Page 21 of The Last Kelpie

He pushed me.

One moment I was standing on solid ground, the next I was falling backward into the loch. The water was shockingly cold. I went under completely, my jacket taking on water to drag me down for a heartbeat before I kicked back to the surface.

I came up sputtering and gasping, my hair plastered to my face. Water streamed into my eyes. My boots were full of loch. On top of that, my heart and mind raced. Áedán had attacked me. Had he forgotten himself already? Would I have to defend myself?

Áedán stood on the shore, laughing. Not a polite chuckle. Full, genuine laughter that bent him nearly in two. He braced his hands on his knees, shoulders shaking, trying to catch his breath.

“What—” I coughed, treading water. “What was that for?”

“Anyone studying a kelpie,” he managed between laughs, “should at least take a wee dip in a loch.”

I pushed my hair out of my eyes. The camera bag was still on shore, and my notebooks were in a waterproof bag. Thank God I had the foresight to protect the books. “I had equipment.”

“You had pretensions.” He straightened, still grinning. “You looked like you were aboot to conduct a census.”

I started swimming toward the shore. The water was deeper than I'd expected and colder. My jacket felt like it weighed twenty pounds. When I got close enough to stand, Áedán waded in and offered his hand.

I reached for it.

He pulled me halfway up, then stopped. I hung there, suspended between the loch and him, water falling from me. His hand was warm around mine, and his eyes glinted with mischief.

“Why are you so serious?” Áedán supported my weight easily, with no sign of struggle.

“I'm here to save you.” Water dripped from my nose. “I'm conducting myself appropriately.”

“You're conducting yourself like someone at a funeral.” His thumb moved against my palm. “Relax, Ethan. I'm not going to eat you.”

“Those new stories suggest otherwise.”

That made him laugh again. But he didn't pull me up, nor did he let go. We stayed like that, his hand holding mine, my body half in the water, looking at each other.

I found myself admiring his face once again. The sun caught in his eyes, bringing out the glittering striations and setting the deep green to glowing. Long, thick lashes framed his eyes, and combined with his pouting lower lip, they should have made him look feminine. But the strength of his jawline and the cut of his cheekbones prevented that. Damn it, there I went again. I was supposed to be helping him survive, not ogling him. I looked away quickly, heat rising in my face.

Áedán pulled me the rest of the way up. I stumbled onto the shore, dripping, my boots squelching with every step.

“Come on.” He picked up my camera bag. “I'll walk you back.”

We walked to and then through Luss in silence. I was acutely aware of the water dripping from my clothes, the way tourists stared as we passed. Áedán seemed unbothered. He walked with his hands in his pockets, occasionally glancing at me with laughing eyes.

“This is the road to my rental.” I motioned.

He kept walking. “Can you cook?”

I frowned at the odd question. “I manage.”

“Good.”

“Why?”

“I've got food.”

“I'm soaked.”

“You'll dry.”

Áedán led me past the tourist shops and down a southern road in the opposite direction of my rental cottage. The pavement gave way to packed earth, and the 19th-century cottages gave way to nature. We crossed a bridge over a river that led to the loch, and the sounds of the village faded away. Then we walked through an open field. Across the field, we entered the trees and walked for several minutes, heading south along a footpath. Then the trees opened onto a field.

To the west of the field, on my right, was a dirt road. At the end of the road, directly before us on a small rise, a weathered stone cottage stood, overlooking the loch. Two stories tall, with a slate roof and mullioned windows, it looked straight out of a fairy tale. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney. A narrow path led down to the water's edge, where a wooden dock extended into the loch.