The Lightkeeper's Ball (19 page)

“Harrison?” she said.

His name on her lips was so intimate he couldn’t help but tighten his grip on her shoulder. “Does anything hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head, then winced. “My neck.”

“Can you show me?”

She reached up to touch the base of her skull. “Here.”

“May I?” he asked. She nodded and pressed his fingers on her neck at the hairline. “There’s no cut. Perhaps you bumped it. Can you move your neck?”

“Yes.” She rotated her neck. “Help me up.”

“I
 
.
 
.
 
. I didn’t check your limbs. I fear you may have broken a bone.”

She raised her head and reached toward him with her right hand. “I don’t think so. I’m just bruised and sore.”

He helped her sit. “Are you thirsty?”

“Very.”

He held the leather cap to her mouth and she drank what water was left. “Let me get you more,” he said.

“I’ll come with you. I want to wash the mud off.”

He helped her to her feet, but when she stepped onto her right foot, she cried out and fell against him. Cradling her against his chest, he supported her weight while she attempted to catch her balance. “Your ankle?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I fear I’ve sprained it.”

“May I check it?”

She leaned away from him and nodded. “I suppose we’d better know how severely it’s injured.”

He helped her to a fallen tree at the edge of the woods. She extended her leg and he unlaced her boot. “I’m not going to take it off unless I have to. We might not be able to get it back on, and you’ll need it if we expect to walk out of here.”

“Very well.” She bit her lip as he pressed on the flesh under the boot.

He detected no protrusion or dent that might be a broken bone, but he was no expert. If only a doctor were within walking distance. How was he going to get her out of here with a badly sprained ankle? Leaving her wasn’t an option either. Not when a mountain lion or bear could happen along at any time. Or a wolf pack. The shadows were already lengthening. The redwoods would accelerate how quickly darkness fell.

“Is it broken?” she asked.

He realized the silence had gone on too long. “I don’t believe so.” He laced her shoe again. “Let’s elevate your foot to alleviate the swelling.”

She bit her lip and maneuvered to the moss, and he lifted her leg to the tree. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll fetch you some water.” He jogged back to the stream and filled the cap again. What about food? He had a small pack filled with sandwiches, but the food would be gone in one meal. There was no use in trying to keep some for tomorrow either. It was egg salad and would be spoiled without being kept cool. The ice block his cook had packed with it was bound to have melted by now.

They had no tent, no sleeping bags, no supplies. The moment they moved away from the stream they would have no water either. Searchers wouldn’t have a trail to follow to this location. Their only hope was to walk out of here on their own two feet. When he returned with the water, he realized their situation was beginning to impress itself on her too. Her face was pale and her dark brows were drawn together.

“What happened? You said your plane was safe.”

“It almost seemed as though we were out of gas, but there should have been plenty for our trip. I don’t know for sure what happened. I shall investigate, though.”

“You don’t believe someone meant us harm, do you? After all, someone threw me off the boat.”

He frowned. “I hadn’t considered such a scheme.”

“Did anyone know you meant to take me up in the plane?”

He thought back to his day. His father was aware of his plans. And Eugene was too. “A few people. I suppose someone might have mentioned it in town. But I’m sure our accident had nothing to do with you.” He offered her another drink.

“We’re stranded here, are we not?” she asked after taking a gulp of water.

She was too smart to swallow a rationalization, but he shrugged and forced a smile. “Just until your ankle heals a bit. With some rest, we should be able to make our way out.”

“How far to the nearest town?”

“I haven’t calculated that yet. I have a rough idea where we are, but I need to get my maps out and decide on the best course of action.”

Her eyes widened enough for him to see the gold flecks in her dark brown eyes. She twisted a length of hair around her finger. “That means we shall be here overnight. Alone.”

“Indeed. But I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

She glanced away, and a flush stained her cheeks. “I didn’t doubt that for a moment. But people in town will talk.”

“They may not even realize we’re missing. I don’t expect Eugene to raise a hue and cry.”

“Goldia will,” Lady Devonworth said, her voice trembling. “It will be all over the national news. My mother will see it. My friends.”

“You can assure them nothing happened.”

“It’s not that easy,” she said. “My reputation shall be ruined.”

“Surely not!” Even as he protested, he knew how straitlaced New York society was. She would never again assume her previous social status so long as this hung over her head. “We can pray we are not newsworthy enough for the New York papers to pick this up.”

She nodded but her eyes were shadowed, and he knew he’d failed to convince her. And with good reason. One whisper of this in the San Francisco paper and it would be all over the nation. The honorable thing to do would be to offer to marry her. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Doing something so mad would only play into his father’s plans at a time when Harrison was determined to forge his own path.

He rose and went toward the woods. “I’m going to gather some evergreen branches. We need bedding. Tomorrow I’ll look for berries and anything else edible for breakfast. I have sandwiches for dinner. Then we’ll walk out of here first thing in the morning. With God’s blessing, we’ll reach a town by noon.”

“Let’s go tonight,” she said. “If you fetch me a stick, I believe I can walk.”

“I doubt you’re able,” he said. He stooped and grabbed a stout branch with a forked spot that he thought should hit her about right. Taking out his pocketknife, he whittled away the smaller branches on it and hacked it down to the right length. “Try that.”

