Authors: Jillian Hart
“Are you all right?” he called, voice echoing along the cliff.
“Fine!” Whit called back. “You?”
“Safe! Shall I come for you?”
Whit eyed the muddy mess between them. There'd be no crust. Every step would be difficult. And it was possible that their weight could trigger further collapse.
“No! Take the others back to the Lodge. We'll go along the Edge.”
“Be careful!” Charles shouted, then he turned away to marshal the others.
“The edge?” Ruby eyed Whit, and he could hear the resistance in her voice, see it in her frown. “The edge of what?”
Whit nodded to the cliff top. “Calder Edge, that's the name for the grit stone form above us. The series of rocks is another way back to the Lodge, unless you want to cross that.” He pointed to the ponding stream below.
She shook her head so hard her bonnet came askew. Or perhaps he'd done that when he'd carried her to the rock. Either way, he leaned closer and tugged it back onto her fiery curls, his fingers brushing the soft warmth of her cheek.
“You'll be safe with me, Ruby,” he murmured. “I promise.”
She eyed him a moment, face tight, mossy green eyes as damp as the pool below. She bit her lip, then whispered, “I've never done this before, you know.”
“This?” he asked, straightening.
She waved a hand. “This...this nature affair. I'm a city girl, born and raised. I don't know what to do out here.”
He imagined merely confessing the fact disturbed his brassy Ruby. This was a woman used to solving problems, making decisions, acting sometimes without thinking because she was so sure of herself and her abilities. Now she was faced with something beyond her ken, and she didn't like it.
“Happily, I do know what to do out here,” Whit said. “I've climbed all over these mountains for more than twenty years. I've followed this stream to its headwaters. I've chased deer up the draws. I know how to get us home, Ruby. You can trust me.”
But she didn't. She shifted on her brown boots, glanced up the stream and back down again as if she might spy some way he had forgotten. He knew she'd reached the same conclusion he had when she gave him her hand to help her down on the other side of the rock.
Even then, her worries betrayed her. Before, she had walked purposefully, gazing about her with a smile on her face. Now her steps beside him were hesitant, each foot planted firmly, and her gaze kept flickering about as if she expected another calamity to come hurtling off the hill. Her very light seemed to have dimmed.
Whit paused to point the way ahead. “You see here, how the path is rocky? This is more stable terrain than what we've been following thus far.” He stomped his foot to prove it, and she winced as if expecting the ground to crumble.
“It's solid, Ruby,” he assured her. “As firm a foundation as you could ask for. We won't touch soft soil again until we start down the other side.” When she didn't respond, he tried another approach. “Do you know the story in the Bible about the man who built his house on rock?”
She frowned as if trying to recall it.
“The rains came and the streams rose, but his house remained strong,” Whit encouraged her. “Because it was built on rock. If we stay on rock, we'll be safe, too.”
“I thought that story was about standing firm in your faith,” Ruby said, but she followed him as he started upward once more.
“To be sure. But the Lord based many of His lessons on things His listeners could see in their world. I suspect He was trying to help them relate the truths to their everyday lives.”
She picked her way around a boulder lodged in the hillside. “Do you think He still does thatâinvolves Himself in our everyday lives?”
She sounded so wistful, as if she doubted such attentiveness could be true.
“Certainly,” Whit said, offering her a hand around the next outcropping. “If He cared enough to help strangers then, why wouldn't He help His followers now?”
“Perhaps we don't need His help,” she countered. “Perhaps He expects us to deal with the small matters ourselves.”
Perhaps. Whit knew how little he liked his staff bringing him matters he thought they should be able to address. But the very fact that they brought him those problems said they doubted their ability or authority to solve them. Surely the Lord understood.
At the moment, however, he had more to think about than the Lord's intentions. He had a promise to keep. Whit angled their path up the hillside for the crest. When they reached the top, he paused to catch his breath. The ridge ran for an easy mile, sharp rock on one side, falling ledges of greenery on the other. Up here, the wind whistled past, shaking the fine clumps of pale grass, the nodding wildflowers. He could smell moisture on the air.
The same wind rustling her bonnet, Ruby stared around her. She pointed ahead to where the softer grasses of the slope had slumped to the south, pulling away from the stronger rock. “Please tell me that wasn't the way back to the Lodge.”
Whit felt a sinking feeling and knew it wasn't from the ground this time. “I regret to say it was.”
Her shoulders fell as she dropped her hand. “So now what?”
Whit glanced around. The main ways back were closed, and they could hardly climb the craggy face of the Edge. Unless...
“There's another option,” he said. “This way.”
She said nothing as they crossed the Edge, the wind buffeting them. Whit only wished he could find a way to ease Ruby's concerns. While their situation was difficult, it was hardly dire. He had every confidence he could get them safely home.
