Under Her Spell

by Isabella Ashe

  By the time she made it to the deserted beach, she was muddy up to her ankles and cold enough to consider turning back. But she couldn't bear the thought of Zach laughing at her and saying he'd warned her, so she pressed on.

  Dark, ominous clouds blocked out the sun. The waves hammering the shore were steel gray and capped with white foam. The sea rushed at her again and again, only to withdraw just before it could sweep her away.

  Bryony shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and walked north toward the promontory jutting out into the ocean. Despite the wind and driving rain, she was glad to be outside. With each step she took, she left Zach further behind. With each step, she was more convinced that she had done the right thing in salvaging her pride. She couldn't stand for Zach to look at her with pity in his eyes.

  And yet . . . it hurt, disavowing the most powerful emotion she'd ever experienced. It hurt to deny her love for him. When he left Cypress Point on Sunday, the pain would only grow worse.

  Bryony swept back the wet tendrils of hair that had escaped her braid. She wanted to cry, to scream, to throw a vase against the wall. Fortunately, there was no expensive crystal on hand at the moment. She'd have to settle for walking faster and faster until she managed to exhaust herself.

  When she looked up again, she was astonished to find that she'd already reached the promontory. It felt like she'd just left the house. She'd been lost in thought, not realizing how much ground she had covered. Now she would have to turn back, whether she was ready or not.

  "I won't," she muttered to herself. She still couldn't stand to face Zach. She didn't even want to be in the same house with him. Experimentally, she clambered up one of the smaller rocks at the base of the cliff. The rock was slick with rain, but she managed it. From her perch on top, she could see over the promontory to the tiny, protected beach on the other side.

  It was foolish to even think of crossing to the hidden beach. The tide was still low, but it would begin to turn very soon. The rocks were wet and treacherous, the tidepools full to overflowing. Bryony knew she should turn back. It was the sensible thing to do.

  But she didn't feel sensible today. She felt wild and reckless.

  With the rain on her face and the rocks rough under her hands, she pulled herself up the base of the promontory. She'd climbed it a thousand times, with Vivien and alone. There was no real danger, she told herself, as long as she watched the tide. Besides, the view was spectacular. She could see the gunmetal-gray waves pounding against the cliffs to the north. The brooding sky stretched out forever to the horizon. A lone seagull wheeled and cried out far above her.

  Bryony picked her way along the rocky path, avoiding the tidepools and grabbing hold of the tallest rocks for support. Keeping her balance took her full concentration. It was a relief to think of something other than the terrible mess she'd got herself into with Zach. Once or twice she slipped a little, and almost fell, but each time she was able to right herself again.

  When she reached the isolated beach at last, she settled beneath a rocky ledge with her back to the cliff. The wind was less fierce in this protected spot. The ledge sheltered her from most of the rain. It was so quiet here, so peaceful. Bryony relaxed at last, letting the tensions seep from her knotted muscles.

  She remembered a family picnic long ago, on a bright sunny spring day. While she and Vivien played at the water's edge, dribbling wet sand from their fists to create fairy-tale castles, their parents lay together on a blanket talking softly. Bryony could almost hear the echoes of her mother's bursts of joyful laughter punctuating the conversation. Every so often her father would lean over and kiss her mother gently on the mouth.

  Bryony clenched her fists, tears clouding her eyes. She blinked until the hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She had spent her life afraid that she would never love anyone the way her parents had loved each other. Now there was Zach, and she almost wished she'd never met him. She hadn't known love could be so painful. She pulled her knees against her chest and leaned her forehead against them.

  When Bryony looked up again, much later, she realized she must have dozed off. The waves were breaking almost at her feet. The tide was nearly in. Water pooled in the depressions near the rocky base of the promontory, blocking her escape. How long had she sat there on the hidden beach? Panic swelled in her throat. Her heart began to race. She scrambled up, cursing herself for being so stupid, so unforgivably careless.

  People got caught by the tide all the time, but they were usually tourists. They didn't know any better. Bryony had grown up in Cypress Point. She'd spend her life on the beach. There was no excuse for her lapse of judgment.

