Page 74 of Sins of a Scot
She gasped, losing her balance as rocks crumbled under her feet, tumbling away before they were swallowed up by the pounding water below.
“Argh,” she cried out.
But Owen’s hand flew out and grabbed her wrist before she fell. Relief washed over her face, and Owen’s heart thumped in his chest as panic washed over him.
“That was?—”
Suddenly, the stone beneath her feet gave way completely, and Iseabail slipped off the edge.
“Argh,” she screamed, as her body fell at great speed, only to crash back against the rock face with the tension of Owen’s stronghold.
The only thing stopping her from plummeting to her death was the grip Owen had on her wrist. But her clothes were wet, and he could feel her slipping.
“Hang on,” he bellowed.
“Help me,” she screamed. “Oh, God. Help me.”
Trying to get a firm footing so he didn’t fall over the edge and kill them both, Owen bent at the knee and pulled as hard as he could. She dangled precariously above the body of water, the waterfall deafeningly loud as it fell beside them from the great height before crashing into the basin at the bottom.
With all the strength he could muster, while at the same time, having barely any rock to stand on, he slowly pulled her up, inch by inch. The stone at his feet crumbled under the pressure of both their weights, and trying to keep an eye on Iseabail, as well as the loose foothold, Owen heaved her up slowly.
“Please dinnae let me die, Owen. Please.”
“I’ve got ye,” he huffed. “Ye’ll nae die this day. I promise ye that.”
Though he wanted to believe those words with all his heart, the rock beneath him continued to crumble, and he wondered, in those tenuous seconds, whether they might both not see another day. Besides that, his injured arm felt weak and was causing him a great amount of pain.
Iseabail lifted her other hand and grabbed onto his arm, but her fingers slipped against the wet cloth of his tunic. Never before had he seen her look so terrified, and while he wanted to instill her with confidence, he too was scared. Grabbing her with his other hand, now he could reach her better, and he continued to pull. Inch by agonizing inch, she rose a little at a time.
Iseabail turned her head and looked down, gasping at the dreadful drop.
“Look at me, Iseabail,” Owen yelled. “Keep yer eyes on me.”
Her body was now level with the plateau he stood upon, but there was still a way to go. Breathing through the ache in his arm, and grunting with the effort, he gave a final push of determination and brought her level to his body.
Immediately, Iseabail threw her arms around his neck, panting in fear.
“Dinnae let me go. Please, dinnae let me go.”
Owen now wrapped his arms around her body, and holding her tightly against him, he whispered, “Never.”
The two stood there for a long moment, both panting, their hearts thumping against their rib cage. Iseabail held him with a vice-like grip, and while he did not want to crush her with his strength, he too held her securely. But after another moment, Iseabail had still not moved, and Owen realized she was frozen with fear.
“We have tae get down from here, Iseabail. The ledge is breaking away, and I dinnae ken how long it can hold us.”
“I’m too scared,” she replied, her voice trembling.
“I ken. But we havenae any choice. All that effort will have been fer naught if we dinnae move.”
Painfully slowly, Iseabail eventually loosened her grip, but Owen still kept a tight hold of her, holding her against his body.
“We’re going tae move very slowly, all right?” he said in the calmest tone he could muster.
Iseabail nodded, the overwhelming fear still gripping every part of her.
“I want ye tae take a step tae yer right.”
“I’ll fall,” she cried. “I cannae dae it, Owen. I’ll fall.”
