A Risk Worth Taking (31 page)

“Oh, Griff.” She clung to him as he pulled her with him toward the opening.

By now the water swirled around his knees. He knew even if they made it out of the cave, they would play hell trying to get up the steep slope. The material of her skirts had soaked up enough water to make her gown weigh a ton. He was surprised she’d even made it this far.

“Keep moving, Anne. Don’t stop!”

“I’m tired, Griff.”

“I know. But keep moving.”

Griff knew she was struggling to keep up with him, her cumbersome skirts slowing her down. She lagged behind with every step and he tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her along. Her knees buckled once or twice, and she nearly fell, but he held her up as they made their way out of the cave and into the sunshine.

If they were lucky, they might make it to the spot where they could climb the slope. But the water was higher now, almost above their knees. They took a few more steps and she stumbled again, nearly going down.

“Wrap your arm around my neck and hold on.”

He picked her up in his arms and carried her. She held on tight as he made his way along the coast.

His chest burned as he sloshed through the rushing water. When they reached the path, he set her on her feet but still held on to her hand.

“Keep moving, Anne, and don’t let go of me. I’ll lead and you follow. But hold on to my hand!”

Water rushed around him and he felt a fear he’d prayed never to feel again. He knew how the rushing waves could suck you under. How the water could steal the air from your lungs. How it could kill. Destroy. Take away the people you loved. She would not be safe until they were out of the water.

Griff grabbed Anne’s hand and pulled her along with him. He didn’t give her a chance to stop.

Their progress was slow. The water lapped at their heels with each step up the steep slope. But finally they made it to dry ground. Each step was still a struggle, but now they could move away from the angry waves at a faster pace.

His chest burned. His legs were numb and trembled beneath him. She had to be twice as tired. Blood pounded inside his head from fear and exhaustion. He clasped his arm around her to drag her the final few steps, not taking the chance she might slip or fall behind. When he was almost to the top, Franklin reached out his hand and helped him the last few feet. Griff kept his grasp tight on her and pulled her up with him.

When they reached the top, Griff brought her up against him. He wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him. He never wanted to let her go.

His body trembled and his chest heaved, but he knew exertion was only partially responsible for his lack of air. He sank to his knees on the grassy knoll and looked down on the rushing waters below.

He feared he might be sick. Rushing to reach Anne was like when he’d lost Julia. Water was everywhere, rushing around their feet, pulling them under. Just like on the ship. The fear was the same, a mind-numbing, chilling fear.

He swiped his hand across his face and took another deep breath.
He could have lost her.

His stomach revolted again, the pressure in his chest growing increasingly more painful. He held her tighter. He wouldn’t let her go. He wouldn’t chance losing her.

“Griff,” she said, pushing against him. “I can’t breathe.”

He lessened his grasp and touched his fingers to her cheek. He needed to leave, to be far away from this place. “Franklin, have the men prepare to go. Let’s get out of here.”

Franklin issued the order and the men who were with them went to their horses.

Griff clasped his hand around hers and pulled her to her feet. Even though the sun shone bright from above, she shivered. Her clothes were soaked and cumbersome, the weight of her skirts now impossible to manage. She stumbled as he led her to the carriage. When Griff looked down at her, her face was pale and drawn.

He’d almost lost her.

She stumbled a second time, and he lifted her in his arms to carry her to the carriage. His muscles bunched when she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on to him. A heavy fist pelted him in his gut.

He could have lost her.

She was shivering now, both from fear and from the cold. He walked to the carriage where the lad Timothy stood. “There should be blankets in the back. Get them.”

Timothy ran around the carriage and brought back two blankets. Griff stepped inside with Anne, then wrapped both blankets around her. When he had her cocooned in the blankets, he sat with her in his arms.

She was exhausted. Her lips were blue, her cheeks lacked the slightest hint of pink, and deep, dark circles rimmed her eyes. But at least she was alive.

The relief he felt nearly overwhelmed him. He released his pent-up emotions the only way he knew—in anger. “What the hell did you think you were doing? You could have drowned!” his voice bellowed in raspy gasps. “Of all the bloody fool things to do!” He gulped hard to take in air. He couldn’t breathe. “I could have lost you.”

He pointed a trembling finger at her. “You will never, ever come here again. Do you hear me? Never!”

“I hear you,” she answered, then shivered again.

He cradled her in his arms as the carriage carried them home. Her eyes were closed and she lay her head against his chest.

“I thought the sea was going to take you,” he whispered. “I thought I was going to lose you, too.”

She answered him not with words, but by nestling closer to him and wrapping her arms around him.

“You’re safe now, Anne. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

“I know you won’t, Griff.” She breathed a deep sigh. “I know you won’t.”

His chest still burned from the fear that ran rampant through him. He could never let anything happen to her. He wouldn’t survive if it did.

He closed his eyes and rested his chin on the top of her head. He ignored the hot tears that streamed down his face.

He’d done exactly what he’d sworn he would never do—risked his heart.

H
e loved her.

Bloody hell and damnation. He’d done exactly what he’d sworn never to do. He’d risked it all. And yesterday he’d found out how quickly she could have been taken away from him.

Griff paced the floor in his study like a desperate animal. He’d been as surly as a bear with a hurt paw. But it was because he was so damned afraid. Why on earth had she done something so stupid and irresponsible as to sneak away from the house when she knew someone was out there? When she knew someone wanted to hurt her to get at him? Didn’t she know he couldn’t survive if he lost her? He’d never been so terrified in his life. And because he was so afraid, he’d taken it out on her.

