An iron sconce, bearing a burning torch, was attached to the stone wall.
Not dark and musty after all…
Illuminating the winding stairs, the flickering light immediately dispelled most of her fears. Even if she hadn’t needed to find her ‘patient’, she would have been intrigued.
She didn’t even mind when, after she’d descended a few steps, the heavy door closed behind her.
“Mr. Beckworth?” she called out. “Are you down here?”
Although she heard a few clanking sounds in the distance, that might have been footsteps, no one answered.
“Mr. Beckworth?” A few more steps and she was at the bottom.
Although the cellar felt a little damp, the air was surprisingly fresh. A handful of identical sconces lit the space evenly.
Tables lined most of the area, but an arched opening split one wall. If she was not mistaken, she could barely make out sounds of crashing waves in the distance.
She lifted her brows.
This was, in fact,Smuggler’sManor. Was this a secret tunnel to one of the coves?
Amelia shivered, not out of fear, but rather a tingling sort of excitement. She’d walked into Mr. Beckworth’s secret domain.
She’d come this far. She might as well see where the tunnel went.
“Mr. Beckworth?”
Not really expecting an answer this time, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a familiar weight landed on her shoulder.
“Amelia?” He gave her a little squeeze. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
With her heart still recovering, she slowly turned around.
If anything, the bruise on his face looked even worse today. His hair looked slightly more wild than usual and dark shadows were etched beneath his tired eyes, but other than that… “You aren’t in bed.” She pointed out the obvious.
“No.” He laughed. “I’m not in bed.”
His eyes, which had softened just a little, locked with hers.
They didn’t look right through her, nor did they mock her.
She imagined stitches tying the two of them together now, rather than two separate spools of thread.
Even as she experienced that connection, an overwhelming sense of belonging warmed her insides. It was impossible to remember ever being afraid of him. Not when she felt safer with him than anywhere else.
“You should be,” she finally managed, and then cleared her throat. “In bed, that is.”
He shook his head. “You came to my chamber. Last night. You were waiting for me.”
“Yes.” Amelia licked her lips. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”
“I doubt I’ll ever forget.”
Her heart, which had barely recovered from being startled, was racing again. She hadundressedhim. She hadtouched him all over.“You needed someone to help you.”
“I would have managed.” But then he tilted his head, an enigmatic look in his eyes. “But I’m glad it was you.”
Amelia swallowed hard. “Fanny told me you were up early. That you took breakfast in the dining room. Contrary to what you like to believe, you are flesh and blood like the rest of us. What were you thinking? Working as if nothing happened? Surely Mr. Fitzgerald can handle anything that comes up. Fannytold me about the accident.” Her voice faltered for a moment. “That you nearly drowned.” She gulped. “And I saw all those cuts and bruises. I was… worried.”
