World of de Wolfe Pack: Bhrodi's Angel (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Meara Platt

  But what if it wasn’t?

  That middle cave would not flood, but he’d be forced to swim to land once he was out of it because all the rock footholds would be underwater.

  Did he know how to swim? She expected so. He would have given some indication if he didn’t. Perhaps cast a worried glance or asked her how high the water level rose. She shook her head to dismiss the notion. Bhrodi had no weaknesses. He made everything look easy, no matter how difficult the task was for others to accomplish.

  But these small worries continued to nag at her, until they suddenly gained in importance as a party of men rowed their vessel into the cove. She hadn’t noticed them until now because their boat had been hidden behind one of the jutting cliff faces. “Oh, no. Bhrodi.”

  They were rowing toward the very cave that Bhrodi had just entered and was now exploring.

  She scrambled off the outcropping before any of those blackguards noticed her. Where were Bigbury and Colliers? She had been ordered to wait for them, but that was before Bhrodi realized he would be in imminent danger. She dared not delay and wait for his men to arrive. But she could leave them a clue.

  Quickly smoothing an area of dirt with the palm of her hand, she drew a map to lead them to the cave by the back entrance hidden under Romeo and Juliet’s nest. She would take this route herself now. It was longer than the cliff trail, but there was no help for it. Those men in the boat would immediately spot anyone attempting to climb down the trail along the face of the cliff.

  She left the duke’s jacket behind.

  She didn’t need it and it would only hamper her. In any event, his men would see it and know they’d been there.

  However, she took the pistol he’d given her earlier.

  She’d never used one before.

  Could she kill a man?

  She wasn’t certain.

  Perhaps she could if it meant saving Bhrodi’s life.

  Yes, she’d kill a man for that.

  Chapter Six

  BHRODI ENTERED THE cave and was immediately swallowed in its tomb-like blackness. There had to be candles or a lantern close by, he realized, for every smuggler left a means of illumination near the entrance to his hideout.

  He quickly found the means – a single lantern – along with the matches to be used for it.

  Wasting no time, he moved behind a stack of boxes and then lit the precious source of light, careful to remain behind those boxes so that the orange glow it now cast would not be seen in the distance. That it was still daytime and the sun was high above the horizon helped to hide its brilliance. However, someone with sharp eyes would spot the light and know something was amiss.

  He had to move fast to find what he needed and get out of here.

  He knew how to operate swiftly and silently, but the cave had been carved from ancient storms and thousands of years of pounding waves. It was now shaped in such as way as to exaggerate all sound. His every footstep, his every breath, resounded off the dank cave walls. The boxes piled high ought to have muffled the sound, but did little to alleviate the noise.

  The cave was cool and its rock floor was covered in slime since sunlight never reached inside to burn away the moss and molds that grew at will within the crevices. The cave grew colder the deeper he went inside, until it was almost cold enough for his breath to mist when he inhaled and exhaled. He kept walking, following the sound of steadily rushing water that emanated from somewhere along the rear cave wall. No doubt a small waterfall that had developed over the years and would eventually collapse that wall.

  He glanced toward the entrance, listening carefully to the softly pounding waves that broke along the rocks below the mouth of the cave. The tide was coming in, which meant the rocks he’d used as stepping stones would soon be covered by the sea.

  He had to work fast.

  He searched for Lucinda first. Although he doubted that she had been abducted, there was always the chance she had been and was tied up here. But he found no sign of her, nor was there any sign that someone had been kept here. “Thank goodness,” he muttered, the sound of his voice immediately picked up and resounding off the rock walls.

  Next, he strode to the back of the cave and held up the lantern while he searched for the hidden entry that was covered by the bird’s nest. He lost a few more precious moments in finding it, but it was too important to overlook. He needed that back way out if the tide came in faster than expected or if the villains made an unexpected appearance.

  Now satisfied that he had located his route of escape, he began to crack open the wooden crates piled high against the back wall.

  “Bollocks,” he muttered, realizing there were crest markings on each crate. Three eagles. The emblem of the defeated Welsh princes. So this was more than a madman seeking revenge on him. This was confirmation that the Mongoose intended to lead an incipient Welsh rebellion against English rule.

  But who was the Mongoose? And who else in Pembroke was a part of his scheme?

  The de Courcy men and those strangers they’d brought to their council meeting? Did they have any local support? Or were they hoping to rouse the locals into a frenzy once their rebellion started?

  And what was their claim to authority?

  Was one of them a descendant of a king of Wales?

  He searched the boxes thoroughly. Some contained rifles. Others contained gunpowder. Others contained miscellaneous munitions and weaponry including crossbows. He used the butt of one of those rifles to break the springs on the crossbows. Why store the weaponry here and not closer to Caernarfon Castle? Were these traitors planning to invade the south of Wales by sea? But who was to help them? Napoleon had been defeated at Waterloo. The French were not going to invade. Nor were the Irish, although a mad Welshman could always gain the support of a few Irishmen who wished to cause mischief.

  Any invasion was doomed to fail. At best it would be a symbolic gesture.

