A Reckless Match Page 19

  Chapter 33

  When the last man climbed down, taking his lantern with him, Maddie risked a peek around her rock. Sadler and a huddle of other men were standing near the cave entrance, but the odd acoustics of the space brought their conversation clearly to her ears.

  “Can’t believe that customs rat escaped,” one of the men groused. He kicked at the rock set with the iron ring to which Brookes had been tied.

  Sadler shrugged. “Don’t matter. We’ll finish off even more o’ the bastards now.”

  A chorus of jeers and laughter accompanied this pronouncement.

  Sadler slapped the man nearest to him on the shoulder. “We’re too sharp for ’em, eh, lads? It’s them who’ll be gettin’ the surprise! Davy, set the barrels. And Turner? Careful with that lantern. We don’t want to start without the guests of honor, do we?”

  Maddie ducked down as a slim man climbed back up toward her and placed two small barrels on either side of the tunnel mouth. He uncorked one and poured a mound of black powder onto the rocky floor, then ran a line of it right across the entrance. He propped the second barrel on its side with the open mouth nestled close to the heap.

  “All set,” he shouted down with a macabre cheerfulness. “One spark, and the ’ole lot’ll blow.”

  He climbed down, and the smugglers filed out, leaving behind two lanterns—presumably to fool Gryff into thinking they were still inside.

  Maddie waited until the sound of voices faded away, then slithered out from her hiding place.

  Harriet’s dry tones filtered down from above. “Now what?”

  Maddie righted both barrels of gunpowder and considered her options. The water level had dropped since the men had first arrived; only a few inches remained. If she pushed the barrels over the edge, not only would the smugglers hear the crash if they were still close by, but the barrels might simply float, instead of fill with water.

  If she tried to climb down with them, she’d probably drop them, or slip on the rocks. And she couldn’t just tip the powder into the water; there were too many rocks in the way. She’d have to climb down, fill her brass tinderbox with water, then climb back up and pour the water into the—

  A cacophony of shouts erupted outside. Maddie threw herself back into the shadows and pressed against the wall, scanning the sliver of beach visible through the cave entrance as curses and howls rang out from all sides. A succession of gunshots and the bright sound of metal on metal pierced the air.

  Four of the smugglers raced into the cave, closely pursued by Gryff, Morgan, and a blue-coated man who must be one of the customs officers Gryff had contacted.

  Maddie bit back a gasp as Gryff caught the nearest smuggler by his coat and wheeled him around, knocking him down with a single punch. The man sprawled against the rocks, almost upsetting one of the lanterns that had been left there.

  Morgan tackled a second man around the waist and they both tumbled to the wet sand, fists flying as they rolled, each trying to gain the upper hand. Curses and grunts echoed around the chamber as they pummeled each other without mercy.

  The two remaining smugglers backed up toward Maddie’s hiding place as the customs man drew his sword. Gryff joined the slow advance.

  “Put up your hands!” the officer shouted.

  Both men ignored him. One pulled a pistol from his coat; the other produced a wicked-looking knife.

  Gryff and the customs man both dived for cover. A shot rang out, and the customs man screamed in agony as the smuggler’s bullet caught him in the thigh. The two men leapt forward to finish him off, but Gryff pounced on the knife-wielding man, catching his wrist and forcing his arm upward. He dealt him a punishing blow to his kidneys with his free hand.

  The shooter grabbed Gryff around the waist from behind, trying to pull him off his friend. Gryff slammed his head back into the man’s nose, breaking it with a sickening crunch, and kicked out at the man in front of him. The knife went clattering among the rocks as the man folded over and gasped for breath like a fish out of water.

  The man holding Gryff released him with a foul curse and clapped his hands to his nose. Blood dripped between his fingers. Gryff caught him by the collar and dragged him, stumbling and swearing, back to the mouth of the cave. He propelled him outside with a swift kick to the backside.

  Morgan was still wrestling with his man among the rock pools, but in one quick move he straddled his opponent and punched him across the jaw. The man slumped back on the sand, unconscious.

