....
As they drew nearer the shallow inlet, Michael could see something
dark against the encircling stretch of sand; but it gave him little
hope. At first the shape of it was wrong. Then, as the distance grew
less and his eyes began to assimilate detail, he saw that it was in
fact a skiff, but swamped and overturned as from a wreck: the oars
scattered, and no sign whatever of the pilot. Real despair gripped
him, as he could only assume the worst---
A shot was fired from the heights above, and then another, as soldiers
with torches and long muskets appeared suddenly upon the promontory.
Shielding her body with his own, Michael guided his beloved through a
last knifing trough, and out onto the rough outer sands of the cove.
Together they huddled down in the shelter of a jutting stone, as he
tried desperately to form some alternative plan.
But none was needed. From beneath the overturned skiff, now scarcely
forty yards distant, a shadow emerged and stood hard against the
shoreline.
"Michael!" cried a familiar voice, and the Highlander's heart leapt
inside him.
Pages:
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315