water and drew it back when a bass nibbled her fingertips. “I suppose the fish and birds will have to do.”
She was over twenty and Darcy wondered if men thought she was homely. Perhaps it was her spirited nature, her love for the outdoors, for trekking the countryside that put them off. She had no dowry to bring to a marriage, and she was orphaned. Those two things alone would make most men look the other way. Whatever caused them not to pursue her was troublesome, for her heart yearned to be loved. Her desires surprised her, for they were as raging as the rapids ahead. Then she smiled and shook back her hair. This is how it is supposed to feel, she told herself, when a woman wants to be a wife and a mother someday.
She dropped her knees and slapped the water with her hand. The confusion that Ethan had brought her was overpowering. Standing, she walked to the edge of the rock. Others were before her, stretching toward the Virginia side but not without a span of water to cross. She put out her arms for balance and then went forward. Here the river flowed deeper than she thought, up to her knees, but no threat. Then it reached her hips, and she pulled her feet up and swam toward the great rock ahead. The river was calm at first but unpredictable. It pulled at her from beneath and she went under.
Panic seized her as the river dragged her down. She jerked her legs free and swam to the surface. She gasped for air and thrashed forward while the current moved her along. She reached the rock and hauled herself up to the edge, gasping for air. It was slick and she lost her grip. The water claimed her and took her into a plane of deeper currents that ran swift. Ahead she saw a fallen tree, and stretching her fingers as wide as she could, she reached for it, grabbed a branch, and hauled herself up against it for dear life. Frightened, she wondered if her time had come, if angels would lift her from the water. Would it be over quickly and painlessly?
She had no fear of entering eternity, but the fear of drowning so young seized her so violently that she railed against it and rallied the fight within her. She gripped the old tree. Her fingers turned as white as the foam in the surge. Her hands shook and her nails dug deep. Shocked by the cold rushing water, she held tighter and looked up at heaven above her.
“You know, God, if you spare me, Aunt Mari is going to kill me.”
Down the river path and under a canopy of trees, Ethan galloped Sanchet. To the right the trees opened and he could see the river clearly. The Potomac flowed in the sunlight, reflecting forest and cliff and seams of an azure sky. Mallards skimmed the shallows, and a blue heron opened its wings and flew from the bank to the opposite side.
Now, to see it for himself, he understood why the river received such high praise, and why those who loved it longed to see it again. Its beauty and peace touched his inner man, and he wondered if he, too, could leave it.
A sudden movement in the trees caused his horse to sidestep. From a willow, a brown hawk mounted the sky like a wind-blown leaf. Ethan watched it soar higher and then dive with folded wings to an outcropping of rock in the middle of the river.
Sanchet’s mane snapped back in the rising breeze, and Ethan’s eyes traveled from the hawk to a woman clinging to an anchor that could only keep her safe for a few moments. Alarm seized him. Digging his heels into the horse’s sides, he spurred it down the slope to the river’s edge, leaped from the saddle, and yanked off his coat. Without a moment to lose, he hailed her as he rushed to the water’s edge. She turned her head and gave him a weak smile, looking embarrassed and frightened.
“Is that you, Darcy?” he called, a serious panic in his voice.
“It is, sir.” Her soaked dress clung to her shivering body, and she sank further into the water so he would not see. The bronze tresses of her hair floated and swirled around her shoulders.
“What are you doing out there in the middle of the river? You must be a very good swimmer.” Ethan