. “Do it now else your mistress will pay the price.”
“Then untie my hands.”
Doyle hesitated. “Ursula get the bag and come here.”
Ursula shook her head. “I—I can’t. Keep the money. I’m not coming with you. I’m staying here.”
“The hell you are. Get the bag, and get in the damn boat.”
Fabian edged a fraction closer. “Ursula has had an epiphany of sorts and finds she must make amends.”
After a tense moment of silence, Doyle pushed Lillian in the back and they shuffled forward. With the sharp edge of the blade pressed against her windpipe, Doyle dragged Lillian down to her knees. He picked up the bag and shook it before straightening.
Vane watched intently.
Lillian had seen the same look once before, on the night he caught up with Lord Martin and called him out. Regardless of whether Doyle attempted to ride the giant waves, he was a dead man.
“Well, I’d like to say it’s a pleasure doing business with you.” Contempt dripped from Doyle’s words. “But me and her ladyship here are off on a little journey.”
Fabian stepped forward. “You have the money and a boat, now release her.”
“I’ll not let her go until I’m clear of the shore.”
“Och, you’ve the Devil in you, Jim Doyle, that’s for sure.”
“But how do you propose—” Fabian stopped abruptly, recognition dawning. “Good God, man! You don’t expect her to swim in this.”
The wind whined its objection, too. The crashing waves crept ever closer, and she could sense Doyle’s urgency to depart.
Vane looked out to sea. He came to stand beside Fabian and spoke quietly in his ear. Fabian shook his head. A frown marred his brow, and he dragged his hand down his face. Vane put a reassuring hand on Fabian’s shoulder. Her heart softened at the sight.
“Very well,” Fabian eventually said. Gesturing for everyone to step away from the boat, he added, “Leave now while luck is still on your side.”
Doyle edged towards the boat. “Ursula? Are you coming? I’ll not ask you again.”
Shivering and soaked to the skin, Ursula looked up at him. “Why would I come with you when you have ruined my life?”
Doyle shrugged. “So be it.” He threw the bag of coins into the rowboat, forced Lillian to climb in and sit on the bench next to him. “We’ll need a push.”
Fabian stepped forward. He gripped the head of the boat and with a strenuous groan pushed it into the water. “Two hundred yards and then you will release her else I’m coming in after you.”
“Push us further out.”
With his jaw clenched, Fabian came into the water up to his knees. Waves surged towards the shore almost knocking him off his feet. He stood so close and yet it felt as if he were miles away. Tears threatened to fall. A deep sense of foreboding gripped her. What if this was the last time she saw him? Grief tore through her body.
“Fabian!”
“Be brave,” he shouted above the roar of the wind. “I love you.”
A rush of heat filled her chest despite her dire circumstances.
Doyle picked up an oar and rowed against the tide.
“I love you,” she called back, but her voice lacked the strength needed to rise above the din.
Doyle cursed when the current seemed to take them nearer to the shore. He released the oar, cut the ropes binding Lillian’s wrists, waved the knife at her and told her to row.
Fighting the urge to rub the tender skin, she did as he asked.
“One, two, three, heave,” Doyle repeated over again.
Lillian stared at the dejected figures on the beach. Mackenzie clutched Mary to his chest. Vane entered the water and stood shoulder to shoulder with Fabian. Ursula stood alone.
“Heave, damn it!” Doyle cried as they hit a huge wave and water flooded the boat.
The spray hindered her vision. She lost her timing. But then it suddenly occurred to her that Doyle had dropped the knife. The further out to sea they went, the harder it would be to make it back. She needed to jump from the boat now before the next wave hit.
Wasting no time, she stood and scrambled over the seat in front.
“Sit down! You’ll tip the boat.”
Did he think she lacked the courage to swim?
Did he imagine she would let him take her away from everything she held dear?
With one quick glance into the murky depths, Lillian inhaled deeply and then dived into the sea.
The cold hit her like a sharp slap, penetrating her bones in seconds. Water filled her ears. She knew not to panic, knew not to thrash about, knew to wait before trying to move. Erratic breathing only made matters worse. As she surfaced, she tried to keep calm, tried to let her clothes act as a buoyancy as Vane had told her to do. Floating was the key to survival, not swimming.
