Page 10 of Escape to Lighthouse Cove

“Give me the boy.”

Gulping, barely able to take anything in, Grace peeled Jacob off her. “This is the only way,” she told him, her voice shaking as she gazed down at him, trying to imbue him with a certainty she was desperate to feel herself, willing him to trust her, as well as the man standing below them. “So we can be safe,” she whispered, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. And then, breathing a wordless prayer, she handed her son down to the stranger.

She let out another sob as his arms came around Jacob, holding him securely.Thank God.Then, with the boy settled firmly on his hip, the man reached his arms up to her, the sea swirling about his waist. “You next,” he said, and taking a deep breath, Grace jumped.

In the next moment, the whole world went dark.

Grace woke suddenly, with a gasp, like she’d been jerked out of a nightmare. She blinked in the gloom, breathing in a smell she didn’t recognize. Leather and wood, a hint of pipe smoke and mustiness.

Blinking rapidly, her heart still racing, she scooted herself up onto her elbows and pushed her hair out of her face. Her head was pounding along with her heart, and it took her a moment to focus on what was in front of her. A dim room, the bulky shapes of furniture—sofas and chairs, all in heavy dark wood, thick velvet drapes drawn against the night. She was on some kind of chaise, and, she realized with a blaze of shock, she wasnaked, covered only by a blanket.

For a few seconds she couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.Where was Jacob?

Memories came back to her, like jagged pieces of a puzzle that didn’t quite fit. The tide, the rock, thefear. The man, striding through the water. And then darkness, and flashes of memory, like puzzle pieces slotting into place. Being held in a man’s arms. Going up some stairs. Her jeans being peeled away while she’d made some mumbled protest. A blanket placed over her.

Holding that blanket up to her naked body, Grace looked around the dimly lit room. She was in some kind of sitting room, an ornate stone fireplace taking up most of one wall. She must be inside Grayhaven, she realized. And Jacob must be here, too.

Relief coursed through her, along with some serious trepidation. She was completely naked, after all, which was not a state she particularly liked finding herself, especially when she had no idea who had undressed her. The man who had rescued her, presumably, but who was he? A Lawrence, or some stranger? Although even if he was a Lawrence, she reflected, he was still a stranger. And there was definitely something verystrangeabout this situation.

Grace tucked the blanket more securely around her, swinging her legs onto the floor, only to have her head start to swim. She sat there for a moment, taking deep breaths, willing herself onward. She needed to find her son.

She dropped her head into her hands, shocked when she realized she had a gauze bandage covering her left temple. Her head was still swimming. She must have hit her head when she’d come off the rock. The last thing she remembered was handing Jacob down…

The creak of a door opening had her tensing as she hugged the blanket to her body. A man stood there, no more than a looming shadow in the gloom.

“Ah,” he said with a slow nod. “You’re awake.”

7

Noah stood in the doorway, watching as the woman’s—Grace Wyatt, presumably—eyes widened. They were lovely eyes, wide and lushly lashed, their color a deep, clear gray that reminded him of the ocean on a cloudy day, which was a pretty fanciful thought for him to be having right now, or frankly ever.

“Yes…” Her voice was scratchy and hoarse as she blinked up at him. “Thank you… for rescuing me.Us.Where… where is my son?” He heard the thread of urgent fear in her voice and understood it.

“He’s fine, he wasn’t hurt,” he assured her. “He’s in the next room, playing chess by himself.” Noah leaned against the door, offering a small, gently teasing smile. “I have to say, he seems remarkably good for his age. He’s playing both sides of the board.” He’d been quietly bemused as well as impressed at how the little boy had made a beeline for the chessboard in his study, set up a game, and played the Sicilian Defense opener, all with an endearing—and familiar—methodical concentration. Isaiah had been right. He really was a lot like Jem.

Grace smiled faintly at his remark and then closed her eyes, her expression abruptly twisting with remorse. “We could havediedout there,” she whispered. Surprise lanced through Noah as she uttered her next words, each one filled with an aching regret. “I’llneverforgive myself.”

It was a sentiment that pounded through his own brain just about every minute of every day, and it was strange to hear it coming from someone else, and with such heartfelt grief. Grief he knew himself, tasted its bitter tang with every breath. He was surprised too by how it made him feel almost as if he was…protectiveof this stranger. Tender toward her, even, which wasreallystrange. Maybe eighteen months of virtual isolation was finally getting to him.

“The tide is treacherous, especially on certain parts of this island,” he told her quietly. “It comes in much faster than you think it will. You’re not the first person to have gotten stuck.” At least this time there had been no tragic consequences. Not that it had been easy carrying both the woman and her son to safety. If Grace hadn’t been so tiny, and Jacob so intent on clinging to him like a limpet, Noah wasn’t sure he would have managed it… a prospect that really didn’t bear thinking about.

She opened her eyes, her mouth now twisted in an unhappy smile. “Even so.” Pain flashed across her face, making her wince, and Noah hurried forward.

“You got a serious knock on the noggin,” he told her as he guided her back down to the chaise. She resisted him for no more than a moment, and then let herself fall back, one hand clutching the blanket to her. “You should rest a little more.”

“Jacob—”

“I promise you, he’s fine.”

She gazed up at him silently, her face pale, her eyes huge, a violet bruise peeking out from the gauze bandage on her temple. She really was extraordinarily lovely, Noah reflected with reluctant admiration. Her face was heart-shaped, her lips lush and full, her wheat-blonde hair falling in tumbled waves, still damp from her bout with the ocean, to her shoulders.

He had done his best not to look when he’d had to undress her, for her clothes had been soaked right down to her underwear, but he’d still sensed the supple litheness of her figure, felt her frailty as well as her strength, an intriguing combination.

“I need to see him,” she insisted.

He arched an eyebrow, offered a playful smile. “Maybe when you’re dressed…?”

A rosy blush swept up her cheeks as she glanced down at the cashmere throw he’d placed over her. “Were you the one who undressed me?” she asked bluntly, her eyes flashing suddenly with challenge, maybe ire.