Page 76 of The Cornish Bride

Chapter Thirty-Five

Sam ran out of the cave dragging Ysella by the hand. Their feet splashed through the shallow water that before had looked inviting and gentle but now seemed to have morphed into a threatening, unstoppable upsurge. The small headland between this little cove and the main beach was already lapped by waves breaking against the jagged rocks. The one they needed to get back around to Jem and the horses.

“Quick. Run,” Sam shouted, barely hesitating, but setting off across the sand as fast as he could. If it got any deeper, they’d have to swim for it, and Ysella couldn’t swim. As he ran, he glanced sideways at the cliffs, rising sheer and steep to the headland above, in case they might present a way out if they were trapped. Nothing, and by the look of the wet sand, the tide would reach right to their feet when fully in.

They reached the rocky outcropping. The waves breaking on the rocks were increasing in size and ferocity as the water deepened. They had no other way out, and the longer they left it, the worse it was going to get. No time to waste.

Ysella tugged on his hand. “If I drown, will you carve my face on the rock in that cave beside that other girl’s face? Promise me?”

He swung round. “If we have to swim for it, I won’t let you drown. That’s what I promise.” He tightened his hold on her hand as her pale, terrified face looked up at him. “This way.”

He led her into the surf. He should have realized going into that cove, and then that cave, was a dangerous and foolish thing to do. He should have found out about how fast a tide could come in. The boy would have known. He could have asked Jem if it was safe to walk that far along the beach. What would he say to Kit if he let Ysella drown? It didn’t bear thinking about. If she drowned, then he would go with her. He couldn’t go on without her, not now they’d found one another at last.

At least the waves were smaller than the other night. But when they came, they soaked both of them up to the neck and threatened to lift them off their feet. Even Sam, who was over six feet tall and solidly built. Putting himself between Ysella and the waves, he transferred his hold on her to an arm around her waist lest she be washed away from him. Her own arm wrapped around his waist, seizing a handful of his soggy gansey in a tight fist.

The tide was coming in much faster than he’d thought it would. Why had they lingered in that cave? Was that what the drowned girl had done? And now Sam had done it to Ysella—brought her into danger. They were almost halfway around the headland now, the waves getting stronger every time one rolled in. Branok Bay lay ahead of them, much reduced by the incoming tide. There was Jem with the three horses, standing not where they’d left him but at the water’s edge, staring in their direction.

Sam fought the undertow that was threatening to drag them both out to sea. Ysella’s head went underwater and he snatched her back up. She came up gasping and spitting water, her hair plastered to her head. What a fool he’d been to trust the deceptive calmness of the treacherous sea. This wasn’t like the night of the storm. Then he’d had a rope around his waist on his swim out to the ship. Now he had nothing at all except the weight of Ysella in his arms.

A large wave swept him off his feet and he nearly lost his hold on Ysella. She clung to him, pulling him down, her dark eyes full of fear. “Help me,” she spluttered. He had to fight her to turn her in his arms so she was lying on her back, his hand hooked under her chin and holding her face barely above the water. She struggled against him, arms and legs thrashing.

But he had her firm at last and kicked out for the beach, towing her with him. She stopped struggling. Another wave came in and carried them towards the shore. As the wave swept past him, Sam felt sand beneath his feet, the sand being pulled back into the sea by the strong undertow. Clutching Ysella, he threw himself forward and the next wave went over both their heads. But they were on the beach, with solid sand under them.

Jem came splashing through the waves, the horses abandoned. He reached for Ysella but Sam had her tight. “Get back to the horses,” he managed, in between spitting out salty water. Dripping wet, he struggled to his feet and pulled Ysella to hers. Arms wrapped around her to hold her up, he staggered onto the sand.

Jem had retrieved the horses. “I did think you was goners then,” he announced, the light of glee in his eyes, presumably at having witnessed the drama of a near drowning. “I was a-wondrin’ what I was goin’ to say to Ma when I come home wi’out you both.”

“I trust you’re pleased that we’re not drowned,” Sam said, his tone dry, unlike his clothes and hair. This boy seemed to be a bit of a ghoul.

Jem shrugged, possibly annoyed at losing his role as bearer of bad tidings. “You gotta know the tides round here, or you’re in trouble.”

“We worked that out for ourselves,” Ysella retorted, wiping her wet hair out of her eyes. “You might have warned us.”

Jem shrugged again. “I dint know you was goin’ to walk round into Merrin Cove wi’ the tide comin’ in, an’ then dawdle about there an’ not see as the tide was near right in. I don’t have the Sight, like old Doryty do.”

Ysella nestled against Sam with a shiver, whether at the cold or the thought of having nearly drowned, he didn’t know, but he tightened his arms around her. She might well catch a chill in these wet clothes. How awful would it be to have rescued her from drowning to see her fall ill and die from something as simple as that. She had to be kept safe. Lochinvar pawed the sand with an impatient hoof. Sam reached for his reins. “We’d best get my wife back home as quickly as possible before she takes ill from her soaking.”

“Why is it called Merrin Cove?” Ysella asked, her voice muffled against Sam’s gansey. “It anything to do with the carving in the cave? The carving of the woman with the poem beneath it? I want to know.”

Jem wrinkled his freckled nose. “I don’t know nothin’ about any writin’.” He shook his head. “If there were any, I couldn’t read it, anyways. But they do say, or old Doryty did say, that is, as the woman’s face in the rock was Merrin Tremaine, a girl what was drownded in that cove a long time ago.” He shrugged his skinny shoulders. “P’raps she did the same as you did—stayed too long and let the tide come in.” He regarded Ysella. “Wi’out Mr. Beauchamp to pull you out, I don’t think as you’d’ave made it on your own. Same as her.”

“Tremaine?” Ysella repeated, shifting in Sam’s arms. “That was her surname?”

The boy nodded. “Same as old Jago.”

Ysella twisted in Sam’s arms so she could look into his face. “But my mother was a Tremaine. That must surely make Merrin Tremaine a distant relation of mine.”

Of course. No wonder Sam had thought the carving looked like Ysella. “Jago will know the story,” he said. “But we can’t go and ask him that now. We need to get you home and out of those wet clothes. Let’s find our boots, and then I’ll give you a leg up onto Lochinvar.”

*

By the timethey reached home, Ysella was beginning to dry out in the warm breeze and see what had happened to them as a big adventure. Nearly having drowned was nothing like having really drowned, and all she could see was that Sam, her hero, had saved her life. Thinking about this caused a glow that went some way to warming her up. He was certainly clocking up a nice tally of brave deeds of heroism. Quite the dashing gentleman. Quite the romantic hero from a book, only she didn’t really want to see him in that way in case it made her think of Oliver. She never wanted to think of that young man again.

They dismounted in the front drive of the Court and left Jem to lead the two horses and his pony round to the stables. For a moment after the horses had departed, Ysella stood irresolute on the gravel, peeking sideways at Sam.

She caught him watching her and held out her hand.

He took it, threading his fingers between hers in a curiously intimate gesture. “Shall we go in?”