Page 94 of Taming the Heiress
The stone shifted a little, and a burst of fresh air came through. Dougal gasped it in, exhaled, heard the clicking valves. The stone shifted again, and the air valves quieted ominously.
He had to get free, had to, or die here, at the base of the reef where his parents had died so long ago. He had faced risks, stared down enough danger in his life to realize that sooner or later the wheel of fortune would spin away and he would lose.
But he had far too much to live for now. The woman he adored, who held his heart in her keeping, waited for him on the sea rock. Their son waited with her.
He could not leave them. Gasping for breath, the air stale and still, he gestured to the others—he was suffocating. There had to be some way—he would not die here like this.
He looked up,where the water swirled fast, heavy, the sea an obscure and dusky green. His lungs were burning.
Alan burst away and surged upward. Dougal pressed his strength into the unyielding stone. The dimness in his head alarmed him. He clutched at the valves, ready to tear out the hoses, tore at the bolts in the helmet.
The stone shifted again and a trickle of air came in, enough for him to breathe, enough to clear his head for a moment. Alan came back, and the men shoved once more at the granite block.
Dizzy, Dougal realized that the airflow had stopped yet again. His head pounded.
He looked upward and saw a vision emerge through the green sea. A pale, graceful sea fairy undulated through the water toward him, her white garments veiling her beautiful form, her golden hair streaming outward. She lowered beside him like an angel, placed her hands on either side of his helmet, and looked at him.
God, how he loved her. He reached out for her, but she slipped away, turning, to take the bar from Alan's hands. The three of them worked the bar under the lip of the stone and pressed, pushed again.
The stone shifted—and this time stayed up long enough for Dougal to snatch the air hose free. He looped it around his shoulder, his movements slow and lethargic, as if in a dream.
Evan and Alan grabbed him by the arms and pulled him onto the platform, tugging at the ropes in a frantic signal. As the deck began to rise with the two helmeted divers, Alan Clarke let go of the ropes and took the sea fairy's hand. He pulled her upward with him as they rose toward the swirling surface.
Moments later, Dougal burst through the water into freedom.
* * *
Meg stood shivering, draped in a blanket produced from somewhere, while men worked frantically to free Dougal's helmet. When it was lifted away at last, she saw his ashen face, though it was the most blessed sight she had ever beheld.
She waited while the men worked to loosen his gauntlets, weighted belt, and boots; others worked to free Evan of his gear while Alan stood ready with blankets for their shoulders. Dougal's eyes met hers, and his gaze told her that he was well, and safe. His slow, secret smile was for her alone.
She stepped forward as the men lifted away his brass collar and removed his heavy belt, and then she sank to her knees beside him. Dougal lifted his arm to draw her close, his treated canvas suit stiff and wet against her, seawater dripping from the fabric. She slid her arms around his neck and did not care who saw or what they thought.
"Oh, God, Dougal," she whispered, pressing her face to his.
"My love," he said, "you came down there like a sea fairy. I thought I was dreaming—or dying. I thought you were not real."
"I am real. I am yours, love," she murmured beside his ear, and suppressed a sob. He pressed her shoulder and she felt his lips against her hair.
The wind gusted, damp with rain, and Meg looked up at the mass of clouds coming nearer.
"We'd best get into the boats," Norrie said. "Alan, can you take another boatload of men from this rock? Are you fit for the rowing?"
"I'm fine," Alan insisted, and ran toward the vessels.
Meg stood while Dougal was still being divested of his boots. "Where's Iain?" she asked then. "He should go with Norrie. Fergus—where—oh!"
She heard a shout at the same time as she saw Fergus running across the plateau of the rock. Then she saw why, and she screamed in protest and began to run as well.
Iain stood at the lower edge of the rock, where the incline slid down to the water. He turned to look at them as Meg ran toward him, her bare feet slapping on the wet rock while the wind shoved her back, but she pushed onward.
"Iain! Come here!" The wind tore away her words, and rain pattered all around. The waves were sloshing hard against the rock, each one higher than the last.
"I want to see the kelpie!" Iain called. "I want to see him!"
"Not now," she told him calmly. "Come here."
After a moment, he turned and went toward her, and she reached toward him. Dougal appeared at her side then, out of his diving suit, clad in layered shirts and leggings, a blanket round his shoulders.
