Viking King (The MacLomain Series: Viking Ancestors, Book 1) by Sky Purington

numb.
    Hell no .
    She wouldn’t leave her behind.
    The tear in her wetsuit had grown. Now it was a hindrance that would likely slow her down beneath the water. Though hard as heck, she managed to get out of the thing faster than most. With limited time before hypothermia set in, she dove.
    Arms and legs pumping hard, she pushed down into the murky depths of the wave-churned water. The sea was getting far rougher. Still, she kicked hard and ignored the sting in her eyes as she searched for Guardian. She had to be here somewhere.
    Yet the more she tried to swim, the more the waves tumbled her.
    She was going to lose her dog.
    But there was no way Megan would surface until she had her. So she searched and searched, desperate. Even when her lungs burned and her vision started to dim, she searched. But there was no sign of her and the panic she refused to acknowledge was surfacing.
    Suddenly, an arm grabbed her around the waist and started pulling her. Megan tried to flail against whoever held her, but she’d grown too weak. By the time she was dragged onto the shore, she had no fight left in her and flopped down on the grainy dirt. Sea water stung her eyes so badly the world was a blur.
    “I’m coming lass,” a man’s voice said as it grew further away, as if heading back toward the ocean.
    Lass ? Megan coughed out some water and rubbed the water from her eyes as she struggled to sit. Her words were a weak croak. “My dog. Please .”
    The world swayed and tilted but slowly righted itself as a woman’s voice came closer. “I’ve got the wolf.”
    Wolf? A surge of hope shot through her as Megan’s vision cleared. Guardian!
    “Thank you,” she said hoarsely as Guardian was set down beside her. Though clearly weakened and bedraggled, her dog was breathing. She stroked her fur and whispered reassurances in her ear.
    Megan was about to thank whoever had saved them, but the words died on her lips. Was there some sort of medieval costume fair going on in the area? There had to be. With pale blond hair sporting numerous small braids, the woman wore a long linen dress ripped off at the knees. She suspected it was done to make swimming easier. And while she knew the woman’s clothing wasn’t right, it was the man’s appearance that had her completely confused.
    Bare-chested, he wore nothing but…a kilt?
    Clearly seeing her confusion, he crouched and nodded. “I’m Valan.” Then he gestured toward the woman. “That’s Meyla. She saved your wolf.” Then he nodded at Guardian. “She’s tired now but do we need to worry about her attacking once she gains strength?”
    Megan shook her head and had to listen closely to understand because his brogue was so thick. Was there a Scottish festival in the area then? No. She would have heard about it. Regardless, she was grateful if nothing else so she looked at Meyla. “Thank you so much.” Then her eyes returned to Valan with his dark hair and notably good looks. “And thank you for saving my life.”
    They nodded and Meyla wrapped a fur over her shoulders. Beyond numb and more worried about Guardian than anything else, she’d forgotten she wore nothing but a one piece black bathing suit. A moment of panic went through her. The stone. She pressed her hand against her chest. Phew. It was still there.
    She was about to thank Meyla for the fur when her eyes were ensnared by the horizon.
    Better yet, what was on the horizon.
    A ship.
    But not just any ship. She rubbed her eyes and blinked several times. She had to be seeing things. Because what was sailing inland was truly impossible, truly baffling…
    The same monstrous Viking longship she’d just left behind at the bottom of the Atlantic.
    Valan’s eyes turned to the ocean. “Och, he’s back.”
    “What the hell’s going on,” Megan said, so confused she could barely think straight. “I just saw…I mean…on the seafloor…how is that ship…”
    “Enough.” Meyla’s tone changed entirely from moments before.