After he helped her to her feet, she fitted the forked spot under her arm and tried to step forward. Her awkward limp only lasted two steps before she collapsed. “I can’t do it,” she said.

“You’ll be fine by morning,” he said, helping her back to her spot by the fallen tree. But as he walked into the woods to look for supplies, he sensed everything was about to change.

Birds chirped around her as though they hadn’t a care in the world. The throbbing in Olivia’s ankle hadn’t lessened, though it had been elevated for fifteen minutes. The forest seemed sinister, forbidding now that she was alone. The cool breeze through the redwoods made her shiver, and the mist that had begun to curl around the rough tree trunks and through the shrubs looked ominous. The picnic by the falls the other day marked the first time she’d ever been to the woods. Then, civilization was only a short walk away. Now, the wilderness pressed in on every side.

She strained to hear Harrison’s return.
Harrison
. Heat blossomed in her cheeks as she suddenly remembered calling out his name when she awakened from the crash. Such familiarity must have shocked him. And made him wonder why she would think of him that way. He might read more into it than she was ready to deal with.

A rustle came to her ears and she sat up. “Mr. Bennett, is that you?” Aware her voice quivered, she tipped her chin up and pressed her lips together. She would
not
be afraid. If there was one thing she detested, it was a shrieking woman.

Harrison emerged from the shadows with boughs of evergreens in his arms. “It’s just me. Were you frightened?”

The scent of pine enveloped her as he neared. “Not at all,” she said, putting frost into her tone.

“What happened to ‘Harrison’?” he asked, dropping the branches beside her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You called me Harrison when you woke up. Why so formal now? If we’re going to be spending all this time together, we might as well be friends enough to progress to first names.”

She brushed a leaf from her skirt. “I hardly think we are friends, Mr. Bennett. Business acquaintances only.”

“I’ve rescued a kitten on your behalf, seen you weeping at my fiancée’s grave, and survived an aeroplane crash with you. We’re about to spend the night alone in the forest together. I think that elevates us above acquaintances. What
is
your first name anyway?”

Tell him
. She clamped her teeth against the words. With his inquisitive stare on her, she couldn’t think how to deny his request without appearing rude. “I prefer you call me Lady Devonworth,” she said.

The amused light in his eyes grew stronger. “Very well, Lady Devonworth, if you won’t tell me, I shall have to make up one.” He tipped his head to one side and regarded her. “With that dark hair and flashing brown eyes, you are a bit of a gypsy. I shall call you Esmeralda.”

She had to laugh. “You’ve read
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
?”

“Several times.”

“My mother thought it quite scandalous. She hates to catch me reading a novel.”

He grinned. “It’s going to be dark soon. I’ll arrange the branches, then fetch our dinner.”

His back was straight as the redwood beside her as he walked away. She hadn’t wanted to offend him, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. At least he’d made a joke of it.

The more the mist crept into their small camp, the more uneasy she became. It took him only a few minutes to arrange two beds of evergreen boughs and build a fire. There would be nothing to soften the prickle of the needles, and she planned to delay crawling into her bed for as long as possible. He left to scavenge the wreckage.

He returned with a wicker hamper. “Took me awhile to find it.” He placed it beside her.

She opened the lid and found some sandwiches, pickles, and carrots. “This looks like a feast even if it is all squashed,” she said to cover the way her tummy rumbled in a most unladylike way. She handed him some food and unwrapped her own sandwich from its covering of waxed paper. “It’s still cold.”

He settled beside her on the tree. “My cook knows how to pack a meal. I think there is cake in there too.”

She nibbled on her sandwich and eyed him. When had she begun to like him, even trust him a little? “Maybe we should save it for breakfast. I didn’t see any berries.” Breakfast. The word reminded her she’d be spending the night with this man. Shivers made their way up her spine. It wasn’t exactly
fear
she felt, but almost exhilaration.

When they got back to town, there would be repercussions. Her mother would ask what she thought she was doing to go off on a flight with this man. The society women would titter and talk behind their gloved hands. She could expect the invitations to balls and teas to dry up. The thought should fill her with horror, but she found she didn’t care in this moment with the dying light slanting across the strong planes of Harrison’s face. She watched his hands, so strong and capable, as he tossed his waxed paper into the hamper.

“I often have the oddest sensation that we’ve met before,” he said. “I’ve been to New York a time or two. My father has a house on Fifth Avenue. Have you met him? Claude Bennett?”

“Really, Mr. Bennett, we hardly run in the same circles,” she said.

“True,” he agreed, his tone mild. “There’s something about the way you laugh.” He gestured to the sky. “It’s getting dark. I suggest we turn in before we are unable to find our way. It’s cloudy. I suspect we’ll have very little moonlight.”

“Of course.” She glanced at the woods. How on earth could she tell him she needed to make a trip into the trees alone?

He rose. “I think I’ll take a little walk before bed. That way.” He indicated the woods on the other side of the clearing. “Feel free to go the opposite direction if you like. Just don’t get lost.”

She watched him disappear into the mist, then struggled to her feet and grabbed her stick. He’d be back soon, so she’d better hurry.