how useless I was. He said that when animals give birth to useless offspring, the babies are drowned. That I should have been drowned at birth, I was so useless.'
Her throat convulsed and she had to take several breaths before going on.
'He stumbled to his feet and grabbed me. He carried me like a sack of wheat, his big arm pushing into my stomach. It hurt. I was crying and begging him to let me go, but he acted like he didn't hear me. He kept muttering about drowning a useless pup. He carried me outside. It was dark and there was no one around. He took me to the small pond behind the keep. The water was dark and black. Terrifying. I started screaming, but no one came. He gave an anguished roar and threw me in.'
Talking about it brought back the feeling of the cold water closing over her head, the terror as she realized she could not breathe. She'd flailed in the water, but could not swim and her head broke the surface only once. She'd been sure she was going to die, but then her father's hand had been there, grabbing her, pulling her into the cold night air.
She'd coughed and sputtered, throwing up water, sobbing so hard she could not breathe. He'd held her then, rubbing her back, telling her over and over again how sorry he was. He'd carried her back to the keep as if she were a baby, cuddling her close to his chest, trying to comfort her. But all she had wanted was to get away from him.
When they reached the keep, the housekeeper was there. With terror-based strength, Emily had torn herself from her father's arms and thrown herself at the housekeeper. She'd wrapped her arms around the woman's legs and sobbed and sobbed.
'Father told her to give me a hot bath and drink. Then he left. The next day, he found me in my room and I screamed when I saw him. He went away after that. When he came home, he had my stepmother Sybil with him and my two stepsisters.'
Emily had needed her father's love, but had not been able to bear being close enough for him to touch her for years after that. Sybil had finished the separation his drunken rage had started, and by the time Emily was old enough to begin to understand her father's pain and drunken cruelty, she was too estranged from him for it to make a difference.
'He has never had a drop of wine since then that I know of, even when Sybil insisted he toast the birth of their first son. He drank water.'
She looked up at Lachlan, wondering what he thought of her awful tale. His eyes were filled with banked rage and a compassion that touched her in places she could not afford to be touched. She scrambled off his lap and stood. He made no move to grab her back, but she felt the need for more space between them nevertheless and moved to the other side of the room.
She crossed her arms protectively over her heart. 'Now you know.'
'He was crazed with grief.'
'Yes.'
'But there is no excuse for what he did. I would kill a soldier who acted likewise.'
She shivered, knowing he meant it. 'I didn't want him killed. He was my father.'
'He never touched you again?'
'No.'
'But you are marked by his brutality.'
'You could put it that way. My fear of the water is not usually a problem. I can hide it mostly. Other than kidnappings, I've never been forced into a boat.'
He did not smile at her small jest. 'You still cannot swim?'
Revulsion at the thought swept over her and she made no attempt to mask it. '
'I can.'
'Oh.' She did not know what else to say.
'To live on an island and not be able to swim would be foolish.'
'I suppose so.'
'I will teach you to swim as well.'
Horrified, she shook her head vehemently and then said, 'No,' for good measure.
'It is necessary, both for your safety and to vanquish your ghost.'
'It's a memory, not a ghost.'
'Call it what you like, but I have promised to defeat it and I will.'
'By teaching me to swim?' she asked incredulously.
'Yes.'
'You're daft. I want to stay away from the water, not get into it.'
He was right in front of her without her knowing how he'd gotten there again. Maybe the man was a magician. 'Most lairds would not take kindly to being called daft,' he told her in a mild voice.
She bit her lip. He was probably right.
He reached out and gently pulled her lip from her teeth with his thumb. 'Do not do that, you will draw blood.'
She jerked backward, his touch more provocative than her memories. 'I'm sorry.'
'For biting your lip?'
'For implying you are daft.'
'Then you agree to learn to swim?'
She swallowed, her mind whirling. 'You truly believe doing so will drive the memories away?'
'If I teach you, it will.'
Of course he thought he was the only one who could do anything important. He was the laird after all. She had to clamp down on a hysterical giggle. There was nothing funny about this situation. But what if he was right? She hated her fear of the water, but even more she hated her fear of her father. She would most likely never see him again, but if she did… she would like to be able to touch him without cringing.
There was also the fact that if she did not conquer her fear of the water, if she ever did find a way to escape, she would not have the ability to take it. She'd made the boat crossing to the island because she had no choice. She'd been physically forced to get in the boat. She did not think she had the fortitude to force herself to make the return journey.
'The lessons will keep you from getting bored,' he said with sly persuasiveness.
'It will get me drowned.'
He shook his head. 'You have very little faith in me.'
She should have no faith in him at all, and why she did was a mystery she could not fathom.
'I cannot trust you,' she reminded herself as much as him.
She wondered if the words sounded as false to his ears as they did to hers. Because against her own best judgment, she could not deny that deep down inside, she did trust him. And knowing that made her furious with herself.
'You damn well can.'
'You broke your promise to me.' She should have remembered that truth before spilling her most secret memories all over him.
What was it about this man that sent her most logical thoughts scattering to the four winds? How could being with him make her feel safe when he had proven she was anything but secure in his company?
He looked mortally offended. 'I have not.'
'You have.'
'How?'
'You promised not to hurt me, but you did… very much,' she added for good measure.
'What the hell are you talking about? I have not harmed you in any way.' His voice came out more like a growl.
The man was very animal-like sometimes. It must be a Highlander trait because she had not seen anything like it amongst her father's soldiers. No matter how fierce, they never conjured images of predatory beasts.
'How can you say you have not harmed me? You kidnapped me! Before I told you I was married to Talorc, you were going to leave me in the forest to be eaten by a wild animal. You forced me to cross the sea in a boat.