  She told herself to stay calm. All she had to do was climb back over the rocks before the sea could cover them. The tide was rising, but the surf wasn't crashing against the cliff just yet. There was still time.

  Seawater swirled about her ankles as she waded in. The water was breathtakingly cold. It rose to her knees, and then her thighs. The current tugged at her body. Bryony's heart thudded in her chest. She was a strong swimmer, but the storm had whipped the ocean into a frenzy. She reached the rocks and strained to pull herself up. The sea let her go with great reluctance.

  Soaked and shivering, she lay still for a moment to catch her breath. Then she rose slowly to her feet. She wasn't home yet.

  She worked her way toward safety, watching the advancing tide through the corner of her eye. Within minutes, she would be trapped. Yet she didn't dare move too quickly. If she slipped and fell on the impossibly slick rocks, it might be the last step she ever took.

  The strongest waves were reaching her now, sliding beneath her feet and dragging at the hem of her pants. She began to move a little faster, but her progress was agonizingly slow. Now the water covered her shoes and crept higher, toward her knees.

  When she was nearly across, she saw with a feeling of despair that a wide expanse of churning water cut her off from the safety of the beach. If she could time it just right, as the waves pulled back, she might get across without having to swim. But if she was too slow, and the sea caught her -- oh, God, she hardly dared think of it.

  She saw herself dragged out into the raging silver sea, struggling against the pull of the current. It would dash her against the rocks. She thought of how her parents had died. Would the sea claim her life too? A sob of despair tore at her throat. She didn't want to drown. Her life had barely begun. It couldn't end today, in the storm-tossed waters of the ocean she had always loved.

  Bryony pressed her lips together and gathered her courage. She wouldn't give up, not now when it counted. This was no time to think of death. She needed all of her energy to hold onto life.

  She took another step, pressing herself against the cliff wall, clutching at a protruding rock. Its rough surface scraped the skin from her palm. The rock came loose, and with a cry she felt herself falling. She scrabbled desperately for a hand hold and, just before she lost her balance, gratefully found one. But not before her foot caught in a water-covered crack and she twisted her ankle sharply.

  The pain made her gasp aloud. There was no time to nurse the injury. She tried to lift the twisted ankle and found, to her utter horror, that she could not. Her high-top sneaker was wedged firmly into the crack.

  With trembling hands, she bent to unlace the shoe and free her foot. Her numb fingers fumbled with the laces and managed to undo them. She tugged at her foot again. Agony flared through her ankle, but she ignored it and yanked again.

  It was no use. She couldn't get free. And the tide was rising.

  Zach frowned at the pile of papers in front of him on the mahogany table. Bryony still wasn't back. It was raining hard now. The wind roared through the trees near the house. He tried to concentrate on an article about an astrologer who advised presidents and movie stars, but it was no use. Again and again, he found himself listening for the sound of Bryony at the door.

  What was it about her? He kept seeing her serenely beautiful face glowing with passion as she la
y back against the very couch where he was sitting now. He'd never been with a more sensual, responsive woman. The wonder and tenderness in her eyes had aroused him more than he'd imagined possible.

  Even thinking about the night before made him curse himself. Never in his life had Zachary Callahan refused to make love to a beautiful, willing woman. He'd never imagined such a situation could present itself. All night he had tossed and turned, aching with his need for her.

  He'd analyzed the situation so many times his head ached from it. Half a dozen times, he had thought about going up to her room, knocking on the door, and telling her he'd changed his mind. As she'd reminded him, she was an adult capable of making up her own mind. If she'd decided she wanted him, he needn't hold himself back. Then, this morning, everything was different. Bryony was so cool, so distant. He'd been oddly disappointed to hear that she didn't love him after all.

  Zach sighed and checked his watch for the hundredth time. He knew Bryony would be annoyed if he came looking for her. She'd made that clear when he had offered to go along. He didn't blame her for wanting time alone. But he'd expected her back long ago. He couldn't sit and wait for one more minute.

