Chapter Twenty-Two

Tamsin

Tamsin surely had a curse on her head.

This time, she never said a word when her husband dropped her on a rock in the middle of the sea. She shivered after the boat disappeared in the mist, but didn't bother yelling after Raghnall. He was leaving her to die. Again. Of that much she was certain. She would not give him the satisfaction of begging.

He hadn't taken her as far out this time. He didn't need to. With a broken or sprained ankle, there was little she could do. The injury she'd had before had only worsened when he forced her down to the dock, dragging her across the uneven terrain.

He left her when the tide was low, but she had no idea how much time she had until the water would rise. She scanned the area, only to see that the rocky coastline appeared to go on forever. This area was completely different from the previous place she'd been left. If she knew her husband, he made sure it was more secluded than before so she would not be rescued. She sat up as tall as she could, shivering as a cool breeze swept across her skin.

To one side, all she saw was water, the sea waves rougher than she liked, mostly due to the wind, if she were to guess. But what the hell did she know of the sea, the tides, and weather?

She'd better learn quickly if she ever wished to see her daughter again.

To the other side, she could see land clearly, but it was a distance away. Not long if she were her usual self and could swim or walk, but neither of those were available to her now.

She couldn't swim, and with an injured leg, she was nearly helpless. Or so the bastard thought.

She vowed to prove him wrong, and only for her dearest Alana.

When Tamsin glanced across the multitude of rocks that could be seen above water, she knew there was a chance. She would have to move from one rock to the next because, in a few hours, all these rocks would be underwater, invisible to anyone looking out to the sea.

It was her only chance. She couldn't count on Thane MacQuarie to save her on this day.

Her leg was useless, so she would be forced to crawl, but she believed it was possible. Taking a deep breath, she arranged herself on all fours, pleased that her chin was above water level enough to move along and not drown.

Not yet, anyway. It was going to be a battle, moving quickly enough to stay ahead of the incoming tide.

"Ow," she cried out, not caring how loud she was, her voice echoing in the early-morning air. Do not look, do not look, do not look . She forced herself not to glance down, knowing that the rough surface of the rock had sliced the tender skin on her knee. Blood was something she'd prefer not to look at, and stopping would slow her progress.

Closing her eyes, she thought of her daughter, humming her favorite song, recalling the sweet lilt of her wee one's voice as she tried to sing along with Tamsin. Any person who was that loveable and innocent did not deserve Raghnall for a father or his mother as her grandmother.

Tamsin had lost her mother when she was ten summers. Her memories were still strong, so she sang the same tunes her mother had sung for her and her sister. Their father had struggled to raise them, confused as to how to handle two lasses, thus he had spent as much time away from them as he could manage. They were alone from dawn to dusk, doing their best to do what their mother had done: cleaning, planting, washing, cooking. But it never suited their sire because they were not fast enough or good enough, his bellowing often bringing tears to her sister. Poor Meg.

Tamsin had learned to be strong early in life. It would serve her well now.

Moving on to the next rock, she winced when a spot on her palm caught on a sharp edge, ripping her tender skin.

She didn't care. Pain would not stop her. Continuing ahead, she proceeded to the following rock, crawling slowly because of her wounds, but the next rock was not flat as the others had been. She slipped into a crevice and had to stand on her one leg to get her face back above water. Flailing when she slipped again, she did what she could to keep her head up.

Surprised that the flailing had moved her up instead of down, she tried it again, moving her arms in a wild pattern of constant movement, pleased to find it helped her. Was this how one swam?

She vowed to learn how to swim if she made it out of this predicament.

Keeping her eye on the sun to track the time, she continued in the same way. She moved forward, cut another part of her knee, a part of her other hand, closed her eyes and imagined Alana standing on land calling to her, and plugged along.

Tamsin crawled, cut herself, fell into crevices, flailed, cried a bit, cut the top of her foot, drank salty water, spit, and cried a little more.

But she never stopped. The sun moved to its highest spot, turning her skin a shade of red, if she were to guess, before she was nearly at the coastline. Grass was not far away, just on the other side of the small stretch of sand, but she knew the grass was the only place she would be safe from the rising tide. Sometimes it covered all the sand, depending on the location.

This spot was unfamiliar, so she had to be careful.

She vowed to make it to the grass because it was the safest place. At least if she were to die there, someone would find her. If Raghnall had his way, she would wash out to sea, never to be found again.

Alana would never know what happened to her mother. She was sure her evil mother-in-law would tell the girl that her mother had deserted her.

As she moved along, fatigue plagued her. Raghnall had hauled her out of their bed late at night, so she had little sleep, the worries always there in her mind.

She started, shook her head, and shivered. The water was up to her chin, waking her from a brief nap, something she hadn't known she'd done. I cannot sleep, cannot sleep, cannot …

Her eyelids fluttered closed again, but she forced them open. She knew that in order to survive, she had to get to land. It was the only way.

But if I took a wee nap here, I could make it to the grass. Then I would be safe. If I don't, I'll never make it. A wee nap, just for a moment. Then I'll be safe forever.

Just for a few moments, then I'll continue …