Harlequin Historical: March 2022, Box Set 1 of 2 by Jenni Fletcher

Author:Jenni Fletcher
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

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Alasdair pulled Dòmhnall’s body another couple of feet up the bank, away from the lad’s watery grave. His heart was breaking. Such a grand, fine young lad, gone. He turned Dòmhnall on to his back, then closed the lad’s eyes, saying a quick prayer for his soul. Not that a boy such as Dòmhnall would be in need of any prayers. A civil, quiet fellow, he had harmed no-one in all his eighteen years.

Just eighteen, and gone.

Alasdair’s heart felt as though it might break at the very notion. Abruptly, he stilled, tilting his head.

‘Alasdair!’

There was no mistaking Lydia’s call. With one final tap on Dòmhnall’s shoulder and a promise that he would be brought home to Ardmore, he hurried off in the direction Lydia’s voice had come from. As he ran, he saw her then, kneeling down beside—

Lord, no! Not both of them!

‘She is alive!’ Lydia seemed to be trying ineffectually to pull Eilidh up the bank, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Rather randomly, it occurred to him that Hester would have been having strong hysterics by this point. Not that Hester would ever have dreamed of accompanying him on such a grim mission. ‘I cannot get her out of the water.’

Finally he reached them. Lydia gave way and he was able to pull Eilidh from the water with little effort. He picked her up and Lydia helped by gathering the girl’s full skirts and tucking them around her where they would not impede his ability to walk. Most of Eilidh’s weight, he suspected, was in her heavy, water-filled clothing. She was alive, yes, but could die yet, from the effects of being cold and wet for so many hours. Striding across the rain-damp seagrass, heedless to the lapping of the waves and the calling of the birds, nevertheless he was conscious of Lydia’s quiet company. It gave him comfort and strength, somehow, to have her near.

Once at the boat, Lydia managed to pull it down the bank and into the water’s edge. She clambered in first, and he gently placed Eilidh into her arms. The girl had not yet woken, but had stirred a little, and Alasdair’s heart clung to any sign of life. Jumping in, he reached for the oars, rowing smoothly down the inlet and back towards the land. ‘Better to go back directly to Ardmore by boat,’ he grunted, ‘with Eilidh to carry. The others will return for Dòmhnall.’

They were facing each other, he and Lydia. She was not looking at him, her attention being entirely focused on Eilidh. She had taken off her cloak and was now wrapping it around the girl, tucking it in as best she could and using a corner to dry Eilidh’s face. The compassion and concern in her expression and her actions was plain to see. She does not simply look like an angel, was the thought that flashed through his mind, she has all the goodness of an angel also.

After some time, she spoke. ‘How much longer?’ Those blue eyes were now locked with his and he found himself momentarily lost for words.

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