Page 5 of Lost with a Scot
Violent pain returned, smashing her head and chest. Then pressure on her lips, more pain and pressure. She wanted it to stop, but it didn’t. It was rhythmic, and that flame within her kindled back to life. She coughed as seawater exploded from her mouth so hard that she gagged. When she was able to draw a steady breath, she realized she was in someone’s arms and no longer in the sea. A man held her tenderly, his stormy gray-blue eyes searching her face as she gazed up at him.
Her lips parted in shock. It was him—the man from her dreams. Wet tendrils of rich dark-brown hair hung dripping above his eyes. She was confused and dazed as she struggled to remember how she knew him; she only knew that he must have pulled her into the world through the water. But why or how she didn’t know. Her skull ached as though someone had struck it with a fire poker, and her thoughts, which had seemed so coherent before, were now tumbling over each other like the waves of the sea.
“You—it’s you.” Then the pain in her head grew so fierce that she slipped into darkness once more. The last thing she heard was his voice.
“Who are ye, lass?”
* * *
The woman was stillunconscious as Aiden cradled her against his chest. He stood and carried her out of the water and toward the sandy beach. Her body was cold and limp now, and her beautiful face was as pale as alabaster. A second ago her warm brown eyes had held him completely still, utterly transfixed, before she sank into unconsciousness and broke the spell she’d cast. Aiden had to get her back to the village before she perished from exposure to the cold sea.
He whistled at Thundir, and his gelding trotted through the shallow rolling waves toward him. He was glad he had saddled Thundir this time because he’d need the firm saddle to hold him and the woman in place. He settled her carefully over the front of the saddle and then climbed up after her. Then he pulled one of her legs over so that she rode astride in front of him.
He then leaned the woman back against his chest and took the plaid blanket he always carried with him and wrapped it around her to secure her to him. The woman made a soft sound, almost a moan, and shuddered against his chest as though aware of the warmth that the blanket was giving her.
“That’s it, lassie, hold on now,” he murmured to her, hoping she could hear him. The sudden and fierce protectiveness that this woman drew forth surprised him, but he had no time to think on why that was—he only knew that he had to save her.
Then he dug his heels into Thundir’s sides, and the horse sprinted forward. They rode hard along the beach until they reached a path that rose up the hillside toward the town of North Berwick. He pushed his horse to move as fast as he could without endangering them on the rocky trail up the cliffside. By the time they reached the bustling little port town, her wet gown had soaked the front of his own clothes clear through and he was shivering from the cold.
He rode straight to the inn where he had been staying the last few days as he waited for Brodie’s ship to arrive from France. He earned odd looks along the way with an unconscious woman in his arms, but he cared little for the thoughts of others, especially strangers. If anyone thought he’d done the woman harm, he’d prove them wrong later, once she was out of danger. As if somehow aware of his thoughts, the woman’s body began to tremble, and her lips, once the palest pink, were now turning a faint blue color. She made a soft sound again, a feminine whimper as if in pain, and the sound tore at his heart.
“Stay with me, lass,” he pleaded. “Stay with me.”
When he reached the inn, a stable boy of around seven or eight rushed toward him and caught the reins Aiden threw him. He had to get the woman inside and away from the chill of the Scottish air before she perished.
“Stable my horse and fetch the best doctor ye have and send him directly to my room. I’ll pay ye an extra shilling. Be quick—the lassie is deathly ill.” He handed the boy the first shilling. The little boy’s eyes grew as large as a hunter’s moon as he held up the coin.
“Yes, sir!” the lad piped up.
Aiden slid out of the saddle and carefully caught the woman as she slipped off, limp, back into his arms. For a moment, Aiden stared at the woman’s face, his world tilting wildly on its axis as he took in her features. He knew her face... He knew this beautiful creature from his dreams, and in that moment, he knew that if he lost her, he’d lose himself forever. It was a bloody miracle he’d been riding along the shore every morning for the last three days since he’d arrived here to wait for Brodie and his bride, Lydia to return from France. If he hadn’t gone riding today... He dared not think what would have happened to her.
Aiden crossed the courtyard and shouldered his way into the taproom of the inn.
Molly Tanner spied him carrying the woman in his arms and was instantly firing questions at him.
“Ack, laddie, what’s this now?” Molly, the innkeeper, was a formidable creature. A wiry figure in her late forties, with strong hands and hard eyes that softened a little when she realized it was Aiden.
“She washed up on the shore,” he said before taking the stairs to his room. He heard Molly come up behind him as he realized with a curse that he’d need to set her down to find his key.
“Let me, laddie.” Molly retrieved his key from his soaked coat pocket and unlocked the door for him. Once the door was open, he carried her into his room and gently laid her down on his bed.
Molly hovered next to him by the bed. “Washed ashore? There was a shipwreck, then?” Molly asked curiously. “Did ye see any cargo or—”
“Molly,” he growled softly, not taking his eyes off the woman on his bed, “that was not my concern. But men should be sent to search for other survivors. When the doctor arrives, send him straight up.” He fingered the hem of the woman’s wet, icy clothes, which no doubt kept her skin at a dangerously cold temperature. “And bring me any extra nightgown ye have, until I can get her one of her own. I’ll pay ye for it. She’ll not survive if we dinna get her out of these wet clothes.”
“She’s verra pretty,” Molly murmured.
Aiden sighed. “She’s naught but a wounded creature who needs my help. Nothing more.”
He knew Molly had seen his affinity for animals when he had rescued a horse the day before. The horse had been mad with pain after it sprained its front foreleg, and the rider, in his anger and haste, had wanted to put a bullet in the beast’s head. Aiden bought the horse from the man and wrapped the injured leg. Molly had marveled at the way he’d tended to the horse and calmed it. It was a skill he’d had ever since he was a child, but he forgot that when he was among people who didn’t know him, his way with animals tended to cause a great stir.
But this woman was not just another wounded creature. He had seen her before,manytimes in his dreams, the ones he had where the veil between dream and wakefulness was thinnest. In the dreams she was lost—always lost in a deep, dark forest, and he was always trying to reach her. As a boy, he had dreamt of a young girl, and now he dreamt of a grown woman.Thiswoman. He’d never spoken to anyone of these dreams, not even his siblings.
How such a thing was possible, he didn’t know.
“Ye need a nightgown, ye said?”
“Aye.” He was barely aware of Molly leaving. His focus was almost entirely on the woman he’d rescued.
