There. He saw the dog struggling for the surface. Her tricolor coat waved and swirled with deathly beauty while her three legs tried to climb the watery ladder with all their might. But it wasn't enough. The current rolled her over and pulled her down once more.

Lysander kicked off hard and shot through the water. Reaching his long arms for the dog, he wrapped them about her ribs and held her tightly. They began to sink together as the current pushed them along. Lysander used the opportunity to push off from the rocky Swale River bottom and thrust them both toward the surface.

Topknot struggled wildly. She was already so far gone in panic that she could not recognize that she was being rescued. She twisted violently, then gagged and vomited water in his ear. Lysander was quite grateful that she didn't seemed inclined to bite for their faces were entirely too close.

As he worked his way to the bank and his feet found the bottom, her struggles caused him to fall again and again, her wild snaking motion knocking him off balance and causing his feet to slip on the slimy mud. No matter what, he kept his hold on her until made it to his feet once more and fell the last time on to the damp earthen bank. He eased his grip and Topknot sprang from his arms. She scuttled away into the grass, taking a moment to vomit more copiously.

Breathing hard, Lysander lay on his back on the grass and gazed up at the perfect blue and white Yorkshire sky.

APPARENTLY, FARM WORK DIDN'T pause for congratulations of daring three-legged dog rescues. When Lysander returned to where the pails were, he found Bing relaxing on a fallen log and cleaning his nails with a penknife. At the sight of him, Bing raised his bushy brows. "The Missus just laundered them clothes. You do get yourself dirty, for a toff."

Topknot had followed Lysander along the bank, although she skirted both men warily. Nevertheless, she did wait at the top of the path for them.

It was only then that Lysander detected that Bing thought his actions a bit extreme. "She can't swim," he offered awkwardly by way of explanation.

"Neither can I." Bing hove to his feet. "Blasted dog. Neither use nor ornament, that one. Still, t' Missus would be that sorry to lose her." Bing sent Lysander a shadowed glance. "It's a hard life in t' North, lad. Harder still for t' broken, I'd wager."

Bing bundled the abandoned boots and coat under his arm. He clapped Lysander on the shoulder in an affable fashion and hobbled back up the path. "Come along, you daft Londoner. T' water won't fetch itself!"

Lysander was not used to casual friendliness from, well, anyone. He stood, still dripping, and stared after Bing for a moment before he hefted a double load of pails and followed man and dog back to work.

CHAPTER 11

Chapter 11