Page 27 of The Damsel
Suddenly, something struck his shoulder—a hand or a foot. He swiveled and took hold of it, relief flooding him as he followed what turned out to be a hand along the arm attached to it. She thrashed in his hold, the strength she exerted telling him that she lived, if nothing else. Wrapping both arms around her, he kicked for the surface, struggling to keep hold of her as she fought his hold, panic making the motions uncoordinated. Tendrils of her hair lashed his face and tickled his jaw, while a glimpse of her nightgown showed itself amongst the black water.
Finally, she stilled, seeming to realize that her struggles would drown both herself and her rescuer. Keeping one arm tight around her, he propelled them up, up and out of the depths. Frigid air stung his throat and chest as they sprang free with a splash, his head spinning from so much time without air. Coughing and sputtering, she began twisting and writhing again, trying to break free of his hold.
“It’s all right,” he managed between coughs. “Cass, it’s me! It’s Robert.”
She kicked free of him, beginning to swim toward the bank. Puzzled by the evidence that she was a strong swimmer, he followed, panting from the effort it took when his rescue attempt had leeched all the strength from his limbs.
“You!” she spat, glaring at him over her shoulder as she trudged through the shallows. “What the devil were you thinking?”
His feet found the spongy ground, the wet earth sucking at his boots. His skin stung as if thousands of tiny needles prickled him, while his shirt clung to his chest.
“Me?” he replied, his breath still coming in shallow spurts as he struggled to steady it. “What about you? How could you be so reckless, wading in a pool you aren’t familiar with in the dead of night?”
She’d reached the bank now, shuddering and shaking as she swiveled to face him, hands balled into fists at her sides. “I am thoroughly familiar with this swimming hole, thank you very much. Furthermore, I wasn’t drowning, you idiot. At least, not until you came grasping about down there and frightened me half to death!”
Teeth chattering, Robert wrapped his arms around himself and stared at her, disbelief flooding him in a confused rush. Several thoughts filled his mind at once, but he couldn’t seem to form any of them into words.
She’d gone under on purpose, and stayed there for a full minute, possibly longer, without surfacing. While she insisted she hadn’t been drowning, Robert couldn’t fight the fear niggling the back of his mind. It told him she was lying, or at least not telling him the entire truth. She hadn’t been drowning … yet. But, something told him she might have wanted to, that she had come out here tonight to contemplate ending her life.
The horror that seized him at the thought proved overwhelming, panging through his entire body from the vicinity of his chest.
“I couldn’t h-have kn-known,” he stammered, his entire body now trembling against the frigid air. “I c-came upon the p-pond and saw y-you go under. Wh-when you d-didn’t resurface, I …”
She crouched to pick up a dressing gown, swirling it over her shoulder as she rose. Casting him a derisive glance, she snorted, thrusting her arms through the sleeves.
“You thought to come to my rescue like the perfect gentleman you are. How very noble.”
He wasn’t certain if it were the cold air or the contempt dripping from her words, but annoyance rose in him faster than he could squelch. Taking a few steps toward her, he clenched his teeth to stop the chattering.
“I r-risked my own neck jumping in after you,” he ground out. “Even if I assumed wrong, a s-simple ‘thank you’ might be in order.”
She snatched the belt of her robe into a knot, then stomped toward him, her face set in hard, harsh lines, nostrils flaring. His belly clenched when she drew near, his limbs tingling as his blood rushed as if preparing him to run. He held his ground and told himself he was still shivering from standing about in the cold.
Her upper lip curled back into a sneer as she came nose-to-nose with him, her voice a harsh growl.
“Other women may find your false gallantry and heroics to be romantic, but I do not. In short, Mr. Stanley, I am not some wide-eyed damsel in distress … I do not need saving.”
She stood close enough now that he could make out her every feature, illuminated by the moonlight shining from a cloudless sky. The icy water had stolen the warmth that usually kissed her skin with a healthy glow. Her eyes seemed larger, gleaming a silvery blue in sharp contrast to her pale face. Her hair looked more red than blond, wet and hanging around her face in slick coils. She achieved the sort of spirals other women used curling tongs or papers for with no effort, making him want to toy with them, pull each coil and watch it spring and bounce back into place.
But, touching her would be a horrible idea, so he kept his hands to himself, despite wanting to pull her into his arms and kiss that disagreeable frown right off her face.
“What were you doing on my property in the middle of the night, anyway?”
“Technically, I was still onmyproperty until I approached the pond,” he retorted. “I am your neighbor now, in case you weren’t aware, and I often walk and ride in these woods.”
Her raised eyebrows seemed to ask if he always traipsed about in the middle of the night. After a while, her silent, probing perusal made it difficult to stand still. Before he could begin squirming under her scrutiny, he turned to walk away.
“Right, then,” he muttered. “It’s a long walk back to Briarwell and it’s bloody freezing out here.”
He began picking his way around the edge of the pond, keeping an eye out for his greatcoat. He had no idea where it had landed when he’d cast it off. He’d just located it when Cassandra called out to him.
“Mr. Stanley!”
He turned to find she still stood where he'd left her, clutching at the lapels of her dressing gown as she watched him.
“Yes?” he replied, shrugging into his coat.
His toes had begun to grow numb from the water pooled in his sopping boots, but his coat offered a bit of protection from the elements.
