My Unfair Lady (23 page)

   "We can't leave her," Summer gasped, but her voice had changed. It no longer had the high squeak of a little girl, and she awoke fully to the sound of the duke's reassuring voice.

   "Shhh, be quiet now. You've been unconscious."

   She opened her eyes to complete darkness, and still felt the weight of the earth covering her, and tried to move. Tarnation, it hurt, and Byron responded with a groan of pain. She became aware of the heat of his body beneath hers, and down around her legs the weight of another. Meg.

   Her pockets wiggled, but the two critters stayed as silent as Meg.

   The duke's head lay right next to her own, his lips so close to her ear she could feel them moving when he spoke. "Don't move either—not yet. The carriage didn't fall far, we must've landed on an outcropping or ledge. Don't know how sturdy it is… don't want to fall all the way down to the ocean. Understand?"

   Summer whined. She felt the tiny, furred fingers of India stroke her cheek, and then the light weight of him jump across her back and disappear as she heard him scramble above her.

   "We just need to wait a little longer, to make sure that those men have left; then we'll see what's what."

   "Can't breathe," she whispered.

   "I think when we came down we started a landslide,

and it covered us. That's why it's so dark. But don't worry, we're still getting fresh air from somewhere."

   "No," she replied. "We're going to be smothered. Just like Ma." Summer trembled and jerked, fighting the urge to jump up, to move, to push the rocks and dirt off and away.

   "Summer, Summer," came his soothing whisper. "Where's the girl who fought off highwaymen with me? Where's the woman who faced a gang of Paris bullies with only her knife?"

   She gritted her teeth, wouldn't answer him. How could he understand this terror that made her heart beat so fast she'd thought she'd die? How could he expect her to just lie here for even another minute, when her body told her to fight, to run?

   "Who can't you leave?" he asked. "Summer, talk to me. What were you dreaming about when you were unconscious?"

   The fear crept into her belly and made it boil. She swallowed against the bile that rose in her throat. "I… I can't do this. Must get out, Byron. Must get out of here."

   "We will," he promised.

   "Too dark, too…"

   "Focus on my voice, you hear me. It's just fear, Summer, that's all. Why are you so afraid? Tell me, what were you dreaming about?"

   A bit of warmth trickled through her fear. He had such a lovely voice, deep and compelling, when he wasn't using it to mock people.

   "Who can't you leave? Meg? She hasn't woke up yet, and we might have to leave her behind to go get help. But we'll come back for her."

   Summer's blind eyes rolled down to where the weight of Meg's body had her legs pinned. She could feel the girl breathing and gave a sigh of relief. And suddenly she felt ashamed of herself, that she'd not given Meg a thought before this, that she'd been so overcome by the panic that had gripped her, she hadn't given a thought to anyone but herself. She took a deep breath, reached into her pocket, and patted Chi-chi and Rosey.

   "That's my girl," murmured Byron. "Talk to me, Summer, but softly, just in case. Tell me about your dream."

   "It wasn't a dream," she replied. "It was a memory… of when my ma left me, when she died."

   "How did she die?"

   He spoke in such soothing tones, the rise and fall of his body beneath hers combining to lull her. "Cave in," she softly said. "I was little, and I haven't thought of it in years, but suddenly I was there again, when the rock came down, and Pa left her there, all alone, when I told him we couldn't do that. When someone loves you, you don't just walk away."

   She felt him sigh, as if she'd answered more questions for him than he'd asked. "But sometimes you have to."

   Summer felt as if she'd just lost her mother again, that memory-dream had been so real. "And then Pa got worse, started another tunnel, always obsessed with finding gold. Said that he'd buy Ma all the things she'd given up for him."

   "What had she given up?"

   "Her rich family disowned her when she married my pa. Even after she died, he still kept looking for the gold, saying that now he did it for me… but I never cared about that, all I wanted was him. I felt so lonely after she left."

   "But then he found the gold."

   Summer realized that she was breathing easier. "No, silver. And I thought that he'd spend more time with me after that, but he just wanted to make more money, to prove to those Tarkingtons that he was worthy of their daughter."

   "Do you feel better now?"

   Summer blinked in the darkness. He'd taken away her fear, and she hadn't even known it. "Yes."

   "Good, because whether those men have gone or not, I've got to move." He kissed her ear, and she shivered, but this time with pleasure. "Both of my legs have gone numb, and if I don't get them moving, I'm afraid they're going to stay that way."

   Summer's heart gave a little twist. He'd lain there and comforted her fears, while in pain himself. Who was the Duke of Monchester, really? The man who all of society feared for his cutting remarks, or the one who had used that same voice to soothe her?

   She shifted and rolled on the side that didn't hold her critters, then caught her breath as the carriage slid a bit downward. She felt the ache of myriad bruises on her body, the dreadful pounding of her skull, and lifted a shaky hand to gingerly prod at the large bump beneath the hair on the side of her head.

   Byron's voice sounded sardonic and laced with pain. "We'd better take this slow. The bottom of the carriage is parallel with the cliff, so move away from my voice until you feel the wood of it against your back."

   If only she could see, thought Summer. Even though it had to be nighttime by now, outside she'd have moonlight or starlight to break this wall of black, she could stretch out her arms and run, she could breathe…

   Her panting filled the tiny, enclosed space.

   "Don't do it, Summer," warned Byron. "Any sudden moves, and this carriage could slide the rest of the way down the cliff. Now, just listen to the sound of my voice, do what I tell you, and don't think at all."

   "All right." She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, tried to calm the pounding of her heart. His voice, tarnation, she'd never hear his voice again without remembering the way it reached out to her and wrapped her in a comforting embrace and gave her back some of her courage. She'd never felt anything like this before in her life and didn't know how to deal with it. "I'm not very good at being afraid."