  Of course, killing him, a blood descendant of the Serpent, would be the potent symbol they would need for all Welshmen to take notice. That’s why they were so doggedly after him. They had to kill him, for he was the current Duke of Pembroke. The defender of Wales. The Serpent who would strike down all usurpers of the Crown.

  He next moved to destroy their gunpowder. It was a simple enough matter to accomplish. He rolled several kegs filled with the black powder toward the back wall and placed them under the small waterfall. He popped off the lids and watched the water thoroughly soak through the powder.

  He grabbed more kegs and did the same.

  There were too many to finish the task before the tide rolled in.

  He left the rest, knowing he’d done enough for now. His message would be sent to the perpetrators.

  He started toward the mouth of the cave, but had taken no more than a step before he heard voices. Bollocks. What were these men doing here? It wasn’t anywhere near nightfall yet. Which meant they were afraid their plot had been uncovered and were scrambling to act now. Or perhaps they were making a hasty retreat?

  He doused his lantern, set it atop one of the boxes, and then moved silently toward the bird’s nest that hid the rear escape. The access out was more of a narrow tunnel that was covered by the nest. He reached up and grabbed onto the lip of the tunnel to pull himself through it. His shoulders were as broad as the circular hole and scraped along the rock edges as he forced his way upward.

  He paid no mind to the cuts and scratches he was receiving, more concerned that no loose pebbles fell and resounded through the cave to alert them of his presence. Carefully bracing himself along the tunnel walls, he made his toward the top, not daring to breathe until his palm touched twigs and other debris used to form the nest.

  He’d reached the top.

  He gave one more to push to topple the nest and hoist himself out.

  The sea breeze felt cool against his cheeks.

  The dazzling sun momentarily blinded him, but as his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw Prudence beside the nest. He held back a s
tream of curses, but she had to know what he was thinking, for his eyes were ablaze and he was furious. “I told you not–”

  “I had to warn you about those men.” She held his pistol in one hand and grabbed his hand with her free one. “Come this way. They’ll see the ray of light and realize there is another entrance to the cave. They’ll be through the tunnel at any moment.”

  “Prudence–”

  “Not now, Bhrodi. You can shout at me to your heart’s content later. You need to run. I can’t. My foot hurts too much. Don’t worry about me. I’ll hide behind one of the other nests. I’ll be all right.”

  He started to protest, but she cut him off. “They’re after you. Not me. They want the Serpent, not a dotty bird lady.”

  “Who also happens to be the magistrate’s daughter. You’d be a useful bargaining chip for them, assuming they don’t panic and simply kill you. I’m not leaving you behind. Who knows what those desperate fools might do to you?” He hauled her over his shoulder and took off as fast as he dared. They were still on the cliff, for the nest opening had merely let him out onto one of the many cliff ledges.

  The path off that ledge was a narrow trail with the thick cliff wall to one side and a sheer drop onto the rocks and pools of swirling water below on the other.

  The tide was now coming in.

  If they fell, and the waves flowed in at just the right time, they might survive the fall. But did Prudence know how to swim?

  “They’re coming through the tunnel,” Prudence warned. The fact that she was over his shoulder and facing backward allowed her to serve as a lookout. “Oh, no! They’re taking aim at us.”

  “I’m not worried about them. They’re too far away to hit us.” But he set her down and forced her behind him, purposely pinning her against the cliff wall as he sheltered her with his body. Where were Bigbury and Colliers? He could use them now.

  “If they’re too far away to hit us, then why are we stopping?” She grunted as he pressed his back against her to keep her from squirming away and providing a target for the blackguards coming at them from both sides now.

  He quickly looked around for any means of escape… short of jumping off this ledge into the water. The jump was still too dangerous to attempt. Any miscalculation on his part and they would hit the jagged rocks.

  They were trapped.

  The cliff face was too sheer to climb up.

  Armed men were approaching from the foot of the path he’d just run up.

  More armed men were approaching from the top of the path, cutting off their escape route. There was nowhere to run. Bollocks. They’d have to jump. “Can you swim, Prudence?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  Lord, the girl was always full of questions. “Because that’s what we’re going to do.”

  He fired off a shot and struck one of the men who’d just come up through the nest. Prudence gasped. “I thought you said their shots wouldn’t reach us. But yours hit–”

  “I lied.” He grabbed the pistol he’d given her and fired a shot in the other direction, striking one of the men at the top of the path. That bought them a precious few moments. He waited to the count of three, enough time for the tide to flow in.

  He grabbed Prudence’s hand. “Hold your breath. We’re going in the water,” he said just as more shots rang out. One tore along his ribs like wildfire, searing a line of flesh along his chest. But it somehow tore clean through and did not lodge in his body.

  “Bhrodi!”

  Had one of those shots struck Prudence? He didn’t care about himself, all he cared about was saving her. He held tightly onto her hand as they soared off the cliff ledge and hit the cold water with a splash that was lost among the breaking waves.

  They both went under and were held under by the crushing force of the ebbing waves. The tide had come in, the water now high enough to completely submerge the rocks that were immediately below their feet.

