The sand was cool under her feet. Allison walked toward the water. The tide was low, the water black and still. What would it be like to walk through the mud flats into the water, her bare feet sinking into the cold, slippery muck? What would it be like to keep on moving into that cold blackness? Tears stung her eyes again and she collapsed onto the sand, let the tiny grains spill through her fingers.
There was a soft, animal sound behind her. She gasped, lifting her hand to her throat.
“Allison?” Brent’s voice lay like a warm tongue against her ear. He walked toward her, the shush of the sand under his feet strangely loud in the darkness. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”
She swallowed. “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not.” His hand didn’t leave her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
She bit her lip. “I told you, they’re old friends.”
He was silent.
She shivered. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that she looks more in love with him than I do.”
“The thought occurred to me.”
“So you came down here to rub it in.”
“No, Allison.” He sat down beside her on the sand and slid his hand under her hair to stroke the curve of her neck. “I came here to ask you to dance.”
“I can’t go back there,” she whispered.
“Yes, you can, love. In fact, you have to. It’s the only way to get past the pain.” His fingers caressed her neck, stroked down the small bones of her spine to the top of her dress.
Allison trembled and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I’ve been so blind. I feel like such a fool!”
“You’re not a fool, Allison. It can happen to anyone. It has happened to most of us, at one time or another.”
She looked at him. She could see his eyes shine in the moonlight.
“The day I watched Tracy push that little girl away, I thought I’d never forgive myself for loving her. I felt that I’d wasted four months of my life. I didn’t believe I’d ever have the courage to love anybody again.” He picked up her hand, cradling it in his large palm.
She stared at him. “But you danced with her tonight.”
He nodded again. “For the same reason you have to go back to the barn and face Martha and Cabot. To prove that no one has the power to destroy who you are.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Yes, you can.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be right there with you.”
She had to smile then. “Are you saying that all my problems will be solved if I dance with you?”
“Not exactly, but it’s a beginning.”
“All right,” she said, lifting her chin. “I’ll dance. As long as you promise not to abandon me for Tracy or Emily.”
He laughed gently. “You have nothing to worry about, love. Once I get my arms around you, your only problem will be getting away from me.”
He stood up and pulled her to her feet. Her heart was hammering rapidly, her face flushed with excitement. He led her up the hill, her hand captured tightly in his. It wasn’t until they reached the schoolhouse that she remembered her shoes.
“I dropped them in the grass by the beach.” She waved her free hand in the direction of the water.
“I hope this isn’t just a delaying tactic.” He gave her a playful nudge. “I ought to let you go in your bare feet. Or better yet, make you dance with me right here.”
He swept her into his arms and spun her around so quickly that she gave a little shriek and clung to him dizzily.
“Stop!” she gasped. “Let me go!”
But he was laughing out loud, spinning and dancing her across the wide lawn, making a huge circle around the school. If he heard her, he paid no attention, and she was forced to follow his lead to avoid collapsing against him. He was incredibly supple; his feet flew over the lawn and she found herself following him with a willowy ease that felt like the result of months of practice.
When he finally slowed to a stop, she was breathless and light-headed. He slipped both arms around her waist and pulled her firmly against him. His smile widened in the moonlight.
She had to force herself away from him.
“Relax,” he said, his arms tightening, pulling her closer.
“Please let me go,” she whispered. “We shouldn’t do this.” But her body had become strangely languid.
Brent’s hands stroked her back. “You’re right,” he murmured. “Maybe if you weren’t so incredibly beautiful in the moonlight, I’d be able to control myself.”
His mouth descended tenderly on hers, and the thrill of desire that went through her took her breath away. She moaned softly as he kissed her, pressing her even more tightly against him with insistent, loving hands. She felt herself melt against him, her brain swimming dizzily in the dark fire of passion.
When he pulled her down onto the grass, she pressed herself eagerly against him, running her hands up and down the long column of his spine. She felt his hard, muscular body through the soft fabric of her dress. His hand slid over her hips, down the curve of her leg, then back up to gently cup her breast.
She moaned again as his hand slipped under her skirt and caressed the sensitive skin of her thigh. She no longer had any will of her own; the only thing she wanted was to feel his body against hers, to surrender herself completely to the man who held her in his arms. When his fingers touched the zipper of her dress and inched it downward to her waist, she felt a shock of joy go through her. The cool night air touched her back, and Brent deftly undid the clasp on her bra. His sensitive fingers stroked her naked skin, drew the dress down from her shoulders, exposing her breasts. He caressed them with expert hands and bent to kiss them.
She arched her neck and breathed his name as if her whole body was one word.
He kissed her mouth again, a long, probing kiss, full of yearning passion. His fingers traveled the length of her arm and stroked her hand.
Suddenly he pulled away from her and sat up.
She gaped up at his hard jaw, his bent head. She saw him shudder all over, then get to his feet.
“I’ll go find your shoes.” His voice was gruff.
“Brent? What’s wrong? Wait!”
But he had disappeared around the side of the schoolhouse, and she was alone in the darkness.
