Page 2 of Blame It on the Earl (The Duke's Estates 3)

They went farther into the cave, much faster now that he was walking. His steps strengthened as they moved. The sandy floor rose a little. The water grew shallower. The crevice was narrowing. But Sarah could see that the small dryish patch at the end would not be enough to keep them from high tide.

“There,” the man said. Following his pointing finger, Sarah saw a ledge in the rock, well above her head. And also far above the tidemark on the cavern walls. “Up there,” he said. He bent, grunted with some discomfort, then laced his hands together, making a stirrup for her to step into.

Sarah put a hand to the rock and a foot in his hands. He flung her up, exclaiming in pain as he did so. She caught the ledge with both hands, boosted herself up, and rolled onto it. Fortunately it was several feet wide. She turned back at once to offer him a hand. He didn’t take it but clambered up the uneven rock on his own.

And then they were huddled on the cold stone as the tide rose higher below, filling the cave with surging water.

Sarah realized that they were trapped. The tide would grow higher for hours and hours. “Perhaps we should have tried to swim,” she said. “I didn’t think.”

“There are vicious currents all about here,” the man replied. “And rocks to be dashed upon in the sea. No one could swim that. You did right to choose this place.”

Sarah nodded. They were safe, she and a male stranger. Who could be anybody. Inappropriately, scandalously safe. From the sea.

“I should not have grabbed your hand,” her companion said. “I pulled you down. That was not chivalrous. I beg your pardon.”

Not the sort of thing a blackguard would say surely. “It was only natural,” said Sarah.

“But not honorable.”

Sarah shrugged. She certainly would have done the same. Anyone would, falling suddenly. It was automatic.

“You saved my life,” he said, his tone wondering. “How did you drag me so far?”

“The water took a good deal of your weight.”

“And tried to pull you out to sea.”

Sarah shuddered. “It was dreadful.”

“And you were heroic.”

The sun was shining directly into the cave now, illuminating the churning foam of the tide. The waves boomed in the mouth like thunder. Flying spray soaked the walls and ceiling. Soon the sun would go down and leave them in darkness. Sarah looked at the water hissing below her feet, irresistibly powerful. She didn’t feel heroic just now. What were they going to do?

Though it had been a warm summer day, it was cool in this crevice, and her clothes were soaked. Sarah began to shiver. She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “It will be hours until the tide is out again,” she said in a small voice.

“Yes.” Her companion was pressing one hand to his side. “I believe I have cracked a rib,” he said in a distant, almost scientific tone. “More than one perhaps.”

Sarah gazed at him. He was not a large man, but his frame was well muscled and his skin tanned from the outdoors. His hair was black, his eyes hazel under straight dark brows, his jaw square. He was, in fact, quite handsome, and his clothes and way of speaking suggested the gentleman. If you saw him in a ballroom, Sarah thought, you would hope he’d ask you to dance. But he probably wouldn’t.

He was looking back at her. Sarah knew he was seeing a short, somewhat rounded young woman with sandy hair that made her brows and eyelashes indistinct and a sprinkling of freckles. She had received compliments on the sparkle in her light-blue eyes, but she knew they weren’t sparkling now. Her bonnet was gone, though she didn’t remember that happening. Her hair had come loose in wet, pathetic straggles. It wasn’t fair. She was no raving beauty, but she could look so much better than a drowned rat.

“I am Kenver Pendrennon,” he said.

Sarah thought there was something familiar about that name, but she couldn’t think what. “Sarah Moran,” she answered. It was hardly a moment to consider the proprieties of introductions.

“Ah. You were visiting Tintagel?”

Were they really going to make conversation? “With my parents and their friends,” Sarah answered.

“I came alone. I often do. I love this place.”

“So do I. It has such an atmosphere of antiquity.”

“Exactly.”

The stream of sunlight dimmed, a cloud on the horizon perhaps and a foretaste of the darkness that was coming. A larger wave crashed in, throwing up a wider spray, and Sarah flinched. “The water won’t reach this ledge,” he said.

“No, we are above the tide line on the rocks.”

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