Muscles screaming, Aiden shoved himself into the water, clung to the edge of the tattered board. Using his good arm and ignoring the pain, he kicked in unison; with each stroke he paddled toward the strip of sand below the cliffs.
His vision dimmed. He gritted his teeth, swam harder.
A light breeze built, tossing waves against him as heedged forward.
Arms aching, as he reached out he realized the current had caught him. Euphoria fell away as he drifted toward where the rocks along the coast cut into theincoming surf.
Heart pounding, he rose with the next swell, kicking hard.
His fragmented craft edged closer.
Fighting exhaustion, Aiden doubled his efforts. Inch by precious inch, he neared the coast away from the dangerous rocks.
At last his boot scraped against the sandy bottom. Aiden collapsed against the charred frame while the incoming wave shoved him higher up the beach. When the surf slid back, he rolled free from the battered wood, then braced his legs against the withdrawing rush.
The next wave rushed ashore. Aiden shoved to his feet, staggered up the slope. Another surge of white water littered with sand slammed against him and threw him off balance. He thrust his boots into the sand and trembled beneath thepowerful rush.
As the churning water ebbed around him, he stumbled onshore, then collapsed to his knees.
Throat raw, dragging in gulps of air, Aiden searched the dips in the land, breaks in the rock for any water left froma recent storm.
Waves rumbled behind him, and the foam-edged surf slid halfway up his body.
Gwendolyn with her whispered words, her laughter, and her beautiful curves. She reached out for him, beckoning him forward, encouraging him to endure and stay focused.
Muscles screaming, he crawled toward her as she stood beside seaweed entangled with sun-dried grass. But she moved back toward the shady overhang of trees. He followed, wincing against the sun-warmedsand, and the sharp, hot stabs of rock upon his knees and fingers.
Cool shadows engulfed his body as the wind rattled branches overhead, but he could no longer find her. Frantic, he searched, but his body began to tremble.
Unable to fight the inrushing surge of darkness, on a groan, he collapsed, succumbed to the whirl of blackness.
* * * *
After rounding the curving shore, Gwendolyn drew her mount to a halt. The cloth from Aiden’s tunic firm in her hand, she searched the coast.
Naught.
Cailin’s horse at her side snorted. “’Tis growing late, lass. We must turn back before it grows too dark.”
She glanced skyward, stunned to find the sun on the horizon, and streaks of purples and oranges filling the sky. “Nay. We have at least another hour before nightfall. As long as I can see, I am searching.” Gwendolyn kicked her mountinto a canter.
At the next bend, she heard Cailin curse before he shot in front of her and caught her steed’s halter, stopping her advance.
“What are you doing?” she snapped. “Move aside!”
He gestured to the cliffs. “’Tis the English!”
She glanced up, saw a group of knights riding east. Thank God they hadn’t seen them.
“Come!” The Templar led her deep into the shadows. “We must stay here until we are sure they have gone.”
“I thought the duke’s men were captured or dead?”
Cailin grimaced. “As did I.”
“Where do you think they are heading?”
“To Lord Comyn.”
