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He tasted death on his tongue.
She couldn’t end like this. He wouldn’t allow it.
He went deeper.
Nothing.
His chest was screaming.
He saw no point in rising to the surface.
He looked up a last time and saw a white hand.
One beautiful white hand.
He clutched at her and pulled until she was in his arms and they began sinking under the weight of her sodden skirts. He took the knife from his mouth and inserted it under the neckline at the back of her dress, yanking out hard. The thin silk split under his knife all the way to the waist. He slit the sleeves and tore them from her lifeless arms, before dragging the dress over her hips. Then he kicked hard, and as they rose, she slipped free from the garment, like a selkie shedding its skin.
They rocketed to the surface.
He broke the water, gasping, and looked at Artemis. Her face was white, her lips blue, and her hair trailed lifelessly in the water. She looked dead.
Arms suddenly seized him and he nearly fought them off before he realized that it was Winter Makepeace and Godric St. John hauling him into a boat.
“Take her first,” Maximus managed.
The men pulled Artemis into the boat without a word and Maximus clambered in after, falling gracelessly to the bottom of the boat. He immediately took her in his arms and cut off her stays. She didn’t move.
He shook her. “Artemis.”
Her head flopped back and forth limply.
Makepeace laid a hand on his arm. “Your Grace.”
He ignored the other man. “Diana.”
“Your Grace, I’m sorry—”
He swung back his arm and slapped her face, the sound echoing across the water.
She choked.
Immediately he flipped her so that her face was over the gunwale of the boat. She coughed and a great stream of dirty water fountained out of her mouth. He’d never seen such a wonderful sight in his life. When she’d stopped coughing, he hauled her back into his arms. St. John took off his coat and handed it over.
Maximus gently pulled it over her shoulders, wrapping his arms around her. He was never going to let her go after this. “What in bloody hell were you thinking?”
Makepeace cocked an eyebrow, but Maximus ignored it. He never, ever wanted to go through such agony again. He glared sternly down at the woman in his arms.
“I was thinking,” she rasped, “that you couldn’t get a clear shot with me in the way.”
He tucked her head under his chin, running his palm over her wet hair. “And so you decided to sacrifice yourself? Madam, I had not taken you for a halfwit.”
“I can swim.”
“Not in water-logged skirts.”
She frowned impatiently. “Did you shoot him?”
“I had much more important matters to consider,” Maximus snapped.