  The wounded officer was clutching his thigh and groaning piteously. Gryff ran to him and knelt by his side to assess the wound. He unbuckled the man’s belt and tightened it around his leg as a temporary tourniquet, so intent on his task that he failed to notice the winded man, who’d silently retrieved his knife.

  The blade glinted evilly as he advanced, clearly intending to plunge it between Gryff’s shoulder blades.

  Maddie lurched forward. “Gryff!”

  She kicked a barrel of gunpowder off the ledge. It bounced down the rocks, directly at the knifeman, who leapt out of its path with a surprised yell.

  Gryff turned at the noise and swept his leg in a wide arc, knocking the attacker off his feet.

  Morgan ran over to help, and within moments the two of them had subdued the man. Morgan marched him to the entrance, but Gryff’s attention was firmly fixed on Maddie.

  The look he sent her was so ferocious she almost turned around and scurried back into the cave to hide.

  “What the bloody hell?” he rasped, his chest heaving with exertion.

  Maddie sent him a placating smile, the kind she’d give a tiger as she backed out of its cage. “I can explain.”

  He strode forward, his expression thunderous, and she retreated automatically. Her heel hit the second barrel of gunpowder.

  “You might try saying thank you,” she said quickly, the words tumbling out as he started up the rock face toward her, clearly intent on shaking some sense into her. “I probably just saved your life. That man was about to stab you.”

  He pulled himself over the lip with just the strength of his arms and a strange mixture of alarm and excitement rippled through her. Perhaps it was the result of witnessing such a dramatic, violent fight, but she felt both shaky and … elated?

  The sounds of battle outside had faded. Beyond Gryff’s shoulder Morgan was helping the wounded officer, but when Gryff straightened to his full height all her attention snapped back to him.

  Her stomach flipped as their eyes met. He looked wild. His pupils were huge, almost black in the semi-darkness, and his chest rose and fell in savage gusts as he caught his breath. The urge to throw herself into his arms was alarmingly strong, but she ignored it.

  “Explain,” he growled. “Because I distinctly recall telling you to stay away.”

  Maddie lifted her chin. “Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t listen, because those smugglers meant to blow you and your friends to kingdom come.” She pointed to the barrel at her feet. “That’s full of gunpowder.”

  Gryff glanced down. The line of powder snaked between them, a black demarcation in the sand like a challenge, a line that should not be crossed.

  He raised his hands as if he meant to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her. Maddie braced herself, but before he could touch her a pistol shot rang out. A chunk of rock exploded to her left, and Gryff thrust her backward into the wall, instinctively shielding her with his body.

  “Bastards!”

  The smuggler named Sadler raced toward them, his face a mask of fury. He caught up one of the lanterns and swung it high over his head with a howl of triumph.

  “You’ll get what’s coming to you!”

  The lantern flew through the air and smashed near Gryff’s feet. A wall of flame leapt up as the oil ignited and Maddie staggered back, shielding her head with her arms. Gryff cursed. She dropped her hands to see that the loose powder had caught alight; Gryff was desperately trying to stamp out the fizzing ball of sparks. When that did
n’t work, he grabbed the remaining powder barrel and hurled it down toward Sadler.

  “Go!” He shoved her backward, deeper into the cave. “Go!”

  She went, blundering into the darkness with his big body right behind her. When she stumbled he wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her off her feet, crushing her to his chest as if she weighed no more than a rag doll. He propelled them forward in a confused blur of motion.

  A blinding flash illuminated the rocks in front of her, followed by the loudest noise she’d ever heard, a roar that made her eardrums vibrate and her internal organs quiver in her chest. It was everywhere, all around her, inside her, like a living thing. She had a brief sensation of weightlessness, of falling, and then the most profound darkness.

  Chapter 34

  Maddie swam inside her own head. Had she been hit by lightning? Her body was floating in the same strange, painless way. A booming sound still echoed in her ears.

