He intended to jump—and to take Isabail with him.
Aiden’s blood pumped slowly through his veins, and a cool clarity dropped over him. He knew exactly what he had to do—stop de Lourdes before he could leap. There was no time to think twice or doubt the plan of action that sprang to mind. He simply dropped his sword and darted forward, eyes on his target.
Daniel didn’t hesitate. He saw Aiden move and immediately leapt backward.
Isabail screamed.
As the two of them began to fall, Aiden’s priority shifted—one hand had been grabbing for each of them, but now he dove for Isabail with both. He grasped for her wrist, but caught only the tips of her fingers as her slim hand slipped through his desperate fingers. The other hand had more luck—he latched onto the fluttering folds of her gown, gaining a fistful of material.
Aiden landed on his belly in the snow, partly hanging over the cliff. An instant later, as the full weight of Isabail’s body dropped, the strength of his grip was tested. He vaguely saw de Lourdes pitch headfirst toward the water, but his gaze was locked on Isabail. She hung from his right hand, her death prevented by only a handful of finely woven wool.
Thankfully, she did not squirm.
Wide blue eyes met his, terror evident in the pallor of her face.
Aiden’s balance was not secure—he was too far over the edge—and Isabail’s weight, though not excessive, was enough to rock him. Heart pounding, he planted his left hand in the snow to keep him steady.
“I’ve got you, lass,” he said reassuringly.
Digging his boots into the frozen ground as best he could, he tried to wriggle back. The sound of material ripping froze his movements. The delicate seam stitches at Isabail’s waist were giving way.
She said nothing, but the stark look in her eyes begged him to do something.
There was only one option.
Aiden lifted his left hand and reached for Isabail. If they fell, at least they would fall together. “Grab my hand, lass.”
Isabail reached for him, trembling badly. A foot of space separated their fingers.
Aiden extended his arm farther, but his body tipped and he had to pull back. “Stretch,” he urged. “Safety is only a few inches away.”
She did as he bade. Reaching. Grasping. Their fingers touched, but the melted snow on his hand proved too slippery and she fell back. The seam ripped further, and she let out a short shriek.
Aiden swallowed, his mouth dry as dust. The seam was half-gone now; a huge hole had opened up, one that Isabail could easily fall through. If she tilted too far to one side, or the rest of the seam gave way, he would lose her. “Try again,” he told her.
She did. This time their fingers locked briefly before she slipped from his grasp. As she fell back, the seam ripped wide, leaving only a bare few inches of attached material... and the threads continued to give. Aiden knew he had only seconds to save Isabail.
“Again,” he urged firmly, opening his hand and offering her the broadest grip possible. “Quickly now; there’s a lass.”
Desperation drove the next attempt. With a slight catch of her breath, she launched herself at his hand. The dress ripped again, completely parting. His right hand now held nothing but a swath of fabric. Luckily, Isabail had latched firmly to his left.
He dropped the fabric and grabbed Isabail with both hands. Slowly, but with increasingly sure movements, he withdrew from the edge of the cliff. When his balance was firm, he yanked her up over the edge. Giving in to a primal need, he clasped her tightly to his chest and pressed his lips into the soft hair on her head.
They lay there in the snow, breathing heavily and doing little else but listening to their heartbeats for several minutes.
“What of Jamie?” Isabail asked hoarsely. “Did you see him?”
“Aye. He’s with his da.”
Her hand, still clutching his, tightened. “Hisda?”
“All that will sort itself out,” Aiden said. “Did de Lourdes hurt you? Are you well?”
“I’m fine.”
He released her, rolled to his feet, then offered her a hand. When she was standing and he could see for himself that all was well, he pulled her again to his chest. “I love you, Isabail Macintosh.”
“I know,” she said with a faint smile.
