Page 27 of Steel & Surrender

He ground out a curse. “Give me a moment, would ye?”

Relief curdled into irritation.

Releasing his shoulder, she sat back on her heels and watched as he pushed himself up onto his elbows and then into a sitting position.

His hands were bleeding from where he’d used them to break his fall, and he had a scrape on the underside of his arm, but he could have fared much worse.

“Thank the Lord,” she breathed. “I thought ye were dead.”

He cut her a dark, simmering look, wincing then as he started to pick fine gravel from his palms.

“I can do that.” Brìghde reached out to take his wrist, but he jerked back, holding up a hand to forestall her.

His rudeness made her belly harden. “I was only trying to help.”

“Aye, well, don’t,” he growled. “And don’t ye dare tell anyone about this.”

“Ye are serious?”

“About what?” Greig panted as he crested a swell of cold, briny water.

“Swimming to Oban.”

“Aye,” he gasped.

Earlier, they’d ridden up to Craignure, and then Greig had started his swim from there.

They were now returning to the port village. Davy rowed beside him, sweat gleaming on his brow.

Today’s challenge was a good stretch to swim. However, it was only half the distance between Mull and Oban. And judging from how his lungs now burned, he wasn’t quite ready.

“Why?”

Greig didn’t reply. He was too out of breath to hold a conversation at present, and something held him back from telling Davy about Alistair’s list.

He wasn’t sure why exactly. After all, he’d spilled news of it to Brìghde.

But with Davy, it was different. They were brothers. They both had their own relationship with Alistair. His two younger siblings had always been thick as thieves. It surprised Greig that Alistair had chosen Greig to confide in about the list. It didn’t make sense to him.

A rogue wave hit him in the face then, and he blinked water out of his eyes, doggedly pushing on. His left thigh was throbbing now. This was hard—and he’d probably embarked on this swim before he was ready—yet he welcomed the grueling challenge.

He wasn’t going to let it beat him.

Humiliation still pulsed in his chest every time he recalled the hill walking disaster a few days earlier.

He’d been rude to Brìghde. A churlish bastard. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself.

It was bad enough to be this weak, this diminished, without having her witness it.

They were supposed to meet again this coming Sunday, to try again.

Greig wasn’t sure whether he would.

“Ye are a tough bastard, I’ll give ye that,” Davy added when it became clear Greig wasn’t going to give him an answer. “It was about time ye stopped sulking and did something.”

Irritation speared Greig through the chest. Lucky for Davy, he was too busy at present to snarl at his brother.

Davy made it sound as if he’d turned a corner. The truth was though that he wasn’t doing all of this for himself, but to honor Alistair.