Page 27 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

The human men from the capsized birlinn were yelling and swimming, trying to hoist themselves onto the hull.

Go after the other galley, Scarth commanded.

Aye, Brodie agreed, but when he lifted his head above the water, a female shriek echoed nearby. Had they missed one? He followed the sound.

Help! Her clothes are too heavy! I cannot hold her up! The telepathic communication hit Brodie like a blast.

Swimming forward, he found Arabella in human form, struggling to hold up another woman who was unmoving. Her wet hair hung over her face.

Is she human? Brodie swam closer to help support some of her weight. Her plaid arisaid, voluminous petticoats, and heavy woolen cloak threatened to drag her beneath the surface.

Aye, and she'd injured. She helped us! She cut the ropes binding us. I promised to help her reach the shore.

Saints, a human woman had helped them?

Using his sharp seal teeth, Brodie bit the tie of her heavy woolen cloak, releasing it into the water. She already felt lighter.

Unbuckle her belt and get the arisaid and extra petticoats off her, he told Arabella.

Once she had done as he'd asked, the woman only wore a lightweight white smock. I'll take her to Ròncreag Isle. You're free to go back to your island with the other females.

Arabella thanked him and swam away.

The human woman hadn't woken up, and she was sinking. Was she already dead?

He swam beneath her, positioned her face down on his back, and pushed her upward to the surface. Upon hearing no breathing, he sank again, then thumped his body up hard against her abdomen as he shoved her above the surface. She coughed water from her lungs and gasped for breath.

Thank the saints.

Rolling onto his back under the water, he grasped her waist with his fore flippers. Keeping her head above the water, he folded his claws into the fabric of her thick smock so he could hold on to her without scratching her. Using his hind flippers to propel them, he drew her toward Ròncreag Isle. 'Twas closer to Farspag than Rònmòrach. Since she was human, he would need to get her back to the mainland.

For now, he must remove her from the water before a shark or other predator scented the blood from her wounds.

She coughed once more but remained a dead weight. 'Twas unfortunate she hadn't woken up yet, but at least she was breathing.

Who was she, and why had she been on board the birlinn? Had she also been a captive?

He reached the shore of Ròncreag and left her in the shallow surf, nose above the water. Using his fore flippers and claws, he tugged at the tight magical sealskin. Pushing his head through a small opening at the top, he drew it down over his body as he transformed to human.

After throwing the garment over his shoulder, he turned to the unconscious woman, her white smock glowing in the moonlight and floating in the surf.

The saltwater had washed her hair away from her face... a familiar face.

"What the devil?" he growled. The earth shifted beneath his feet. Were his eyes deceiving him? A cloud blocked the moonlight for several moments, during which he couldn't breathe. She'd looked identical to Elsea MacAuley.

"Cannot be," he muttered.

The cloud drifted away, uncovering the moon again, and the light grew brighter.

Hell, she was Elsea. He muttered a string of Gaelic curses.

How? Why?

Forcing himself to move from his frozen position, he bent and picked her up. Her long, blond hair hung limp and wet over his arm. Thousands of questions crowded his head as he dashed toward the cave with her. Once she regained her wits, he would question her.

Refusing to allow himself to look at her beautiful face in the moonlight for more than an instant, he kept his attention on the cave's entrance and the firelight inside. He had to get her warm.

Margaret had recently added dry driftwood to the fire, and it was blazing high. He was glad for that, at least.