For a moment she lay dazed and shivering on the grass. The sky above her was spangled with stars; a cool breeze ruffled the grass around her. Yet she had never felt more dejected and bewildered in her life. She wondered dully if Brent had been trifling with her all along. Perhaps all he had ever wanted was to prove that he could overwhelm her with passion. Perhaps he played with women like toys and she was just one in a long line of conquests. She shook her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. That wasn’t possible. The man who had held her in his arms only moments ago wasn’t a manipulator; he was the most principled man alive; she knew that in her heart.
She sat up slowly and slipped her dress back over her shoulders. As she reached back to zip the dress, her engagement ring made a scraping sound against the metal zipper. Her heart froze. Brent had touched her ring. That was why he’d pulled away from her. She remembered Isabel’s comments about Brent’s strange, old-fashioned code of honor. Touching her ring had reminded him of her engagement. He wasn’t going to let himself love her as long as she belonged to another man.
Angrily, she yanked the ring off her finger. All the wealth and prestige in the world didn’t matter if she wasn’t really in love with the man she married.
“Brent!” She got to her feet and started after him, racing as fast as she could through the cool grass. What if he’d gone home? Or back to the barn to dance with Tracy again? What if he would never see her again because of her blindness and stupidity? She tore around the side of the school and almost whooped with delight. Brent was climbing the hill toward her, her shoes in his hand.
She raced toward him, the ring clutched tightly in her hand. She would give it to him, tell h
im that he was right, that she didn’t love Cabot; she never had. She understood what she hadn’t before, that Brent was the only man she’d ever loved. He’d changed the meaning of love for her forever.
Chapter Twenty
Allison was close enough to see the hardness of Brent’s jaw when she heard a shout from the road at the top of the hill. She watched Brent turn.
The shout came again, urgent and forceful. “Brent? Is that you?” It was Abel’s voice, sharp with alarm.
He emerged from the shadow of the trees beyond the schoolhouse and came down the hill toward them, his stride tense and rapid.
“What is it?” Brent dropped Allison’s shoes at her feet and started running up the hill to meet his grandfather.
“There’s trouble, son. Bad trouble.”
Allison’s heart moved into her throat. She slipped into her shoes and hurried after Brent.
“. . . he’s been missing for a least two hours,” Abel was saying. “Which means he could be anywhere on the island. All we know is where he isn’t.”
Allison twisted her hands together to keep them from trembling. “Who is it? Is someone lost?”
“I’m afraid so.” Abel gave her a troubled frown. “Young Rick Flory.”
She gasped. “Ricky?”
Abel nodded. “Seems he’s gone off on one of his wild adventures. Not the first time it’s happened. But he’s never picked nighttime before. It’s going to make it wicked hard to find him.”
“Well, at least there’s a full moon and everyone on the island is searching for him,” Brent said.
“Yep. Most everybody, anyway.”
Brent’s eyes narrowed. “Someone’s not joining the search?”
Abel shrugged, glancing sideways at Allison. “No offense, miss, but that fiancé of yours has a lot to learn about priorities.”
Allison felt the blood drain from her face. “What do you mean? He was at the dance with the others. Didn’t somebody ask him?”
“Sure did. But he wouldn’t help. Said he’s not trained in rescue operations and he had stock reports to go over.” Abel shook his head. “Afraid his thinking is beyond me.”
“Come on,” Brent said quickly. “We’d better get moving. Who’s heading up the search—Pete?”
“Yep. Glad I found you. Pete says the Blue Lady’s the only boat with the lights to check out the shoreline.”
“Okay. Tell him I’ll start right away. As soon as I find a copilot to keep a lookout.”
Abel nodded and started jogging back to the road.
Allison put her hand on Brent’s arm. “Let me be your copilot.”
He frowned down at her. “You’re not familiar with the shoreline. Besides, we don’t know what we’ll find—or when. We could be out there all night and then some.”
“Please, Brent! This is important to me. Ricky—he’s a special kid. I couldn’t stand it if something happened and he . . . he . . .” Her throat clenched against the thought.
He searched her face with his eyes. “You’re really serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “I may not know the shoreline, but my eyes are as good as anyone else’s. Please let me go with you!”
He gave her a quick grin. “This is the first time I’ve ever heard you begging to be with me. Maybe things are looking up.” He grabbed her hand. “Okay, you’re hired. Let’s get going. We don’t have any time to waste.” He started running down the hill, pulling her along with him. It was all Allison could do to keep up with him. This was no romantic chase; it was a matter of life and death.
As soon as they were on board the Blue Lady, Brent started the engine, and its deep, powerful roar filled the night. He turned a switch, and a brilliant searchlight flooded the cove.
“Look,” he said, taking her hand and placing it on a cold metal lever. “This controls the direction of the spotlight. Aim it at the shore, and keep your eyes peeled.”
She shivered in Isabel’s lightweight sweater as the boat started its slow grind around the island. They were towing the painter this time; Brent had said they might need it; it followed the Blue Lady like a dark shadow. She could see people scattered along the shore, many of them carrying lanterns. She thought of Cabot going back to the cottage in the middle of this crisis, to work on his stock reports. Why would refuse to help in the rescue effort? A little boy was lost, and even Cabot knew the island could be a place of danger and death, despite its beauty.