  In the closet by the door, he found a yellow rain slicker close to his size, a coat that must have belonged to Bryony's father. Zach put it on and went out into the storm. He walked quickly down the path to the beach and glanced around. It was empty as far as he could see in both directions. The tide was high, almost to the bluffs.

  Maybe Bryony had gone into town instead. That made more sense in this weather. She was probably sitting at a cafe with a girlfriend this very moment, gossiping over hot coffee. Zach began to feel foolish for worrying. He turned to go back inside the house.

  Just then, a flash of red caught the corner of his eye. He turned back, squinting against the rain. There it was again, far to the north, at the base of the promontory. Zach grew cold with fear. Bryony had worn a red raincoat. If she was on the rocks, and the tide was high . . . .

  He began to run.

  She must not panic. Bryony's breath came so fast it rasped like sandpaper in her throat. There must be a way out. She used her fingers to probe the crack where her foot had wedged itself. It held her sneaker like a vise.

  Directly in front of her foot, the crack widened by a fraction of an inch. Bryony bent down and reached under her shoe's rubber sole. The waves came rushing in, covering her arm to the elbow and splashing her face. The salt water stung her eyes and mixed with her tears of terror as she tried to pry her foot out. It was no use. She was caught like a bear in the jaws of a steel trap.

  Time was running out, and Bryony knew it. If only she could inch her foot forward, just a little, she might hope to escape. She pushed, hard, ignoring the pain that flared red at the edge of her vision as she strained her twisted ankle. Nothing.

  She crouched down again, ignoring the gray water that soaked her clothes, and used her last ounce of strength to pound on the heel of her shoe. At last she felt something give and her foot slid forward a fraction of an inch. Was it far enough? She yanked desperately and felt her shoe come free. A harsh cry escaped from her throat. She moved forward, toward safety, and staggered badly as her weight landed on her injured foot. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to take the last few steps to the edge of the rocks.

  So close, and yet still so far to go. She stared down at the churning water ahead of her. She'd freed herself, finally, but the delay might still proved deadly. Bryony took a deep breath and struggled out of her raincoat. It would only weigh her down as she swam.

  Someone shouted her name. Bryony strained to see through the rain, her heart lifting a little. "Zach!" she yelled.

  He came running toward her, his face twisted with fear. "Are you all right?" he shouted up to her.

  "Yes; yes, I'm fine," Bryony called back. She had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. She wrapped her arms around herself, choking back the hysterical laughter that rose in her throat.

  Zach didn't stop when he reached the expanse of white-capped water stretching between them. He didn't even wait for the waves to recede. He plunged right in. Within a few seconds he was in over his head. Bryony held her breath as his dark hair disappeared beneath the water. Then he reappeared, swimming toward her, his muscular arms smoothly cutting the waves.

  Bryony couldn't wait helplessly for him to reach her. She slid down from her perch on the rocks to join him in the icy water. A powerful wave broke over her head and she breathed in a mouthful of salt water. She felt the current suck at her body, bearing her helplessly toward the ocean. She nearly gave in to her dismay. Then she shook it off and struck out with all her strength toward the shore.

  A moment later she felt Zach's arm around her waist, bearing her up. He helped her to the beach as if she were no burden at all. Bryony collapsed on the sand, gasping and coughing. "Are you all right?" Zach asked again.

  Bryony nodded, unable to speak. She looked up into his blazing eyes. "You scared me to death. Do you know that?" he asked, holding her hard by the shoulders.

  Before she could answer he folded her tightly in his arms and held her close against his chest. Bryony wrapped her own arms around his neck and shut her eyes. She was suddenly wonderfully, amazingly happy. Happy to be safe, happy that Zach cared so much, happy just to be alive.

  They didn't move until Bryony began to shake uncontrollably, half from the cold and half from the realization of how close a call she'd just had. "Let's get you inside and warm you up," Zach said. "Can you walk, or shall I carry you?"