   The duke choked on a laugh. "No one ever is. I'm going to try to move now, and no matter what you hear, keep your back pressed to the carriage floor."

   Summer plastered her backside to the wood behind her, lifted her arms above her head, and felt the polished surface of it beneath her fingertips. She heard him move, the absence of her sight making the sounds extraordinarily loud, the pain in his grunts making her wince with sympathy.

   "So far, so good. Carriage didn't shift that time. I'm going to push Meg over to you, so give her a pull, will you? Seems like my wounded shoulder is as numb as my legs."

   She reached down and pulled Meg's inert body toward her, felt him pushing as well, and then sensed his nearness, and smelled the heavenly musky scent of him. She put out a hand, felt the heat of his chest and the weave of his linen shirt, and wrapped her fingers around his neck, beneath the softness of his hair.

   "Ah, Summer," he whispered, his own hand reaching out to caress her cheek. "We'll get out of here, I promise. We have unfinished business, you and I."

   She wondered at his words but couldn't focus on anything but getting out of this coffin. "How? How do we get out, Byron?"

   "You're lighter than I am, so while Meg and I anchor the back, you need to go forward to the left side window, that's where I felt some air coming in, and try to dig out the dirt that's covering it. Can you do that?"

   Summer swallowed. "I'm going to have to, aren't I?" She reluctantly let go of him and concentrated on only his voice as he talked her through her task.

   "That's my girl. Now go slowly, good, feel along the wall, where dirt has tumbled in. Dig at it, good, spread it behind you. Keep going, Summer, the pile of earth can't be very thick there, not if air can get in."

   "Tarnation!"

   "What's wrong?"

   Summer felt the furry hand of India, and her knife in the monkey's grip. "He found my knife! Thank you, India." The critter squeaked and crawled on her shoulder. With the blade in her hand Summer felt better, made more of a dent in that wall of dirt, until she heard a small slide and felt a cool blast of salt-laden air, and saw the blessed light of a full moon shining through the sudden opening. India scrambled through it before she could blink.

   "It's going to be a tight squeeze, getting through this window. Especially with your broad shoulders." She felt his smile and realized what she'd said, and shrugged. Right now she didn't care about his vanity. All she cared about was getting out. She stuffed her knife in its sheath and scrambled right after India, tearing her gown and quite a bit of skin, until she stood in the blessed outdoors, the wind in her face wiping away any residual fear, the moonlight in her eyes making her blink with joy. Byron had been right, the carriage lay on a rather large ledge, the torn traces dangling over the side, the poor horses nowhere in sight. Summer resisted the urge to look down at the rocky cliffs below and instead looked up, scanning the area for any trace of the men who had tried to kill them.

   She heard the carriage shift, frowned with alarm when it tilted forward, startled to be grateful that most of it lay buried beneath a landslide of rock and dirt, anchoring it in place. She watched as Byron put first one shoulder and then the other through the tight opening, cursing the entire time, then helped lower him out the window, trying to bear his weight.

   
He must be made of pure muscle
, she thought, for he only topped her by a couple of inches, yet certainly weighed a ton. When they both sat on the ledge, they leaned against each other and just breathed.

   Byron tilted his head up and pushed the hair out of his eyes. "It'll be fascinating to see if my shoulder will manage to get me up that."

   Summer grinned at him. "No need. India has already been up and back. Seems the ledge wraps around this hill. With any luck, it'll be wide enough for people as well."

   "You're smiling, madam."

   "I'm glad to be out of that coffin, sir." And ignoring the rule he'd taught her about never touching a gentleman, she leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth. "Thank you for saving my life."

   "Seems like you took care of yourself, as usual."

   "I would've plunged the carriage straight down the cliff with my panic, and you know it."

   "Mmm." He stared at her, and she felt as if he tried to see into her soul, tried to brand her with his gaze. There was something different about him, an intensity that she'd never felt before, that made her remember with absolute clarity the night he'd offered her comfort and she'd taken it so willingly.

   "Stop it," she blurted. "We have to get Meg help. If she wakes up all alone in there…"

   He blinked and his gaze shuttered. She felt the loss of his attention as if it were a tangible thing, and jumped when he clasped her hand, a physical demand that she stay connected to him. He held on to her and refused any attempts she made to twist out of his grasp. They climbed up the ledge, which did prove just barely wide enough to accommodate their feet, if one didn't mind one's toes dangling over the edge, and staggered onto the road, neither one any longer quite sure who supported whom. For the first time Summer felt the weight of the critters in her pocket, and the one on her shoulder, as a burden.

   By the time the sun rose, Summer felt delirious with fatigue, and when a hay wagon pulled up beside them and the man driving it doffed his hat to the duke and spoke to him as if he knew him, she only felt a slight hint of surprised curiosity. She obediently clambered onto the fragrant hay when Byron told her to, and drifted off to sleep. She woke briefly when the man and Byron laid Meg in the hay beside her, and then once again when they reached a tumble-down castle that looked nasty enough to be haunted.

   "Yours?" she murmured as she was ushered inside and then carried up the stairs to a surprisingly elegant bed.

   "Afraid so. Welcome to Cliffs Castle."

   Summer felt all the aches in her body relax, and she melted into the clean sheets, barely felt it when Chi-chi and Rosey crawled from her pocket and snuggled at her side, when India wrapped his arm around her neck and buried his face in her hair. She fought to keep one eye open. "How's Meg?"

   "She's fine. I've put her in the small adjoining room."

   Summer sighed. "Tell your ghosts not to wake me, then."