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“What if I look away while I’m doing it?” Bates punctuated the offer with a slightly wicked grin.
“Swear it,” Ellie shot back. “On that which is most sacred to you.”
Bates set his hand to his chest. His face went solemn—except for the glint of mischief in his eyes.
“I swear it,” he echoed. “On the bottle of very good rum I have hidden under the deck boards.”
“You want me to trust you based on a bottle of spirits?” Ellie burst out.
“It’s a really,reallygood bottle of rum,” Bates returned gravely.
“You’re a cad,” she accused.
“A charming one,” Bates agreed. “Intelligent. Moderately good looking.”
“Oh, blast it anyway,” Ellie muttered.
She raised her arms. He took hold of them near her shoulders, braced his leg against the rail, and with a single, mild grunt of effort, hauled her up out of the water.
Bates awkwardly shifted his grip to grasp her around the waist, plastering her to the rock solid mountain of his chest—and then stopped.
Ellie was flush against him with her legs still hanging on the other side of the rail. Only his grip around her torso kept her from tumbling back down again, but the hold left her crushed against a broad expanse of taut male flesh.
The sensation drove all semblance of rational thought from her brain and left her dangling there, speechless.
“You kinda gotta climb in from here,” Bates admitted. His voice was just a little tight with exertion.
The curse Ellie bit out in response was not entirely in keeping with her refined character.
She scrambled to pull her legs over the rail as Bates staggered back a step. When she was once more upright on the deck, she pushed herself neatly out of his arms.
To his credit, he turned about the moment he released her, keeping his back to the stern as she snatched up her clothes.
Ellie pulled them on despite the fact that they were uncomfortably damp. Wearing a wet corset was still better than the alternative. She plucked at the folds of her blouse to adjust herself as best she could.
“There,” she announced.
Something pale caught her eye near her still-bare feet. She recognized it as the wadded-up, sopping ball of Bates’s shirt.
Ellie fought against the roiling feeling in her stomach. She picked up the shirt from the floor and tossed it in the general direction of the canopy.
Bates caught it. She heard him give the garment a squeeze, splattering droplets of water onto the deck. The fabric snapped as he shook it out. When he brushed past her—making her jump at the near contact—he had put the shirt back on again.
“Ready to throw ourselves into a big black hole?” he asked cheerfully.
“Sorry?” Ellie blurted.
“The cave, Princess,” Bates replied with just a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Indeed,” she returned tightly.
After all, a tunnel into the unknown could hardly be more dangerous than the waters she had just narrowly escaped.
?
Fifteen
Adam eyed theiroptions as they reached the fork in the river an hour later. The southern branch—the one he had navigated before—was broader. The tributary to the north—the one that Ellie’s map said would lead to theirBlack Pillar, whatever the hell that was—flowed narrower and faster, channeled between high banks lined with lush foliage.
