A Reckless Match

by Kate Bateman

  “This isn’t a mine, it’s a cave.”

  “Better safe than sorry.”

  He pulled a cylindrical brass lantern from a pannier on his saddle. The top section had a clear glass shade and a little pitched circular roof. He lit the wick on the burner inside and replaced the glass cover over the flame. “This is the very latest in mining technology—a new type of lamp designed by a chap named Stephenson. It doesn’t give out as much light as a candle, but it’s safer.”

  “Safer how?”

  “When you’re underground you have to be careful to watch for damps.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Damps?”

  “It’s what miners call the gases apart from air that can build up in pockets and potentially poison you. Or explode.” He gave a boyish grin, as if such a dangerous prospect delighted him. “Little sparks can’t ignite damps, but a naked flame, such as from a candle, can.”

  “Good Lord,” she breathed. “How do you know this?”

  “I know you think me a shameless dilettante, Miss Montgomery, but my father did actually insist that I learn about the Davies coal mines, since I would one day inherit them.”

  He passed the lantern to her, then lit another for himself and approached the hole through which she’d fallen. He peered downward. “And for all his faults, he did try to improve conditions for the workers. He provided all our men with these lanterns last year.”

  Maddie suppressed a shiver as she looked down into the yawning hole. The darkness did not seem inviting. Undeterred, Gryff started down the loose rock slope.

  “There are several kinds of damps, you know,” he continued cheerfully. “Firedamp is a potentially explosive mix of methane that collects in pockets in the coal seams. It can cause an explosion if it comes into contact with a naked flame. Such a thing happened three years ago at Felling mine, up near Newcastle. Ninety-three people died.”

  “How dreadful!”

  “Then there’s blackdamp.” His voice echoed strangely below her. “That’s a poisonous mixture of carbon dioxide and water vapor, with no oxygen in it at all. Makes it impossible to breathe.”

  Maddie’s own breath caught unpleasantly in her throat. The beast was just trying to scare her off, to make her change her mind about accompanying him. Well, she wouldn’t be so fainthearted. She forced herself to follow him down the jumble of stones, sliding a little in the loose scree.

  “Whitedamp, on the other hand,” he said as she reached the bottom, “is carbon monoxide mixed with other gases caused by combustion, and stinkdamp—”

  “Stinkdamp!” Maddie glared at him. “Now I know you’re making it up. There’s no such thing as stinkdamp.”

  “There really is,” he said, and in the half-light of the lanterns she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. “Stinkdamp smells of rotten eggs, thanks to its sulfurous elements.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What’s next? Blue-damp? Yellow-damp?”

  He ignored her mockery. “And of course, there’s the lethal afterdamp, which you get after an explosion of firedamp or coal dust.”

  “Of course,” she said, with faint sarcasm.

  He hefted his lantern higher. “That’s why we need these.”

  She gave a put-upon sigh. “Very well, no candles.”

  “It’s good to know you can see sense when it’s presented to you, Miss Montgomery.”

  “You make it sound as if I would argue with you just for the sake of disagreement.”

  His lips quirked. “Isn’t that what Montgomerys and Davieses do?”

  He strode away to inspect the far walls and she found herself hoping that the cave would only extend a few feet in either direction. Unfortunately, he made a sound of surprised delight. “Look at this! A tunnel. I knew it.”

  She sent a fearful glance into the darkness. “Wait. What if there’s bats? Or rats?”

  “Or cats, wearing hats?”

  She rolled her eyes at his childish teasing. “I’m beginning to think you took a blow to the head during battle.”

  “Several,” he agreed. He sauntered back to her and placed his lantern on a nearby rock. “But it’s not the bats or the rats you need to worry about. It’s the dreaded cravat snake.”

  “Cravat snake,” she echoed drily, amused despite herself. “Do tell.”

  “It’s a relative of the garter snake.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “The cravat snake is so called because it wraps itself around its victim’s neck, like a cravat.”

