Page 55 of Pursuing Mr. Mattingly

Chapter Seventeen

After a few moments of watching Sophia at the creek side, Oliver let his eyes drift closed as he willed his rampant cockstand to fade. His wife was voracious when it came to all things carnal; he’d never met anyone quite like her before, and though he was thoroughly glad to indulge her, he only hoped that added stimulation and excitement wouldn’t hasten her premature demise.

It was only a matter of time before she experienced that one large shock that would cause her heart to seize.

She assumed he hadn’t noticed that her symptoms had increased and now came at greater frequency, but he had. Of course, he had. Sophia was his life, his very reason for being at present, and he wouldn’t give her up without a fight.

A sense of pride filled his chest, for he’d given her the best end of life he could have possibly provided, and what was more, he and the Winterbournes had become close as a family. That bond would serve him and Hannah well as they attempted to traverse the future without her.

A sharp cry of fear rent the air and brought his eyes open. A weird sucking sort of sound followed. “Sophia?” He scanned the immediate area as well as the creek side, and he watched in horrified fascination as his wife, who’d been kneeling at the side, tumbled into the seething water due to the crumbling earth upon which she’d perched. No doubt the strain of the rains and the swelling creek had deteriorated it.

And now she was floundering in the water.

“Sophia!” He was on his feet in seconds, and shoving a hand through his hair, Oliver rushed to where she’d last stood, but time seemed to have slowed down. The rush of the swollen creek, the sharp, earthy scent of both the water and the mud clogged his nose, the heat of the sun as it beat down upon his back, the sounds of her frantic struggles and splashes all worked to send panic through his chest and fear twisting down his spine.

“Oliver, help!” She threw out an arm, but the fast-moving current prevented her from coming close to the bank.

Brown pieces of the bank continued to crumble beneath his boots, so he followed the creek even as she attempted to gain her footing on the slippery bottom.

“Please, try to grab hold of anything you can find.” There were some medium-sized boulders within the creek, but due to the muddy water, she might not be able to find them.

“I cannot.” With a squeal, Sophia ducked beneath the water where it had pulled her under.

His heart lodged in his throat. “Sophia!” But then her head broke the surface. The current had tugged her a few feet from him.

“I’m trying!” Again, she went beneath the surface, and when she came back up, she coughed and sputtered. “The bottom is slippery. There is no purchase.” She grabbed at exposed tree roots, branches that floated in the water, had nearly grasped a patch of grass at the bank’s edge, but the current worked against her effort. The water carried her body as if she were a child’s doll, and her drenched skirting probably weighed her down.

Oh, dear God.

Time accelerated once more. His pulse pounded in his temples while every muscle he possessed went taut. He couldn’t lose her now. Not like this. If he didn’t do something she would surely drown. “I’m coming after you.” Oliver darted over the grass as he followed the creek’s direction. Once more Sophia went beneath the surface. Never had he asked if she knew how to swim, and the fact that she might not terrified him. With his heart in his throat, he frantically scanned the water, hoping to see any glimpse of her glorious blonde hair or the ivory dress she wore.

Finally, she emerged, yet another few feet off from his location. “Sophia!”

“Oliver!” Her wail held so much terror in it that his heart threated to burst from all the fear it carried. “I’m so tired.” She coughed and spat water. “My arms won’t obey my command.”

“Summon strength, love. I’m coming after you.” As Oliver vaulted through a cluster of cattails, mud sucked at his boots, but he continued on with as much determination as he could muster. He kept his attention fixed to the rapidly churning creek water and where Sophia bobbed, temporarily waylaid by a large tree branch.

“I’m stuck.” Her announcement came with so much fear that his own chest heaved. “My dress is snagged. It’s pulling me; I cannot get free.”

“Dear God, keep her safe until I can reach her.” Never in his life had he been so frightened as he was now. His hands were cold, his mouth dry, and his stomach muscles quaked. “I’m coming in.” When she screamed because the tree branch had caught in the current and was dragging her with it, he looked again at the water. Her head bobbed above the water line, so close to him that the terror was evident in her overly pale face. Her hair lay plastered to her head.

“Help!”

That terror-filled entreaty spurred him into action. “Hang on.” Oliver scrambled down the muddy bank. Water sloshed over his boots. There was nothing for it but to dive into the angry, murky creek and hope for the best. With his heart pounding hard and his stomach in knots, he launched from the bank.

Immediately, cold water broke over his body, closing him into it, drenching his clothes and tearing at him with greedy fingers, but he pushed toward the surface. Truly, the swollen creek was a force to be reckoned with. Water droplets dotted his spectacle lenses, but thank goodness, he still had them.

“Oliver!”

“Sophia!” He wasn’t the strongest of swimmers, but a man with a purpose and everything to lose was quite motivated. Stroke after stroke, he moved toward her location in a diagonal line. The tree branch had once more stalled, held up by a boulder, which would buy him time. “Try to keep your head above the water.” As if that suggestion was so easy. Already, he’d had to spit out foul water. It stung his eyes, making it even more difficult to see and gain his bearings.

“I’m so tired.” Her voice was weak, and that brought with it a new terror. Was this the large shock that would finally take her life? “It is too hard to fight.”

“Do it for me. Try for Hannah.” Another two strokes carried him to her and the branch, but it was a constant fight against the current that wished to sweep them both away.

She shook with exposure and fright by the time he joined her. “The skirting is hopelessly snagged. I cannot unravel it.” Exhaustion had seeped into her voice.

“I will take care of it. You just keep holding onto that branch.”

---