Lake of Dreams by Linda Howard Page A

Then instinct took over, as irresistible as it was futile, and she began fighting, trying to kick her way to the surface. But her nightgown was twisted around her legs, pulling tighter and tighter the more she struggled, and she realized that she had caught it in the broken boards. The boards were pulling her down, and with her legs bound she couldn’t generate enough energy to counteract their drag.
    If she could have laughed, she would have. This time, Richard wouldn’t have to do anything. She had managed to do the deed herself. Still, she didn’t stop fighting, trying to swim against the pull of the boards.
    The surface roiled with his dive, as he cut through the water just to her left. Visibility was poor, but she could see the gleam of his skin, the darkness of his hair. He spotted her immediately, the white of her nightgown giving away her position, and he twisted his body in her direction.
    Anger speared through her. He just had to see it through; he couldn’t let the lake do its work without his aid. Probably he wanted to make certain she didn’t fight her way free.
    She put up her hands to ward him off, redoubling her efforts to reach the surface. She was using up all her oxygen in her struggles, and her lungs were burning, heaving with the need to inhale. Richard caught her flailing hands and began pushing her down, down, farther away from the light, from life.
    Thea saw his eyes, calm and remote, every atom of his being concentrated on what he was doing. She had little time left, so very little. Pain swirled inside her, and anger at the fate that was hers, despite her best efforts. Desperately she tried to jerk free of him, using the last of her strength for one final effort. . . .
    Despite everything, she had always loved him so much, beyond reason, even beyond death.
    That was an even deeper pain: the knowledge that she was leaving him forever. Their gazes met through the veil of murky water, his face so close to hers that she could have kissed him, and through the growing darkness she saw her anguish mirrored in his eyes. Trust me, he’d said repeatedly. Trust me . . . even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Trust me. . . . 
    Trust him.
    Realization spread through Thea like a sunburst. Trust. She had never been able to trust him, or in his love for her. They had been like two wary animals, longing to be together, but not daring to let themselves be vulnerable to the other. They hadn’t trusted. And they had paid the price.
    Trust him.
    She stopped struggling, letting herself go limp, letting him do what he would. She had no more strength anyway. Their gazes still held, and with her eyes she gave herself to him, her love shining through. Even if it was too late, she wanted him to know that in the end, no matter what, she loved him.
    She saw his pupils flare, felt his renewed effort as he pushed her down, all the way to the bottom. Then, without the weight of the boards dragging at her, he was able to get enough slack in the fabric of her nightgown to work it free of the entangling wood. The last bubble of air escaped her lips as he wrapped his arm around her waist and used his powerful legs to propel them upward, to the surface and wonderful oxygen, to life.

    â€œGod, please, please, oh God, please.” She heard his desperate, muttered prayer as he dragged her out of the water, but she couldn’t respond, couldn’t move, as she flopped like a rag doll in his arms. Her lungs weren’t quite working; she couldn’t drag in the deep, convulsive breaths that she needed.
    Richard dropped her on the grass and began pounding her on the back. Her lungs jerked, then heaved, and she coughed up a quantity of lake water. He continued to beat her on the back, until she thought he would break her ribs.
    â€œI’m . . . all . . . right,” she managed to gasp, trying to evade that thumping fist. She