Thunder and Roses (19 page)

Instantly he caught her and drew her back to safety. “I should have asked if you know how to swim.”

She shook her head. Recalling that he couldn’t see her, she said, “I’m afraid not.”

“Very well, we’ll try again more carefully.”

This time Nicholas placed both her hands around the prop and made sure that her grip was secure before he moved away. “The water comes about to my

chin,” he said, “and the current isn’t too bad. I think it’s time to leave. You, Miss Morgan, will have to ride on my back. I don’t want to lose you in the dark.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” she said. “Speaking of the dark, do you have flint and steel? Perhaps we can light a candle.”

“You still have yours? I lost my candles when the flood hit. Should have tied them tighter. Let me check my tinderbox.” More splashing as he located the box and raised it above the surface. After a moment he said regretfully, “Sorry, the tinder is soaked. A pity I’m not really Old Nick—if I was, I could light a candle by snapping my fingers.”

The water moved against her as he approached. “I’m backing up to you,” he explained. “Climb aboard.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, finding his muscular frame much more secure than the timber. He locked his left arm around her left leg, then started wading through the water, right arm held in front of him so he wouldn’t walk into a wall.

Clare said, “If I put my arm to the side,

I can keep track of the side wall.”
   

“Good idea—that should keep us on course.”

He moved with slow grace through the water, his hip muscles flexing voluptuously against her inner thighs. Abruptly she recalled a fragment of conversation she had overheard from two older women. One was a widow who had said bawdily that she was longing to feel a good man between her legs again. Clare had turned away from the vulgar comment, but now she better understood it. Though this was not what the widow had in mind, Nicholas’s movements were causing a thick, tense pleasure to form deep inside her. She wanted to roll her hips against him to soothe the ache at the juncture of her thighs.

Instead she buried her heated face against the back of his neck. After this indecent intimacy, how could they return to a safe relationship? But of course she hadn’t been safe since she had gone to Aberdare to win his cooperation.

As her thoughts churned, her fingers skimmed the right wall, feeling the roughness of worked stone punctuated by an occasional prop. Twice they passed open shafts.

Then she touched something different. Cool and

slick but yielding, with stubby bristles. Her hand trailed along and touched fabric. She gave a small shriek and jerked away.

“What’s wrong?” Nicholas said sharply.

Voice shaking, she said, “This … there’s a drowned man here.”

He stopped walking. “Is there a chance he’s still alive?”

Remembering the flaccid feel of the skin, she shuddered and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Probably the luckless
Bodvill
—something heavy struck me during the first burst of flooding, and it could have been a body. If he’s beyond help, we’ll have to leave him, Clare.”

His matter-of-fact tone helped her compose herself. Her worst fear had been that the body was Owen’s, but her friend was clean-shaven and this poor man wasn’t.

Nicholas began moving forward again. When a safe distance had been covered, she wiped her hand on her thigh—a meaningless gesture when she was almost completely submerged—and started skimming the wall again.

The shaft seemed endless, far longer than when they had had light. She was beginning to wonder if

they had somehow turned off the main tunnel when Nicholas stopped again. “Hang on. We’ve hit a dead end.” After a moment, he said, “No, the tunnel continues, but the ceiling drops below the waterline.”

Clare frowned, tried to remember. “We came through a section with a low roof. I don’t think it was very long. Do you remember? You would have had to duck your head.”

“To be honest, I wasn’t paying that much attention. All I remember is that sometimes I could walk upright and sometimes I couldn’t.” There was a frown in his voice. “I don’t want to take you under water without knowing how long this section is. Can you hold onto a timber while I
reconnoiter
?”

The last thing Clare wanted was to be alone in a flooded shaft with a floating corpse, but she said calmly, “There’s a prop about ten feet behind us. I’ll be fine there.”

He backed up until she was next to the prop. “Can you get a firm grip?”

“This timber is well-designed for holding,” she assured him.

He dropped a quick kiss on the forehead, then

said with mild chagrin, “Sorry, I forgot. Have I used up tomorrow’s kiss?”

“I think that under the circumstances, I won’t charge it to your account,” she said gravely.

“In that case …” His arms went around her and he kissed her again, on the mouth and at much greater length.

The embrace sent welcome warmth right down to her chilled toes. She tried to sound stern when he finally stepped away. “You are impertinent, Lord Aberdare.”

He chuckled. “Of course.” Then, no longer encumbered by a passenger, he swam to where the ceiling lowered.

Clare listened intently, following his actions by sound. He paused to draw a series of deep breaths, filling his lungs as much as possible. Then, with the quiet ripple of an otter sliding into a stream, he was gone.

The water around her immediately seemed ten degrees colder. Clare shivered as dreadful possibilities occurred to her. If they had strayed from the main shaft, Nicholas could be heading into unsuspected dangers. Firmly she told herself to stop worrying; the Demon Earl had already

proved that he could take care of himself, and her as well.

