Oh, dear God above, he prayed as he recognised the figure in those boy’s clothes—it was Julia!
She’d always loved the snow when she visited Broch Dubh in the Highlands at Christmas as a child. And she had been one of the best skaters when the temperatures had dipped cold enough to freeze the nearby loch to ice. Now, watching her receding figure, he knew he must follow her. If he gauged the distance correctly, the lake was at least several leagues away.
He’d not walked that far since his accident.
He did not know if he was capable of doing it now; he only knew he must try. A deep sense of foreboding hit him in the gut and, watching her walk further away with each passing second, Iain knew he had to move.
A half-hour later he reached the snow-covered bank of the lake and observed her gliding along the far side. He stayed in the shadow of the trees, far enough back that she would not see him. With his lower body screaming at both the distance covered and the relentless pace he’d kept to, he paced slowly there, so that his legs would not seize up completely. Her voice, calling out to someone, grabbed his attention.
A child, a boy, had joined her on the ice, and he watched as they chased each other across the frozen surface, mindless of the cold and the new snow falling around them. Years ago he would have strapped on his own skates and raced with them on the ice. He sighed, realising again that his limitations and disability would forever keep him from the things he’d so enjoyed in his youth…and from her.
Some minutes passed, and though he was near exhaustion, he did not tire of watching her—her sense of enjoyment in this simple activity, the way she treated the child from the village, the grace with which she moved, even the scandalous way that the boy’s clothing outlined the womanly curves of her body. It was more joy than he’d had in many months, and even if it was tinged was a sense of seeing what he could never have, he would treasure every moment of it.
Julia and the child had skated to a different section of the lake when he heard it. The ice cracked and sent its ominous warning of danger over the surface. He looked across at the skaters, their sudden pause and obvious searching for the origin of the sound, telling him they’d recognised the danger.
He was about to shout out a warning when Julia screamed and disappeared from his view.
Chapter Six
The child fell to the ice, and Iain knew he must act or lose them. Realising that his legs simply would not support him on the ice, he quickly staggered to the edge of the lake and slid along as much as he could without losing his balance.
‘Julia! Hold on, Julia!’ he called as he moved awkwardly out onto the ice in their direction. He did not see Julia, but the child heard him and called her name again.
He could not delay, and trying to remain on his feet was doing just that. Possibly the only good thing to come from his injuries was the strength he’d built in the muscles of his back and chest and arms, so he tossed his walking stick aside and threw himself forward on the ice. After the initial shock of his hard landing, he pulled himself along the slippery surface, using any roughness he could grab onto.
Although it seemed as if time had slowed, and his progress was even slower, he could see he was closer with each second, and soon he could see the frightened child sitting on the ice, calling out to Julia, who must be in the water. Once he neared the edge of the break in the ice, he pulled himself up on his knees—knees now numb from the cold and wet—so he could see over it. Sheer terror filled him at the sight of Julia in the icy waters.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked the boy. ‘Did you fall in as well?’ Moving carefully closer, he inspected the boy for any sign of injury.
‘No, sir. But the lady…’ The child shook—probably from both icy wetness and fear.
Iain grabbed the boy and slid him over to the edge of the lake. ‘Go. Run and get the Earl, and bring him quickly! Tell him to bring rope.’ He prayed that the Earl had kept to his usual schedule of visiting the stables each day at about this time.
‘Aye, sir!’ the child called, and he scampered off the ice towards the stables.
‘Hurry!’ Iain yelled, though it was not necessary, for the child covered the distance quickly.
Turning back to the water, he saw that Julia’s eyes were closed. Not certain if he was too late, he pulled himself as close to the edge as he dared and called her name.
‘Julia! Open your eyes, lass!’
Her eyes opened slowly, and he saw the shivers that shook her. ‘Iain,’ she sighed.
‘Julia, open your eyes and look at me, lass!’ He reached out and waved his hand in front of her. ‘Give me your hand now!’
He thought he’d lost her in that moment, for she sank a little lower in the water. Then, as he shouted her name once more, Julia opened her eyes and lifted her hand. It was blue, as were her lips and most of her face. She was freezing to death in front of him. He could not wait for help to arrive.
‘Give me your hand,’ he said again, and as he reached out to grab it. He barely had a moment, for her strength seemed to fail at that moment. But he did manage to grasp it and pull her closer to the edge of the ice.
‘Julia, we have done this before, you and I.’ He spoke slowly to her as he manoeuvred his body into a wider position, spreading his weight before trying to pull her out. ‘Do you remember when Collin slipped in Loch Dubh?’ He hoped she would focus on his words and stay conscious. He could not do this alone.
‘Iain,’ she sighed again. ‘It is so cold.’ He felt her hand loosen its hold on his, and could feel the fear growing in his heart.
‘Aye, love, it is cold. But you must help me get you out of the water. Now, love,’ he said sharply. Her eyes fluttered and shut once more, in spite of his words. ‘Julia, please help me!’
He saw her gaze clear then, and took advantage of the moment.
