“Per l’amor di dio, don’t let me go.”
“Never,” he said, as if he made a sacred vow.
Something in his tone must have convinced her to take the risk, because with a jerky movement, she released the sapling. For a sickening moment, she clawed upward before he caught her other wrist in his hand.
Fergus took a massive breath and summoned every ounce of strength he could muster. “I’m going to pull ye up, but if you can use your feet as well, it will be grand.”
“Now?”
He noticed she’d given up pretending this was a great adventure. He dug in his toes and retreated from the edge. “Now.”
In excruciating increments, he began to heave her up. Every muscle in his body strained to support her. He felt brief resistance, then she began to rise with him. She was panting audibly. Her arms must be aching worse than his.
“You’re a braw lassie,” he said with what breath he could spare.
Her dangling weight shot agony through his sinews. He dug his hips, legs and feet deeper into the ground, but still her weight pulled him forward toward the edge. He braced against the momentum.
“Cielo,” she cried, as one foot slipped. The sound of her boot scraping over rock would enter his nightmares, joining the moment he’d looked over the waterfall.
“I’ve got you.” He ground his teeth and clung tighter as she dipped lower. His shoulders felt like they were on fire.
After a horrid second, she found her footing again, this time with more certainty.
When Fergus first found her on the ledge, he’d hardly dared to believe that he might save her. With each inch higher she came, his hope lifted, too. He backed away and hooked his feet into a rut that offered a little extra purchase.
The top of Marina’s head appeared above the ledge. He wriggled back further, hauling her toward him with every ounce of strength. Her pale face gradually rose into view. There was a graze across one slanted cheekbone and dirt streaked her cheek.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Can you pull yourself up now, using my arms?” he grated out.
“I think so,” she gasped.
She must have found more secure footing, because after a few agonizing minutes, she managed to struggle onto the grass, with a mixture of treating him as a human rope and digging her feet into the cliff face.
It took an act of will to release her wrist. With cramping hands, he lunged forward to grip her skirts and bring her legs up.
Panting, she collapsed on the rough grass beside him. Hardly able to believe he’d succeeded, he grabbed her in his aching arms and clutched her tight into his body. They were both shaking as she burrowed into him with a broken sob. For a long time, they lay together in the sunlight as the horror slowly receded.
Once he’d caught his breath, Fergus released her and rolled onto his side. His heart galloped with exertion and remembered panic. And relief so overwhelming, it set his head spinning.
By all that was holy, he’d done it. He’d saved her. There had been stages when he’d feared he’d lost her forever. The world would turn into a grim, lightless place without Marina Lucchetti to tease and taunt him and make him glad he was alive.
“Are ye all right, Marina?” he asked in a raw voice, looking down into her ashen face. Her eyes were closed, tears stained her cheeks, and her chest heaved as she fought for breath.
When she didn’t answer, he feared that she’d been injured after all. “Marina?”
After a fraught pause, she shifted gingerly on the grass and opened her eyes to stare back at him. “Kiss me, Mackinnon.”
He frowned, ignoring the choked plea. Fear must have made her delirious. “Are you hurt?”
She frowned back. “No.”
“Are you able to stand?”
“I’m sure I will be.” Her lips tightened in impatience. “Cielo, did you not hear me?”
“A spoken thank you is enough, lassie.”