Nonetheless, it seemed like forever before he returned, gasping for breath when he broke the surface. When he could speak again, he swam toward Clare. “The tunnel slants up a bit, so the water is shallower on the other side. I think we can make it, but it will be uncomfortable —you’ll be pushed to the limit of your lung capacity. Will you trust me to get you through?”

“Of course—you need me to keep your household organized.” It was easy to joke when he was with her again.

He laughed and drew her through the water until they were at the end of the high-ceilinged section. “Breathe deeply several times and take hold of my left hand with both of yours. When you’re ready, squeeze twice.”

She followed his orders, locking her hands around his. When she
signaled
her readiness, he dived under the surface, towing her behind. He swam on his side, his legs making powerful scissor-like strokes below Clare. It was an effortless way to travel, but he had been right about the discomfort. Though she did trust him, as she ran out of air

she could feel panic rising. She wanted to flail wildly to the surface. Instead, as her heart pounded like a drum, she exhaled slowly.

When she couldn’t have lasted a second longer without gulping water into her burning lungs, he kicked upward and they broke into air. Again she clung to Nicholas while she struggled for breath. “Brave girl,” he murmured, stroking her back.

“Not brave,” she gasped. “And not a girl. What I am is a very cross spinster schoolmistress.”

He laughed and kissed her again. She had the right to stop him—he was already well over his limit—but she didn’t. His kisses gave her courage, and she needed all she could find. She would worry about her morals when they were safe above ground.

Desire throbbed through her, revitalizing her fatigued body. It took time to realize that the pulsing rhythm was not only inside her, but all around them, shivering through the stone and water. Lifting her head, she said with relief, “The pump is working again.” Cautiously she felt for the floor and found that she could stand and keep her face above water, though only just.

“Hallelujah. This calls for a celebratory kiss.” Again he drew her into his arms and sought her mouth with his.

Laughing, she pushed away from him. “Don’t you think of anything but kissing?”

“Occasionally,” he admitted, “but not by choice.” He caught her into his arms and lifted her so that their mouths were level.

Each time it was easier for her to melt into his kiss. Once again, she found herself floating in a heady mixture of water and desire. Paradise in a coal pit. …

Struggling for sense, she leaned back and said, “If we don’t stop this, the water will start boiling.”

“Clarissima!” he said with pleasure. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Fortunately he didn’t try to kiss her again, since her willpower was at a very low ebb. After setting her down, he put an arm around her shoulders and they went on.

They soon reached a wall, which gave a metallic rattle when Nicholas investigated with his free hand. “I think we’ve reached the door where Huw was trapper.”

The area seemed mercifully free of small drowned bodies. Nicholas ducked down and went through the submerged door, then called for Clare to follow.

When she came up on the other side, blinking, she was overjoyed to see approaching candles. Half a dozen men were splashing toward them through waist-deep water, Owen in the lead. He called, “Clare, Nicholas, is that you?”

“We’re both here and fine,” Nicholas answered as he helped Clare to her feet. “Did you get Huw out safely?”

“Aye, though it was a near thing. After swimming to a higher level, I had to take him up to grass. The poor mite was terrified of staying in the pit.”

“There’s a drowned man back in the shaft,” Clare said soberly. “Have there been any other casualties?”

“That would be
Bodvill
, rest his soul,” Owen said. “But no one else was killed or hurt badly. We are lucky.”

One of the other miners said, “We’ll go after
Bodvill
now.”

“He’s not far beyond the section where the ceiling is

lower,” Nicholas said.
               

The miner nodded, then led three of the other men toward the metal door. The water had been falling steadily, and it was now possible to take lighted candles through.

As Clare and the others began splashing toward the main gallery, Owen said, “Sorry it took so long to reach you. There’s a section ahead that was impassable until the pump was repaired.”

“No harm done, though I’ve spent more enjoyable afternoons,” Nicholas said dryly. “Is every day like this, or was the excitement arranged for my special benefit?”

Owen sighed. “I only wish that today was unusual.”

The accident would have one good outcome, Clare thought as she slogged wearily through the water. Now that Nicholas’s attention had been engaged, she was willing to wager that soon there would be changes at the mine.

11

 
Knowing how exhausted Clare was, Nicholas wrapped a firm arm around her as the creaking rope

lifted them to the surface. After carrying her through the flooded mine, he certainly didn’t want to lose her on the last leg of the trip. She leaned against him wearily, apparently glad for his support.

At the top, he swung over to solid ground, then helped Clare dismount. The wind was freezing through their soaked clothing.

Huw waited anxiously at the top. His expression lightened when he saw Owen, who had come up at the same time as Nicholas and Clare. “It’s glad I am that you’re safe, Mr. Morris. This is a wicked place.”