  Was she dead?

  No. She couldn’t be dead if she could hear. The skittering sounds of settling rocks were all around her, a light soprano to the deep groaning bass of the earth, protesting the new configuration of its bones.

  Not lightning. Gunpowder.

  Awareness of the rest of her body returned. She was facedown, her arms flung wide, her eyelids screwed up tight. She opened them, then wondered if she had done so; there was only pitch darkness. She blinked. Was she blind? Her lids were definitely open.

  Her lungs hurt; a heavy weight lay on top of her. Dear God, was she pinned beneath a rock? She gasped for air, feeling her ribs expand and protest, and tasted dust on her lips, like chalk.

  The weight shifted. And groaned.

  Gryff! It was Gryff on top of her, half crushing her. His chest was plastered against her back, his arms wrapped protectively around her head. One of his legs rested between hers.

  “Gryff,” she croaked.

  He groaned again, and she experienced a relief so profound it shook her to her core. He wasn’t dead. He was here, with her.

  She wriggled out from beneath him, cautiously feeling around for the limits of their prison in the dark. There was space to move; they hadn’t been crushed entirely beneath a mountain of rocks.

  Her ears were still ringing. She groped around, relieved when she located the matted thickness of his hair with her fingers. With shaking hands she traced his forehead and temple, then his stubbled cheek and jaw. He murmured something incoherent.

  “What?” she croaked, pushing herself to her knees beside him. “Are you hurt?”

  “Always imagined being on top of you,” he muttered hoarsely. “But not like this. Fewer clothes.”

  Her heart gave an irregular thump at his weak attempt at a joke, but his words were worryingly slurred. He sounded as if he were drunk. She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. The muscles bunched under her palm as he tried to roll over; then he let out a string of expletives and rolled back to his previous position.

  “What is it?”

  “Leg,” he hissed. She heard a scraping noise and a grunt of pain. The sound of rocks rolling to the side.

  “We need light.” She felt at her hip, relieved beyond measure when she found the familiar lump of her leather satchel. “I have a candle.”

  “Good girl.”

  “What about damps?”

  “Least of our problems.” He coughed. “Might as well risk it.”

  She lifted the leather flap and scrabbled around inside, discarding the familiar lumps of paper-wrapped mints and a broken stick of chalk. Her hands were shaking so much it took several attempts to light the candle from the tinderbox. With each spark she braced herself for another explosion, but none came, and eventually she held the lit candle aloft.

  The comforting glow was extremely welcome after the sensory deprivation of the darkness.

  Gryff rolled over and raised himself to a seated position, hissing as he straightened his leg out in front of him. He was covered in dust from head to toe: even his hair, as if he wore a powdered wig like the gentlemen of the last century. He looked like some ancient, ghostly Davies ancestor.

  Maddie glanced down and realized she’d fared no better. Her clothes were caked with gray dust.

  He bent his knee and inspected the back of his calf, rolling the fabric of his breeches up to assess the damage. The bottom half of his left leg, from knee to ankle, was dark with blood.

  “You’re bleeding!” Maddie whispered.

  He sent her a lopsided smile. “Nothing broken. I’ve had worse. No need to call the sawbones just yet. Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “I can’t believe we’re still alive.”

  She lifted the candle higher and tried to make sense of where they were. The jagged row of stalagmites they’d fallen behind had protected them from the full force of the explosion—and from the avalanche of rocks that had fallen all around. The walls of the tunnel were—incredibly—still intact, but the mouth of the cave was no longer where it had been. An enormous mound of boulders filled the space, blocking the route out from floor to ceiling.

  “Oh, God, the others!” Maddie gasped in sudden horror. “Harriet was with me. Up in the higher cave. And what about your brother?”

  Gryff threaded both hands into his hair and ruffled it violently, dislodging much of the powder and small rocks. The dark brown of his natural color reappeared. He rose stiffly to his feet, groaning like an old man, and hobbled past her, picking his way to the foot of the rock pile.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Morgaaaan!”

