Mistress by Midnight (30 page)

Con took off down the cliff, his lantern swinging wildly. He had found Laurette at least. From the sound of her cries, she was some distance away.

“I found James! He’s trapped in a little cave. The floor gave way and he slid down. I can’t reach him, but he’s safe for now. Oh, I see you, Con! I see your light. Thank God.”

He couldn’t see her yet, and could barely hear her raspy, breathless voice. He understood enough to stop his descent. “I have rope, Laurie. Let me get it. I’ll be right there.”

He’d climbed worse cliffs than this, but not in the dark. Not when his heart was pounding. Not when the relief he was feeling threatened to put him on his wobbly knees in thankful prayer. He left the lantern wedged against an outcropping of rock and used both hands to propel himself up. How the devil he was going to get up it again later with Laurie and James, he had no idea. Maybe they could take the long way home.

He allowed himself a breath. His son was alive and the woman he loved was resourceful and safe. He was determined to kiss both of them—sloppy, emotional kisses that left no doubt how much they meant to him. Laurette might want to keep her distance, and James probably thought he was too old for such a display, but Con would prevail. Just this once. He threw himself over the bank, rolling onto the grass.

The horse stood a little ways away, just where he left her, untethered in his hurry to get down. She whinnied at his folly, ambled over him, and dipped her velvet nose to his face.

“That’s a girl.” He reached into his pocket for a lump of sugar and tied her reins to a twisted root, then removed the saddle bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he started back down the slope trying to keep his balance.

Laurette flew out of the dark at him, clad in buff trousers that revealed every sweet curve, her braid unraveling, her
chemise so thin he could see her honey-colored nipples. His mouth dried and he struggled to keep his eyes on her worried face. He placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her and himself.

“Is he all right?”

“I think so. Mostly. He got scraped up as he fell into the shaft, and then hollered himself hoarse. We have to cross a little stream to get to the cave. Your boots will get wet.”

“Is that what happened to your shirt? I must say, I find this new fashion quite fetching.”

She gave him a stern look. “I’ll be most happy for the loan of
your
shirt, my lord. Tom’s is doing water-bearer duty.”

Con stroked her arm. “You’re cold as ice.” He handed her the heavy bag while he stripped off his coat.

“What’s in this? Rocks?”

“No, my clever girl. That was
your
bag. Brilliant, by the way. Made me feel like a boy again.” He wrapped her in his jacket. Laurette shrugged into it gratefully.

“I’m fine, really. But James is freezing. His teeth keep chattering. When he fell he was wet from head to toe. He took a bit of an impromptu bath in the water but forgot to remove his clothes.”

Con followed the sway of her delicious backside as they walked down the hill and over the slippery riverbed. He was amazed and grateful Laurette could have found his son in this most inconvenient of places. “How did you know to look here?”

She shrugged. “I found his coat at first, then just kept going. It’s a bit of a miracle, really.”

It was that and then some. “Where is your lantern?”

“Went out.”

Con was incredulous. “You found him in the dark?”

“I heard him before I lost the light. He was banging a rock.”

He grabbed her elbow and squeezed it. “You’ve saved his life, Laurie. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you.”

“Just get him out of that hole.” She stopped at the cave’s
entrance. “And don’t be too hard on him,” she whispered. “He never intended to cause anybody this much worry. We had a very good talk.”

As if Con would ever say a cross word. James would have a free pass for ages, at least until he reached his teen years and tried the patience of a saint, as all youth were wont to do. Con dodged into the entry, casting light in the interior. Laurette shuddered as a few bats objected to the invasion of their playground.

“Over here. Mind your step.”

Con knelt at the edge of a substantial drop, his heart constricting as he looked down into his son’s pinched white face. “Hello, James. I’m awfully glad to see you.”

“I didn’t mean for you to be inconvenienced, sir,” the child said in a gravelly voice.

“Hush. Don’t talk. Laurette said you’ve strained your throat.”

James shook his head. “I’m sorry for all the things I said.”

“I’ve forgotten them, James. I’m just so happy you’re all right. Alive. Now how are we going to get you out?”

“I kept slipping down. I’m on sort of a shelf now, but I can’t get my arms up through the gap. I’ve tried.”

