Page 43 of Echoes of the Sea (Storm Tide #2)

Mrs. Finch’s voice refused to leave Kip’s thoughts. She’d wondered aloud how it was that men of Kip’s time were so cowardly. She’d more than implied that he didn’t care enough about Amelia if he wasn’t even going to try to build a life with her.

It wasn’t that, he’d repeatedly told himself. He just didn’t have the answers. Any of them. Until he knew what future he could possibly have, he needed to prevent her from getting entangled in it. He wouldn’t cause her pain if he could avoid doing so.

Kip had kept his distance since their kiss, hoping to prevent that pain. But he missed her.

When his path crossed Amelia’s the next afternoon as she was making her way back toward the house from the lighthouse, he knew he had a rare opportunity to talk with her away from Mr. Stirling and Mr. Winthrop and away from the listening ears of the villagers.

Amelia moved slowly on the rickety path he had taken to Guilford House on his first day on the island.

She was very pointedly not looking at the sea beside and just below her, but she could not help but hear it crashing against the rocks below.

They were not so high above the water here as at the lighthouse.

The drop-off grew less drastic as the path wrapped toward the sea road.

But for one who was as afraid of the sea as she was, getting closer to it might have actually been a more intimidating sight than being dozens of feet higher.

“Good afternoon,” he said, unable to keep the nervousness from his voice. His acting skills were failing him.

She gave a quick nod and a flash of a smile, but it fell flat.

It wasn’t a dismissal, but it also didn’t feel like a warm welcome.

It was what Jen had once called mixed messages, the way she’d described a rough patch when she and Malcolm had been dating and he’d been feeling particularly unsure of himself.

Kip had talked sense into his friend then, but Malcolm wasn’t here to help him navigate this now.

“I need to apologize,” Kip said to Amelia, “for two nights ago. Before dinner. In my room.” He wasn’t being very eloquent. “I made something of a mess of things, and I—” How did he explain? He wanted to get it right, and perhaps begin to make up for how wrong he kept getting things.

Amelia continued walking along the path.

She carefully placed her cane with each step, and she didn’t look at him.

“You don’t need to apologize. I sorted out that the people of your time are more free with their affection than we are in this time.

I have to remind myself of that, but I do understand.

I won’t let myself believe again that there is more in these things than you likely mean by them. ”

“It isn’t that.”

Except there was some truth to what she was saying.

In modern times, sharing a kiss like they had was a lot more acceptable than it was now.

Ignoring the portrayals so rampant in The Beau , he knew that the very personal moment they’d shared in a very private setting would have likely been grounds for engagement, whether they’d wanted it or not.

He’d pushed their relationship further than he should have.

And that was probably adding to the “mixed messages” they were navigating now.

“I won’t cross that line of propriety again,” he said, “assuming you would rather I not.” If there was any chance she would not entirely object, eventually, he didn’t want to close that door completely.

Her cane wobbled on a patch of loose gravel. “I may not be as experienced with such shows of affection, but I do have ample experience recognizing when a person is disappointed. It is not something I generally care to repeat.”

Disappointed? Did she think he’d found kissing her disappointing? Part of his panic had been that it was anything but.

A crash of thunder sounded overhead, pulling both of their eyes skyward. The storms really did arrive very quickly in this part of the coast. There never seemed to be any warning.

“Good heavens.” Amelia’s gaze jumped forward, not down at the waves, as he would have thought. “Some of our workers go back to the village toward the end of the day. What if they’re on the road? What if they’ve not made it across and the sea surges?”

She rushed down the path, no doubt intent on stopping anyone attempting to make the crossing. She hadn’t been entirely steady while moving at a slow pace.

“We haven’t restored this part of the path,” Kip said. “It’s too dangerous to—”

A bit of the path gave way. She stumbled against the crumbling rock barrier, and it, too, gave way, tumbling her off the side.

“Amelia!” The wind carried his voice away.

He tore off his jacket and threw it over a large rock, tossing his hat there as well. As he reached the edge and looked down, he held his breath. What in the world would he do if she was lying lifeless below? Or if the sea had carried her away already?