  Without warning, he stepped up close and wrapped his hands around her throat and Maddie suppressed a squeak of shock. His skin was warm and his hands were so big they encircled her neck with ease. His fingers tangled in the hair at her nape, while his thumbs gently caressed her chin.

  She swallowed, feeling the muscles of her throat contract beneath his touch. Her pulse fluttered beneath his palm; he must be able to feel it, but she strove for cool indifference.

  “Round and round it twists,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on where he touched her skin. His thumb traced a featherlight caress down the front of her throat, and Maddie suddenly knew exactly how the poor mouse felt as it was suffocated by a python. She couldn’t move, drained of all will.

  “And then it tightens. Slowly,” he whispered. “Until it steals its victim’s last breath.”

  She was already feeling faint, just from his nearness.

  He increased the pressure, just a tiny amount, and heat and dark confusion pooled in her blood. Her nipples tightened inside her bodice, and a strange heaviness gathered in the pit of her stomach. And lower still. She shivered, appalled by her reaction. Oh, he took a ghoulish delight in frightening her.

  “Stop it.” She batted his hands away, breaking the spell, and he released her, stepping back with a chuckle.

  “Fear not, Miss Montgomery. There are no cravat snakes in England. Or Wales. The worst thing you’ll encounter in these caves is me.”

  That’s what she was afraid of.

  He reclaimed his lantern and set off into the gloom. “Come along, boots.”

  “Boots?”

  “It’s an army term for the youngest, newest recruit in the regiment. A Johnny Newcombe.”

  Maddie frowned. The thought of having him as her superior officer, bossing her around day and night, was truly horrifying. She rummaged in her satchel, withdrew a stick of chalk she’d found in the schoolroom, and drew an arrow at waist height on the wall.

  He glanced back over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Marking our route so we don’t get lost. If the cave goes some distance, we can follow these back.”

  “Good idea. You could have brought a ball of string too, and unwound it.”

  “Like Theseus in the Minotaur’s labyrinth?”

  “Yes.” He sounded surprised that she’d caught the classical allusion and she sent him a serene smile. She’d had plenty of time to read while she was recuperating. She’d probably read more Homer than he had.

  “It was Ariadne’s idea. Most of those big strong Greek heroes needed a clever woman to help them out.”

  He sent her an amused look. “If you’re the brains of this expedition, cariad, we’re doomed. We’ll be down here forever.”

  She glared at his retreating back.

  The cave was, as he’d said, more like a tunnel. It rose at least ten feet above them and was almost the same distance wide. A horse and cart could have fit inside with ease. The floor seemed quite smooth—perhaps it had once been a riverbed? A few puddles glistened in the indentations of the rock; the faint sound of dripping could be heard ahead. Gryff was already some way ahead of her, and Maddie scurried after him, one hand extended to the wall, not wanting to be left alone in the darkness.

  “And to think I thought I’d be bored,” he said, when she caught up with him. “You don’t get this kind of thing in London.”

  “From what I hear, you found plenty of excitement in London. I heard you had to leave because of that duel with
Sommerville.”

  “That’s true enough.”

  She lifted her brows, hoping he’d elaborate, but he seemed determined to disappoint her. Irritating man.

  They’d ventured so far that the circle of light where she’d fallen through the roof was now scarcely visible behind them. She scraped a new chalk arrow on the wall as a cold blast of air from up ahead stirred the hair at her temples and she gave an involuntary shudder.

  Gryff glanced over at her. “Afraid of the dark?”

  “Not the dark, exactly. But you must admit, it’s not a very pleasant sensation, knowing you have several hundred tons of rock above you.”

  His lips quirked. “Having an entire French regiment bearing down on you isn’t a very pleasant sensation either, let me tell you. I’ll take rocks over bullets any day. Are you cold?”

  “A little.”

  His eyes turned wicked. “In the army they teach you to share body heat when it gets chilly.”

