Bloody right she should.
“Hugo and I will fetch oil lamps and get over to the Gloup. You go ask Jem if he will take the Louise out and check some of Cailean’s favorite places.”
“Aye,” Mrs. Fergusson nodded. “I’ll get Hamish to take me where they’ve already looked and we’ll look again. He’ll not be afraid if I call for him.”
“Good,” Martha said. “You go on now. We’ll get back to you as soon as we’ve had a look.”
Martha turned to him as Mrs. Fergusson hustled away. “The last time Cailean slept in the caves he got a proper scolding after the entire island was out looking for him. That is likely why he was too terrified to show them to you. Still, searching for Lily would have made him swallow his fear. And perhaps he was trapped down there by the tide.”
“But two nights?”
“Come, let’s get the lanterns.” She smiled up at him. “Don’t fret, Hugo. I know you love him and—”
“I don’t love him,” Hugo quickly denied. “I mean, I like him, of course. I just think that, er, well.” He grimaced. “The man saved my life—did you know that? If he’d not found me that night I would have died. And I know he doesn’t like being in the dark when he’s alone—” He cut Martha an embarrassed glance. “He likes me to walk him home from Mr. Stogden’s when there’s no moon,” he explained. He shoved a hand through his hair. “He loves that bloody rat. I can see him risking his life for her.”
“It is all right to worry, Hugo. That’s what we do with people we care about—worry about them.” Martha’s tone was one of gentle amusement.
◆◆◆
Hugo filled two lamps while Martha left a brief note for her father. She didn’t think he’d be coming home until late since poor Adele had been almost hysterical about Gerry, but she didn’t want him to worry if he returned to find her gone.
“Tell me about these caves,” Hugo asked as they started toward the Gloup.
“The Gloup has been used for smuggling over the years,” she said. “For all I know it could be in use right now.”
“Smuggling what? I wouldn’t have thought anyone here could afford the goods that are usually smuggled.”
“And you’d be right. It’s mainly used to store spirits that are made here before they’re taken to the mainland. There are also items collected from, er, well—”
“Wreckers store their booty in the caves,” he guessed.
“Sometimes.”
“Good Lord, why would anyone carry things all the way down into a cave that you can only reach for an hour a day?”
“You can reach it anytime by boat.”
“Might it be dangerous for Cailean—for you—to go down there?”
“None of the locals would hurt Cailean.”
“Except his own cousin.”
“They’re just boys, Hugo.”
His expression was skeptical, but he didn’t argue.
They came to the sloping rock pathway that led down into caves and had to go single file, each holding a lamp as they picked their way down.
“The caves branch off in several places,” she said. “We’ll keep on the one heading north.”
“Why that one?”
“The others become quite small.” Her voice bounced off the hard rock that was now on three sides of them.
“How long do we have before we need to leave?” Hugo held her lantern when she needed both hands to climb over a pile of rocks. Once she was down, he handed her both lights so he could do the same.
“We can stay in the main cave forever without drowning. It only gets blocked off because part of the passageway fills with water.
He took back his lamp and they continued. “I’m surprised enterprising young boys like Hamish aren’t down here making mischief.”
“They know better than to trifle with the men who use these caves,” she said as they approached the tunnel opening.
Hugo lifted his lamp and stared into the gloom ahead. “I’ll go first.”
“Once you reach the section that is submerged daily the rocks will be slippery with seaweed, so you must be careful.”
Hugo’s dark eyes glittered in the yellow light of the lantern. “Are you worried about me, Miss Martha Pringle?” he teased. “You know what worrying about somebody means, don’t you?” he asked, turning her own words back at her.
“I’m not worried about you, Mr. Buckingham. But that’s my father’s favorite lamp you’re holding. I should hate for you to trip and break it.”
He chuckled, the sound echoing eerily in the darkness ahead.
The ground ahead was sharp and rocky, punctuated by areas that were smooth with pebbly sand.
“Did you mark the time when we came down?” Hugo asked.
“We have a bit less than an hour and it takes about ten or fifteen minutes to get to the main cave.”
“We’ll be cutting it close.”
“Yes, but we wouldn’t have any more time at the next low.”
The air was so humid it was like breathing water.
“I can’t believe anyone would come all the way down here just to distill some of that wretched corn liquor.”
“Oh, you’ve had some of that, have you?”
“Unfortunately.”
Martha chuckled at his obvious distaste. “You’ll need to toughen up if you’re to ever make an islander, Hugo Buckingham.”
An uncomfortable pause followed her words, reminding her that he would be gone soon; he would never become an islander.
“Tell me about where you live—your house in London,” she asked, hoping to get his mind off the task at hand.
He hesitated so long she thought he might not answer—she had noticed that he was close-mouthed when it came to his personal matters, although he certainly didn’t mind asking other people questions.
“I shared a house with some others.”
“Do you have an office near the—where did you say you worked? The Exchange?”
“Yes.”
“I thought a person required a great deal of—” Martha’s face became hot as she realized what she’d been about to ask. “Er, I didn’t mean to—”
He chuckled. “Are you trying to discern whether I am a wealthy man, Miss Pringle?”
“Of course not.”
He stopped so suddenly that Martha bumped into him.
“What is it?” she asked.
He crouched down and then
