A Reckless Match Page 23

  She hadn’t forgotten his words; he’d promised to make love to her in daylight. She would hold him to that promise.

  She slipped back into the frigid water and swam over to him. He threaded his fingers together and offered her his linked hands as a step, as if to help her mount a horse. For a moment they were face-to-face, her hands resting on his shoulders, and as she stared into his eyes she was filled with a sense of rightness, of belonging.

  Was this the feeling that soldiers had after a battle? This camaraderie, honed by shared experience? A groundswell of emotion threatened to overwhelm her. Relief. Gratitude. Love.

  She blinked in shock. Love? Where had that come from?

  There was no time to dissect the thought. Gryff straightened and she surged up out of the water, and they both wobbled as she transferred her hands to the top of his head and put her knee on his shoulder.

  “Ouch!” he muttered as she tugged on his hair.

  He grunted with exertion, and she had a flash of embarrassment as the apex of her legs came level with his face. She moved again, pushing up to stand with her feet on his shoulders, like a circus performer. Wobbling precariously, his fingers encircling her ankles, she flattened her palms against the rough ceiling.

  “Can you get a handhold inside the well?” Gryff panted.

  He moved sideways a little, and she ducked the top half of her body into the shaft. The stone walls were blessedly rough. There were plenty of places to put her hands and feet.

  She braced herself against the side of the well and hauled herself up, pressing her back against one wall, then lifted her feet from Gryff’s shoulders and wedged them straight in front of her, locking her knees so she was braced across the gap.

  She looked down. “How will you get up?” She reached down, as if to pull him up, but he shook his head with a little smile.

  “That’ll never work. I’m too heavy.”

  “But—I can’t leave you down here!”

  “You’re going to have to, cariad. I’m counting on you to rescue me. As soon as you get to the top you can lower the bucket and the rope.”

  “Oh.”

  “You can do this. Just imagine you’re scaling the towers at Trellech, about to break into my bedroom and demand that shawl of yours back. I still have it.”

  “Well, I have your greatcoat. So we’re even.”

  “Go on. Get climbing.”

  Maddie sent him a stern glance, suddenly conscious of the fact that she was dressed only in her underwear. Her bloomers had a very revealing slit between her legs. “Promise me you won’t look up as I climb.”

  The request was ridiculous, considering what they’d just done, but she couldn’t quite shed her ingrained modesty.

  His lips twitched. “I promise.”

  She started to climb.

  Chapter 42

  The well was at least thirty feet deep. Maddie’s limbs shook as she made her way upward, her arms and legs spread wide so she straddled the narrow shaft.

  Progress was painfully slow. She glanced up constantly—mainly to avoid looking down and seeing how far she might fall if she lost her footing—and took heart from the way the small circle of light grew larger as she climbed.

  “Keep going! You’re doing splendidly.” Gryff’s encouragement echoed up from below.

  Maddie willed strength into her aching limbs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done so much physical exercise, and she forced herself to focus on finding the next handhold, then the next. One inch at a time.

  When she next glanced up she caught a glimpse of the moon and the sight filled her with a new burst of energy.

  “You’re almost there!”

  Careful not to rush and lose her hold, she made one final effort and clasped the upper lip of the well. She hauled herself up and out and collapsed on the smooth flagstones, where she lay panting and shivering in the moonlit courtyard. The mossy stone beneath her cheek and the pine-scented air of the clearing were the finest things she’d ever experienced.

  “Thank you. Oh, thank you!” she breathed to the universe.

  She felt as if she’d been reborn. A rush of sheer exhilaration seized her and she pushed up onto her hands and knees and peered over the rim of the well. It was too dark to see anything below, and she felt a moment of panic for Gryff, but then the echo of his shout reached her.

  “Clever girl! Now find the rope and throw it down.”

  Maddie got shakily to her feet and staggered over to the little enclave where a wooden bucket was tied to a length of rope. The rope was secured to an iron ring set into the stone wall, and she gave it a few experimental tugs to make sure it would hold Gryff’s weight. The knot was tight, the fibers fused together by countless cycles of soaking and drying.