  A flush crept up her cheeks, and she thanked the heavens for the concealing darkness. She certainly wasn’t cold now. Just the thought of him being that close to her, of pressing his body to hers, was enough to make her burn.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  His amused chuckle, as if he knew precisely the effect he had on her, echoed around them.

  “I should have invited Harriet to come along,” she muttered.

  “Your cousin? She’s not in London?”

  “No. She’s here for the summer, as always.”

  Did Gryff not remember the numerous occasions he and his brothers had stumbled across them during the summer months? Maddie had always cursed their uncanny ability to predict where they would be—whether catching butterflies in the meadow, fishing in the stream, or searching for treasure in one of the abandoned castles that littered the countryside. She frowned. Had it always been purely coincidental? Or had they deliberately sought them out, just to make mischief?

  “Harriet’s a mapmaker now, you know,” she said. “She could have come and drawn these tunnels.”

  “I suspect underground mapping would be quite difficult. It’s hard to gauge distances without any points of reference. A compass might not even work down here.”

  “Why not? Isn’t the earth’s magnetic field the same wherever you are?”

  “It is. But there are iron deposits in the ground, which might lead to incorrect readings. Iron’s been mined here for centuries, just like coal. Gold too, in small amounts.”

  The roof of the tunnel had become lower and Maddie prayed that they’d reached the end, but Gryff just ducked down and carried on.

  “Low bit here. Watch your head.”

  Since she was almost a foot shorter than him, she didn’t even have to hunch. The warm glow from her lantern illuminated the broad expanse of his back and the tight curve of his rear. She really didn’t need to be noticing his rear. Especially not in a confined space like this. What was wrong with her?

  Maybe that lightning bolt really had addled her brain. The symptoms had just taken a few years to manifest.

  Chapter 8

  Maddie lifted her lantern, intrigued by the strange shadows cast on the walls as Gryff forged onward.

  “This is like starting at a new dig site,” she called after him. “So many exciting possibilities. What if we find King Arthur’s resting place? Legend says he held court only a few miles away from here, at Caerleon.”

  Gryff snorted. “We’re more likely to find dragons, asleep in an underground lake.” He glanced back and frowned at her look of confusion. “What? You don’t know the tale?”

  “No.”

  He shook his head in disgust. “That’s because you’re English. Every Welshman’s heard it from the cradle. Very well, I’ll tell you. There was once a warlord named Vortigern, who wanted to build a fortress at Dinas Emrys, to the north of here. His men would build the walls, but every morning when they came back to work they found they’d been destroyed. Merlin, the wizard, told him that two dragons—one white and one red, representing the English and the Welsh respectively—lived in a lake beneath the hill. It was their fighting that was destroying the towers. So Vortigern dug up the mountain, found the lake, and woke the dragons, who began to fight. The white dragon was defeated and fled, and the red dragon returned to his lake.”

  “Of course you’d remember a story where the Welsh beat the English,” she sniffed.

  “I doubt we’re going to find much down here, though. Not this far underground. If any ancient people used these caves for shelter, they’d have stayed near the entrance.”

  “Ah, but they might have hidden things down here. This would be an excellent place to leave valuables.”

  He sent her a look of mock horror. “Why, Miss Montgomery, you’re nothing but a treasure hunter. Like that chap Belzoni over in Egypt.”

  “That’s not true!”

  He lifted his brows in teasing disbelief and she bit her lip as a flash of guilt snaked through her. She had no claim to such moral outrage. Her digs might have started out with scholarly intent, but finding some miraculous hoard now would undeniably help her finances.

  “I won’t deny that it would be nice to find something of monetary value,” she clarified, “but that’s not my primary motivation.”

  Liar.

  “Of course it isn’t.” He stepped around a lumpy rock formation hanging from the ceiling. “You’re a Montgomery. You have plenty of money.”

  Her spirits plummeted, but pride kicked in and she pasted a cheerful smile on her face. “Exactly.”

  “I hear you’ve been digging the place up ever since I went away.”

