An Auctioned Bride (Highland Heartbeats #4)(62)

Just a few seconds more!

If she could find the surface, she knew she would have a chance. She didn't know how to swim, but if she could kick her legs and bat her arms enough to keep her head above water, she hoped she could grab another mouthful of air.

Already exhausted, her body battered by the water, she felt herself surge upward, thanks to the waves. Her head broke the surface, but the hair in front of her eyes, the darkness, the height of the waves around her and, a short distance away, a wickedly jagged rock jutted toward her.

She gasped in a quick lungful, sucking in salt water at the same time. Choking, slapping her hands at the water, trying to keep her head lifted, she hoped and prayed that the next wave wouldn't slam her against that rock.

Another wave crashed, pushing her down again. Down, ever downward.

Her air lasted only a few seconds, and once again she began to feel the burning in her lungs. The frigid temperature of the water made it difficult to move, and soon, a sense of lethargy swept through her, making it hard to move. She knew what it was.

A combination of the cold, fatigue, the utter sense of hopelessness. She wouldn't give up, not until the last bit of strength left her body. Weaker than before, she tried to make her way again to the surface, but she couldn't find it. The ringing in her ears grew louder. So too did the harsh pounding of her heart, pumping so hard in her chest she felt it pushing against her skin.

Bubbles began to escape her lips. She knew, instinctively knew, that her struggle was over.

She would disappear, just as her uncle wished, never to be seen again, never to be heard from, and no one would ever know what happened to her. Except for Hugh, and now Derek.

She prayed that they would survive, that Hugh would make it back to his beloved Duncan clan, find happiness—

Something strong wrapped itself around her upper arm. Tugged hard. Then a hand grabbed at her braid, pulling it, propelling her upward. She didn’t fight, didn't struggle. Had her hair become entangled in a piece of driftwood, a piece of wreckage from the other ship? Her brain fuzzy, her thoughts confused, she relinquished herself to her tomb, to the sea. She respected the sea, and feared it as any logical human should.

Suddenly, her face burst from beneath the waves. She swallowed several mouthfuls of water, struggling to open her eyes. Had she been pushed to the beach? Something was still holding her, grabbing her by her hair, pulling her.

She gasped, saw the arm, and knew.

She'd been saved!

Hugh had dived over the side of the ship to save her!

Her hopes soared. Her heart pounded with relief, love, and devotion as she looked—

Not Hugh.

Derek.

She stared, unable to speak as he clasped her braid in one hand, his arm wrapped around her waist, the other powerfully propelling them back toward the rocking ship.

She continued to stare, speechless. He flipped her over, and she now floated on her back on the waves, Derek side-paddling and kicking his legs, taking them back to the ship.

Shouts.

In her peripheral vision, she saw a rope thrown overboard. She turned once again toward Derek.

“I can swim better than Hugh,” he laughed. “And besides, I've never had a sister before. I think you just might be worth saving.”

And then, as blackness, cold, and fatigue raced through her body, she thought she dimly heard the sound of laughter—Derek's crazy laughter.

On the edges of her consciousness, she felt herself flung over a shoulder, her arms and legs dangling limply in the water as Derek climbed the rope ladder that had been flung once again over the side of the hull. Moments later, hands reached down and plucked her from his back. She felt herself floating in a warm grasp, a tight, warm grasp.

“You're all right, you're all right…”

Hugh repeated the words over and over again, hugging her so closely to him that she could hardly breathe. She didn't care, not at all. She felt his head bent close to her ear, his stubbled cheek pressed against hers. Warmth. He was so warm!

Even though they'd both been battered by the cold sea air, he was still much warmer than she.

“Get her below deck,” Derek ordered. “Get her clothes off. There are blankets down there. Put her against that blasted horse of yours if you have to. Keep her warm!”

She was lifted, and then once again carefully lowered down into the hold of the ship. She barely held onto consciousness, her body shivering uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. She didn't even have the strength to open her eyes. She felt herself placed down on a small bed of straw and nearby, a source of heat provided delicious warmth. She reached out a hand, thinking she would make contact with Hugh and instead found herself grasping one of Agnarr's legs. The horse offered a short neigh and then she felt him nuzzle against her arm as Hugh laid her against the gelding's belly and shoulder. She smiled.

“You're going to be all right, Dalla,” Hugh said. “I'm going to get these wet clothes off, and I have a blanket. You'll be warm in a moment.”

She didn't have the strength to protest.

In a matter of moments, she was divested of clothes. She grumbled against the chill, heard Hugh ordering Agnarr to give him some room, and then quickly wrapped her in a blanket, and pulled her onto his lap, cradling her close, allowing her to soak in his heat, and rest against his strength.

She fell into exhausted sleep, but it only seemed like moments before she woke to find herself still lying in the bed of straw, Agnarr close by on his feet, head bent low and his muzzle nudging her shoulder.