any rocks. Instead, she passed through an opening, the sound of waves echoing against the cave walls. The turmoil of the sea ceased, and suddenly Moira found herself in a placid tidal pool. In the pitch black of the cave, Moira moved slowly, unable to predict what she might find. Using only her legs to move her forward, she held her hands out before her, protecting her battered face and chest. She let the weak tide push her along as she continued to flutter her legs.
Moira didn’t know how far she swam, but her hands grazed rocks and she realized she’d found a ledge. The rocks were dry, which made her brow furrow and caused her to wince. She knew she must be bleeding from more than one place. She wondered how no fish had chased her to make her its meal. But the dry rocks signaled the tide didn’t rise above the ledge. She struggled and kicked as she pulled herself from the water, the weight of her boots threatening to suck her back down. Dragging herself onto the dry land, she rolled onto her back as she gasped.
There was no light in the cave, and she could no longer see the entrance. She prayed her new haven wasn’t home to anything–or anyone–who might attack. Closing her eyes, she focused on slowing her breathing. Once she was calm, she strained to hear anything that might signal danger. It was eerily calm. The water lapped against the walls rather than slapped. She couldn’t hear the waves outside or the battle upon the two ships.
I will stay here until there is enough light to see the entrance again. I pray I’m right that the tide doesn’t rise higher. Please let it be high tide now. I’ll wait. Kyle won’t know to search for me here, and hopefully the O’Malleys assume I’m dead when I don’t wash up on the beach. I’ll close my eyes and rest.
Eighteen
Moira came awake to the sound of something hitting the water. It was still dark in the cave, so she remained still.
“I don’t think she made it in here, Dermot,” a man’s voice rang against the walls. A screech answered by several more filled the air. Moira realized there were bats hanging above her.
“She wasn’t on the beach. The current would have carried her this way,” Dermot O’Malley barked.
“Aye. But it could have just as easily pulled her under or back out to sea,” a third man said.
“Row the bluidy boat,” Dermot grumbled.
Moira felt along the wall and floor, trying to see if the ledge went further back. Her heart sank when she felt the wall beside her wrap around behind her head. If they rowed all the way to the end of the cave, they would find her. She recalled that when she tried to climb out, part of her struggle came from having nothing to brace her feet against. Where she lay was a ledge suspended in the water. Moving as slowly as she could, she slipped her feet into the water. Inch by inch, she eased her way back in as the voices drew closer. She sank down until the water was at her nose just as an oar cracked against the wall.
“Mind yourself,” Dermot growled.
“We’ve come to the end,” the first man announced.
“I know, you sod. Moira, do not make me wait any longer. I’m certain you are here. I will flay the skin from your arse.” Moira heard a splash and a grunt, then a footstep. She assumed Dermot or one of the other men had stepped onto the ledge. She inhaled a deep breath and lowered herself until the water lapped against her lower lashes. When the footfall was near her right ear, she slipped under the water and used her hands to push herself backwards under the ledge. She remained still, conserving her energy and her air. Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Moira blinked rapidly as it grew harder to hold her breath, her mind and her lungs urging her to surface. But as strong as those demands were, her will to remain alive and return to Kyle was stronger. The urge to gulp threatened to overpower her, but she pushed herself to wait. She felt the shift in the water and knew it was the boat moving away from her.
Once more only using her hands, she emerged from under the ledge but waited a heartbeat before she inched her head out of the water. When her nose