Page 79 of Lady Len and the Mysterious Mac

She tried to reach for him, but her wrist! Oh, her wrist was numb with pain that shot up to her shoulder and down to the tips of her fingers.

“Milord?” she whimpered, trying not to voice her panic, and when he didn’t answer, she surrendered to the darkness once more.

When she next awoke, Ellen was shivering so hard her teeth hurt. Some clouds had finally cleared, and stars peeked through the upside-down carriage window.

Si had told her once that even tucked up far away in Edinburgh, Jory would look up at the very same stars. Was he doing that tonight too?

There was a cough, but this time it came from outside somewhere, and she froze. Had the laird managed to drag himself free? But no, she could still hear his wheezing breath nearby. The groom, perhaps?

“Mr. Fraser?” she called, but it came out barely a whisper. “Mr. Fraser?” she tried again.

“Aye,” his voice came back strained but not too far away. “All right, milady?”

“I’m…” she began, but she wasn’t sure. She’d forgotten how to try to move. “I’m… not dead,” she finally answered, and he snorted. He must be hurt himself, if he hadn’t come to check on her. “I think I’m well,” she decided, ignoring the pain in her wrist. “And the laird is breathing. How are you, Fraser?”

“Pinned. And should be most obliged to pass out again. With your permission, if I may have it.”

“Absolutely not.”

Si would come for her, just like he had that day in the glade. He would come and find her and take her home. She knew it, the same way she knew that grass was green and that his smile was like the sunlight when the clouds first parted. The same way she knew that she couldn’t let him come. Tonight was meant to be the oath ceremony. The last thing he needed was to have to mount a rescue as well. He didn’t even know where she was.

“There were voices. A gunshot.” Ellen remembered flying and closed her eyes against the sensation. “The horses? Are they…?”

“One may be all right. Managed to loose it before the whole thing flipped over. The other…”

It didn’t bear saying.

“If I can get out of the carriage,” she called, “am I in danger of falling off the side of a cliff?”

“No, milady. We’ve done that already.”

“But are we at the bottom?”

“We’ve landed in the deepest bowels of Hell, you ask me,” he said. But she hadn’t asked, and she wouldn’t ask either.

“Hell wouldn’t be this wet,” she told him, repeating her earlier thought.

“My granny was Greek, and she’d beg to differ, milady. Dinnae ken if it’s Styx, but we’ve landed in a river.”

Pushing herself gingerly, Ellen found she could sit up without rocking the carriage too badly. The laird slouched beside her, perhaps frail enough that if she could get the door upon, she might just be able to drag him out. Except she didn’t know how to swim.

“Milord?” she whispered, and his eyes fluttered open. “Are you hurt?”

He looked around without moving his head and laughed once, setting off another round of coughing. Ellen had to get him warm and dry. There was no one else to do it.

Slowly, she pulled herself to the nearest door and tried the handle. It was stuck fast. She kicked it weakly, and the carriage rocked.

Both Fraser and the Kintail moaned.

“Is that hurting you, Fraser?” she called.

“No, milady,” he gasped through gritted teeth, but she wasn’t sure she could believe him.

Biting her lip, she repositioned herself, bracing her back against the basket that normally held blankets beneath the seat. It might hurt Fraser, but it was this or they all die, so she dug deep, imagining she was an angry donkey, and she kicked hard with both feet.

The door released, more water rushing inside.

“Sorry, milord,” she grunted, grabbing him under the arms and sliding him under the water just enough to escape the cabin.