A short while later, he found the spot he'd been seeking, where the rock sheared off cleanly for a five-foot drop. He leaped down and turned with lifted arms.
Ruby stared down at him. “Surely you don't expect me to jump.”
Whit smiled. “Surely I do. Unless you think you can fly.”
Her mouth quirked, and he knew her temper had flared. Again she glanced up and down the Edge as if hoping some other answer would present itself. Then she took a deep breath.
And sat on the ledge.
Whit dropped his hands. “What are you doing?”
“Not jumping,” she told him as if that should have been obvious. She wiggled this way and that until she was perched on the very lip of the rock. Then she craned her neck as far as she could with that silly white ruff at her throat and gazed down, as if trying to gauge the distance.
Whit raised his arms again. “Come on, Ruby. I'll catch you.”
In answer, she rolled over onto her belly, feet dangling. “I can crawl down,” she said, voice muffled by the rock.
Whit puffed out a sigh and waited.
In the end, she did climb down, slithering over the sharp basalt, digging her fingers into crevices Whit hadn't even known were there. She slid the last foot to land facing backward and stumbled to fetch up against him. Whit put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Every inch of her was trembling.
“There,” she said with a nod that knocked her bonnet askew again. She shoved it back into place and turned in his arms. “What now?”
She was more pale than the bit of torn lace hanging limply at her throat, her gown dusted with dirt, but she was ready to forge ahead if he asked it. Whit didn't have the heart to tell her that the path fell two more times before they'd reach the bottom.
“I could do with a rest,” he said, dropping onto the stone and leaning his back against the wall. He patted the spot beside him. “Why don't you join me?”
She all but collapsed next to him. “All right, but not for long. We need to return. I wouldn't want Father to worry.”
At the moment, he was more concerned about her. For now, the rock blocked the breeze as well as the sound of the cascade, sheltering and warming the spot. But the way would be more difficult before it got easier again. “Perhaps we need a little help after all,” he joked.
Her lips tightened primly. “We've done all right this far.”
She truly didn't trust the circumstances, but he could not believe she couldn't trust the Lord to help. Here, where the air was pure and sharp as cheddar, where the roar of the river often drowned out other voices, he felt closest to the Lord.
He allowed his gaze to stray out over the land dropping away before them.
Lord
,
show me how to get her home safely. I all but bragged about how I know this area, but You know every nook and cranny. You know the paths the animals take. You guide them to food, protect their young. Guide us, as well.
The breeze darted into their shelter, caressed his face, urged him on. He rose and held out his hand to Ruby. “Come along, then, my dear. Let's see what we can do.”
Her determined look up to him said she intended to prove herself, no matter what lay ahead.
Chapter Nine
I
t seemed a day for revelations. First, that the ground could actually move faster than she could, a fact which still chilled Ruby. Second, that the world could dwindle to two people and a waterfall, a feeling which humbled her. And finally, that she could come to care about an aristocrat like Whit Calder, Earl of Danning.
And that shocked her the most.
Yet how could she not be impressed with him? But for his quick thinking and quicker action, she'd be squashed under a ton of mud or washed down the stream. She might not like the rocky path he chose to return them eventually to the Lodge, but he was right that it seemed to be staying in place. And he truly was trying to help.
When they'd first met, Whit's consideration had annoyed her. Now she had to admit she found it comforting. He kept an eye on her as they traversed the uneven path, pointing out safer places to set her feet, warning her of hazards she might have missed. He paused from time to time to draw her attention to the wonders around them, like the tawny-coated hare that bounded away from their approach, the nodding flowers that looked like tiny stars along the rock crevices. His consideration, she was certain, had as much to do with his wish to reassure her as his desire to share his love of the place.
And his love was evident, even in their circumstances. His gaze was bright, his steps assured. He knew his skills and this place, and she felt her confidence building just watching him.
Until he stopped to face her.
His broad-brimmed hat shaded his eyes as he braced one foot on a rock. “You're doing marvelously,” he said, “but the way ahead is going to be considerably wetter.”
She had noticed the path dropping, with Whit occasionally switching directions to stay on stable ground. Now Ruby eyed the swirling water at the base of the Edge. Swollen with the rains, the stream seemed to have overflowed its banks. The bushes on either side were partially submerged, their green branches waving farewell to the waters that tumbled past. She would guess the stream might reach to her thighs if she'd tried to wade it. She shivered at the thought. “I never learned to swim.”
“You won't have to,” he promised, offering her a smile. “The water I'm talking about will come from above rather than below. I mean to go behind the cascade.”
Ruby gaped at him. “Is that possible?”
“Most of the time,” he admitted, taking her elbow. “Though today is likely to be wetter than usual.”
Something was pressing up inside her, making breathing difficult, taking a step impossible. “I don't know how to do that. I can't do that.”
