Allison Lane (29 page)

“Since you cannot move, and I cannot fetch help, I will have to dig you out myself.”  Despite his efforts, his voice was shaking.  He reached for his card case.  It was gone.

“How?”  The single word contained her understanding of his fear – and her resignation.

“I have no idea.”

The rock closed in, stealing his breath.  A groan escaped, its echo returning so quickly he knew that an outstretched hand would touch the walls and ceiling of the cavern.  He was alone, helpless, without even an inadequate talisman standing between him and disaster. 

He couldn’t do it.  He was going to fail and lose the one woman he loved.  And he would have to live with the guilt for all eternity.

“Randolph, don’t put yourself through this,” she said, her voice softer as she accepted the hopelessness of her situation.  “Fate has found a way to resolve all the problems.  I will escape facing a hostile world.  You and Fosdale will both be rid of me.  And it will likely be quick.”

“Stop it!” he ordered, pulled out of his own horror for a moment.  He lurched into the tunnel at the back of the chamber, then cringed against one wall as terror washed over him.  “I love you, damn it!  I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“What?”  Another rock thudded onto the floor.

“Are you all right?”

“I think that one landed somewhere toward you.  Are you serious?”

He drew in a faltering breath and forced his feet deeper into the hill.  “Do you think I would be in this damned cave if I didn’t love you?  I have only told you one lie, Elizabeth.  And that was allowing the confusion over my identity to stand.”

“What about living at Whitfield, and your father working for the duke?”

“Truth.  He does work for Whitfield in a way – or did until his accident.  He managed Wyndport, the duke’s second largest estate.  We lived there until I was eight.  Then fire destroyed the house, so we moved to the Castle for two years while it was being rebuilt.”

“And Lord Sedgewick?”

“His father’s estate borders Wyndport.  We grew up together.”

“But why did you need to pretend?”

He sighed and forced another step.  Her voice betrayed the depth of her pain.  “Several reasons.  You started it, actually.  I was groggy enough that morning that I didn’t realize you had been adding the
Mister
to my name until after you left.  When I reached the village, I learned that Symington was gravely injured and perhaps dead.  My only thought was to see Sedge as quickly as possible, which meant avoiding any quibbling over my identity.  He had my card case.”

“How did that happen?”

“It was the last gift my grandmother gave me before she died, so I left it in the carriage when I jumped into the river.  He stuck it in his pocket for safekeeping.”  His voice was shaking again at the reminder of how naked he was today.  Why had he left the case on his shaving stand?  Would Crossbridge have shown up if it had been in his pocket?

“Close your eyes, Randolph,” she suggested.  “If you can’t see the dark, it isn’t there.”

“It’s not the dark.  It’s the rock and that damp smell.  I have the same trouble with dungeons, even when they are well lit.”

“Then talk to me.  You wanted to avoid delay in reaching Lord Sedgewick, which makes sense.  But why continue the masquerade?”

“Few people see me as more than a title.  I’ve often wondered if anyone could like me without it, so the situation was enticing.  If it’s any consolation, Sedge tried to talk me out of it.  I think he understood even then that it would lead to trouble.  But I refused, in part because I have a stubborn streak—”

She laughed.  “That’s hardly news.”

“I suppose not.  But my biggest reason was your father.  He would have exerted tremendous pressure on you if he learned who I was.  By the way, I only accepted his demand for a betrothal so that I could blackmail him into leaving you alone.  I always intended to give you the final say in the matter.”  His head hit the low ceiling, and he dropped to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself for protection.

“Are you all right, Randolph?” she asked.

She had to repeat the question before he could respond.  “Just fighting off my demons.”  His attempt at humor fell flat, for his shaking voice made the words unintelligible.

“This is just like your own accident, isn’t it?”

“Far too similar,” he admitted, clawing his way to his feet.  “Though there don’t seem to be any bats in here.  But their company wasn’t enough to ward off loneliness.”

“It must have been much worse for you.  At least I’m not alone.”

“You wouldn’t be here at all if I hadn’t followed you.”  The knowledge had been eating at him since the ceiling had fallen.