  “This whole valley is littered with historic ruins. There are Roman remains at Caerleon, and ancient standing stones—Harold’s Stones—just outside Trellech. If I can find something significant, the whole area will benefit.”

  “How so?”

  “We’d become a spot for tourists, which would generate employment. There are scores of ex-soldiers returning home who can’t find work. It’s no wonder some of them have turned to smuggling and thievery to make ends meet. People already flock to see Tintern Abbey, just downriver. They’d visit here too if we had something worth seeing.”

  “They visit Tintern because Wordsworth wrote a poem about it,” Gryff said drily, “and because Turner immortalized it in paint. A picturesque ruin is far more interesting than a lumpy mound of earth.”

  She frowned at his broad back. “That’s why I’ve been looking for artifacts. Treasure, as you put it. People are always impressed by shiny baubles. We need a hoard of Roman jewelry, or an ancient burial site. I know they’re here.”

  “You’re looking for a needle in a haystack.” His hair glinted as he shook his head. “How can you—of all people—be so optimistic? You were hit by lightning, for goodness’ sake.”

  “That’s precisely why I am so optimistic. I’m living proof that unlikely events can happen. According to the doctors it was nothing short of a miracle.” Maddie smiled into the darkness. “To tell you the truth, I rather hoped I’d gain some magical powers, like being able to light a candle with my bare hands, or the sudden ability to play the piano, but nothing. Not even a spark.”

  “Oh, you have a spark, Miss Montgomery.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks at his teasing tone. “Hopefully not big enough to ignite one of those damps you were talking about.”

  He chuckled, a deep sound that echoed around the rocky walls and did strange things to her insides. “It is a shame you didn’t retain any of that lightning energy. It would be very useful right now if you glowed in the dark.”

  “I probably wouldn’t be able to touch anyone. Think how awkward it would be if everyone I shook hands with received a shock.”

  Like the one she’d received when he’d kissed her.

  No, she wasn’t thinking of that. She certainly hadn’t spent an inordinate amount of time replaying it in her head last night.

  Liar.

  He sidestepped a
nother lumpy outcrop. “Do you remember what happened? When you were hit?”

  “I wasn’t struck directly. At least, I don’t think so. I was out at a dig site, in the middle of a field. The sky was clear and I didn’t hear thunder or see any lightning. The men I’d hired had gone home and I was about to leave myself, so I stuck my spade into the ground and started to walk away. I was about six feet from the spade when there was a blinding flash and a tremendous crash of thunder.

  “I think the lightning struck the spade handle. I must have lost consciousness for a while, because when I woke, I was lying flat on the ground. My heart was pounding and I had a dreadful ringing in my ears and a burning sensation in my arm. Thankfully, Sir Galahad hadn’t bolted, so I managed to ride home.

  “I felt sore all over, and when I removed my clothes there was a strange pattern of burns coming up on my skin. All down my arm, and over my ribs, were marks that looked like swirling ferns or streaks of lightning.

  “Father sent for Doctor Williams. He was fascinated; he’d never encountered anyone who’d suffered a lightning strike before.” She snorted with wry amusement. “He began taking copious notes and drawings; I’m sure he was imagining the paper he would present to the Royal College of Physicians.”

  “You laugh now,” Gryff said, his voice oddly serious, “but it must have hurt at the time.”

  “Like the devil,” she agreed. “The red marks turned into raised blisters that took weeks to heal, and the redness didn’t fade for months. Even now, years later, you can still see them. I don’t think they’re ever going to disappear completely. I have such fair skin, you see.”

  “Do they still give you grief?”

  “Occasionally I get an intense pain that shoots up and down my arm, but it never lasts for more than a few minutes. And really, it could have been far worse. I’m just thankful it didn’t scramble my brain.”

  “It was pretty scrambled before, as I recall,” he grunted. “You were always getting into some scrape or another.”

  Maddie scored another chalk arrow on the wall. “No thanks to you and your brothers.”