Page 8 of The Spinster's Secret Scoundrel
He liked her a great deal too much.
Then, Thierry’s face was submerged in cold, briny wetness as he felt his way along the underside of the boat. Coming upon a comparatively warm, soft object, he grabbed hold of Adeline’s thigh and worked his way up her body into the air.
“Was pawing me strictly necessary?” she demanded when he surfaced beside her, still gripping her waist.
“No, but it was thoroughly enjoyable.”
“Cad.”
“Are you implying that you’re a well-bred woman and I’m below your station?” he asked, teasingly. As a French courtesan’s illegitimate son, Thierry was always the lowest-status man around. He never let that minor detail stop him from acting like he was a king.
A wave sent the boat careening at their faces. They blocked it, arms up. Inside the cave, the water churned forcefully, knocking the boat against the walls and splashing against the stone. Within a few minutes, it would be over their heads. They did not have time for taunts and teasing.
He did it anyway.
If we’re going to die together, I might as well attempt to kiss her again.
No point in going out on a low note.
As though Adeline could read the direction of his thoughts, she pointed to the gunwale. “Boost me inside. If we can get the stern tucked beneath the lip of the cave, with one of us pushing, we stand a chance of freeing it.”
“Won’t work.” A sudden wave splashed brine into his mouth. His knuckles stung viciously. He raised one to demonstrate. “Your entire body will be scratched up by the rough rock. I won’t see you bloodied, Miss Naughton.” Grinning faintly, he added, “See? I am a gentleman after all.”
“Indeed.” Her pretty eyes, long dark lashes spiked with moisture, bounced from his hand to his face and back again. “What do you propose?”
“First, we turn it. Then we both pull the bow down far enough to tuck it under the lip of the cavern entrance. Then, we’ll brace our backs against the wall and push the stern with our legs when the waves are going out.”
She nodded once. “Worth a try.”
On their first attempt, the boat got stuck sideways. They managed to lift the bow enough to shove it, losing precious minutes in the process. It took several attempts to wedge the boat’s bow beneath the cave entrance. Just when they thought they were close to success, the surging water ripped it away.
They tried again.
And again. Each time they dragged it down far enough to get it into the opening, the ocean sent the boat surging to the ceiling. The water was up to Ada’s shoulders. Each swell splashed her face.
“It’s not working!” she shouted.
They needed more weight to sink the boat low enough, and they needed it fast.
“Get against the far wall.”
Ada complied, cramming her body into a niche where the boat was less likely to smash into her. “Now what?”
“I’m going in.”
“But the rocks! They’ll shred you.”
“Sweet of you to be concerned, chérie, but I’m the one who created this mess, so it’s my back that gets sliced to ribbons.”
“My name is Ada, not ‘chérie’,” she grumbled, muttering something aboutidiot Frenchmen. Thierry couldn’t deny it, even though he was technically only half-French.
But he couldn’t get enough traction on the jostling vessel to pull himself up, nor was there enough space to get his leg over the top.
“Hold the boat still,” Ada ordered in the grumpiest tone he’d heard from her yet. She clasped the bow, and lurched forward just as a powerful swell slammed the hull against the far wall.
“That wasn’t very still!” she called out, her alarm echoing loudly from dangerously close to the ceiling. “Ow.”
“Careful. It’s full of liquor.”