And was probably bloody to prove it. “Tight quarters, eh? I brought a hammer along. Suppose I come down and knock about?”

Laurette shook her head. “Con, you’ll never fit. I’ll do it.” He raised an eyebrow. “It makes much more sense. You can lower me in with a rope and hold me. I doubt I could hold you.”

“We’re talking about rock here, Laurie. Are you strong enough to chip it away?”

“Pooh. It’s limestone. Relatively soft as rock goes. And I don’t have to quarry a huge block of it, just break off a few chunks. Some of it was loose enough for James to do it with his bare hands to make his signaling stone.”

Con chuckled. “You really are a marvel. All right, we’ll try it your way. Feet first or head first?”

“I think I’d have more leverage if I went feet, but I’d wind up too high to be useful.”

Con uncoiled the rope while Laurette buttoned up his jacket, tucking her braid under the collar. He looped the rope securely around her slender waist, then tied the other end around his, wrapping the excess around one fist. “We’ve got plenty of play. He’s not down all that far, just jammed. Let me know the minute you want to come back up. You’ve been heroic enough. If this doesn’t work, I can go back for Tomas or Nico.” He nudged a good-sized rock with his foot to help stabilize the rope once she was down.

She swung the tool in an arc, testing its weight. She looked like a Valkyrie warrior, loose tendrils of golden hair catching the lamplight.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

She hung over the edge, giving Con an unobstructed view of her derriere. In his opinion, if all women wore pants, the world would be an entirely different place. She flipped into the opening, Con unspooling the rope inch by inch. She wriggled through a narrow passage, angling her shoulder.

“Stop! Hello, James!” Her voice was rich and mellow in the tunnel. Con slipped the rope under the rock but held firm anyway.

“Mind your eyes, the both of you. James, you should close yours altogether.”

“James, how about I put your kerchief around your eyes?” Con waited anxiously while she struggled with the knot with one hand, the other clutching the hammer, her feet seeking a toehold along the walls. Finding the task impossible, she stuck the hammer under her chin and covered James’s eyes. “Just like blindman’s bluff, but you can’t touch me yet. You will shortly.”

Her strikes on the rock were at first tentative. A few chips flew up and James coughed.

“Sorry.”

Con watched as she switched her strategy. Holding the hammer with both hands, she increased the speed, swaying alarmingly at every blow.

He should stop her. This was madness. Instead he held the rope and light as steady as he could, watching her body twist and turn with her efforts, and occasionally seeing the top of James’s head. Limestone was porous and full of seams; if they were lucky she’d find a flaw. Soon.

He tried to imagine how his son felt encased in a stone cocoon for hours. Shivers raced up and down his spine. Con had done his share of tomb raiding with William. It was never pleasant underground in the dark and dust and damp. Throw in the fact that James was alone, thinking his whereabouts would be unknown forever, and Con felt his own panic ratchet. He’d never liked enclosed spaces; even on ships he spent most of the time on deck. This episode might scar James permanently, beyond whatever injuries he’d sustained in his fall.

Laurette’s whoop and the sound of rocks and metal clattering down ripped him from his thoughts.

“Progress?” he asked.

“Success, I think! But dash it, I’ve dropped the hammer. James, can you get your arms through now?” Con couldn’t catch the exchange. They spent an eternity talking and then Laurette said, “Pull me up, Con.”

She was dead weight as he hauled her up, squeezing her limbs as close to her body as she could. When he finally got her out, her arms were shaking with fatigue, her face bright red and slick with sweat.

“Are you all right?”

“Don’t worry about me. Just take the rope off. I’m afraid I can’t manage.” She collapsed on the floor and tried to force
the feeling back into her fingers. Con got on his knees, loosened the knot and slipped the rope up over her torso. Her voice was pitched too low for James to hear. “He’s nervous about moving from his little seat down there. There’s quite a drop below. But his arms are free and I think he’s fit enough to get the rope around himself. It will be tricky though. I’m so hot.” She tried to unbutton Con’s jacket but her hands were too numb. Con did it for her, slipping the coat off her freckled shoulders. “Should I have stayed down there and pulled him up myself? I didn’t think I could hold on.”

