“And you did the same,” he went on. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dealing with a bullet, not just a cut. You acted on instinct, putting your life on the line, because no matter what has happened between us, we are still bound, you and I.”
She wanted to deny it but couldn’t. Not with the filaments of tension snapping and crackling between them and the truth thumping in her heart. Biting her lip, she changed the subject.
“Do you want the good or bad news first?” she asked.
The intensity didn’t leave Sebastian’s expression, but his mouth curved faintly.
“Bad,” he said.
“We are currently trapped in this cave. The entrance is completely blocked”—she gestured to the wall of rubble where the opening had been—“and it would take us days to dig ourselves out, if we had the proper equipment. Which we don’t. We are also so deep inside the cliff that we cannot hear the ocean, which means that no one will be able to hear us calling for help.”
He quirked a brow. “What is the good news?”
“We are alive and having this conversation.”
“Right.”
Amusement flickered in his gaze, and in the next second, he rose before she could warn him to take it easy. As if a man like him would ever take things easy. Covered in dust, battered and bruised, he was a warrior ready for another round. He looked steady enough on his feet, and when he reached a hand to help her up, she took it. Their gazes locked, his big hand engulfing hers, and despite the circumstances, she felt inexplicably safe. Sheltered by his touch, his presence, the connection between them that refused to break.
She jerked her hand free and walked away, ostensibly to assess their situation. She was aware of Sebastian’s gaze upon her as she paused by Tony Quinton’s body, now covered in a layer of fine dust. She thought of Gilbert, and her heart squeezed.
“Should we do something for Tony?” she said somberly.
“There is nothing we can do.” Sebastian’s tone was not cruel but matter-of-fact. “Let us focus our efforts on finding a way out, sweeting. We’ll come back for the body later.”
Nodding, Charlie went to look for an exit. She glimpsed a small object close to the pile of rocks and picked it up. Blowing off the dust, she saw it was a matchbox. The label had the words “Brompton’s Finest Lucifers” set within a decorative border of red and white, a drawing of a large tree in the background. Inside were five matchsticks.
She held up the box. “I didn’t see this on the ground when we entered, did you?”
Sebastian shook his head. “The attackers must have dropped it.”
“A potential clue, then.”
Pocketing it, she continued to poke around. As the bag atop the crate held foodstuffs, she shouldered the strap. She noted that the lantern next to it continued to burn.
“The flame is strong,” she said. “There is a supply of oxygen coming from somewhere.”
Sebastian was prowling along the perimeter of the cave. “First rule of smugglers: have more than one exit. There must be another way out.”
She grabbed the lantern, moving in the opposite direction. Her pulse quickened when the flame suddenly leapt. She held the lamp closer to the section of the wall, and the flame flared again.
“Over here.” She ran her fingers along the rocky surface, finding a seam. “There is air coming in through a crack.”
Sebastian joined her, moving his hands expertly over the surface. “It’s not a crack…it’s a concealed door. I’ve seen ones like this before. There is usually a hidden lever somewhere close…”
The nearby stalagmites caught Charlie’s attention, and she went to examine them. The formations had the smoothness of man-made plaster rather than the irregularity of nature’s hand. Probing her way down the widening column, she felt a loose section and pressed down. A squeal sounded from above, and she glanced up, seeing a pulley hidden in the rock. It turned, pulling the attached rope, and an instant later, the rock wall in front of Sebastian slid open to reveal another tunnel.
“Clever girl. You’ve located our exit.”
She told herself it was the prospect of escaping and not Sebastian’s approval that sparked a tingle of delight.
He took the lantern from her and said, “Let’s go.”
Inside the passage was another bag with a blanket peeping out the top, and Charlie scooped it up as she passed. The tunnel was narrower, the ground less smooth than the one leading to the cavern. In several places, Sebastian had to duck to avoid the stiletto-sharp outcroppings of rock. Professionally, she admired the supreme confidence with which he navigated the way. He hadn’t lied about being a cartographer.
You know me, Lottie, better than anyone.
An ember sparked, warming her chest. Her appreciation became a tad less professional as she observed the breadth of his shoulders beneath his linen shirt and the flexing of his taut, rounded buttocks.