In calmer waters, her plan may well have worked, but the magnitude and force of the waves sucked her under. She broke the rules. The instinct to swim came upon her, the instinct to fight for her life as the sea swallowed her whole.
But then a strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her up to the surface. She gulped air, blinked away the droplets clinging to her lashes. “Fabian.”
“Hold on, love. Don’t let go.”
He swam with her. Perhaps with his experience at sea he knew something she didn’t. And then Vane was there, taking his turn, helping them, and somehow they all ended up collapsed on the sand.
Mackenzie and Mary hurried to their side.
“For all the saints,” Mackenzie cried, “are you trying to put me in an early grave?”
A weak chuckle escaped Fabian’s lips as he gasped for breath. “I said the same thing to her yesterday.” He clutched his chest as he sat up. “Good God! Will someone please tell me how we survived that.”
The comment focused Lillian’s mind, and she sat up and scoured the sea looking for Doyle. “Where’s the boat?”
Vane came to his feet. “It overturned.” He pointed to the odd-shaped hump bobbing in the water. “The current dragged Doyle under.”
Panic almost stole her voice. “M-my locket.” She jabbed her finger, her body desperately trying to communicate her meaning. “Doyle has my locket.” A whimper became a cry. “No! I can’t lose it.”
Vane’s calm voice penetrated the chaos. “Have no fear. I shall retrieve it.”
“No.”
Fabian stood. “It is only right I go. Were it not for me, Lillian would not be in this predicament.”
“I—I don’t want either of you to go. It’s not safe.”
“If I were a better swimmer, I would go.” Ursula stepped up to the water, the flowing tide sweeping up past her ankles and pulling on the hem of her dress. She squinted and stared into the distance. “Do you think he’s dead? Tell me he’s dead.”
Lillian sprung to her feet and rushed forward. “Will the tide bring his body ashore?” She waded in up to her knees, searching for any sign of life. The power of the sea almost knocked her back.
Fabian came to her side and drew her into an embrace. “I’m sorry about the locket. I know it is no consolation, but always remember that no one can steal the love from your heart or the memories from your mind.”
Lillian buried her head in his chest and sobbed. They were the tears of a foolish girl, the tears of a woman who’d just come close to losing everything that mattered. She wrapped her arms around his waist and clung on tightly. The sound of his rapid heartbeat soothed her.
“Och, do you think that’s wise, man?” Mackenzie cried.
Lillian looked up to see Vane’s naked torso diving down far beyond the foamy surf. “Vane!” She broke away from Fabian’s grasp, ready to chase after the man who had never forgiven himself for what happened to her. Who would never forgive himself if the only physical thing that reminded her of Charlotte disappeared into the depths of the restless sea.
Fabian caught her by the wrist. “You can’t go. Seeing you in the water will only distract him.”
“I’ll make sure your brother comes back to you, lass.” Mackenzie thrust the lantern at Ursula and shrugged out of his coat. He dropped to the wet sand and pulled off his boots. “Had I known I’d be swimming in the sea twice in one night, I’d have come out in just my drawers.”
Torn between wanting him to help Vane and wanting him to stay, Lillian said, “Be careful. It’s rough out there.”
“Och, I swam the waters around the Mealt Falls when I was just a wee laddie. There’s no place with a stronger undertow.” The Scot jumped to his feet, gathered Mary into his arms and kissed her on the mouth. “Wait here for me, lass. Happen I have things to say upon my return.”
Like a Highland warrior of old, Mackenzie charged into the sea and disappeared. They all stood and watched with bated breath. Ursula paced back and forth lifting her lantern high although the wind threatened to blow the flame out. A minute passed before they noticed movement in the water. In the gloom and through the lashing rain it was hard to identify the mass moving towards them.
Without warning, Fabian charged in, grabbed Doyle’s body and hauled him to the shore. Mackenzie surged out of the water and sucked in a breath. But where was Vane?
Lillian’s heart shot up to her throat.
Tense seconds passed.
Vane emerged. He was on his knees, his chest heaving. Another wave smashed against his shoulders and yet somehow, he scrambled to his feet.
