Page 101 of The Lover's Eye
All it took was one repetition of the cry for Giles to fling himself from the saddle, running with reckless abandon toward the sound.It had been so vague, impossible to pinpoint, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what lay ahead of his running feet.Sooner or later he was bound to strike—
Water.The sea splashed all the way up to his thighs when he came running into it.“Isobel!”he called.
“Giles!”
He could hear her now, a disembodied voice struggling to reach him from out at sea.
“Keep talking to me, darling!”he called, a mixture of a laugh and a sob escaping from him.He would have willingly forsaken himself to save her.
They continued to call out for each other until their bodies crashed together in the darkness, the waves thrashing up to their hips.Giles threw his arms around her, embracing her with as much strength as his body commanded.Isobel sobbed into his ear, wrapping herself around him.
Their arms twined and squeezed, straining to bring them closer, and closer still.No intimacy was enough to satisfy the soul-crushing longing between them; a need as fundamental as air.
“Here, we must get you out of here,” Giles said, waking to their surroundings.
He adjusted his hold on her, sickness thrumming in his belly when he felt her bare leg around his hips.It was as cold as ice.She needed a doctor, to be dried and placed by a fire, maybe one of her godforsaken hot baths.
It took some maneuvering, but Giles soon had Isobel safely on shore and astride his horse.He wrapped his coat about her freezing waist and bottom, and positioned himself close behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her as they set off into the darkness.
Isobel settled into utter calm, pressing herself back into his torso.She no longer shivered, sobbed, or spoke.Giles found this change equally frightening, and repeatedly checked the temperature of her skin, willing his body heat to transfer to her.
“I hope your sister will not kill me,” he said, searching for anything to say, wanting to keep her awake and alert.“What do you think?”
She stiffened.“My sister?”She turned partly around.“Surely you don’t intend to take me to Shoremoss?”
“You think I’m letting you ride astride this horse for an hour, soaked as you are?I just got you back Isobel.I’ll not be responsible for you catching your death.”
“Oh, but I’ll never hear the end of it, not for all my life,” she moaned.“Please, Giles, there must be somewhere else we can go.”
He didn’t speak for a moment.“There is not.”
“What about Pemberton’s fishing cottage?We could stop just long enough for me to dry and then be on our way.There’s so much I must say to you, I … I cannot bear to share the next hours with anyone else.I only want you.”
Giles sighed, but his arm tightened around her.“No, Isobel.You need to see a physician.You need a warm bed and—”
“I am afraid I’ll have to insist then.”Isobel’s voice turned stern, sparking with clarity.“I refuse to be examined by that odious Dr.Dunn.”
God, it shouldn’t have been humorous.Her health could be in real danger, but that determination, that commanding way she got about her?It did Giles in, and he couldn’t be sorry for it.He crooked his chin over her shoulder and kissed her neck.“Very well.I suppose we can start there.But if there’s nothing there to keep you warm, or I see that you are injured in any way at all, I’m taking you straight to your sister’s—even if I must drag you.”
“All right,” Isobel assented quietly.
Pemberton’s fishing cottage looked less shabby at that moment, the primitive structure almost enticing given their dire need for warmth and shelter.Giles had to break a lock on the door to grant them access.“He’ll have my head for this,” he said, scrambling to find candles or a lamp.
“Here,” Isobel said through shivering teeth.The sound made Giles regret giving in to her pleas.She handed him a greasy tallow candle and he struck a match to flint, beginning his search of the small cottage.
“This thing’s so dashed dim,” he grumbled, fumbling over what looked to be a small cot.“I see the candle more than anything here.”
Isobel came to his side and helped him strip the cot of its scratchy linens and quilts.Giles wrapped them around her.
“Look at you,” she said, brushing her fingers down his arm.He wore only his shirtsleeves, and trembled from the cold.“Take this.”
She made to remove the thickest quilt from her shoulders, but Giles clamped his hands over hers.“No.”
“But you—”
“No,” he said more softly, bending to kiss her.There was nothing cold in that, but a fervent and wild exchange of passionate heat, a taste of the need that had grown while in each other’s absence.He broke away before he could be distracted from his task, and knelt by the hearth.
It seemed Pemberton spent all his time sailing rather than here.Cobwebs clogged every vacant space, and Giles found only a small pile of kindling.When he reached to place it on the rusty grate, a bird burst out from the chimney, flying so near he felt the soft brush of its wing against his cheekbone.
