His dark hair was plastered to his head, and his classically sculpted face was frowning.
“Miss!” he called.
And that was it. She cried out softly, sprinted the few feet back to the muddy water’s edge and plunged in, diving beneath the surface as soon as she could and swimming harder than she had ever done in her life, unaware now of the cold and the aching in her lungs and limbs.
She surfaced, she knew not where, just as the rain began.
“MARGARET!”
David blinked, staring up through the mist of rain. And there she was, Lord Avery’s fair daughter, the very lovely and rich Lady Margaret, on her cheeks tears of a greater substance than the rain, staring down at him. Heedless of the mud, she sat on the embankment, his head cradled in her lap.
His heart leapt. Although she often appeared to care for him deeply, in fact, in the race for her hand, he had thought both Robert Stewart and Allan Beckensdale to be far ahead of him.
And yet now…how sweet to see her face!
For a moment, he was puzzled. There had been a fleeting moment when…he had thought he’d seen someone else. A different face. Fair and comely, with eyes a strange green fire and hair a searing flame-red. An angel? Had he come so close to death? No, then perhaps a mermaid, a sprite from the sea, or rather the river?
Had he imagined her?
And had he imagined, too, in the bluster of the day and the roll of the yacht, the hands at his back, pushing him, forcing him into the river?
“David! David, please, speak to me again, are you all right?” Margaret demanded anxiously.
“I…oh, dear, dear Margaret! Yes, I…I’m fine!” Not true. In fact, he was quite cold, but that mattered not in the least, not when this much-sought, beautiful lady was so gently tending to him.
Those eyes, so brilliantly blue, so studded with tears!
But…
“You saved me,” he said, still confused.
“Well,” she murmured, “I did drag you up the bank, hold you here, so dearly, in my lap.”
“He will live!” These words, dry, rough and impatient. And a spray of icy water falling on him.
“Sir Hunter?” David gasped, looking toward the voice. And, indeed, he was there, the renowned sailor, soldier, excavator and all-round adventurer; the toast of London society, standing above him, furious and frowning.
And dripping.
“He’s safely in your hands now, Lord Avery,” Hunter said dryly to Margaret’s father, who stood, David saw then, anxiously watching just a few feet away. “I must find the girl.”
“The girl?” David echoed, blinking again.
“The one who saved your life,” Sir Hunter said curtly, and David could hear the unspoken “You fool.”
“Good God, Sir Hunter, you cannot mean to plunge back in—” Lord Avery began.
“Oh, but I do,” Hunter said. “Lest she drown.”
“You’ll drown yourself!” Lord Avery argued. “If there is a girl out there, the boatsmen or fishermen will find her surely.”
Lord Avery’s protests were apparently insufficient for Hunter turned and strode back into the water.
“Father, he’ll be all right!” Margaret called, adding with a touch of admiration that sent a pang through David’s heart, “Sir Hunter MacDonald can withstand any hardship.”
Sir Hunter, David thought, ever the hero, strong and brave and invincible. And I myself here on the muddy shore, gasping, barely alive…
But in her arms!
“I hope you’re right, my dear,” Lord Avery said, kneeling down beside David as well and, slipping his fine jacket from his shoulders, placed it around David. “Thank God you survived, my boy! Can you rise? We’ll get you to the road and then to the town house before you catch your death of cold.”
David, trying to fathom what was real and what lay in the soul of his imagination asked, “There really was a girl?” He looked at Margaret.
“Yes…that or, truly, a sea creature!” Margaret said.
“We’ll see that she’s rewarded for the act, assuming that Sir Hunter can indeed find her. How very odd that she ran back into the river. She must be quite mad. Or perhaps she’s a lady of some fine family, afraid to be seen!” Lord Avery said gruffly. “One can only speculate, however, David. Right now, we must get you warm. That blasted river! Rarely is it anything less than wretched!”
“Yes, of course,” David murmured, “Thank you. But if there was a girl…a strong girl, rich or poor, we must indeed see that she is rewarded.”
Again he remembered—imagined?—being pushed into the river. It had been an act of pure malice and evil intent.
Whoever had done it had meant for him to die.
But why?
Margaret? To eliminate the competition for her hand?
Or was it something else entirely?
Suddenly he was afraid, deeply afraid, though he dared not show it. The thoughts tore through his mind. He and his friends had simply gone out for a day of sport and fun. Alfred Daws, Robert Stewart, Allan Beckensdale, Sydney Myers, all fellows he knew well. He’d studied with them, played cricket with them, trusted them….
He had to be mistaken!
And yet, if it hadn’t been for the girl who’d—
“David?”
His name was said with such anxiety! And Margaret smelled of roses, so delicious, and her arms were around him as she helped him to his feet.
“The girl saved your life,” Margaret agreed. “Your precious life.”
He forgot Lord Avery, forgot his fear regarding his friends, everything, as he stared into the sky-blue of her eyes. He needed his future secured. As the son-in-law of Lord Avery, it would be.
“Ah, but we know the real truth! You saved my life,” he declared. “You, with your gentle caring. You have brought me back. Even here, upon this shore, I might have died. Indeed, I would have died had I not opened my eyes to see your beautiful face!”
Her cheeks turned a delightful shade of pink, and he dared to mouth “I love you so!”
She did not reply, but the pink suffused to a darker shade as she reminded him softly, “My father, David!”
Yes, he thought, Margaret was indeed beautiful. And sweet. And very rich. For him, she would be the perfect wife.
He
