The Taming of a Scottish Princess

  “I don’t know.” He looked grimly out at the crashing waves. “We’d never make it if we tried to swim.”

  “No. And this walkway will be underwater soon.” She frowned. “Someone cut the line on that boat to delay us. They know we now have the final key to finding the amulet, and they’re trying to slow us down so they can get to it first.”

  His jaw tightened, but a wave crashing at his feet made him say, “Forget the damn amulet for now. We’ve got to return to the cave or we’ll be in a great deal of trouble.”

  He was right. She ducked back into the cave, and they made their way back to the cavern and climbed the low ledge that surrounded the pool.

  “What will we do?” Jane asked. “We can’t just sit here and wait for the next low tide. We’ve looked too long for that amulet to just sit meekly by while some fool snatches it from beneath our noses.”

  “I agree. We must find a way out of here.” He began to look around the cave, examining every nook and cranny in reach.

  Jane watched him a second, her gaze drifting upward to where the largest break in the ceiling gave a tantalizing glimpse of the blue sky. “We could fit through that opening if we could just get there.”

  Michael’s gaze followed hers. “So how do we get there?”

  “We’ll have to climb.” Her gaze narrowed. “There must be a way . . .”

  Michael glanced at the half-filled entrance tunnel, his jaw tightening. “Damn it. We don’t have a choice; we have to go up. I hope we can reach that opening. I’ve no desire to spend the next six hours perched on a cave ledge.”

  “If we could cross from that ledge to that outcropping there”—she pointed—“then we could reach the opening.”

  “That’s a huge gap, but we can try.”

  The water swirled faster now, the roar of the rising tide growing louder by the second. The icy claw of the surf was already lapping hungrily at their feet.

  “Let’s go,” Jane said. Since she knew the way, she tied her skirts to one side and climbed, Michael following.

  Her boots were soaked through, and her toes numb with cold, so she moved slower than when she’d climbed the first time. Her hands ached with cold, and several times when her wet boots slipped on the rock wall, she banged her knees painfully.

  Each time, she felt Michael’s warm hand closing over her elbow, or steadying her with a firm pressure on her back, helping her up, urging her on. She was halfway up when she glanced back and saw the water only a few inches below Michael’s feet. Startled, she met Michael’s gaze before she glanced at the tunnel opening. It was completely underwater, the water churning furiously as it rushed forward.

  Jane ignored her cut and bruised hands and scrambled for all she was worth. Finally, they reached the ledge. The water chased after them, reaching its zenith to swirl menacingly inches below.

  Michael eyed their destination, a small outcropping directly beneath the opening.

  Jane tried to measure the distance, her stomach clenched as she did so. The ledge was at least ten feet away. She’d never make it in her damp skirts. “It’s too far.”

  He sent her an amused look. “Now’s not a good time to decide that.”

  “It looked closer when we were below, but now that we’re here—” She shook her head before she looked up at him. “But you could make it.”

  “Nonsense. We can both do it; I’m sure of it.” His calm blue gaze met hers. “I’ll go first.”

  “It’s too dangerous. The water’s swirling like a spout, and if I fell, it would drag me down and—”

  “That’s it. I’m declaring myself King of the Ledge.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “My first law as king is that all of this nay-saying gibberish must stop.”

  “Common sense is not gibberish. And if you can declare yourself king, than I can declare myself queen, and my first law is that all subjects will heed the commands of their queen and I command you to go on without me.”

  “Oh, I’m more than willing to name you my queen.” He shot her a smiling glance that warmed her icy skin with a flush. “Help me take off my coat. I want to be as unencumbered as possible for this leap.”

  Grumbling, she did as he bid, and when they were done, he took his spectacles from the pocket, tucked them into his breeches pocket, and then tossed the coat into the water.

  “Hurst! That’s a perfectly good coat!”

  “Yes, and I have a perfectly good life. One of those two things is not replaceable.” He inched along the ledge until he stood at the very end.

  Before she could say a word, he leapt.

