Chapter 3
Abersoch, Britain
“Give me your hand, Becca!” the man shouted, his tone demanding as he stepped farther upon the ledge. Amanda watched, frightened as he gripped the rock wall inside the tunnel, bracing his weight as he reached out.
Every few seconds lightning illuminated his tanned, scowling face and the fine lines at the corners of his eyes.
His dark hair lay in sharp contrast to the white shirt plastered to broad shoulders and torso.
Even as she shrunk from him, this stranger whose eyes flashed with anger, she couldn’t help but notice how very… handsome he was.
Craning her neck, stepping as far back onto the ledge as she dared, Amanda just stood there, stunned and speechless.
“Becca,” he demanded again. “We’ve no time for games. Give me your hand!”
Amanda kept her eyes on the man; his voice was filled with contempt, yet he continued to come closer. Who was he? Why did he keep calling her “Becca”? Her hands grasped the rock behind her, her body shaking so badly she knew she would fall if she didn’t accept his help.
The sea below taunted her with its white-capped waves crashing against the shore. Her arms were cut and bruised, her stomach and back as well. Fear had taken her adrenaline level to an all-time high; a survival instinct kicking in that she hadn’t known she had. How had she gotten here?
The last thing she remembered was wrenching herself away from her stepbrother as he—my God, Robert had tried to kill her! How had she not seen it coming?
She’d only wanted some time alone and had impulsively booked the trip from New York to the British Isles. She loved the British estate that belonged to her family and had gone for an extended vacation.
Actually, of all the properties she owned, this estate, built mid-fifteenth century, was her favorite.
She’d visited at least four times a year since her father had made the original purchase some ten years ago.
And, on each occasion, at least since she’d graduated college, she allowed select charities to use it, and her, for their benefits.
This time, though, it was meant to be empty, meant to be just her.
She’d been shocked when Robert had shown up three days after she’d arrived, a large group of business associates and their families in tow.
He’d made excuses about some kind of function, a party for her to perform at, to wow the guests with her presence.
She’d obliged, of course, though wondered why Robert hadn’t told her about it beforehand. Now she knew why.
The perfect crime.
The perfect alibi.
He’d goaded her into playing one of her pieces tonight knowing that she’d seek some privacy before performing. She always needed time alone before she played. She damned herself now for having such an obvious habit. Damned herself for being such a complete and utter fool.
When she’d left the party to collect herself and to take a walk along the cliffs, the property had been teeming with guests and servants, all in fanciful “historical” costumes. She’d walked into the mouth of the cave, heading for her favorite place, where she’d often come to think over the years.
Tonight, it seemed to beckon her as never before. Just as he now beckoned her. This man who called her by a different name, this man who’d pulled Robert off of her with alarming strength and thrown him against the wall of the cave. This man who’d already saved her life once tonight.
She could only see his profile now; his face was concealed in the shadows. But the harshness of his features remained in her mind. The way he’d looked at her when he’d come upon them in the cave. He’d seemed angry, furious even. At her.
She shivered, both from the cold and from his glare.
The farther she stepped away, the closer he came.
His arms were long and powerful, his white shirt rolled to his forearms, a wide silver band circled his wrist. His black cape billowed in the wind as he moved to reach her.
His tall black riding boots were polished to a high shine that reflected each flash of lightning that tore through the sky.
Despite the direness of her situation, she thought his costume was remarkable.
He had to be at least six and half feet tall, and at five-eight herself, he’d still tower over her once he got close, if he got close.
And why, she puzzled again as she repositioned her feet on the slippery rock beneath her, did he keep calling her Rebecca?
And who had those other large men on horses been?
The ones who’d scared her so much, she’d actually felt safer feeling her way along the cliff outside the cave than accepting their offers of help while this stranger had gone after Robert.
It had been light when she’d entered the tunnels from the gardens in back of the castle, wending through the elegantly set chairs and tables awaiting their guests.
