Fleur shook her head. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that; he loves children. It’s only men he doesn’t like.’
From the way she was looking at him Antonio assumed that this was a trait shared by his owner.
‘He’s a rescue dog. When they found him he was in a terrible state. I don’t even like to think about what his owner did to make him so afraid of men. He’s really a very placid animal normally. If you want to blame anyone blame me—it’s my fault for letting him off the lead.’
A scream like broken glass cut across Fleur’s faltering explanation. Then another and another. The sound of terror lifted the hairs on the nape of her neck.
For a moment she froze. Her companion did not; he hit the ground running. Running with a fluid animal grace and athletic co-ordination that Fleur might have admired on a more appropriate occasion.
With the sound of those screams still ringing in her ears, Fleur didn’t think about not following him. Pausing only to attach the lead to Sandy, she plunged after him, weaving her way with far less grace than he had between the trees. My God, she thought, panting as she ran towards where the screams had come from—worryingly they had stopped—for a big man he could certainly move.
She reached the reed-fringed pond just in time to see him dive in fully clothed. His entry caused a few geese to rise squawking into the air. Eyes wide and scared, Fleur watched as he cut through the grey water with smooth, powerful strokes. It wasn’t until he reached the small upturned boat that she registered its presence.
My God, she thought in horror, someone is down there.
Antonio trod water and scanned the surface. He called out, ‘Tamara!’ twice, then, taking a lungful of air, dived beneath the surface. At the spot the boat had overturned the pond was deep and it was hard to see anything in the murky, weed-choked depths.
The first two dives he came up empty-handed. Antonio closed his eyes and prepared to go down again. The lines of his face were set in a mask of steely determination. A calm settled over him, he knew that this time failure was simply not an option.
As the dark head vanished once more beneath the water Fleur, standing on the shore, pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle the moan of fear that escaped the confines of her dry throat.
He was fully dressed and his clothes had to weigh a ton. My God, she thought he’s going to drown. I’m watching a man drown. I’m one of those awful people who stand by and do nothing!
‘The stupid, stupid man!’ At her feet the dog whined. Come up…come up…she mouthed silently as she stared at the still surface of the pond willing him to appear.
But he didn’t.
Fleur jumped up and down in silent agitation. Nobody could hold their breath for that long. Damn it, she couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. Slipping off her cardigan and shoes, she waded into the cold water. She was thigh-deep when his dark head broke the surface.
The ferocious tension slid from Fleur’s body as her head fell back…Thank God!
Chapter Four
THERE was a raging fire where his lungs were meant to be. Antonio almost welcomed the pain that reminded him he was alive. For a moment there he had really thought that he was going to black out before he reached the surface.
It had only been the knowledge that if he didn’t make it neither did Tamara that had enabled him to hold the blackness back.
He gasped greedily for air to replenish his oxygen-deprived lungs while simultaneously treading water and blinking the water from his eyes. His hand shook as he touched Tamara’s cold face. Her eyelashes lay like dark curtains against the waxy grey pallor of her smooth young cheeks.
Praying harder than he had ever done in his life, he tilted her head back and breathed into her mouth…once, twice, and then again, pausing each time to feel for a pulse. His efforts were rewarded with a soft flutter under his fingers.
Rolling onto his back and supporting Tamara’s body with his own, he cupped her chin, drawing her face clear of the water and, digging deep into his reserves, he kicked for shore. He had gone maybe twenty feet when he became aware of someone beside him. It was the young woman minus her dog.
‘Is she breathing?’
He nodded. With her mane of hair floating in the water around her face she reminded him of an anxious mermaid. Didn’t mermaids lure a man to his doom? This one seemed to be trying to help.
She swam up beside him. ‘Let me…?’
Not wasting his breath on a reply, Antonio allowed her to support part of Tamara’s weight. Together they swam towards the shallows towing the girl between them.
As they reached the muddy bank Antonio hefted Tamara’s limp body into his arms. His eyes left his daughter’s face for a second in order to say, breathlessly but imperatively, ‘An ambulance.’
Following him, Fleur panted. ‘I already called before…’
‘Before you jumped in the lake.’
She was conscious of a tiny glow of pleasure as he flashed her a look of warm approval. Later on she was going to have to remind herself that she shouldn’t want his approval, but right now there were more important things to think about.
Choosing a clear patch of grass Antonio laid down his burden.
‘Tamara, can you hear me?’
In response the girl rolled onto her side and retched over and over until her stomach was empty. Antonio watched, feeling totally helpless as she then began to cry.
‘I expect that was a good thing,’ Fleur, her teeth chattering, observed as she retrieved the cardigan she’d pulled off before she’d gone into the water.
She dropped down onto her knees beside Antonio and, easing the shaking girl’s head onto her lap, tucked the dry cardigan tight around her trembling body. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing.
‘You’ll be fine,’ she said, hoping it was the truth. Actually the girl looked pretty awful, but the scary blue tinge around her lips had lessened.
‘Tamara,’ the tall Spaniard supplied huskily. ‘My daughter.’
‘That’s a nice name,’ Fleur said, rubbing the girl’s cold hands in between her own. Either he was a lot older than he looked or he had started a family when he was very young. She had never heard a wife mentioned so she assumed that this girl was a child from a previous relationship.
He shook his head, sending silver water droplets spraying everywhere. ‘And I am Antonio Rochas…’ He ran a hand over his wet face and managed to look more vital than any man who had just had a near-death experience had a right to.
Did he really think she didn’t know who he was?
‘Fleur Stewart.’
She looked at him through the mesh of her wet lashes. Like hers his body was shaken by intermittent tremors, which became more obvious as he shrugged his way out of his drenched jacket.
