Page 52 of Devil’s Highlander (Clan MacAlpin #1)

His arms sliced rhythmically through the water, and Cormac imagined himself a fish, streaking back to the schooner, now completely submerged.

They weren’t so far from shore, the water not so very deep. The Oliphant had struck the bottom and was canting toward him, slowly tilting onto its side. He shifted, stroking through the water with an eye trained on the empty space marking the ship’s grave.

There.

A head bobbed up, then back down again. Aidan was clawing at the water as though trying to climb an invisible ladder with one hand.

Cormac dove back under, launching toward him. Close now, he saw the web of ratlines floating like kelp just beneath the surface of the water. Aidan was snagged among them, like a trapped fly.

The schooner continued to tip, a languorous movement, like Poseidon reclining upon the seabed for a rest. Aidan gasped for air, then disappeared for good.

Cormac surged forward until the muscles in his arms strained with the effort. The Oliphant was easing onto its side, dragging Aidan to the bottom. He would not lose his brother a second time.

A final, hard scissor kick brought Cormac’s fingertips to the fringe of lines. He gripped tight, fighting the panicked, helpless sensation of being tugged down. Hand over hand, he climbed along the ratlines toward Aidan.

Cormac could just make out his brother beneath the surface. Aidan was on top of the lines, his legs braced against the mast, struggling to untangle his arm from a thick snarl of ropes, his movements a dreamy slow motion.

Cormac reached for the dirk at his back and cursed the empty scabbard. His knife was long gone.

Sucking in a huge breath, Cormac dipped his head below the waves. Inch by inch, he felt his way along the knots toward Aidan. Panic clawed at his mind like a hungry rat. He shut his eyes, forcing his muscles to ease. Alarm would only steal the last of his breath.

Imagining a slowed heartbeat, he ran his fingers along the lines. He was a fisherman. He’d untied hundreds of knots, blinded by as many storms. This was no different.

Aidan’s struggles slowed. Stopped. His body drifted beside Cormac like a wraith.

He forced it from his mind. He had to trust the cold to keep his brother.

He probed the nest of lines, ignoring the increasingly shrill pleas of his body.

Holding his breath took all the force of his will.

His lungs were emptied of air, but rather than collapsing inward, the sensation was that his chest might burst. He compelled himself to stay submerged, feeling as though he bore the weight of the sea itself on his chest.

The knot.

He found it. A single knot trapped Aidan’s forearm. Cormac traced his fingers over the long oval of it. A sheepshank. Sailors tied it in the middle of a line to shore up damaged rope. But there was a trick. Simply remove the tension, and the knot will slip loose.

Cormac worked frantically now. Though he fought the spasmodic urge to inhale water, still it found a way to seep in, tearing at his throat. Folk said drowning was a peaceful thing, but it wasn’t. Drowning was a violent thing. The sea was savage, trying to seep into him, ravenous, relentless.

He hauled Aidan’s limp body close to him, and with a twist to ease the tension, the knot fell apart, and his brother slid free.

They flopped Aidan over the side of Marjorie’s boat, and the sudden pressure on his belly sent water spewing from his mouth.

Cormac climbed in behind him, guiding his brother’s head, leaning him over the side.

Cormac slapped hard at Aidan’s back while he worked to catch his own breath.

Both of them were racked with tremors. Aidan hacked fiercely as the last of the seawater erupted from his lungs.

Marjorie was at Cormac’s side, and her warm body pressed against him felt like a furnace. At the mere suggestion of heat, unstoppable shivering seized him.

“Thank God,” she cooed at him, laying frantic kisses along his cheek and chafing heat into his arms and back. “Thank God you’re alive.”

With a grunt, Aidan spat one last time over the edge of the boat and shifted away from them.

Cormac coughed sharply into his hand, taking a moment to catch his breath once more. “We saved Davie. Saved the men.”

“I know.” She combed eager fingers through his hair, pulling a wet shock of it from his brow. “I know you did. I’m so sorry if I ever doubted you.”

“I sank the boat,” he said.

She looked to where the Oliphant once was and gave a little half laugh. “Clearly.”

“I did what I promised, Ree.” Cormac’s body finally relaxed, and his breathing grew even. “You know what this means, right?”

She looked back to him. The morning sun was low in the sky, and it made her vibrant eyes glimmer like lapis. “What?”

His heart swelled at the sight of her. Glorious, brave, impetuous Ree. His Ree. “You’ll marry me.”

Marjorie tucked her hand in his, and it was all the anchor he needed on this earth. She leaned in for a tender kiss. Touching her forehead to his, she whispered, “Without question.”