Everything had been placed carefully, so the natural beauty the estate had to offer was paramount.
Unable to resist the view, Amanda had sat for a while before heading to find her favorite alcove within the maze of tunnels in the torchlit caverns by the sea.
Somehow, she’d become lost—something that had never happened before—winding around for what seemed like hours.
She’d worried that someone would notice her missing, that the guests would be eager for their performance, but no matter what turn she took, Amanda remained lost. The ground beneath her feet had become damp.
The beautiful furnishings that her father had had set within the secluded alcoves years ago were mysteriously gone.
The only things that remained were the torches affixed to the rock wall lighting her way, and though she questioned their origin, she was grateful for them.
Amanda had turned toward the sound of the sea to find the opening of the path she’d been on.
The path she was now below. She’d headed toward it briskly, knowing she’d be able to find her way from there.
She’d stopped in the opening, awed by the beautiful sight.
The sky so alive with stars, it was truly the most amazing thing she’d ever seen in her life.
She’d closed her eyes, having one of those epiphanies that seem to come only once every so often. Those times when you just know something is so very right, so right you feel it entirely and commit it to memory forever.
It felt as though she’d belonged right there, in that very moment and at that very time.
As if all the answers were there for the taking.
Amanda forgot about being lost, forgot about the party waiting for her, forgot about Robert even, and how he’d been acting odd as of late.
And as feelings of peace and contentment rolled through her, lightning tore through the calm night sky.
She’d laughed, wondering if it meant to prove or disprove her point.
Then she’d felt hands grab her, saw the venom in Robert’s eyes as he looked at her, into her. She’d fought with everything she had, fought against the man she’d thought would be, if nothing else, protective of her forever.
She’d heard horses then, shouts growing louder as they came closer. Robert had been pulled off of her as she stood shaking, staring at the four men who sat atop the largest mounts she’d ever seen.
The men had been huge, each wearing tall black riding boots, long-sleeved shirts, and black capes secured by gold braided ropes at the neck. She’d been grateful at first, but then she saw their expressions and her fear came back with a vengeance. They looked at her with…with disgust?
The men had kept coming closer with each backward step she took. Their looks so menacing they terrified her. She didn’t know them, but they seemed to recognize her—more than that, they seemed to despise her.
But how on earth was that possible? She’d never seen any of them before—didn’t know how they’d gotten here.
Had Robert hired them? Was all of this because of Robert’s greed?
Did he really need more than what her father had generously provided?
It had always been clear that Amanda would get the estate when her father died.
What had Robert thought would happen if she died?
Was her life worth the pittance he’d inherit?
As the men on horses watched, Amanda had stepped closer to the opening and her feet slipped against the slick rocks.
She’d only fallen a short distance, but her dress had caught and snagged on the rock wall behind her.
She’d felt sharp cuts on her hand and stomach as she’d clung with all her might at any hold, all of them small and slippery.
The ledge was no more than two feet wide, but she’d caught a glimpse of another cave’s opening to her right.
Quickly judging its distance, Amanda had figured she could make it with a calculated leap.
She’d turned as slowly as possible, pressing into the wall as she made her way to safety. But then she looked down.
Amanda had begun shaking so badly she couldn’t hear the calls from above, only the rushing water eddying below her. Cast within the shadows, she’d thought perhaps the men above couldn’t see her anymore, that maybe they even thought she’d fallen.
It had seemed forever went by until she regained her courage.
Then, Amanda took a deep breath and moved toward the opening she’d clocked on her right.
She’d almost made it, too, when he arrived.
The man who called her Rebecca yelled at her as if he knew her, hated her.
He stood in the opening that a minute ago had been her escape.
Now it didn’t seem to be freedom before her but surrender instead.
“What game is this, Rebecca?” he demanded, the wind blowing his hair back. My God, he was the most fearsome, yet compelling man she’d ever seen.
“Becca, I’ll not ask again—give me your hand!” he demanded once more, somehow even angrier than before.