She was just out of reach, clinging to a jutting rock at the bottom. Wave after wave battered her as he scrambled down the jagged rocks, trying to reach her, all while trying to determine how to get her back to safety.

“Don’t let go!” he shouted.

He didn’t know if she could actually hear him, but if there was any chance she could, he meant to keep talking to her, to keep assuring her that he was coming, that he wouldn’t leave her there.

The moment before he found a sufficient foothold close enough to her to reach for her, a wave tore her away from her anchor.

He plunged into the water as well and grabbed hold of her, pulling her back to the shoreline.

The sea was angry and strong but not as powerful as it would be once the storm built.

If they didn’t both get out of the water as quickly as possible, they might not ever do so.

It was painstaking and slow going, but they managed to climb up the rocky terrain.

Pain seared over Kip’s right shoulder blade.

Blood ran from a cut above Amelia’s eyebrow.

He hoped she didn’t have a concussion or other serious internal injuries.

It might not have been the twenty- or thirty-foot drop by the lighthouse, but it was still no small fall.

And she’d been battered by the waves as well.

On the path once more, he snatched up his coat and wrapped it around her, though it was wet from the falling rain.

The wind had carried his hat off. They would be shivering long before they reached the house.

Kip kept an arm around her and moved slowly.

Not just on account of the precariousness of the terrain but also because she wasn’t moving very well.

Her cane was gone, and she was likely in pain.

On top of all that, she had been plunged into the terrifying grip of the one thing in the world that frightened her the most. The trauma of that was likely only beginning to set in.

He held her as closely as he could. “We’ll be to the house soon,” he said. “You’ll be warm there. And you’re safe.”

He repeated that again and again until they arrived at the side entrance to Guilford House. When the staff spotted them, a mad scramble took over. Her appearance was alarming, and he suspected his was too.

Her uncle and Mr. Winthrop came upon them as he and the footman helped assist Amelia up the stairs.

“What’s happened?” Mr. Stirling asked.

“There’s a portion of the path that’s not been put to rights yet. It grew slippery in the rain, and she took a tumble.”

“Off the side of the island?” Mr. Winthrop asked. “Into the sea?”

Amelia made no indication that she had registered his question or was hearing anything being said, and though the cold was starting to get to Kip and his mind was spinning with pain and exhaustion, he had just enough clarity of thought to know that for reasons he couldn’t bring immediately to mind, he needed not to reveal that bit of what had happened.

Whether it was another aspect of proper behavior or simply something that would be embarrassing, he couldn’t remember, and he couldn’t ask Amelia in this moment or look to her to answer.

He simply knew it was time to lie ever so slightly.

“I can understand why you would assume so, as we’re both soaked.

But you’ll notice, if you glance out any window, that it is raining quite hard.

I attempted to guard her against it with my coat, but even that wasn’t enough. ”

They were making very slow progress. And she was starting to whimper. He could only imagine the pain she was in and the terror she was feeling.

“Where is her cane?” Mr. Stirling asked. “She struggles to walk without it.”

“I’m not certain,” Kip said. “Lost in her fall, likely.”

They reached the corridor where her room was and came upon Mrs. Finch.

“Mercy, what happened to the two of you?” she asked.

“She slipped on the wet footpath and took a tumble onto some rather unforgiving rocks.”

“It looks as though you did as well.” Mrs. Finch lightly touched his shoulder, not exactly where it hurt but very close to it. He looked over his shoulder and could see just enough of the back of his shirt to spot blood.

They’d reached Amelia’s room. Kip helped her inside, where Jane was waiting. Fresh clothes were already laid out, and Jane was setting a thick folded blanket on the edge of the bed.

Kip and the footman gave Amelia into Jane’s keeping.

“Your mistress has been through a horrible ordeal,” Kip said. “Please look after her. Make certain she rests, and her wounds are tended.”

“Of course, Mr. Summerfield,” Jane said.

Amelia spoke for the first time since her plunge into the water. “Make certain your wounds are tended to as well,” she said weakly. It was so very like her. Not forgetting the needs of others even in her own distress.

“I will.”