Page 66 of To Treasure an Heiress
She could die here. Because of her own stupidity, her own impulsive choices. Because she’d listened to that ever-alluring call for adventure.
And now what? How long would it take a local from St. Agnes to find her? It could be days, if the rain kept up. A week. She’d be dead by then.
And Mamm-wynn would just be sitting at home, staring out the window and worrying the edge of her shawl, that vague look Ollie had described in her eyes as she waited for Beth to come home.
“Don’t tarry too long or fly too far, little rosefinch.”When, when would she learn to heed her grandmother’s warnings?
She might not ever have the chance to heed them again. Nor to see Oliver smiling at her. She—heaven help her—she might not live to see her brother’s wedding. And what would that do to Ollie, to lose yet another sibling, another family member to what would look like a freak accident? At a time when he ought to be filled with nothing but joy?
It wasn’t fair to him, nor to Mamm-wynn.Please, God... She didn’t know if she was praying for her own salvation or for His mercy for their sakes. Both.
And Sheridan. Her eyes slid shut. What potential lay undiscoveredthere? She’d only just begun to appreciate his sense of humor. The joy he found in everything. Only just begun to crave his stories. What if she never saw him smile again or heard his laugh tangled up with hers? What if he never again got to offer one of his ridiculously flirtatious comments?
What if she never had the chance to kiss him?
Her fingers curled into the mud, nostrils flaring. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. It wouldn’t solve anything, and for all she knew it would make things worse—send her more quickly into shock or something. She had to think. There must be an answer. There was always an answer. She could get out of this.
Except this wasn’t a matter of being faster or hiding better than her friends. She wasn’t strong enough to lift this slab of granite, and that was all there was to it. Her only hope was in the Lord, that He would send someone to—
“Beth?”
For a second, she thought it must be her imagination, her own desperation making her hear one of the voices she most craved. Because there was no other reason for her brother to be calling for her.
“Beth!”
But Sheridan’s voice joined Ollie’s, and her heart galloped. “Here! Over here! Carefully—a granite slab has fallen on me and pinned me!”
Footsteps joined the pounding of the rain, and a minute later three faces, all equally horrified, appeared above her.
Her brother looked positively fierce. “We’ll get you out. We saw a camp. Perhaps there’s something there to help.”
“Scofield’s.” She reached a muddy, shaking hand as high as she could. “Be careful—I assume he’s gone with theNaiad, but he could circle back.”
Sheridan shook his head. “We saw the sails vanishing. He’s not here. But he was?” His brows crashed down, and the look of doubt slid down his face as ferociously as the rain, even as he eased himself carefully into the pit.
Oliver vanished again. “He must have something. I’ll be back directly.”
She let her hand fall. “I didn’t realize it until I’d come. I saw something in one of the letters this morning and wanted to see ... I was so close on St. Mary’s already, so ... I shouldn’t have come. I’m so sorry.” The tears she’d managed to hold off a minute ago clogged her throat now.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. The pressure in her chest just made her ribs ache and her limbs feel even weaker.
Sheridan crouched down in the mud beside her and took her muddy hand in his. “It’s all right.” It wasn’t, he surely knew it wasn’t. But still his voice soothed her like honey. “We’ll get you out of here. That is—Telly! What are you doing? Helping Oliver?”
The lack of response seemed answer enough. Sheridan offered a tight smile. “See there? Between the two of them, I daresay ... well, they’ll find something. And if they don’t, I’ll lever this off you myself, Atlas style. You’ll be very impressed. Begging me to give you a second chance, you know, when you see my inhuman strength.”
A laugh tangled up in her tears and choked her. “You’re so ridiculous.” And what she wouldn’t give for a few decades to listen to his absurdity. She held his hand as tightly as she could. “I don’t want to die here, Sheridan.”
“You won’t.” His face went as fierce as Oliver’s had been. “I swear it.” His attention then moved around the pit, no doubt taking in more in a glance than she could in an hour. “Tell me what happened. With Scofield.”
She did, briefly, though her teeth chattered a few times during the telling. Sheridan never let go of her hand, nor did he stop sending his gaze over every line of the place. No doubt taking in the stones, guessing at what each one’s placement meant to the Druids who carved them and set them here. Probably a burial site.
But not hers.Please, God.
When he reached over to the base of the slab that was pinningher, though, her panic ratcheted up again. “No! Don’t touch it, it could slip more!”
“I’m not. But...” He frowned and poked at something she couldn’t see. “He’d dug out around the base of this stone. No reason for him to have done that. I mean—well, unless hemeantfor it to fall.”
A trap? But how could he have known she’d even be back?