“Not true.  I had decided that crossing the mountain in this weather was stupid even before you revealed your presence.  This was the nearest shelter.  There is a second entrance farther along the hill.  The cave there is larger and drier than at this end.  So don’t feel guilty about this.  It is not your fault.  And I’m terribly glad you are here.”

“Yes, I can understand that.  But as bad as loneliness becomes, the helplessness is worse.  There is no more hellish experience than lying in the dark, unable to move, unable to see, yet knowing that sight would not help, because there is no way to avoid the danger.  And being there was my own fault.”  He paused to control his voice.  “But my rescue did not banish the helplessness.  Even after I recovered from the fever, that broken leg kept me in bed for two months, with nothing to do but repent my misdeeds.  I never want to be at the mercy of anyone or anything again – which is why I understand your qualms about marriage,” he added.  “You would be trusting me with everything.”

He glanced toward the opening, but either it was dark, or the tunnel had curved enough to block it.  He could see nothing.

“So you claimed to be Whitfield’s book expert,” she said, pulling him out of another wave of panic.  Her return to the subject of his imposture effectively shut off intimacy, but he accepted it.  At least she was talking.

“That was not pretense.  He has called on me for opinions ever since his resident librarian died five years ago.”

“So it was true about being consulted by the British Museum?”

“Among others.  Grandfather piqued my interest in books while that broken leg was mending.  I am now considered an authority on Chaucer and other medieval writers.  My own collection of rare books is one of the most extensive in the country.”

“So your evaluation of mine was accurate?”

“As near as I could make it.  You have two first editions that might fetch more at auction, depending on who was bidding against me.”

She was silent for so long that he froze, unable to move.  “Talk to me, Elizabeth.  Your voice keeps the terror at bay.”

“I’m sorry.  I was lost in thought.  Where are you?”

“I’ve no idea.  I feel like I’ve been in here for at least a century and traversed all of Asia twice.”

“You sound close.”

“I hope so.  If I don’t get out of here soon, I will likely land in Bedlam.”

“I hardly think a duke’s heir would be shut away in so common a hospital,” she said tartly.

“Perhaps not, but the result is the same.” 

“I was reviewing that scene in the drawing room.  The masquerade explains why you both stiffened at odd times and why you have been so deliberate when speaking.  But there was something going on between Lords Sedgewick and Crossbridge that I don’t understand.”

“That is not surprising.  They have been semi-friendly antagonists since Eton.  Crossbridge is stuffy, arrogant, and very proper – especially around Sedge.  Their most recent confrontation resulted in a prank that embarrassed Crossbridge in front of the most powerful gossips in London.  Naturally, he grabbed this opportunity to reap his revenge.”

“I thought Lord Sedgewick disliked London.”

“No, I am the one who dislikes Town.  Your intuition is uncanny, by the way, and has startled me more than once since this began.  Sedge lives in London.  He is a pillar of Society, beloved by all the hostesses and mimicked by most of the greenlings.  It is thoroughly nauseating.”

“Good heavens, he must be the Lord S—— W—— who shows up on the Society pages.”

“Exactly.”

“So the prank was the one involving Lord C—— and the corset cover?”

“True.”

She giggled.  “You must tell me about it sometime.”  Another smattering of rock choked off her words.

His foot struck stone.  It was fairly small, but a larger one rested a few inches away.  Carefully feeling his way with his hands, he found a third, followed immediately by a strand of hair.  “Dear lord, this one nearly landed on your head.”  He caressed her face.  His heart pounded crazily when he realized that she was all but buried.  He was reaching through an opening barely a foot wide.  It was a miracle that she had survived.

One of her hands shakily grabbed his, revealing how scared she was.  The arm was wrapped awkwardly around her head, but she could move it enough to bring his fingers to her lips for a warm kiss.

“It’s all right, love,” he crooned softly, wiping away her tears.

“You made it.”  Her voice broke.

“I made it.”  He squeezed her fingers, relief making him a little giddy.  “I really made it.”

“I love you, Randolph.”

“Thank God.”  Joy chased away the last of his fears.  He caressed her, reveling in the touch, soothing away her terror until her passion surged to the surface.  She moaned, grabbing his hand as if it were a lifeline that could not only rescue her but lead her into a new world.