  The bucket clattered against the sides of the well as she lowered it; then the rope slackened as Gryff caught it at the bottom.

  “Don’t forget the satchel,” she shouted down.

  The rope creaked and went taut as Gryff put his full weight on it, and she prayed it wouldn’t snap, but after a while she could hear his approach as he made his way up. He was much quicker than she’d been.

  When his dark curls appeared over the lip of the well she caught the back of his jacket and helped haul him out. He flopped onto his back, arms thrown wide like the survivor of a shipwreck washed up on shore. His chest was heaving, but he let out a yell of pure elation.

  “We’re out! Thank God for that! I never want to go near a blasted cave again.”

  They were both making wet puddles beneath them. He sat up with a laugh and lifted the strap of her satchel over his head, dumping the sodden weight next to him. He’d crammed her wet jacket inside—the arm was trailing out the top.

  He stood and held out his hand. The moonlight showed him clearly, and Maddie suddenly remembered all the other times she’d refused his assistance. What a fool she’d been. It wasn’t weakness to accept help from someone stronger.

  She placed her cold hand in his, and he tugged her up to stand toe-to-toe. Without thought, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss. Her knees almost buckled when he caught her face between his palms and fused his mouth to hers.

  “Christ, Maddie. I thought we were going to die down there,” he admitted hoarsely.

  He scattered frantic kisses all over her face: her temple, her eyelids, her cheeks. He pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat, then wrapped his arms around her and enfolded her in a hug that was so tight her ribs protested.

  She let out a breathless laugh and hugged him back.

  The snicker of a horse sounded from above. He retrieved the satchel, then tugged her up the shallow steps of the courtyard. Sir Galahad and Guinevere were still waiting patiently at the edge of the clearing, tied to a low tree.

  Maddie’s spirits plummeted. Harriet obviously hadn’t managed to make her way back this way. She glanced up at the moon. “What time is it?”

  “I have no idea. But if I know Rhys, he’ll have started trying to dig us out as soon as possible. We need to let him know we’re alive.”

  “What if Harriet’s still in there? Or Morgan?” Nausea cramped her stomach at the thought of Harry being trapped, or worse. All the gold in the world wouldn’t matter if her cousin had been killed.

  Gryff squeezed her hand. “We’ll get them out. I promise.”

  Even if all we retrieve is a body.

  The grim possibility hung unspoken between them, but she didn’t doubt his word. He would be relentless in his search. He was the kind of man who would refuse to leave a wounded man on the battlefield, or a fellow soldier unburied, even if they were the enemy.

  She shivered and he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. The top half of it was still dry, and she caught the edges and tugged it around herself, grateful for the warmth.

  “Thank you.”

  He fastened her sodden satchel to Guinevere’s saddle and together they started down the lane.

&nbs
p; Maddie winced at the new aches and twinges in her muscles. She was aware of her body as she’d never been before, of the chafe of wet cotton against her tender breasts, the erotic scrape of it between her legs. Of Gryff’s scent, permeating the coat that enfolded her. She breathed him deep into her lungs, sneakily, like an addict.

  Chapter 43

  The village of Mathern was a hive of activity. A crowd of figures were clustered in the small town square; a rescue attempt was clearly under way. Torches and lanterns bobbed as people milled about, gathering horses and supplies.

  Maddie pulled Sir Galahad to a halt beneath the shadowed eaves of a cottage and glanced down at her state of undress. Her boots, stockings, and the bottom of her bloomers were clearly visible beneath Gryff’s jacket. She dismounted, and Gryff did the same.

  “You go on without me. I don’t want everyone to see me without my skirts.”

  Gryff nodded, then squinted up at the church clock. “It’s only half past ten!”

  “What? You mean we were underground for less than four hours?”

  Dear God, it had felt like a lifetime.

  A man dressed in the distinctive blue coat of the customs patrol stood in the middle of the square, noisily commandeering a horse and cart. “You, there. We’ll need more wagons—” He glanced up, then stilled in amazement as he caught sight of Gryff.