  He grabbed Prudence and drew her up protectively against his body. Even if she knew how to swim, she wouldn’t have the muscle to overcome the downward pull of the tide. He wasn’t certain that he had the strength either.

  He’d been shot.

  He couldn’t tell how bad the damage was, for his heart was pumping hard and his mind was racing with a battle fervor.

  He opened his eyes underwater, ignoring the salty burn of the sea to look around. He saw the tell-tale crimson streak of blood emanating from his chest, winding like a silk ribbon around his body and floating toward Prudence. He hoped the shock of cold water would help to stanch his blood loss, but he didn’t know how much he’d already lost or how much he would lose before the bleeding stopped, assuming it ever stopped.

  His chest still felt as though it had been set ablaze, the fire burning within him with a hot intensity that not even the cold sea water could completely douse.

  He refused to consider the possibility that he might bleed to death.

  He had to save Prudence first.

  Hugging her against him, he kept her wrapped in his arms as he kicked his legs and swam upward for air, needing only two solid thrusts to accomplish his goal. Their heads broke above the water line at the same time. He heard her soft gasps as she gulped in as much air as her lungs could manage.

  He did the same, and once he’d caught his breath enough to speak, he began asking questions. “Prudence, are you all right? Were you hit?” He didn’t think so, for he hadn’t noticed any streaks of crimson emanating from her body. “Did you break any bones when falling into the water?” He swept his hands along her body, over her every magnificent curve and limb.

  “I’m fine, Bhrodi. It’s you I’m worried about.” She touched his face, as though needing to make certain he was real and still breathing beside her.

  He was still running his hands along her body, for he felt the same need to make certain she was unharmed. To hell with all dukes and serpents and villains. To hell with keeping his heart so guarded that this precious girl had no idea how important she’d become to him. He silently vowed that he would touch her again once they were safely back at Pembroke Hall. But that touch would be hot and possessive as he claimed her for his own in the privacy of his bedchamber.

  If they ever made it that far.

  First, he had to keep them from drowning.

  He held onto Prudence as a powerful wave crashed over them, dragging both of them underwater once more and roughly tumbling them forward so that they hit the cliff’s rock face. He twisted his body so that he took the brunt of the impact. But he knew that he needed to get a handhold on that rock face before they tired and the next waves swept them out to sea.

  All it would take was another powerful wave to sweep them out too far and drown them.

  After several tries, he thrust his arm upward in one powerful stroke and finally managed to grab a solid hold on the rock. He ignored the fire that continued to burn in his chest, and lifted Prudence onto a narrow ledge carved out by the pounding waters. But he no longer had the strength to climb up himself. It didn’t matter. He only needed to hold on long enough for help to arrive.

  Where were Bigbury and Colliers?

  Would they know where to search? This little ledge could not be seen from the cliff path. While it would hamper their rescue, it was also to their advantage. He and Prudence might survive, assuming those villains decided to load the boxes onto their boat and escape instead of hunting them down. Surely, those men had to realize their plot was crumbling and they had to retreat before they were captured.

  “Bhrodi, let me help you up.” Prudence barely had breath left in her and was struggling to brace herself more steadily on the narrow ledge. But that didn’t stop her from reaching out to him and trying to pull him up beside her.

  “You can’t lift me. I’m too big.” His words were strained and every gasping breath he took sent a searing heat through his lungs.

  “But you were shot. You’re bleeding.”

  “I know, sweetheart.” Why had he called her that now? P
erhaps because his head was spinning and he was about to black out.

  She circled her arms around one of his and grabbed firm hold of his hand. “If you think I’m going to let you slip away from me, you’d better think again. I love you, Bhrodi. I love you with all my heart. I love you more than my precious birds. I love you even though you are a big, arrogant, stubborn, and thoroughly irritating, pigheaded oaf.”

  How had the word ‘love’ slipped in among that string of insults?

  “I’m going to propose to you again if we ever get out of here alive,” she continued, still ignoring the fact that dukes were supposed to do the proposing. But this was Prudence and she operated by her own set of rules. “No lunatic traitor is going to get in the way of that.”

  She was still talking, for her lips were moving. But Bhrodi’s head was now spinning and there was a painful hum in his ears that drowned out all sound. Another wave crashed over him and he did not have the strength left to fight against it. He was now underwater, surrounded by a pool of darkness, but Prudence still had hold of his arm.

  She dragged him back up and pressed her mouth firmly to his before he had the chance to catch his breath. Perhaps she thought he’d stopped breathing and was determined to breathe life back into him. Or was it a kiss?

  No, it wasn’t a proper kiss.

  He’d show her how to do it right once they were safely back at Pembroke Hall.

  He held onto that thought, for he no longer had the strength to control what was going on and he didn’t know what was happening to him. That hum was growing louder and an odd tingling sensation now coursed through his body. Perhaps it was from the feel of Prudence’s mouth on his. He loved the soft warmth of her lips against his.

  But this tingling sensation did not spring from his desire for Prudence. It represented something more ominous.

  Another wave crashed over him.

  Water swirled in a violent circle around him and he felt himself slip out of Prudence’s grasp once more.