A falling rock pulled him to his senses, returning all his anxiety, but this time for her safety rather than his own.

“We have to get you out of here,” he choked, trying to figure out how she was trapped.  He ran his hands over the rocks, looking for cracks, estimating sizes.  The biggest piece was a slab that covered her from neck to thigh.  It rested on smaller debris that had landed on either side of her.  Other pieces spilled from atop it, forming a loose hood around half of her head.  “How on earth did you escape cracking your head on the floor?”

“I’m not sure, though I think I was already down before the main fall broke loose.  Can you lift it?” she asked tentatively.

“Not a chance.  It is buried in other debris.  But even if it were not, I doubt anyone could move it.  It’s twice as large as I am.” 

“How about the ones near my head?  I tried pushing them aside, but I can get no leverage for my arm.”

“Thank God for that.  They form the bottom of a whole pile of rocks, love.  Shifting anything might have brought it down on your head.  You are lucky to be alive.”

His hand was again touching her face, so he felt her shudder.  But she refused to give in to the horror.  “There seems to be an open space near my feet.  I think I can wriggle down there if you can shift whatever landed between my legs.”

He gingerly picked his way along the edge of the tunnel, but soon found his path blocked.  “Not a chance.  Even if you could get out that way, there is an even larger rock blocking the passage.”

“Dear God.”  Her voice trembled.

“How much clearance do you have in there?”  He returned to where he could touch her face.  “Can you move everything?”

She shifted.  “I think so.  Why?”

“Try to curl up and pull your head under the biggest stone – just like a turtle into his shell.  I must shift the rocks at this end if we’ve any hope of pulling you out, and I can’t really tell how they’re balanced.  Too bad I didn’t stick a candle in my pocket before following you.”

She twisted, her feet kicking loose rock.  “Ready.”

Praying harder than ever before – for he knew part of her head still protruded – he traced the outlines of the stones, working his way up the pile until he reached those that did not support others.

Some rolled easily out of the way.  Others had to be lifted.  His heart lodged in his throat every time something tumbled toward Elizabeth, but she disclaimed any new hurts.  He had no idea how long it took, but his shoulders were protesting by the time he shifted the last one.

“That does it.  Let’s slide you out now.”  But it was easier said than done.  She stuck after only a few inches.  “Now what?” he asked, fearful that he would have to somehow raise the big stone.  “Is the one between your legs pinning your gown down?”

“That one doesn’t quite reach the floor.  But I think my cloak is caught on something.”  Her hand fumbled with the fastening.

He moved it gently aside, removing the brooch for her.  She was right.  Without the cloak, she slid easily into his arms.  Relief engulfed him as their lips met.  This time he held nothing back, pouring all his love and longing into the kiss.

He was home in a way he had never experienced.  She completed him, filling a void he had not suspected was there.  Touching her brought more happiness than he had felt in years.

Her kisses kindled insatiable needs that would take a lifetime to satisfy.  And she was just as affected.  Exploring her passion would keep him occupied forever.

Slithering gravel reminded him where he was.  “We have to get out of here.  Are you all right?”

She stretched, flexing her shoulders.  “A few bruises, but nothing serious.”  She stepped back and nearly tripped over a rock.

“Careful.”  He caught her.  “Don’t move until I retrieve your cloak.  You’ll freeze without it.”  He tugged until the sound of ripping fabric echoed along the tunnel.  Most of the cloak survived.

When they finally reached the cave entrance, he pulled her into another embrace.  The last vestige of daylight seemed bright after the absolute darkness of the tunnel, illuminating uncracked walls. 

They were safe.  He was free of fear for the first time in twenty-two years.  And Elizabeth loved him.  Euphoria spilled out as she matched his passionate kiss.  She was far more valuable than any good luck charm.

She sighed as he nibbled her ear.  “We made it.”

“But we’ll be spending another night together.  And this time, I promise to compromise you so thoroughly that you cannot possibly refuse marriage.”

“Excellent plan, my dearest love.”  She pressed closer.  “Before that contretemps in the drawing room, I’d realized that my attraction started back in the river.  And admitting that you were right about my writing forced me to confront another failure.”