Cam yawned. Graham settled her against his side, pressed her face against his neck.
She whispered, her voice sleep slurred, “This is surely the strangest night of my life. I’m now an official half of a whole and I’m sleeping with a man.”
“Something even better, dearest one?” He kissed her ear. “I don’t snore.”
“How do you know if you’re asleep?”
Because Jayne told me.“Ah, well, a man knows these things, trust me.”
She was smiling when she fell into a lovely deep, satisfied sleep.
He woke her up with kisses and wicked hands just before dawn. And just before breakfast was delivered.
The next morning the grass was still springy and soft from the night’s hard rain, but the sun shined brightly, clouds danced in the sky and they heard the Channel waves spill onto the rocks, soft and rhythmic, like music.
They saw only an old man sitting on a rock with a fishing pole. He nodded to them. When they smiled and wished him good day, he looked at them more closely, and his mouth split into a big, toothless smile. “Happy marriage to you young’uns.”
An hour later, they walked through the back gardens of the hotel, past the trellised rose bushes not quite ready to bud, and along the east side where yew bushes grew thick and tall. They were swinging their clasped hands as they rounded the end of the hotel to come into the front entrance. They heard voices, laughter, saw several couples and children walking down the walkway toward the beach below. “Nearly there,” Graham said in her ear. He leaned down, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, and his eyes became an even more vivid blue, such wickedness and promise, and Cam whispered, “Oh yes.” Graham grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, nearly running, laughing.
Suddenly, one of the marble statues that stood proudly atop The Royal Hotel came crashing down, three feet behind them, and shattered against the stone walkway, loud as a cannon. Shards flew outward striking the walkway like bullets. Graham shoved Cam to the grass, threw himself on top of her, his hands over her head.
There was frozen silence. Then there were screams and shouts and running feet.
Graham reared up over her, his voice hoarse with fear. “Cam, tell me you’re all right.”
All right? She was lying on her back, Graham on his elbows above her, his face perfectly white. She’d heard the crash, but hadn’t realized—“I think so. What happened?”
“One of the roof statues fell and broke apart not far behind us.”
Yes, yes, she’d heard the thunderclap when the statue had struck the walkway. “Are you all right? Did any of the pieces hit you?”
“My coat is heavy so no parts of the statue hurt me.” He was still breathing hard, fear about what could have happened nearly stopped his heart. But they were all right and all because of sudden lust. If they hadn’t suddenly started hurrying, the statue would have struck them. His blood turned cold. It was close, too close.
People surrounded them, shocked voices filled the air, hands on his arms, his shoulder. Someone helped him to rise. Graham took Cam’s hand and pulled her up. He said a general thank you, but he was studying Cam’s face. He wiped some dirt and leaves from her hair. She was fine and after she ran her hands all over him, she was ready to believe he was as well.
Hotel staff and guests rushed out to see what had happened. Voices, so many voices. Then everyone was looking up at the hotel roof, at the line of three statues. So many voices wondering why the statue had crashed down, how lucky they’d been, and on and on it went.
Graham and Cam stood with them, staring at the hunks of marble scattered everywhere, even up to a stone bench near a prized bed of orchids. The statue head of the ancient Greek or Roman, who knew, had rolled to fetch up against a birchtree, the eyes looking directly at them. Cam swallowed. “I don’t understand. Why would the statue fall? It—it crashed right behind us.” She swallowed. “If you hadn’t grabbed my hand and we’d started running—”
“Yes, I know, but we’re all right. The statue was hollow but still heavy enough.”To smash us dead, but he didn’t say it, he didn’t have to.
Cam stared around at the wreckage and at all the people. It had been so close, too close. She heard a gentleman say, “How could the statue have fallen? Look at the others, they look like they wouldn’t move if a cannon hit them.”
Everyone agreed, but still, the statue had crashed down and nearly hit guests. Soon Mr. French joined the group.
Everyone watched as the resident repairman, burly, silent Mr. Woodrow, climbed to the roof.
It didn’t take long before he called down. “Looks be the statue jest fell over far as I can tell, near impossible. None of the four statues were bolted down, all standing free.”
Mr. French told them the statues made in Southampton by a very reputable firm and winched to the roof of the hotel had been built eight years before. Yes, it was deemed impossible for the heavy statues to fall even in the strongest hurricane winds sent to batter British shores from Europe.
But one statue did fall.
All the other statues were examined, all were firmly in place, but Graham knew, just as did everyone else, they would soon be bolted down.
Mr. French faced them once the crowd dispersed. He was wringing his hands, so appalled he couldn’t speak for a full minute. He insisted their stay be free. They did, however, have to pay for their meals in The Royal’s excellent restaurant.
There was endless questioning from both Nutworthy and Cilly, who, white-faced, kept hugging Cam close. She knewboth of them knew if they hadn’t suddenly starting running, if they’d simply continued their stroll, they’d be dead.