‘Can you lift your legs? Try to kick them up to the surface.’ He could slide her from the water more easily than lifting her in his present position and condition, and he had no assurance that the ice beneath him would not give way and topple him into the water.
He saw the water near her move, and watched as she did manage to kick her legs closer to the top. Holding onto her hand, he began inching his way back from the edge, guiding her body along the thinner ice and onto the thicker part. It was a near thing more than once as he heard the ice groan beneath their weight. He paused for a moment, before continuing to slide back and away from the gaping hole.
His chest was tight, and he found it hard to breathe, but he could not give up yet. His body, not used to this kind of exertion, screamed in protest, but he would not give in to the need to rest.
Once he’d moved them back from the edge, he sat up as best he could and pulled her into his lap. At least the numbing coldness presented him with a pain he could handle. He would worry about the rest later, once she was safe.
For minutes that seemed hours, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Her features resembled those of a porcelain doll now, ghostly white and fragile. He tugged the hat she still wore from her head and held her against his chest.
Her tremors shook them both. Until she was out of those wet clothes and dry, she could not begin to recover. He felt the cold seeping into his own bones, but focused on keeping her awake.
‘Julia, open your eyes, lass,’ he said softly. Tugging his glove off with his teeth, he stroked her cheek gently. Lifting her hand in his, he blew on her fingers, willing them to warm. ‘Do not worry, Julia. I have you now,’ he whispered, while gathering her closer.
She’d spoken the same words to him, just before he’d kissed her days before. The whimsical thought clarified in her cold-muddled brain, and Julia struggled to reply to his assurance.
It was just too cold. She wanted nothing more than to let the threatening sleep overtake her, to settle into its grasp, but he kept interrupting, forcing her to hear his words and to open her eyes.
She did look at him, even while her body shuddered from the piercing cold. �
��Iain.’
‘You must stay with me, Julia. Help is coming, but you must not give up to the cold,’ he urged.
The frown that furrowed his brow told her of his worry. And the way he touched her cheek and held her hand, though truly she could barely feel it, spoke of his concern.
The strangest thought entered her mind then. He held her so close she could see only part of his face, his mouth, and she wanted him to kiss her. To warm her, to make her feel something before she slipped into the darkness that waited for her.
So that she had something to remember if it was the last memory she would have.
‘Kiss me, Iain,’ she whispered, hoping he would.
At first she couldn’t tell if he had kissed her or not, her face was numb, but then the warmth of his mouth on hers seemed to wake her skin. The heat of his mouth warmed hers, and she felt the tip of his tongue moving deep inside her mouth, seeking hers. This was the kiss she remembered.
No, this was the kiss she would always remember.
He lifted his mouth from hers and held her close as the shivering shook her over and over. She needed to tell him how she felt, about the feelings that had grown in his absence from her life, about the life she pretended to enjoy so as not to disappoint her sister.
Instead she simply lay in his arms, allowing his strength to seep into her, hoping that he’d found her soon enough. Soon though, it was too much for her, and she could fight the cold and exhaustion no longer.
‘Iain…’
She whispered his name, and then lost consciousness.
It could not be! He shook her and called her name, even slapped her cheek to get her to wake up, but none of it seemed to work. She’d spoken his name and then collapsed against him, no longer awake. He was not even certain she still breathed.
No! She could not die! Not because of his disability!
If he’d been whole he could have pulled her out of the water and carried her to safety. If he’d been whole, he could have caught up with her and kept her from harm in the first place. If he’d been whole…everything would have been different.
The pain welled inside until he could not keep it within him any longer. Leaning his head back, he roared out in frustration, in agony—both physical and emotional—and in fury. And still she did not move. He slumped over her, shielding her body from the growing winds, praying that help would arrive soon.
As the snow continued to fall in silence, he finally heard people approach, and he called out to them to hurry. He recognised the Earl and his uncle, and some of the servants.
‘See to Julia,’ he called out. ‘She has fallen unconscious.’
The Earl reached them first, and with help managed to get them off the ice and onto solid ground. Then Lord Treybourne peeled Iain’s arms from around his sister-by-marriage and lifted her into his own.
‘She needs heat, my lord. And dry clothes too. Quickly.’
If anyone thought there was anything strange about a commoner ordering an earl to do his bidding, no one said it. All actions were focused on getting Julia to the house, where they could warm her and see to her condition. When they began to see to him, Iain brushed them aside.
‘Uncle! Please help her. Get her to the house,’ he ordered again.
Instead, his uncle and one of the stablemen pulled him to his feet, tugged his soggy greatcoat off his shoulders and replaced it with several thick woollen blankets. Taking one arm over each of their shoulders, they began to walk back towards the house, balancing him between them.
‘’Twas my fault, sir,’ Iain confessed. ‘I chased her from the house by my behaviour and it led to this.’
His thoughts were disjointed at that moment, but clearly his rebuff of her attentions had pushed her away and into this situation.
‘Iain, the boy said you saved him from drowning,’ his uncle argued. ‘Hardly your fault.’
