Page 4 of The Speed of Lightning
Behind her, the crowd poured from the trees. Calum snatched up the oiled-canvas pouch, testing its weight. “What is this?”
She closed her eyes as another wave crashed over her, then surfaced and hauled herself against the side of the skiff as she kicked. “All the coin I earned from embroidery last year. You’ll need it.”
Calum’s gaze flicked to the shoreline—Ragnall stormed across the wide field, red-faced with fury, Da and Maw not far behind. He turned back to Freya, catching the raw fear in her plain face, the tremor in her chin. Yet her legs kept driving, steady and strong, as she kicked them over another wave and pushed him farther out into the harbor.
“I dinnae even know you well—why give me this?”
Freya panted, blinking seawater from her eyes as she strained to push the skiff forward. “The dance.”
He barely caught her words over the roar of the tide. “What?”
“The sword dance,” she gasped, still kicking. “The sword dance you let me win when I was eight. You saved me from my father’s temper. I—I never forgot.”
Behind her, Ragnall crashed into the bay.
Calum seized her kyrtill, hauling her close, desperate to shield his unlikely champion. “He’ll harm you.” His brushed his thumb gently over the fullness of her bruised lip. “He’s already hurt you. Get in.”
Eyes wide, she tried to untangle herself from him. “I can manage my papa. Please, Calum, go. I’ll only slow you down.”
He gripped her forearm and hauled her upward just as a wave crashed over her head. “You’ll drown. Get in.”
Leaning farther out of the skiff, he clung to her against the sucking pull of the tide. Another large wave barreled in,threatening to drag her under, but he locked his leg around the rudder, braced his core, and hauled her up. Their chests collided as he lifted her free, and she tumbled onto him, clenching him tight.
Relief flooded him, remembering the feel of her in his arms from childhood. He cupped her face in his palms and caught a glimpse of the eyes that so often unsettled him—one blue eye, one green eye, each pupil ringed with a starburst of gold. An aurora of beauty in her otherwise arresting appearance.
A bolt of truth illuminated his heart. He wanted to keep her. Not only to save or protect her—he wanted her beside him, part of his small, fragile clan. She was home. As long as he had her, he held onto his duty, his mission, his promise, his calling. He needed her.
The offer of marriage spilled from his lips unchecked before he could stop it. “I want you to stay with me.”
Gasping for breath, she clung to him, her cold fingers pressing against his cheeks. Her eyes searched his face, a war raging in their depths as she glanced from her father thrashing toward them to the safety of the sea. “I’ve never disobeyed before.” The hollow words seemed whispered more to herself than to him.
Ragnall was closing in. Calum knew he would have to release the halyard if they were to escape. Desperate, he spoke quickly. “You’ve given me a great gift. Please—I owe you. Let me take you with me. Dinnae go back to him.”
Freya slumped, her entire body shaking with cold. “I cannae leave Da. I cannae leave the clan.”
He nodded. “You can. I’ll take care of you, of both of us. Belong to me, Freya. I’ll keep you safe. We’ll start a new life, the both of us. No fathers to let down.”
Her mismatched eyes flashed with something like hope. “You trust me to walk beside you?”
“I do,” he said, steady now. “Can ye accept me?”
For a brief moment she smiled the most brilliant smile he’d ever seen in his life, as if the heavens parted, assuring him that everything would be well. She nodded. “I accept ye, Calum.”
A hand burst out of the waves, clamping onto Freya’s arm. She screamed, clawing at the rough wooden boards as she was dragged over the side. Calum held onto her, nearly tumbling into the sea himself.
Ragnall’s fist twisted in her shorn hair, yanking mercilessly as she cried in pain. “Let go of my property, ye baseborn dog!”
Rage surged through Calum—a primal burst of fury that curled up his spine and flooded his hands with strength beyond his own. He clung to her like a beast, driven by a warlike urge he’d never felt before. She needed protection, needed safety—and he would be both. Freya was his, there were none like her. She was the one who had seen him, accepted him.
“NO!”
She thrashed in the waters like a seabird dragged under by a whale, their grip slipping despite his struggle. He wasn’t strong enough. Saltwater choked her, and resignation dimmed her features as her father’s meaty hands forced her beneath the waves.
“Freya, no!”
Wrenched from his hold, she vanished with her father into the churning sea. The boat lurched forward into the storm-tossed tide, sheets snapping as they caught the wind, launching into the Sound of Jura. Calum slammed back into the bottom, then scrambled upright.
From the bow he saw Ragnall dragging Freya through the waves, forcing her beneath the surf, then holding her cruelly under. Her hands flailed, her legs kicked, splashing wildly, and then she disappeared beneath the tide.
