Graham pulled her to a stop at the back of the second chamber. Cam didn’t understand. There was a wall there, damp, but solid and piles of rocks and boulders stacked up haphazardly in front of it, as if a giant had pushed them in with the tide and thrown them against the back cave wall. It was a dead end. There was no place to go. They were trapped. She felt fear and panic. She didn’t want them to drown, she—
But there was no panic in Graham’s voice. “I know what to do. We will be all right, Cam. Now, stay right there and be ready to grab my hand.”
She watched him numbly find handholds and footholds on the rocks, and he climbed. He knew what to do? But how was that possible? When Graham reached the top, his head was only inches from the cave ceiling. She watched him steady himself, watched him begin to pull rocks out of the wall and hurl them out into the roaring water. An opening gradually appeared. He called down to her, “Cam, start climbing, put your hands and feet exactly where I put mine.”
She didn’t question him now, whatever had happened, she knew they would survive. She tucked her skirts into her drawers and started up, the water splashing her legs, the tug of the water strong but she managed to grab the next rock up and pull herself up. The water was closer, closer, another couple of minutes and the cave would be filled. She slipped, knew she was going to fall, but Graham leaned down, grabbed her hand, then her wrist. “Find your footing again, yes, that’s good. Come to me.” She was right below him now. The water was tugging at her skirts. He said again, a blazing smile on his face, “Trust me.” And she did. Even though she knew the rocks would grow even more slippery when the water covered them, she felt calm and it filled her. She felt hope.
She stopped right below him. He said, “I didn’t tell Simon I’d found a way out of the cave, I don’t know why, but I guess I wanted it to be my secret.”
“You remember, don’t you, Graham?”
She saw a flash of a grin. “Yes, I remember, I remember everything.” Graham dug out one more rock, hurled it out into the water. “Now this is as big as I can make the opening. Beyond is another chamber, very small, but it gives onto a higher part of the beach that doesn’t flood completely because the tide runs back downhill. It’s a very short passageand we’re going to pull ourselves through. Cam, it’s narrow. As a boy I could make it through that hole, but now—Listen to me, Cam. If I can’t make it, well—”
Her heart was jiggering in her chest, the water tugging at her skirts, cold, numbing, but her voice was calm, “Graham, both of us are going to make it out of here. You go through first. I will follow. No, be quiet, you’re wasting time. The water is halfway up the rocks. Go!”
“No, Cam, you must—”
She looked him square in the face. “If you don’t go, we will drown together.”
CHAPTER 74
Graham knew that voice—Cam’s heels were not only dug in, she was digging in knowing her life was on the line. He put his arms over his head and stuck them in the passage, felt the opening to the next cave chamber with his fingertips. Not more than two feet long. He had only to work his body through two feet, but it was narrow, too narrow. He was a man, not a boy. He felt her hands pushing at his feet, his legs, his hips, as hard as she could, but there was no purchase, he wouldn’t get his shoulders through, it was no good—he had to squirm out and push her through, he had to—
“Graham, you can do it! Go!”
And then his fingers closed around roots, nice dug-in roots. He didn’t remember any roots. He didn’t doubt for a minute it was a miracle. He grasped them with his fingers and began to pull himself through. Cam’s hands were shoving him harder as she felt him move. He didn’t think he would make it, he couldn’t get through, they’d both drown—but then he gave a final tug on the roots, felt them pull free—no, no, too soon. But then his hips and legs slid through. He fell three feet, landed on the damp sand and rolled. He yelled, “Cam, stick your arms through, give me your hands.”
He pulled her through the passage. When she dropped, he caught her, held her close for a moment. Water was flowing through the passage now. She whispered against his neck, “You remembered. Thank God you remembered.”
“When I believed we would drown I suddenly saw Simon’s face, saw the fear, and I remember yelling at him to swim. We did, as hard as we ever had. It was some weeks later I came back and it was pure luck I discovered this small chamber beneath an overhang. The opening was small, but not as small as that damned passage. I saw the small opening at the back, up high, and realized it connected to the flooding chambers. I found I could dig out the rocks at the very top and squeeze through.”
“Why did you put the rocks back to cover the opening?”
“I stacked them up again because the next time Simon and I came to the cave I wanted to scare him when the tide came roaring in and then I would pull the rocks away and we’d go through the passage. I’d save him.” He laughed aloud, hugged her, kissed her hard. “Cam, I’m whole again. It’s amazing. Everything is in place, there are no more unknowns. I am Graham Desborough Hepburn, Viscount Whitestone and I will be twenty-five in November. Let’s not get any wetter. We have to find Simon. We have to stop his madness.”
The cave chamber was small, the opening narrow but not as narrow as the passage. They crawled out onto a rock-strewn beach thankfully on an upslope so the incoming tide reached only to their knees but still, the tide was vicious, powerful, and they had to slog their way up the beach over piles of rocks to even higher ground, Graham pulling her because her skirts were wet and heavy. They skirted more rocks and boulders. When they were finally above the high tide line, Graham stopped, both of them panting. He held her close against him to catch their breath. “Look just a bit to thesouth. The slope isn’t great, but it is enough. You can see the incoming tide is so powerful it covers most of the rocks. Only a few of the boulders are tall enough to escape being beneath the water at high tide. It’s called the Devil’s Fist. Look at the larger boulders pressed together, like fingers. There are many more boulders and piles of rocks on top of the cliff.”
Cam was shivering, but said, her voice vicious, “I’m ready. Let’s hurry.”
“There’s a path maybe twenty yards ahead, Simon had to go that way. We will stop him, Cam, we must. There’s no choice.”
But what will you do when you catch him, Graham? But she said nothing. His own brother—his half brother—but what did that matter when you were children together, played together, battled together, believed you were sons of Earl St. Lucy and yet his half brother had wanted him dead.
Three times he and Tally had tried to kill him. Had Tally taught Simon to hate and covet what his half brother had, and the boy had sold his soul to the devil? Was Simon innocent until Tally twisted him? Cam didn’t know, she didn’t think they’d ever know. She didn’t care.
They climbed the cliff trail to the top. Boulders were strewn everywhere, some close to the cliff edge as Graham had said. Why here, she wondered, and how long ago had the earth vomited them up?
Some twenty yards distant they saw Simon preparing to mount a chestnut stallion tethered to one of the boulders. He saw them. He stared at them, disbelieving, then raised his gun and fired. The bullet struck a boulder three feet in front of them.
Graham jerked Cam down behind a large boulder. He said, “That was a mistake. He shot without thinking and we’re too far away. He’s got only one more bullet.” Before Camcould stop him, Graham stood, shouted, “Four times you’ve failed to kill me, Simon. You’re nothing but a puling coward, afraid to come fight me, aren’t you?”
Simon shouted, “Damn you, how did you two escape? You should be dead, drowned!”
“I remember everything now, Simon. I remember being struck down. I remember being tied in the hold of a boat and wondering where you were, if you were dead, if our tutor was dead. I remember a man coming in and striking me on the head again and then he threw me into the Thames. I remember all of it, Simon, all of it.”
Hundreds of years of bone-deep pride rang out in his voice. “You will not win, Simon. You will not have what is mine.”
CHAPTER 75