‘Sir—’ he began, but when his head began to spin and his legs gave out beneath him he could say no more.
‘There will be time to sort this out, lad. Let’s get you inside and cared for, and we can sort it all through.’
Iain did not have the strength to argue the point. He could feel himself slipping away with each attempted step. And, after only a handful of paces away from the lake, he could no longer fight the exhaustion and the fear and the pain.
Chapter Seven
The story was changed slightly before being put out for the rest of those at the Earl’s Christmas festivities.
The Earl’s young ward, along with their Scottish guest, had gone skating on the lake with a stableboy as attendant. When the ice had cracked and Miss Fairchild had fallen through, Mr MacLerie had been able to pull her from the water while the boy ran for help.
This version was more acceptable than the one that had Miss Fairchild dressed in a boy’s clothing, skating with one of the villager’s children when the ice broke. Iain’s participation remained the same in both versions: pulling the unconscious Miss Fairchild to safety while awaiting help.
Neither version included his improper handling of her when they were alone, or the passionate kiss shared by them before she had fainted, or the part when he had roared against fate in a voice that had sent chills down the spines of those who’d heard it as they approached the scene of the accident.
Protecting the reputation that Julia had fought so hard to maintain seemed of the utmost importance now—especially as her life teetered so dangerously close to the edge. Two days passed before her survival was thought to be a certain conclusion to the unfortunate accident. And her sister did not leave her side during those dark hours, praying all the while, and caring for Julia the whole time.
Clarinda watched it all with a heavy heart, knowing that she had ignored the warning signs of trouble coming. Julia could be headstrong, but she was usually pragmatic about the important things. But Clarinda had seen this very situation before—she’d watched Anna go through the same thing when she had not recognised her own feelings towards the Earl of Treybourne. It was easier for someone standing a distance away to see things that could not be seen by someone standing too close.
Julia was in love with Iain.
Iain, she suspected, returned the feelings.
And neither one thought it was a good idea.
Neither did their relatives.
Now Iain was recovering from injuries sustained in his rescue of Julia from the lake, and she’d never seen him so blue-devilled. He had taken more laudanum than she’d seen him take in months over the past two days, and did not speak except to answer simple questions. Never once had he asked about Julia.
Pacing outside Julia’s bedchamber now, Clarinda knew she needed to speak to Anna about him. But she did not know how to broach such a sensitive subject. Expecting a servant when the door opened, she was surprised to find Anna leaving her sister’s bedchamber.
‘Anna.’ Clarinda embraced her friend and then held her at arm’s length to examine her more closely. ‘How do you fare through this?’
‘I do what I must,’ she replied, looking back at the closed door. ‘She sleeps now, and Trey has ordered me to my own bed.’
‘You need to have a care for your own condition, Anna. Do you wish me to sit with Julia for a while?’
Anna frowned at her. ‘And Iain? Who sees to him?’
‘Young men do not take well to the eager attentions of their uncles or aunts. I have done what I could before he dismissed me as unneeded.’ Clarinda let out an exasperated breath. ‘So much pride in their abilities, and shaken to the core when they are not able to perform as they expect to.’
‘What is wrong, Clarinda? Come. Accompany me to my bedchambers and tell me the whole of it.’
‘You will not like it, Anna. I worry about your reaction.’
At her candour, Anna shrugged. ‘I nearly lost my beloved sister two days ago. Is what you need to share worse than that?’
This was the practical, calm friend Clarinda knew. A woman able to face difficult situations
and deal with them without hysterics or fear. All would be well.
‘No. Actually, nothing so horrible as that.’
Anna linked arms with her and they walked in silence to the Countess’s suite at the end of the corridor. Surely they could find a way out of this?
Iain closed the door and rested his head against the wooden frame. It had taken two days of laudanum and then three more days to gain control over his need to dull the pain since Julia’s accident. His control had slipped away when he’d been faced with the terrible spasms and the fear that she’d died in his arms and he’d taken too much, numbing him to most sensations. The constant ache in his heart reminded him that drugs did not help every sort of pain.
He’d made his decision in the moment when the Earl had lifted her from his arms: if they survived, he would walk out of her life for ever. She deserved better than he could offer, better than he could ever be again, and he would neither ask nor expect her to make that choice.
Her sister offered her every comfort and every opportunity for a wonderful future, and he would never deny Julia the chance for that. Even if she did not realise her good fortune, he did. He’d travelled enough for his uncle, seen enough of the poverty of women’s choices, to know that although he had nearly cost her her life he would not make her sacrifice her happiness.
Once Christmas had passed he would make his way to London and fall back into his usual schedule. Work on his uncle’s business interests, work on his estate, work on his farms. A simple life.
One without Julia Fairchild in it.
He’d lived without her for years; he could do it again.
Sound permeated the wooden barrier of the door as though it was not there, and he could hear the music from above stairs. He remembered her as he’d seen her that first night—floating around the room on the arm of one or another gentleman. For a brief moment he allowed himself to imagine her on his arm, following him through the steps of a dance, conversing politely and gifting him with the smile that was hers alone.
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