  "I can walk," Bryony said. But when she stood, her legs buckled under her. Zach scooped her up without a word and bore her quickly down the beach with long, confident strides. She buried her face against his warm neck to stop her trembling.

  "We've got to get you to a doctor," he said. "You might have hypothermia."

  Bryony shook her head emphatically. "Please, no. I'll be fine after a hot shower and a cup of tea. If word got out about this, I'd never hear the end of it. I can't believe I was so careless."

  "I still think a doctor . . . ."

  "I can always call Vivien," Bryony said. She knew she couldn't bear the humiliation if the whole of Cypress Point knew she'd been caught by the tide.

  "I suppose that's all right." Zach tightened his grip around her torso, shifting her weight, and Bryony blushed to realize that one of his hands was pressed against the side of her breast. Either he didn't notice, or he was being unusually discreet by ignoring it.

  Since there was nothing else she could do, Bryony relaxed into Zach's arms. When they reached the house, Zach set her down for a moment to open the door. He caught her wincing as she tried to stand on her injured leg. "You're hurt," he said.

  "It's not broken. A mild sprain, at most. I can manage from here."

  "Lean on me," he said. It was a order, not an invitation. Bryony obeyed. Zach helped her up the stairs to her room. He marched into her bathroom and turned the shower on hot. Steam billowed through the room. "Take off your clothes."

  Bryony, balancing on one foot in the doorway, raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

  "Don't get modest on me now," he said. He pushed his soaking wet hair off his face with an impatient hand. "You have to get out of those damp clothes, unless you want to get sick. Or shall I undress you myself?" The commanding look in his eye told her it was not an idle threat.

  "That won't be necessary," she said, and began pulling her sodden sweater over her head to prove it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "I'm not leaving until I'm sure you're all right," Zach said, "but I won't watch."

  He turned away while Bryony stripped down and stepped gingerly into the steaming shower. If he peeked, she didn't catch him. She wrapped her arms protectively around her breasts anyway. After the previous night, she knew her shyness was silly. Still, her cheeks were flushed from more than the hot water.

  The shower felt wonderful after the wind and the icy seawater. Scalding needles penetrated
her skin, probing her tense muscles and melting away the chill. Wrapped in delicious warmth, Bryony began to relax. She rinsed the salt from her long hair and leaned back to let the water massage her face. Even her sore ankle felt better as she luxuriated under the pounding spray.

  With a guilty jolt, she realized that Zach was still in the room, his face turned politely away as he waited for her to finish. He was just as wet and cold as she was. Bryony stepped hurriedly out of the tub and groped for one of the thick burgundy towels hanging near the door. She wrapped it around herself and then tapped Zach on one muscular shoulder.

  "Your turn," she said. Unable to resist, she added with a giggle, "Better get out of those wet clothes. I swear I won't watch."

  Zach turned and gave her a slow, secret grin tinged with erotic promise. His eyes traveled slowly from her bare feet, up her long ivory legs to her exposed thighs. Bryony clutched the towel tighter around her breasts as he drank in the sight of her flushed, rosy skin and the creamy flesh spilling above the towel. "You can watch if you want to," he said. "I don't mind."

  Bryony gulped and lost her nerve. "Forget it," she said. "I'll just -- I'll be outside." She fled, closing the bathroom door behind her and cursing Zach for his uncanny ability to leave her flustered and abashed.

  Bryony slipped into a pair of green silk pajamas and buttoned the shirt all the way up. She towel-dried her hair and left it loose around her shoulders. Then she sank down at the edge of her bed to let it all sink in.

  So much had happened in the past hour. The beach, the treacherous tide, the rocks slick under her feet. The advancing waves -- so cold, so relentless. Then Zach, running down the beach calling her name. His arms around her, helping her to safety.

  She could barely believe she was sitting here now in her own dear, warm bedroom. The nightmare was over. Bryony shut her eyes and shuddered, thinking of what might have happened. The tears she'd fought so well during her narrow escape came surging up at last, dripping down her cheeks and making spots on the silk pajamas. She dashed them away with an angry gesture.