His smile was gentle. “It's all right, Ruby. There's nothing to fear.”
Fear? Yes, that was what had been creeping over her from the moment she'd seen the emerald hillside descend into mud. The emotion threatened to drown her as surely as the turbulent waters.
It was an old enemy, one she'd sworn to vanquish. She remembered running through the streets of Wapping as a child, hiding behind boxes and crates while bigger boys pounded past, hunting anything weak they could bully. She'd vowed then never to be the weak one, always to walk with her head high and her step steady to show the world she was someone worthwhile.
Her years at school had threatened that vow more than once. Even sitting in a hired coach the first time, as it carried her to the Barnsley School, away from everything she'd known, had shaken her, as had the subtle sneers of so many of her classmates. She had fought through, refusing to give in to the black beast of fear. But then, she'd known she had herself to rely on. This time, she had to rely on someone else.
“Do you promise me,” she said, staring up into the purple-blue of Whit's eyes, “you won't leave me? That you'll get me back to my father safely?”
His gaze was unblinking, solemn. “You have my word.”
The word of a nob. Her father had lost thousands of pounds over the years taking nobs at their words. She'd had her heart broken because she'd expected too much from a nob.
But what choice did she have?
“Very well,” she said. “Let's try it.”
“That's my girl,” he said with a grin.
“I am not your girl,” Ruby replied, lifting her chin. “But I'll follow. Lead on.”
They paralleled the stream, still sticking to higher ground as much as possible where the rocks provided stability for the slope. The farther they went, the louder came the sound of the waterfall, until Ruby was certain the very air vibrated with the boom. As they came around a curve in the cliffside, she saw it. From a height taller than the crown of the Lodge, water spilled from the Edge to crash down into a foaming pool ringed by water-slicked rocks.
“Careful now!” Whit shouted over the roar. “Take my hand, and walk where I walk.”
Ruby gripped his hand, all too aware of the sharp rocks below them. He took short steps, each foot carefully placed, as if anticipating her smaller stride. Her damp skirts, heavy from the mud and the spray that wet them now, pulled at her legs like frozen hands, but she kept moving. She was so intent on following that she bumped into Whit when he stopped, and he caught her in his arms to keep her from falling.
“Look,” he called with a jerk of his head to the right.
Ruby gazed in wonder. They were behind the cascade. Tons of water fell in a silvery curtain beside them, the spray moistening her cheeks, her lips. She licked it away as she returned her gaze to his, waiting for him to take them through to the other side.
But Whit didn't move. He was staring at her, gaze fixed on her lips, and she felt her heart pounding again.
Slowly, as if fearing he'd frighten her further, he lowered his head and kissed her.
The cool of the mist was replaced by a warmth that went from her top to her toes. Instead of the waterfall, her emotions threatened to sweep her awayâengulfing her in amazement, joy, delight. She clung to him, trembling, knowing she should tell him to stop and knowing she wouldn't.
As if he felt the same, he pulled away as slowly as he'd approached, then raised a hand to touch her cheek. His fingers were firm and cool, and they brought reality with them.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I don't know what came over me.”
Ruby wasn't sure what either of them had been thinking, but she had her suspicions. She waved an unsteady hand, and her gloves splashed in the silver water. “I know what came over you. This!” She flipped the spray toward him.
She thought he laughed as he ducked. Then he took her hand and tugged her forward along the path.
Gradually her heartbeat returned to normal, her steps steadied and she could think clearly again. He'd asked her to forgive his impetuous kiss, this man for whom every moment seemed another opportunity to do his duty. Of course she forgave himâhow could she not? He deserved the chance to be spontaneous for once, without consequences. She knew full well that love had not motivated him. It was the relief of having made it so far, the beauty surrounding them. They'd both been caught up in their emotions. She shouldn't refine on it.
Lord, please help me not to refine on it!
She tried not to bother God with trivial matters like this, but she thought perhaps He knew that the kiss might not be so trivial for her. Surely He wouldn't mind a prayer about that!
She wasn't certain how long it took to return along the opposite bank of the stream. The ground was less rocky here, and Whit went even more carefully.
“Do you think it's going to turn to mud, too?” Ruby couldn't help asking at one point when he hurried her along a particularly damp stretch of path.
“Let's just say I prefer not to take chances,” he replied with a glance up the slope that set Ruby's hackles to rising. Then he fired her a grin. “I am escorting a lady, after all.”
Did he truly see her that way? He certainly treated her with the respect and solicitude the nobs generally accorded their female relations and friends. His hands were there to help her over every mud hole, his arms carried her over bigger rocks. He never faltered, never complained, though she knew he had to be tiring, as well. Surely his ribs must be aching! Yet he'd made her a promise, and he obviously intended to keep it.
