“Oh,” she said, not masking her disappointment. “I hoped there might be some time after you finish with your men in the morning to show me that cave. If it exists.”
He smiled. Her subtle taunt proved effective persuasion. He was being ridiculous, making too much of this. It was only one more day. “Oh, it exists. I did promise to show you, didn’t I?”
She nodded, a smile hovering at the edge of her mouth. She knew she’d won—not that it had been much of a battle.
“We’ll need to go at low tide. Can you be ready in the morning? Morning to the rest of us, that is.”
She made a face. “Very funny. Just tell me what time.”
With Edward Bruce and Boyd leaving a few hours before dawn, he was going to be up most of the night anyway. “Sunrise?” He chuckled at her horrified expression. “If you don’t want to go …”
“I’ll be ready,” she grumbled.
Unable to resist, he dropped a soft kiss on her mouth and took his leave. “It will be worth it,” he promised.
“It had better be, at that ungodly hour.”
Chapter Seventeen
Ellie gazed around at the small underwater palace of rocks, glistening like polished ebony in the murky darkness. “It’s magnificent,” she said in hushed voice.
“I’m glad you approve,” Hawk said, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. “I trust it was worth the swim?”
Her mouth twisted, and she pushed a splash of water toward him with her hands. “Wretch. It was convenient of you to leave that part out.”
He shook his thick, wavy hair free of water and flashed her that unrepentant grin of his. “You didn’t ask.”
Ellie had experienced second thoughts—or rather third thoughts, she amended, recalling trying to force herself out of bed before dawn—when she realized they had to swim to the cave. Unlike the last time he’d coerced her into the water, it wasnota sunny and warm winter’s day.
They’d left shortly after dawn in a battered-up, old skiff borrowed from one of the local fishermen that was barely big enough to hold the two of them. Despite Hawk’s assurances, Ellie was surprised that the pile of warped, weathered boards could float.
The morning mist was thick and soupy as he rowed them a short distance around the northern tip of the island to a dark outcropping of rock that hid a small cove. He pulled the skiff onto the rocky beach, hiding it from view, and told her she could leave her clothes in the boat.
She’d balked at the idea of getting into that freezing water again but didn’t want to give him an excuse to take her back. This might be the last chance she had to be alone with him. If she was going to find out whether Meg was right, she had to do it now.
So she’d stripped down to her chemise—again—and followed him to what looked like a wall of jagged rocks, but turned out to hide an entrance to the cave.
It had been a little frightening diving into the unknown. But he’d held her hand as they plunged into the dark, icy water, leading her down about five feet through a narrow opening in the rock. When they emerged on the other side, she found herself in a shallow pool, gazing around at a magical oasis of rock. There was just enough light to make out the roughly oblong shape of the dark grotto.
He pulled her to her feet, and she was surprised to see that the water came only up to her chest.
“You can only swim in here at low tide,” he explained. “By this afternoon, the water will be up to the ceiling.”
With at least two feet of clearance above his head, she realized the cave must be over eight feet tall. It was amazing to think that the water would rise so high in a few hours.
She shivered. “I wouldn’t want to get caught in here.”
He led her over to a ledge in the rock that served as a natural bench. Circling his hands around her waist, he lifted her onto the rock, and then levered himself up after her. It was the first time he’d touched her all day and her body jumped at the contact. For a man who communicated as much with touch as he did with words, he seemed to be making an effort to keep his hands to himself.
After twisting some of the water from her hair, she tucked her feet under the edge of her wet chemise.
He raked his fingers through his hair and wiped some of the water from his face. “Are you cold?”
Her skin was prickled with goose bumps, but she was surprised to find that she wasn’t. It wasn’t exactly balmy, like the sauna, but it was at least twenty degrees warmer than outside. She shook her head. “It’s much warmer in here than it is in the water.”
“It’s the same most of the year round. I’m not really sure why.”
She noticed a slight echo to his voice and listened for any sounds from beyond the cave—the wind, the water crashing on the rock—but other than the dripping of water from the ceiling it was deathly silent. “It’s so quiet.”