  Maddie flinched, half expecting him to start another rockfall, but as the echoes died away they both strained their ears, listening for a reply.

  Please, God, let them have survived.

  There was a terrible moment of silence, and then her heart swelled in elation as the faint, muffled sound of an answering shout came from far away.

  It was impossible to tell who it was, but at least someone had survived out there.

  Gryff placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the wall of rock in front of him as though it were a personal affront. “There’s no way we can dig our way out. Not with bare hands. But at least someone knows we’re alive. They’ll get a group together and start moving rock as soon as they can.”

  Maddie lifted the candle higher. Gryff was a big man, but seeing him standing in front of the blockage was enough to make her spirits plummet once again. Her archaeological work had given her plenty of experience in estimating the time and effort needed to move large quantities of earth; they were looking at tons of rock.

  “There’s too much there,” she said wearily. “Even without knowing how far this rockfall extends, just this bit will take a team of men weeks to move. This isn’t loose soil. It’s boulders, most of which are heavier than you.”

  She didn’t bother voicing the obvious—that they would starve to death or die of dehydration before rescue came. Still, even withering away in Stygian darkness didn’t seem quite so bad if Gryff was by her side. Of all the people she could have been trapped with, he certainly wasn’t the worst. She didn’t want to consider that he might actually be the best.

  To his credit, he didn’t argue with her assessment. “You’re probably right. That is a lot of rock.”

  A crushing sense of defeat swamped her. Her limbs felt shaky and she was on the verge of tears, but she forced herself to keep the candle steady as he turned and hobbled back toward her. She held her breath as he approached, silently praying that he would he take her in his arms and offer some belated comfort. She was desperate to feel the solidity of his chest beneath her cheek, his strong arms enfolding her.

  He didn’t touch her, though. Instead he limped past, picking his way over the rock-strewn floor toward the far recesses of the tunnel.

  “Come on, boots. If there’s no hope of imminent rescue that way for a while, we might as well see how far we can get along this tunnel. Who knows? Maybe it joins up with the ones we’ve
already explored?”

  Not wanting to be left alone in the dark, Maddie started after him. The cave continued for some distance, but eventually they came to a dead end: another pile of rocks. “Ha!” she said, with grim satisfaction. “Trapped.”

  Gryff’s smile flashed in the candlelight. “It doesn’t go all the way up to the top. If I clear a space we can clamber over. Hold this.”

  He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and started to transfer rocks from the top of the pile.

  Maddie held the candle aloft and tried to ignore the way his tanned, sinewy forearms flexed as he worked. What was wrong with her? Here she was, facing a tragic, untimely demise. She shouldn’t be wasting her final hours ogling the way his breeches molded so wonderfully to his backside, or the way his shoulders flexed beneath his shirt.

  On the other hand, perhaps there wasn’t a better way to use the last hours of candlelight than enjoying the sybaritic pleasure of his fabulous physique. Maybe she should just ask him to strip naked and let her look her fill. At least she’d die happy. And a great deal better educated; she’d never seen a completely naked man.

  Maddie shook her head at her own nonsense. The lack of fresh air was obviously starting to affect her brain.

  She wedged the candle between two rocks, bent down, and started to help move rock. Gryff made no comment, and soon they’d made a three-foot hole at the top of the pile of rubble.

  He stood back, hands on his slim hips. “Ladies first.”

  Chapter 35

  Maddie had no idea how long they spent exploring the multitude of tunnels. Time lost all meaning. They’d clambered over the first obstacle only to discover the cave branched off into a dizzying network of smaller caves and crevices.

  This, she reminded herself, was a good thing. Until they’d explored every avenue, there was still a slim chance of finding a way out.

  They ventured down the first gap, with Maddie marking the route with chalk, but were forced to backtrack almost immediately when they came to a dead end. They repeated this process countless times, methodically exploring every nook and cranny. Retracing their steps was dispiriting, but it was better than accepting defeat.