Page 100 of Luthias

As the water reached her chin she finally got within reach of the tartan, and grabbed it. A moment later Luthias’s body bobbed to the surface, but he wasn’t moving or breathing. She swallowed a sob as she put her arms around and turned him over onto his back. A huge ugly gash marred his brow, and blood was still seeping into the water.

Luthias wasn’t moving or breathing.

“Hey, you can’t do this, my lord,” she told him as she planted her feet and started hauling him back toward the bank. “You promised to protect me, remember? I’m a complete ninny when it comes to personal safety, too, so you’ll have plenty of chances.”

It took too many precious minutes to wade through the water with him, but at last she reached the bank, and turned to bend and drag his heavy body out.

“Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead,” Emery begged in between bursting groans as she tugged at him.

Her heels slipped on the damp grass and she fell backward, hitting her head on the ground. Everything tilted for a moment, and then she managed to push herself up and crouched over the laird, jerking and yanking until he was finally out of the water.

Blood streaked down one side of his face as she dropped down on her knees beside him and tore off her own dripping plaid before she ripped one sleeve off her leine. Folding the linen into a ragged square, she placed it over the wound and applied pressure. The whole time her mind became cluttered with questions she couldn’t answer.

What if I can’t get him breathing again? What if he’s really dead? I never told him how I feel about him and now he’ll never know? Is everyone I love going to die on me?

Luthias still wasn’t breathing, but the loch water was very cold, and Emery knew some people could come back to life even after twenty or thirty minutes. Since her mother had died she had become an expert on drowning victims.

“Freshman year, Red Cross first aid class. I got the best score on hands-on skills, didn’t I? So I’ve got this. This is why that idiot sword brought me back to your time. Maybe I can’t swim, but I’m the only person in this world who knows CPR.” She tilted his head back and braced her hand on his chest, which was when she felt a strange thudding under her palms. “Wait. What?”

Luthias opened his eyes, making her scream and fall back. His eyes glowed with a strange orange-red light that reminded her of the Fire Sword. He then turned away and coughed up what seemed like a gallon of water before he slowly sat up and pushed the wet hair out of his face.

“Are you hurt, my lady?” was the first thing he said.

“I’m fine. How are you not dead? It took me at least ten minutes to get to you and pull you out.” Emery saw his expression before he turned his head away. “Luthias?”

“I cannae drown.” He got to his feet and held out his hand, helping her up.

“Of course you didn’t––excuse me? You can’t drown?” She jerked her hand from his and tottered backward a few steps. “What was that weird light in your eyes? What the hell is going on here?”

“’Tis the magic of my blood.” He peeled off his shirt, exposing a wall of wet muscle, and squeezed out the excess water before he finally looked at her. “I’m no’ all human.”

Emery abruptly sat down and stared up at him. “What else are you?”

“’Tis much you yet dinnae ken of me and the MacRoss.” Luthias looked down at his wet tunic, and pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. As he turned his back on her she saw a port-wine birthmark like Darach’s stretching across the back of his shoulders that resembled a blast of flames. “I’m the son of Prince Ross and his first mortal wife, Brynna.”

“I beg your pardon?” She couldn’t be hearing him correctly.

He sighed. “I’m half-Fae, Mery.”

The man had fallen off a cliff and almost drowned, and now he was joking with her. “Oh, sure you are. I’m not stupid, you know. Prince Ross died nine hundred years ago. How could he possibly be your father?”

“I’ve some of his Fae magic,” the laird sad. “My mortal weakness makes me sink as a stone in any body of water, but my Fae blood protects me from drowning. Aye, and the magic, ’tis kept me from ageing or growing sick. ’Tis nine centuries now since I became laird, my lady.”

Emery shook her head, hoping he would start laughing and telling her he was kidding, but his expression never changed. All this time he’d hidden this from her, and made her believe he was just an ordinary fourteenth-century guy. He was immortal. He was half-Fae.

This nine-hundred-year-old man was a complete idiot.

“Great. Just great.” She swatted at the water dripping from her hair into her eyes. “You didn’t think to mention any of this before you fell off the cliff?”

Luthias looked puzzled. “You’re angry with me? Why?”

“I almost drowned myself getting you out of the loch,” she said sweetly. “I happen to be terrified of water.” When he didn’t say anything she yelled, “I can’t swim, you immortal moron.”

“You cannae swim?” Luthias dropped down and grabbed her, shaking her hard. “How could you be so foolish?”

“You’re yelling at me for saving you when I didn’t even have to?” Emery tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t turn her loose. “Do you have any idea how scared I was?” She hit his shoulder with her fist. “I thought you were dead. We’re in the middle of nowhere here. I’ve only done CPR on practice dummies. I don’t even know how to get back to the castle from here, let alone lift you up on the horse and ride it. And you, you half-Fae half-wit–”

He dragged her up against him and kissed her.