  “Lord Powys? Good God, you’re alive!”

  “Indeed I am, Captain Bridges.” Gryff clasped the man’s outstretched hand and gestured back at her. “As is Miss Montgomery. We’ve had a very lucky escape.”

  Maddie felt heat rise in her cheeks as the captain sent her a cheerful wave. She ducked farther behind Sir Galahad’s hindquarters.

  “Have you seen my brothers?” Gryff asked urgently.

  The man nodded. “Both well, although Morgan took a blow to the head. Doctor Williams patched him up, but he refused to stay here. He’s back at the beach looking for you.”

  Maddie’s anxiety eased a little. Gryff had lost so many friends during the war; the death of a brother would have been another impossibly cruel blow.

  “And my cousin?” she called out urgently.

  “Maddie? Maddie!”

  All three of them turned at the shout. Maddie’s heart almost gave out as Harriet raced across the square in a flurry of skirts and flung herself into her arms.

  “Harry!” She returned the embrace, scarcely able to believe her cousin was real, and not an apparition.

  “Dear God!” Harriet croaked. “I thought you were dead! Maddie, how?”

  The tears that had been threatening sprang to Maddie’s eyes. Words were impossible; her heart felt as if it might burst with relief and happiness. She pulled back, and tried to explain between shaky sobs. “We got … trapped. We … climbed up the well.”

  Harriet’s eyes grew wide with astonishment. “You climbed up a well? With Lord Powys?”

  “The Virtuous Well. Where we left the horses.”

  “Good heavens!”

  “But what about you?” Maddie croaked. “How did you escape?”

  Harriet gave a dramatic shiver. “When that awful man threw the lantern I threw myself onto the ground and curled up into a ball.” She shook her head. “That explosion! I’ve never heard anything so loud. I thought my ears were going to burst. When the dust settled, the main part of the cave was still mostly intact. The only real damage was where you’d been standing. A great chunk of the roof had fallen down.”

  She caught Maddie’s hand in a fierce grip. “I thought you were dead. Lord Powys too. And Morgan—I could see him, unconscious, near the entrance.”

  “What did you do?”

  Harriet adopted her most formidable expression, the one she used for dealing with cantankerous customers at her father’s mapmaking business. Maddie called it her no nonsense face.

  “I climbed down from the cave, of course. And checked to see if he was dead.” The hint of a smile curved her mouth. “He wasn’t. Although it was necessary to slap him quite soundly to get him to wake up.”

  Despite her exhaustion, Maddie smiled. Harry and Morgan’s history was just as checkered as hers with Gryff. There was no love lost between the two of them. “I’m sure you found that satisfying.”

  “Oh, very. It’s not often one gets the upper hand over a Davies male. I enjoyed it immensely.”

  “Was he badly hurt?”

  “Hardly a scratch.” Harriet sounded almost indignant. “The man has the luck of the devil, and a skull as hard as granite. I swear, he’s like a cat with nine lives. Anyway, we heard Lord Powys shouting, and while we couldn’t make out the words, Morgan was very relieved that his brother was alive—even if he was trapped. It gave me hope that you might be back there too.

  “The beach looked like a battlefield. A few of the customs men had been injured, but the smugglers were all tied up and sitting on the sand, except for their leader. He must have been killed; he was standing right beneath the section that fell.”

  Maddie shook her head, saddened by the loss of life, even if it was that of a violent criminal. Sadler had probably only hastened his own demise: the penalty for smuggling would have been hanging, but she hoped his followers would be treated with a little more leniency. Even transportation would be better than execution.

  “I helped Captain Bridges bring the wounded back here,” Harriet continued briskly. “But I was so worried about you. I was dreading having to tell your father what had happened.” She glanced at Maddie sternly. “You look exhausted. We need to get you to bed.” Her mouth curled up into a sly smile and she leaned in closer to whisper. “And in deference to your weakened state, I’ll wait until tomorrow for you to tell me why you’re dressed in nothing but wet underwear and Lord Powys’s coat.”