“How much farther?” Ruby begged when they paused for a moment's rest. Her lips, once so moist in the spray of the cascade, now felt chapped in the sun, and her legs ached from the constant tramping.
He leaned over, braced his hands on his thighs and took a deep breath before answering.
“Not too far. Another half mile to the carriage road below Bellweather Hall, and then a short distance to the Lodge.” He straightened to eye her. “Do you want me to carry you?”
Ruby blinked. “Absolutely not!”
He chuckled. “Forgive the assumption. I fear I'm unused to ladies who insist on taking care of themselves.”
“Or who even know how,” Ruby guessed.
He inclined his head. “True, but to do them justice, they were never trained otherwise.”
She couldn't help the way her head came up. “And you think I was?”
“I would never presume to know your mind, my dear,” he said, holding up his hands as if in surrender.
Ruby chuckled despite herself. “All right, I admit it. I may never have learned to hunt or fish, but I did learn to protect myself. I take boxing lessons at a ladies academy in London, and I keep a loaded pistol in my reticule.”
His brows went up even as his hands came down. “My word. Why?”
Very likely, he couldn't imagine her upbringing. “When I was young,” she explained, “we lived in Wapping. Father was a mudlark.”
His brows quirked at the word. “Forgive me, but I'm not familiar with the profession.”
Ruby smiled. “You wouldn't be. A mudlark is a fellow who combs the mud of the Thames at low tide for leavingsâthings of value that might wash up. He was gone for long hours every day to mind the tides, and I had to fend for myself.”
He frowned. “Was there no schooling? No place where you could be protected?”
“If there was, I never knew of it. That's one of the reasons I want to charter a school there. But it wasn't all bad. Father sometimes took me along with him. You never know what you'll find among the mud.” She looked down at the mud crusting her boots, remembering the black muck of the Thames shore.
“I wouldn't make the same claim here,” he said with a smile.
She nodded, tucking back a strand of hair that had come free of her bonnet. “One day he found a ring he was certain was gold. He took it to one pawn shop and jeweler after another, but they wouldn't pay him what he thought they should. He wandered into a shop on the Strand, and the jeweler there knew worth when he saw it.”
“And so your father started his fortune,” Whit surmised.
“More than a fortune,” Ruby replied. “Mr. Dirnbaum the jeweler had just discharged two assistants in a row for theft. He wanted someone who would work hard and be grateful. He offered my father a position, and we moved from Wapping that very day. When Mr. Dirnbaum wished to retire, he left the business to my father, who has never failed to turn a profit since.”
“An amazing tale,” Whit said with a shake of his head in obvious admiration. “Your father should be proud of his accomplishments.”
“I'm the one who's proud of him,” Ruby said. “He made something of himself from humble beginnings. That's the sort of fellow who deserves praise.”
Too late she realized Whit might take that as an insult. Aristocrats did not have to make anything of themselves. They inherited their titles, their wealth and consequence.
And now she had to rely on this aristocrat to get them safely down out of the mountains.
She took a deep breath. “We should go.”
He eyed her. “Are you certain you don't want a little more time to rest?”
Did she look as peaked as she felt? Ruby straightened her spine. “No. I'm fine. Never fear, Whit. I won't stop until we're back at the Lodge. This is one lady you don't have to fret over.”
* * *
Whit bent as he made the final climb up the hill to Bellweather Hall, one hand back to pull Ruby with him. She was right. He didn't have to fret over her. But neither could he seem to leave her to her own devices. While her strength held him in awe, he could see she was tiring. At times, it seemed she could barely put one muddy foot in front of the other.
Yet she kept walking.
He stopped on the top of the hill, let her come up even with him. Thankfulness welled up inside him, found breath in his prayer.
Thank You for seeing us safely through, Lord.
She took one look at the vista ahead of them, and her face broke into a smile. “Oh, Whit!” she cried, pointing at the shine of the River Bell in the distance. “Look! We're nearly home!”
She fairly skipped along the hill, heading for the carriage road winding down from Bellweather Hall. Did she realize she'd called the Lodge home? He certainly thought of it that way. That Ruby might feel the same could only please him.
He caught up with her at the verge of the road, where she was attempting to wipe the mud off her boots on the grass.
“I thought I might remove a little now before it cakes even further on the road,” she explained. “It's all downhill from here, isn't it?”
“An easy walk,” he promised her. He nodded to the left. “We follow that curve into the trees, and then turn into the carriage drive for the Lodge.”
She drew in a breath as if even the air smelled sweeter here. Then she took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for seeing me safely home.”
Her grip was firm, but her fingers felt so small in hisâdelicate, precious. He inclined his head, finding his throat unaccountably tight. “It was only my duty as a gentleman.”
Ruby shook her head as if she refused to see him humble. “It was a necessity as a human being. I wasn't getting back any other way.”