Page 36 of To Wed an Heiress
If she wasn’t fast enough she wouldn’t be just a witness to Lennox Caitheart’s crash, but a victim in the disaster.
Chapter Seventeen
At first Mercy thought Lennox was going to hit the ground not far from where he’d landed a week ago, but then he slowly began to turn, heading for the loch. Another piece of wood fell off the aircraft, missing her by only feet. It looked as if his invention was going to come apart in midair.
He was over the rocky shore now, only inches from impact.
The craft hit the water almost soundlessly, sliding beneath the surface with only broken pieces of wood marking where it landed.
The rocks on the shore were large but rounded and not sharp enough to cut her shoes. She made her way to the edge of the water, her gaze fixed on the spot where Lennox had gone down.
He hadn’t surfaced.
She toed off her kid slippers and removed her two petticoats, wishing her dress didn’t have such full sleeves. Her skirt would also drag her down, but she was a strong swimmer. After tossing her petticoats onto the rocks, she entered the water, propelling herself forward, feeling the drag of her skirt and sleeves. The lake was surprisingly clear here, a calming blue-green color. Twenty feet out she could finally see the wreck, a collection of wood pieces and waterlogged sails that was sinking fast.
Lennox still hadn’t surfaced.
Fear made her kick hard as she dove.
A few seconds later she realized why he wasn’t leaving the airship. His hand was caught in one of the ropes. She followed the rope to a wheel that had come loose and was under the craft. Uncoiling it, she grabbed the end of the rope and showed it to him, then pointed upward.
A few moments later they got to the surface together.
Connor was suddenly there, reaching for her.
“I’m all right,” she said, her lungs straining for air. “Help Lennox.”
She watched both of them as they made it to shore, taking care to stay close. Lennox looked to be a more experienced swimmer than Connor. By the time they made it onto the rocks, she couldn’t tell who was helping whom.
A few minutes later she made her way gingerly over the rocks, reaching the grass between the loch and the castle. She sat there, her arms wrapped around her knees. It might have been July, but the waters of Loch Arn had been frigid. The tower loomed over her, casting a shadow.
Neither Lennox nor Connor was talking, so she could only assume that they were as out of breath as she was.
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on just breathing for a few minutes.
“Are you all right?”
She looked up to find Lennox standing there, his hand outstretched toward her. His face was cut in a dozen places. There was a wide red spot over his left cheek that she suspected would be a bruise later. His shirt was torn and it wasn’t until she took his hand and stood that she realized there was a nasty gash running from his shoulder to his elbow.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
He looked at his arm. “I am at that. We need a fire and some whiskey, not necessarily in that order.”
She pushed her wet hair away from her face. “I’ve never tasted spirits before.”
“Well, I don’t know a better time than now to start,” he said.
Connor was on one side and Lennox the other as they walked toward the tower, as if the men were suddenly afraid she would collapse. Lennox stopped beside a door so short that she had to duck to enter. Straightening up, she looked around her, the space illuminated by the small slitted windows.
She’d expected to be able to see to the roof of the tower, but the stairs built into the curved wall led up only a short way. There was a floor directly above her.
“The tower was converted to a bedchamber,” Lennox said. “A change made by my father.”
What a pity that she wouldn’t be able to explore further. A single woman did not ask to see a man’s bedchamber.
“I’m dripping through your house,” she said as they entered a carpeted corridor and headed toward the back of the castle.
“We all are.”