  Heat scalded Maddie’s cheeks, but then she gasped in recollection. “I can’t believe I forgot! We found gold! A whole seam of it underground.”

  Harriet’s expression was priceless. “Gold! Did you bring it with you?”

  Maddie glanced across to where Gryff stood talking to the captain. Her satchel was tied to the back of his saddle. “Lord Powys has it.”

  “And you think you’ll see it again?” Harriet scoffed. “Ha!”

  Maddie shook her head at her cynicism. “Of course. He promised we’d share it, half and half, and I believe him.”

  Harriet still looked skeptical. “It wouldn’t be the first time a Davies has reneged on a deal.”

  Gryff turned toward them then, as if aware that he was the subject of discussion, but a furtive movement behind him caught Maddie’s eye. A slim figure with its head concealed by the hood of a cloak was slinking toward the end of an alleyway.

  Gryff turned to see what she was looking at, and let out a shout of recognition. “Hoi! That’s Drake!”

  He set off at a run across the cobbles. The figure turned in alarm and Maddie saw that it was indeed Sir Mostyn. He tried to make his escape, but he was too slow; with a bellow of fury Gryff tackled him to the ground.

  The older man’s outraged bellow echoed around the square. “Release me, you oaf! I’m a justice of the peace! I’ll have you prosecuted for assault.”

  His wiry limbs flailed within his cloak—he looked like a deranged crow.

  Gryff hauled him unceremoniously to his feet. “I’m not the one who’s going to be prosecuted,” he panted. “You think we don’t know who’s been backing those smugglers?”

  Drake spluttered. “Me? Are you mad? What proof do you have?” He turned toward Maddie and sent her a beseeching look. “Miss Montgomery. This is ridiculous. Surely you don’t believe these vile accusations.”

  “I do,” Maddie said stoutly. “Just as I believe you were responsible for sending men to silence Gryff. And myself.”

  Drake shook his head, but she sent him a sweet smile. “If you’re truly innocent, my lord, then you’ve nothing to fear. The smugglers will clear your name when they’re interrogated.”

  She took an uncharitable amount of pleasure in
the way Drake’s face turned an even more sickly shade of white.

  The captain strode forward and seized his arm. “Considering the severity of these accusations, sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to place you in the cells with the rest of ’em. Come along.”

  Drake struggled, loudly protesting his innocence, but was escorted across the square to the town’s small courthouse with its attached row of cells. Maddie watched him go with no small degree of satisfaction, and turned back find Gryff watching her intently.

  A self-conscious flush heated her skin. There was so much to say, but it couldn’t be said here, with an audience. She needed time to process everything that had happened between them, to order her thoughts. She started to shrug his jacket from her shoulders, but he shook his head as he came up to her.

  “Keep it. I’m warm enough.”

  She nodded dumbly.

  “We need to talk,” he murmured, low enough that Harriet couldn’t hear. “Privately.” He smoothed a strand of her hair from her temple and tucked it behind her ear. “I promised to make love to you in daylight, Maddie Montgomery, and I intend to keep that promise.”

  His lips quirked in that teasing way she loved, but her chest constricted as the reality of the situation reasserted itself. Gryff wasn’t talking about a permanent relationship. He’d made no secret of his intent to return to London. He was suggesting an affair, a series of brief liaisons until he returned to his old life.

  The thought of making love with him again was enough to make her weak at the knees, but she didn’t want to be his mistress, his furtive country fling for a few weeks. She didn’t want to be sneaking around, trying to snatch a few stolen moments, like Ned and Gwynn, then having to pretend she barely knew him in public.

  In a flash, she realized what she did want. All of his kisses, all of the time.

  Because she loved him.

  The insight hit her in the chest like a lightning strike straight to the heart. It was the same pain, the same paralyzing shock that made it hard to breathe.

  When had this happened? She couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment; the feeling had sneaked up on her, like an incoming tide. She’d always felt such extremes of emotion for him, but the fuming, bubbling cauldron of something hadn’t been hate. It had been love.