  Jane’s heart froze as she watched him fly through the air, his long arms stretching forward. He landed short, as she’d known he must, his legs dangling into the water. He instantly began to slide down. The water churned white, as if seething to have him. Jane’s heart pounded so loudly she could hear it.

  Just as she thought he was lost for certain, he caught the edge of the ledge and clung furiously as the water pulled at his booted feet, striving to break his hold on the rock.

  “Hurst, don’t let go!” she yelled, encouraging, hoping and praying that he would keep his hold on the small ledge.

  After an agonizing moment, he began to claw his way up the outcropping, finally pulling himself upright.

  She pressed a hand to her chest, as if that alone could return her aching heart to normal. “You scared me to death!”

  He grinned and unknotted his neckcloth. He then wound the long piece of muslin about his wrist and made a large knot in the other end.

  “What’s that for?”

  “I’m going to throw this to you and you’ll jump. If you don’t make it—”

  “I’ll pull us both into the water. No. I—I’ll jump myself.” The words were far braver than she felt. The water swirled and roiled below like a living, breathing animal.

  “You won’t jump until you’ve caught the end of my cravat.”

  “Of course,” she murmured, no longer listening to him. She straightened her shoulders, took off her spectacles, and tucked them into her skirt pocket.

  “Hold while I tighten this now, and I’ll toss it to you.”

  She said a short prayer, and then with all of her strength launched herself toward the outcropping.

  As she flew, her gaze locked with Michael’s, a shocked look on his face, his knotted neckcloth in his hands. She didn’t reach the ledge but fell down, down, down, right into the icy water, the air leaving her lungs as she sank. She fought the water, pushing her head to the icy surface to gasp for air. But her skirts gulped in the weight of the water and began to pull her down again. No! She fought with her already tired legs, her aching chest, her exhausted arms. I will not give up.

  Something white fluttered above her and then dangled in front of her—Michael’s neckcloth. She grabbed it, digging her fingers into the knot.

  “Hold on, Jane,” he called, his voice sure and steady. “Just hold on. Please.” Slowly, he began to pull her toward him.

  Her skirts resisted, tugging and fighting. She wrapped her right hand more firmly about the knot and let go with her left.

  “Jane! Don’t let go!”

  She pulled her spectacles out of her pocket and held them in her mouth, and then reached for her skirt fastening, fumbling in the cold water, fighting against the current.

  The fastening suddenly gave, and her skirts broke free. She popped up from the water like a cork in a pond, and Michael’s makeshift rope swung her to the cave wall. She banged a knee, but found a foothold, and then a handhold. Hand over hand, fighting the shivering cold, she climbed to the ledge where Michael stood.

  Michael leaned over and grabbed the loose bodice of her chemise, hoisting her up as if she were made of air. He set her on the rock ledge and then wrapped her tightly in his arms, burying his face in her neck.

  With a hand that shook like a blancmange, Jane took her spectacles from between her teeth. “Th-that w-was c-cold.”

 
“You little fool! The next time we have to jump a ledge, remove those blasted skirts first.”

  Her teeth were chattering much too hard to answer, rattling like a bag of bones.

  He held her closer and rubbed her firmly, forcing the blood back into her skin and veins. “You’re colder than a grave.”

  She might have been, but he burned with his usual warmth, and she burrowed against him, stealing his heat like a thief. He held her to him and rubbed her long enough to still some of her trembling. “We must get you some warm clothes.”

  “And s-s-save the am-m-mulet.”

  “Warm clothes first.” Michael looked up at the crevice above their heads, and Jane followed his gaze. Through the crooked rocks, she could see the grayish sky now beckoning them forward.

  He looked down at her. “Though it goes against every inclination I possess, I fear I must release you if we’re to escape our predicament.”

  His voice rumbled through his chest and to hers, calming her despite the fear that shivered through her. “Of course.” She was rather proud that her voice trembled only the slightest bit. She rubbed her arms. “Sh-should we take that w-way—” She nodded to their left, where a few prominent handholds were visible.