He’d yelled and bellowed and threatened her within an inch of her life. Then he’d ignored her. He’d avoided her and tried to make her life a living hell because she’d terrified him so. To her credit, she weathered his tirades with as much bravery as he’d ever seen. He even thought he caught her smiling at him during one of his lectures. How could she be so calm? Didn’t she know how valiantly he was fighting to keep his feelings hidden?

Didn’t she know he couldn’t survive if he lost her, too?

He hadn’t been kind but had stormed about like a dark thundercloud. The more he had lectured, the more she tried to placate him, to involve him in some kind of conversation—idle prattle about Freddie’s antics when they were young, questions about the running of the estate, or a multitude of inquiries concerning his youth. He didn’t want her to be so perfect and understanding. And yet the more he fought to distance himself, the more he wanted her.

He told himself he’d gone to her last night because giving her a child was the only request she’d made of him. But that was a lie. The reason was he couldn’t stay away from her. He wanted her too desperately and needed to hold her close to him. And she welcomed him with open arms, satisfying his most base needs as well as something else he couldn’t explain.

Their lovemaking was all-consuming and frantic, each of them taking and giving with complete abandon. And this morning, when he left her, he knew it would be only a few hours before he’d want her again.

He fisted his hands tight. Damn, he wanted her now—wanted her like he’d never thought he’d want another woman after Julia.

He walked the length of the room, his nerves so on edge he couldn’t stand it. Nights were the worst. Darkness brought to life all the terrors he wanted to forget—the rushing water swirling at their feet, the panicked look on her face, the fear that almost took his breath when he thought she might drown. He paced the length of the room again. Damn! He had lived his worst nightmare. He needed a drink.

He stopped short and almost laughed. No. He needed his wife.

He braced his hands on either side of the curtained window and stared out into the darkness as if he might find the answers he searched for. He’d put her in the middle of one tragedy after another. He needed to figure out why Freddie had gone to such lengths to bequeath that seemingly worthless piece of land to Anne. What was so special that Freddie thought owning it would preserve their good name?

He needed to find Jack Hawkins and have this done.

He was scared—scared something would happen to her if he let her out of his sight. Or that something would happen to him, and he wouldn’t be able to protect her from a threat he wasn’t sure he understood.

He picked up the letter he’d received from London that afternoon and reread it. It was from Fitzhugh, informing him that Jack Hawkins had left London the same time he and Anne had. He’d given the excuse that he needed to settle some family matters.

That had been weeks ago. Griff knew now it was Jack Hawkins who’d been following him and who was out there, watching, waiting.

He looked around the room, praying a bottle would magically appear. All he wanted was one drink. Just one to settle his nerves and figure out answers to all his questions. Like why Hawkins hadn’t killed him already. Griff had given him plenty of opportunity. Why was he playing games with him?

He heard the clock strike midnight. He’d stayed away from her longer than usual, but tonight she’d seemed terribly quiet. Perhaps it would be best if he didn’t go to her at all. Perhaps she wouldn’t want him tonight.

He extinguished the lantern on his desk and walked across the room as if some unseen force controlled his movements. He couldn’t stay away from her. He just wanted to see her and hold her. Perhaps she would already be asleep. That didn’t matter. He would lie down beside her and hold her, because there was no place he’d rather be than at her side.

Griff made his way up the stairs and readied himself for bed. He washed, then slipped his arms through the sleeves in his robe and walked through the sitting room that separated Anne’s room from his. He quietly opened the door, in case she was sleeping.

He stepped inside and stopped short. The bed was empty, the covers pulled back as Martha would have left them, but the bed had not been slept in. Anne was not there.

Griff stepped closer, then saw her standing in the shadows, her head bowed, her arms wrapped around her middle.

“Anne?”

“Did you finish what you had to do?”

“Yes.” He took a step toward her but stopped when he saw her shoulders tense. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I see. Is something wrong?”

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. She took in a deep breath that trembled and when she spoke, her voice cracked. “Perhaps it would be best if you slept in your own bed tonight, Griff?”

“Are you feeling all right?”

“Fine. I’d just like to be alone.”

“And if I refuse?”

She stopped as if unable to find the strength to argue with him.

Griff worried even more when he saw her tighten her arms around her middle. He closed the gap that separated them.

He placed his hands on her shoulders to turn her around, but the minute he touched her, she stepped out of his grasp. “Anne? What’s wrong?”

Wetness pooled in her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks. He didn’t want to see her like this, couldn’t stand to think he was the cause of her unhappiness. The guilt he felt because he knew he’d been such an ass pelted him in the gut, sickening him. It wasn’t her fault he was too much of a coward to face his own fears.

He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her. Her cheek rested against his chest.

“We can’t make love tonight.” Her voice was hoarse.

“We don’t have to make love every night. We can wait until tomorrow night.”

“We can’t then, either. I have my monthly.” She hesitated. “I’m not carrying a child.”

Griff closed his eyes. He knew how desperate she’d been to conceive. He rubbed his hands over her back and arms. “It’s all right.”

“It’s not all right.”

A single tear trickled down her cheek. There was nothing he could do to take away her hurt. “There’s time, Anne. There will be a child eventually.”

She wrapped her arms around him tighter and buried her face in his chest. He loved the feel of her there.

Griff held her until the soft tears no longer fell, then tenderly kissed her forehead. “Come on,” he whispered in her ear. “Let me take you to bed.”