as though she had been made specifically to lie within his arms, safe and secure. Then he put her from him with exemplary courtesy and for some reason Merryn’s heart tumbled into her soaking boots and she wanted to cry.
“I need to …” She paused delicately, unable to think of a way to express various urgent physical necessities to a man.
“I need to, too.” He sounded gentle and amused, easing her discomfort. “I will move a little away and turn my back. I undertake not to turn around.”
“Thank you.” Teeth chattering, cold, stiff and shaking, she hurried to do what she had to do.
“I hope you are not too hungry?” Garrick’s matter-of-fact tone as she rejoined him eased her embarrassment.
“I’m famished!” Merryn confessed.
Garrick laughed. “I am sorry that there is nothing we can do about that at present.” He held out a hand to her. “There is less danger of you falling if you hold on to me.”
After a second’s hesitation Merryn took his hand. It was warm, reassuring and slightly rough. She rubbed her fingers across his palm and felt the cuts and abrasions he must have suffered when the walls had first come down. She heard his sharp intake of breath and realized with a strange skip of the heart that it was a reaction to her touch. The thought made her feel confused, heady, powerful, a little in awe to be able to do such a thing to such a man with so small a gesture. For a moment she paused in the caress, then, unable to resist, stroked his palm again, aware this time of each tiny cut and chafe, sensitive to the tension she felt now in Garrick’s whole body and the way that the air between them seemed to shiver.
“Lady Merryn—” Garrick spoke very slowly, his tone was a warning.
“I’m sorry,” Merryn said, allowing her hand to lie limp as a frightened mouse in his.
Garrick sighed sharply and took a stronger grip on her, drawing her forward. She followed him carefully over piles of rubble that shifted disconcertingly beneath their feet, around fallen walls, under hanging beams. Garrick seemed very surefooted, stumbling only once and biting off whatever expressive oath had sprung to his lips. Merryn followed, her hand tight in his now, every sense she possessed aware of him, of the roughness of his palm against the softness of hers, the sound of his breathing.
“Where are we going?” she whispered, and he turned his head, so close that she felt his breath feather against her cheek.
“Toward the light.”
It sounded simple, but the light was elusive, skipping a little ahead of them all the time. Merryn caught her foot in the hem of her gown and almost fell again and Garrick went down on one knee and then she heard a ripping sound and the bottom twelve inches of her skirt and petticoats came away.
“What on earth are you doing?” she gasped.
“Preventing you from breaking a leg.”
“And for that you needed to … to disarrange my clothing?”
In the growing light she actually saw him grin. He straightened up. “Don’t tempt me,” he said.
Merryn looked up into his face. He was standing so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She felt her stomach swoop at the intimacy of it. She wondered if she would ever be free of the acute awareness she had for him.
For a long moment they stared at one another and then Merryn tugged on his hand. “Come along,” she said again, sharply, compensating for the warmth of her feelings with the chill of her tone. “Toward the light.”
She was not sure whether it was getting hotter in the darkness or whether she was starting to develop an ague. The gloom was disorienting now, with tiny pinpricks of light dancing before her eyes, tempting her on only to lead to deep pools of stagnant beer or piles of rubble that were impossible to traverse. Their progress was excruciatingly slow and when, finally, they were confronted by a blank wall with only the tiniest hint of light beyond, Merryn could have cried out of sheer frustration.
Garrick was kneeling on the floor; she heard the scrape and chink of metal on stone and then a strange, hot breath of stale air engulfed her.
“All these houses have open cellars beneath them,” Garrick said. “They lead on from one house to the next.” He straightened up, dusting his palms. “I need to go down and see if they are flooded. If not we have a good chance of getting out that way—”
“No!” Merryn was shocked by the terror that hit her as hard as a tidal wave. She grabbed him and shook him. “Don’t go!” she said. “It’s dangerous. You might drown—” Her voice broke on a sob. She realized that she was holding Garrick so tightly that the material of his coat was scoring her sore palms. She felt frightened, an inch away from losing all control. All she knew was that he could not leave her. With him she was stronger. Without him she felt lost. And if anything were to happen to him … She could not bear the thought of it.
And then his arms came about her and they felt like steel bands, so strong and firm, and his lips were pressed against her hair and she could hear his heart beating steadily against her ear.
“Merryn,” he said, “I have to go. It’s the only way we can get out of here—”
“No,” Merryn said. She burrowed closer into his arms. “You might be hurt—”
Garrick put a hand under her chin, forcing it up so that she was looking at him. Her heart was pattering like a trapped bird but she could still feel the steady beat of his against her hand and when he spoke, his voice was very calm, too.
“Nothing will happen to me,” he said. He bent his head. His lips were very close to hers. “I’ll come back for you,” he said. “I promise. I won’t leave you.”
I’ll never leave you …
The words trembled on the air between them.
Merryn prized her fingers from his jacket and took a step back. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He sounded fierce. The kiss he gave her was equally fierce, brief, forceful, setting her head spinning. He turned to go. Merryn closed her eyes and prayed hard that he would not be gone for long and that he would find a safe way out.
Barely a second later there was a scraping, sliding sound that started softly but grew to a ferocious roar, and then without warning the world was falling again, the dust thick as a cloud about them, the brick and stone plummeting down and the only constant was Garrick’s arms about her and his body shielding hers as once again he stood between her and destruction. “GARRICK! GARRICK!”
Merryn’s voice sounded a very long way away and it came from a place Garrick did not want to go back to. He knew that to return would hurt; even now, with consciousness lapping at the corners of his mind, he could feel the pain eating at him in a dozen different places. But Merryn had never called him by his name before and that mattered. He did not know why, but it mattered profoundly. She sounded frightened and lonely. She was so brave. He had to help her.
He tried to move. Nothing happened. No response at all. Oh, well … At least he had tried. He started to slip back.
Something brushed his face. Her hair. He could smell