  He released her to look at the route she’d suggested, and she instantly missed his warmth.

  “That looks like the best way.” He yanked his shirt over his head, revealing his powerful arms and shoulders and flat stomach, and then tossed the shirt to her. “Put that on. It’s wet, but it will cover your arms, which is better than nothing.”

  “You’ll b-b-be as c-c-cold as I am and—”

  “You can’t shiver when you climb or you’ll fall.” He untied the knot in his neckcloth and made a loop. His gaze met hers, warm and brilliant blue, shining with a glint of humor. “If you recognize this knot I just tied, it’s because it’s the same one I tied in that blasted starched cravat while we were in London shopping for a sponsor.”

  “Ah. It d-does look familiar. They s-say Brummel’s m-most famous knot was c-called the Waterfall. You should n-name this one.”

  “Oh, I have. I call it Jane’s Bacon Saver.” He slipped the loop over her wrist. “That, my love, is so that I can catch you if you should fall.”

  Already warmed by his shirt, she managed a grin. “I w-won’t fall. I refuse to d-die clad only in my chemise and b-boots. When I d-die, I shall b-be wearing silk and l-lace. I’m Q-Q-Queen of the Ledge, remember?”

  He chuckled and then folded the long sleeves back from her hands so that they were out of her way. “I shouldn’t be surprised to discover that you’ve planned your life down to the final second.”

  “What you should b-be hoping is that I haven’t p-planned your final seconds and that they involve a c-cave with a very c-cold tidal pool.”

  He cupped her cheek. “If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that you’d choose a far more spectacular way of doing away with me than a mere cave drowning.”

  “Tr-true.”

  His expression turned more somber and he slid his thumb over her cheek. “We’ve got to get you out of here before the cold overtakes you. Are you ready, sweetheart?”

  She nodded, swallowing the lump that seemed to have claimed her throat.

  “Good. As soon as I begin to climb, you follow. The cravat isn’t long enough to allow you to be far behind.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his breath warm on her skin as he said, “It’s going to be fine, Jane. I promise.”

  He couldn’t make that promise—not really. But his wanting to was enough. She managed a smile. “Let’s go!”

  He reluctantly released her and began to climb the wall, using the route they’d chosen. They inched their way up the slick rock, their hands grasping at every crack and crevice. Jane’s knuckles were bloodied and scraped by the time they were halfway up, her nails torn and broken.

  She banged her head into an outcropping of rock once, and gasped. Michael halted immediately, but she swallowed the pain and urged him onward. They kept going, on and on. Just as Jane’s tired arms protested that she couldn’t go any farther, Michael reached the opening. He grabbed the rocky ledge and pulled himself upward onto the grassy bank.

  The cravat tightened and tugged at Jane’s wrist, threatening to pull her off balance. She instantly undid the loop and let it go.

  Sitting in the blessed sunlight, Michael felt the cravat go slack. “Damn it,” he muttered. “Stubborn, intractable, foolhardy—”

  Her hand appeared over the edge, and he lunged for it, grasping her wrist and helping her from the crevice.

  In his eagerness to get her out of the cave, he overdid the pull and fell backward, Jane falling across him again.

  Her head lay on his chest, his hands tight about her wrists.

  They’d made it. She is safe. If she’d been injured— He couldn’t bear to think about that.

  He released her wrists and slipped his arms about her. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, j-just cold.”

  He held her tighter, rubbing her vigorously, rewarded when her shivers began to abate.

  After what seemed to be a ridiculously short amount of time, Jane rolled away from him and got to her feet. She was a mess, her hair fallen and wet, a leaf stuck in it, smudges on her nose and chin, and bloody scrapes on her knuckles and knees. His shirt hung to her knees, so big it looked more like a sheet with arms. Her boots were so wet that he could see water oozing from the leather.

  Jane caught his inspection and grimaced, placing a hand on her hair. “I need a comb.”

  What she really needs is my lips on hers. “We’ll be at the inn soon.”

  She turned toward the faint path and began to walk, Michael following. “We have a problem, Hurst. Whoever cut the line to our boat had to know we could get free as soon as the tide dropped.”

