“I’m all right.” But he wasn’t. Something, a sharp sensation he couldn’t define, burned at the back of his throat.
He and Ernest rowed the boat deeper into the lake where a few slabs of ice floated. If he weren’t so anxious, he’d appreciate the weeping willows, oak trees, and evergreen bushes around the lake. Even without leaves, the trees formed a thick wall around the shores. One could almost believe to be somewhere else wilder than London. It was ironic that he’d searched for such a spot for weeks, only to find it now when he didn’t need it.
“I want to go faster than Quentin,” Ernest said, clenching his teeth. “So, the Irish are whiny and lazy? I’ll show him.”
“Oh, please, don’t.” Verity huffed. “I don’t want a competition. Can’t we simply enjoy the warm day and forget about Quentin?”
“No. The way he treated Hector was despicable.” Ernest rowed harder, and Hector had to match his strength. “And he insulted my people.”
“He’s despicable to everyone,” Maddie said. “Don’t take it personally.”
“It is personal.” Ernest nodded. “One more reason to row faster.”
The boat rolled. Maddie and Verity laughed, but Hector’s stomach clenched with a cold feeling. Rising anxiety caused him to breathe harder and his sight to become blurred. He was on a boat, not on the raft. He was in London, not on the island...he blinked. The view changed. Tall waves threatened to devour him.
No, he wasn’t in London. It’d all been a lie, a cruel dream. He’d never been rescued. He was still on the raft at the mercy of the sea. Or lack thereof. The waves would swallow him. The wind hissed in his ears. Salty water stung his lips. The scent of the sea choked him. He’d sink into the bottom of the ocean. He’d drown. He’d never see England again. He couldn’t fight the waves. They were too big for him. All he could do was grab the raft and hope the sea wouldn’t kill him. His supply of fresh water and food ran low. If the sea didn’t kill him, he’d die of starvation. He was tired of holding on and hoping to be found. He was exhausted. The sea would eat him alive.
“I don’t want to die,” he whispered or maybe shouted.
Something touched him, but he swatted the thing away. He needed to leave the raft. He shouldn’t be here. He stood up. The raft rocked with the strength of the waves. Someone screamed. Hands touched him. Then a face swept into view and became sharp as he focused. Maddie. What was she doing on the raft?
“Hector?” Her voice sounded distant and muffled. “Stop moving.”
Another dream? No, he couldn’t stop. He had to move. The sea was going to get him and—icy cold water shocked him. Splashes and the sound of bodies diving resounded around him. He blinked as the wave of panic receded, leaving him shaking. The raft disappeared, and his memory returned. He was in London, taking a trip across the Serpentine. He’d been rescued. It was real. Maddie had found him.
The boat had capsized, likely his fault, and Maddie, Verity, and Ernest struggled to keep their heads above the water.
“Help them! They can’t swim.” Ernest held Verity up while trying to undress her. “Maddie. Her skirts drag her down. Go, Hector!”
Ernest’s words shocked him into action. Maddie tried to grip the upturned hull, but between the freezing cold and her heavy clothes, she slipped down, swallowing water. He swam towards her and coiled an arm around her waist. She gurgled and sputtered as she grabbed him for dear life. Her fingers dug into his shoulders and pushed him down. Even though he was a strong swimmer, between the icy water freezing his lungs and her hands shoving him down, he could barely keep himself and her afloat.
“Maddie, loosen your grip, or we’ll both go down,” he said, controlling his voice.
She stopped struggling, paling. Hell. He’d hurt her and put her in danger again.
“That’s it. Stay still. Trust me.”Trust me. He was such a hypocrite. He didn’t deserve her trust.
His heart broke when she obeyed him and snuggled closer to him. She shivered but remained still when he unfastened her petticoats, yanking at the strings hard enough to rip them. Holding her, he swam towards the shore where Quentin, his friends, and other people had gathered. He reached the shore before Ernest did and laid Maddie on the grass. She trembled so hard her teeth chattered. She was so pale.
“Maddie.” He cupped her cold cheek and checked her eyes that showed too much white. “Take deep breaths.”
“You idiot.” Quentin shoved him, pulling him away from Maddie. “What was all that about? The shouting, the madness? You caused the boat to capsize, you cur.”
He couldn’t say anything. Maddie was everything that mattered to him.
Mrs. Landon shook her head. Annabelle was as pale as Maddie, and the people gathered on the shore muttered, shooting sideways glances at him.
“To the receiving house. Quick.” Dripping water, Ernest gathered a shivering Verity in his arms and headed to the house at the end of the path.
Quentin moved to haul Maddie up, but Hector would have none of that. Maddie was his responsibility.
“Don’t touch her,” he gritted out.
Quentin held up his hands. “I’m sure she’s perfectly safe with you.”
Curse him to hell. Hector picked her up and marched towards the house. Maybe it was the cold, but an odd numbness descended upon him. A numbness that aimed at his emotions. Had he really risked killing his friends by behaving like a man possessed? He’d almost killed his angel. Maddie clenched his drenched jacket with stiff fingers. Her wet hair was plastered to her pale face. Too pale. A blue tint coloured her quivering lips. The sound of her raspy breath was like a stab to his chest.
“Help!” Ernest shouted, stomping inside the house. “We need help. Two women fell in the lake.”