“You did the right thing. The perfect thing, Laurie. I love you.”

She looked right at him, shadows from the lantern flickering across her face. “I love you, too.”

T
here. She’d said it aloud. She hadn’t uttered those words in twelve years, just kept them locked in a chilly corner of her heart while she distracted herself with life. But she did love Con, always had, always would. How she was going to live out the next forty years or so she hadn’t a clue, but now was not the time to hammer out the details. For the time being, she was done with hammering. She brushed Con’s startled mouth with her own. “Get him out, Con. Now.”

Con lurched up as if he were drunk. She had shocked him, with words and touch. Listening as he explained what to do to James, she admired his patient tone. He was meant to be a father, had the requisite mix of humor and strength that so many men lacked. Her father, for example. She could have benefitted from some adult supervision. But then she might not have grown up to run around the countryside in the dark, wearing men’s breeches. Or hang upside down like a spider for what felt like hours, chiseling away at sedimentary rock.

She felt every muscle inside her scream for a hot bath and a soft bed. She wasn’t sure how she could possibly climb that benighted cliff and walk all the way home, and knew James couldn’t. Con had brought her horse, though, if the creature was still somewhere up there waiting.

He’d urged her to give it a name, but she had refused. She
was not going to get attached to an animal for a week, and she had been so very determined to stay only a week, and not a minute more. Those plans were by the wayside now. She wouldn’t leave until she knew James had recovered from his ordeal. She wasn’t sure but that he might need stitches on an ugly gash on his shoulder. The blood had seeped through his wet shirt and showed bright red. She pulled the watch from her pocket. Just two hours left until dawn. The sun rose early and set late in summer in Yorkshire. She wondered if Con would wait until it was light before they left the cave.

“Cinch yourself tight, James, as tight as you can,” Con urged. “There’s no rush. Take all the time you need. Just tell me when you’re ready for me to reel you in like a fish. I had the lake stocked for us, you know. When you’re up to it, we’ll go fishing.”

Prosaic words to alleviate anxiety. Con was chatting as though they were around the breakfast table planning their day. James said little as he struggled to get the slipknot over his chest. Laurette had tried to brush off most of the dirt from his face and neck with his handkerchief, but he’d been so pale. She counted off the minutes as Con leaned over the shaft, biting her tongue from speaking. The sooner James was free, the happier she’d be. She would never, ever step foot in a cave again in this lifetime, and would absolutely forbid Beatrix from ever going caving again.

At last James said he was ready. Con braced himself, a look of concentration on his face. Laurette stood up and placed a hand on his cheek, rubbing the black bristles with her thumb. “I can help, too.”

“You’ve done quite enough for one night, my darling. But thank you.”

He’d removed his shirt after he pulled her up and wiped her face with the fine linen, so he looked like a half-naked god to her. Staying at his side, she watched his muscles cord as he worked the rope, his lips set in a grim line. The dark cross on his shoulder gleamed as he strained backward,
sweat pouring off him. The cold of the cave danced across her skin, or perhaps it was simply desire. Her nipples puckering, she quickly covered herself with Con’s jacket right before he tugged James up over the edge.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you.” Con hooked his hands under James’s armpits and dragged him onto the bumpy surface. James lay limp, his eyes blinking against the light.

“The water bottle, Laurie.”

It was still attached to her makeshift strapping, and nearly empty, but she passed it to Con as he positioned James in his lap. James spluttered a bit as he drank it all.

“I’ll get more.”

Con nodded. “Take the lantern.”

She wouldn’t leave James in the dark after all he’d been through. “I’ll navigate by starlight. Be right back.”

She stood outside the entrance for a moment, gulping air. It was almost over. The stars overhead winked with promise. Bowing her head, she gave thanks that her prayer was answered.

The gentle spill of the water reminded her she had at least one more job to do. She cupped her hands and drank in the sharp taste of the wild, then filled the bottle for James and Con.

She bent to enter the cave, then stepped back unseen. They wouldn’t need the water quite yet. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, clinging fast. Both were crying, their sobs muffled by ragged clothes and bare skin. Tears of reconciliation and relief. Laurette’s heart lifted.