  He reached forward to move a wet branch from their path, holding it to one side until Jane passed. “And they are trying to slow us down.”

  “But not stop us or they’d have done something far more dire. That can only mean one thing: they’re after the amulet, too, and know enough that they only needed a little time to reach it first.” She looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed. “But if they knew about the amulet, then why didn’t this person—whoever he or she is—just get it before we arrived?”

  Michael thought it through. “Maybe they didn’t know what the clue in the cave meant until we came to Barra.”

  She came to such an abrupt halt that he almost ran into her. “So when we arrived looking for the amulet, the clue suddenly made sense.”

  “I think so, yes. I haven’t mentioned anything specific about our search to anyone, though.”

  She grimaced. “I have. I told both Jaimie and Lindsee. They’ve seen the carvings in the cave, too. But . . . Michael, they would never attempt to steal something. They’re not like that. But David . . .” Her eyes widened. “It was David. I know it was. He wants the amulet! He’s determined to steal everything of value that he can find on Barra. He said as much the last time we spoke. He thinks that anything found here belongs to him.”

  Michael considered this. “As much as I hate to say it, he’s right about one thing: if we find the amulet on Barra, then technically it may belong to the MacNeils.”

  She stopped and turned to him. “I’m a MacNeil, the highest-ranking one, and I say that if we find the amulet, then it will be returned to its original family, the Hursts.”

  He chuckled. “That’s kind of you, princess, but I believe your cousin and uncle might have something to say in that matter.”

  “Leave them to me. I won’t let David steal the Hurst Amulet—not when you’ve searched for it for so long.”

  “David might not consider it stealing; the amulet is an artifact, and it’s been hidden on Barra for centuries. Though I think of it as belonging to my family, someone could challenge it.”

  “It’s the Hurst Amulet,” she replied in an implacable tone. They reached the horses and she added, “W
e must hurry to that grave. There’s a chance we can catch David red-handed.”

  “Not if he went directly there after cutting our boat loose.”

  “But he thinks we’re stuck in the cave for several more hours, so in his mind, there’s no urgency.”

  “Amulet or not, we’re going to stop by the inn and get you into some dry clothing. I’ll not have you catch your death of the ague.”

  “We don’t have time to—”

  “It’s on the way. Besides, you’d cause a scandal traveling like that.” Before she could protest, he added, “Meanwhile, you’ll ride in front of me. You won’t be as conspicuous as you would be on your own horse.” He untied the horses, swung onto Ramses, and tied Alexandria’s reins to the back of his saddle.

  Then he held down a hand to Jane. “Hurry, Smythe. We’ve an amulet to find.”

  She slipped her hand into his, and soon they were galloping to the inn.

  CHAPTER 18

  From the diary of Michael Hurst:

  My sister Triona once asked why I pursued the amulet so single-mindedly, for its value isn’t one-tenth of the treasures I normally find in my travels. It’s really quite simple: the amulet was stolen from our family. I intend to rectify that wrong by returning it.

  Everything and everyone belongs somewhere, and the world is a better place when things are as—and where—they should be.

  Ammon was standing in front of the inn when they arrived, a saddled horse ready. On seeing them, the servant hurried forward, leading the horse. “Sir! Miss Jane! I—” He saw Jane’s attire and skidded to a halt, then quickly turned his back, his ears red.

  “We had an accident,” Michael said briskly, helping Jane down from the horse before he dismounted. “We were stuck in a cave and Miss Smythe-Haughton’s skirts nearly drowned her.”

  “I’m glad Miss Jane is well. There have been some incidents here, too. I was coming to fetch you.”

  “What happened?”

  “Someone stole the onyx boxes.”

  Jane, who was hurrying inside, paused. “When?”

  “A half hour ago, Mrs. Macpherson went to your bedchambers to put fresh water in the wash pitchers and she found your things strewn about. She came to find me, most upset. I went to set the rooms back in order and I noticed that the boxes were gone.”