She aimed the searchlight carefully, keeping it focused on the curve of shoreline just beyond the water’s edge.
“Tide’s coming in.” Brent came over to her, touched her back lightly. “You’re shivering.”
“I’m all right.”
He moved briefly to the pilothouse wall, returned. She felt something cover her shoulders and realized he had placed his jacket around her.
“Thanks.” She didn’t dare take her eyes off the circle of light.
“I don’t imagine he’s on this side of the island or they’d have found him by now.” Brent stared out over the water. “Still, I don’t dare skip anything.”
They rounded the curve of land by the schoolhouse beach. Allison’s eyes hurt with the strain of staring. Her mouth was dry, and her back ached because of the tension in her shoulders. It was hard to believe that only a short time ago she’d been sitting with Brent on the sand that was now flooded with brilliant light.
She felt his hand on her arm. “Warm now?”
She nodded. His hand moved up her arm to her shoulder, massaged it gently. “Relax. We’ll find him.” He turned back to the wheel, guiding the boat carefully through the dark water.
She stared out at the shore, praying that he was right. He had to be right. Nothing could happen to Ricky, not on this night, not when she’d finally made the decision to give Cabot back his ring.
The ring! She felt a balloon of fear rise inside her. It was gone! She’d been holding it in her hand, but it wasn’t there any longer. She must have dropped it somewhere. She groaned out loud.
“What is it? Did you see him?” Brent was instantly alert.
“No. It’s not that.” She bit her lip. “It’s the ring. I lost it.”
“Cabot’s ring?”
“Yes. I took it off. I must have dropped it.”
“You took it off?”
She nodded, but didn’t turn to him, didn’t dare take her eyes off the circle of light. Just as she opened her mouth to explain, his sudden shout cut her off.
“Look! There he is!”
Allison peered at the ragged jumble of rocks where he was pointing. All she could see were gray and black shadows and the white spray of the surf.
“Ricky?” Her breath tightened. “Where?”
“Look! There by the thunder hole. See—on that ledge there.” He placed his hand on the side of her face and turned her head slightly to the left.
She focused on the deep cut in the rocks that was the thunder hole. She remembered Isabel explaining how the sea carved out caverns in the rock. When the tide rose, powerful waves created a booming sound as the water hit the back wall of the cave. Her eyes traveled over the dark rock face, and finally she saw him: a tiny figure crouched on the narrow ledge directly over the surging channel of water that led into the cave.
“Oh my God!” She raised her hand to her mouth. She was trembling all over. “He’s going to fall, isn’t he?”
“We’ll get him out of there. Though, God knows, it won’t be easy.”
He jumped to the control panel and yanked the CB receiver out of its cradle. Allison kept the searchlight trained on Ricky while Brent barked orders into the CB. A moment later he had slowed the Blue Lady’s engines and was easing the boat closer to the shore.
“What are you going to do?” Allison’s voice was plaintive with worry.
“Go in there and get him. I’m taking the Lady as close as I dare, then I’ll row over in the painter. It’ll be a little while before the others can get there, and the tide’s coming in fast. If we don�
��t get him off that ledge in the next few minutes, then . . .” He didn’t finish his sentence.
As the boat drew closer to shore, Allison could make out Ricky’s form more clearly. He was hunched on a narrow lip of rock, clinging desperately to the wet granite face. With every surge of the surf below, a soaking spray covered him.
“He must be scared to death,” she murmured.
Brent cut the boat’s engines and, with a grunt, threw the heavy cement anchor overboard. He ran to the stern, reached over the gunwale to pull the painter against the side of the Blue Lady.
“What can I do?” Allison was shaking like a leaf. “I can’t just stay here and do nothing.”
“You won’t be doing nothing. I’m going to need the spot trained on Ricky the whole time.”
“Isn’t it dangerous, going in so close to the rocks in that little boat?” She frowned doubtfully at the painter.
He shrugged. “We don’t have a choice.” He jumped into the painter, untied its mooring rope, and picked up the oars. He was half standing as he rowed quickly away from the Blue Lady. Allison stared after him, dazed, until he called to her.
“The light, Allison!”
The boat was swinging slightly to the west, and the circle of light had moved away from Ricky. She ran to the searchlight and adjusted it so that it was focused once more on the thunder hole.
“That’s great!” Brent’s voice was reassuringly strong over the roar of the surf.
Allison shivered violently as she watched the little boat move closer and closer to the thunder hole. How could the painter survive the crashing waves? It would be dashed to pieces against the rocks!
She heard a high-pitched scream and looked at Ricky. His right foot had slipped off the rock ledge and he was dangling precariously over the foaming spray.
“Hold on!” she yelled, hoping that her voice carried over the sound of the water. “Don’t let go, Ricky!”
The boy struggled upward and finally managed to regain his foothold on the rock.
She saw Brent turn the painter toward a ridge of low rocks near the shore. A moment later he had scrambled out of the skiff and was climbing a granite outcropping. The painter lay on the swells until a huge wave came and lifted it high into the air. Allison watched in horror as it fell against the jagged rocks and splintered into a thousand pieces.
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