The Professor and the Smuggler Page 4

  “You’re sure I won’t be a bother? You don’t need to be out on your fishing boat?”

  Carne shook his head. “Said I’d do your bidding these next days, and so I shall.”

  Phillip caught a breath as he imagined all sorts of bidding he’d like to do, but he maintained his composure and didn’t crack a smile.

  “The shore, then. That’s what I’d like to see as soon as the tide is low enough that we can explore the cove and its caves.” He glanced at the window and judged it a fine day. “I’ll want plenty of time and bright sunlight in order to capture my photographs. After that, if you might introduce me to some of your friends whose families were smugg—I mean traders, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

  Carne moved toward the door. “I’ll meet you outside when you’re finished eating. I’ve chores to attend to.”

  Once Carne and his powerful presence left the room, Phillip was able to breathe again. He hopped out of bed, took care of his morning needs, dressed in his patched trousers and unraveling sweater, then went to learn what sort of breakfast a Cornishman ate.

  It seemed strange to move around another man’s house without his host there, but it did give Phillip a chance to do a little poking of his own and examine a few items he could hardly pick up and study in front of Carne. The main living area included seating around a fireplace and a table and chairs that would occupy another room in a larger house. That was the entirety of the house: just one large room, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a loft upstairs where Phillip imagined Carne had slept as a boy underneath that thatched roof.

  Phillip’s attention zeroed in on a roughly framed watercolor someone had done of the Treleaven family. He studied the depiction of parents, sisters, and Carne produced by an amateur artist. The painting wasn’t good but showed a sort of closeness between family members the formal oil portrait of Phillip with his parents—which used to hang over the fireplace in the parlor but probably no longer did—hadn’t even attempted to portray. They’d all stood stiffly as soldiers forced to share the same regiment. As soon as Phillip grew old enough and after they’d had their vague feeling about him confirmed by Gavin, his parents were relieved to muster out Phillip.

  He bent to examine a small table encrusted with seashells under a plate of glass. A horribly ugly thing, but he could imagine the two little girls crafting it for their mother with the help of their brother to do the woodworking. Next, he drifted to the single shelf on which stood no more than a dozen books. What a contrast to his own vast library. Phillip thumbed through an extremely worn copy of Gulliver’s Travels and paused at the signature inside the front cover: To Carne, May you travel as far as you wish, but always return home safely. Love, Mam and Tas.

  Unexpected tears prickled, and Phillip quickly dashed them away as the door opened and sunlight and Carne entered the cottage. He replaced the book on the shelf and turned.

  Carne stared at him, then at the table. “You haven’t eaten yet?”

  “I was waiting for you to return. I thought we might share the meal.”

  “I ate a bite before tending to the animals,” Carne responded.

  “I’m not usually one to take so long getting ready for the day.” For some reason, it was important to Phillip that Carne didn’t think him an idle man who would be happy to lounge in bed half the morning. “Your sisters’ bed was too comfortable, especially after spending the previous night wrapped in a blanket and tarpaulin on my way down here from Truro.” Phillip moved to the table and sat, simply inhaling the delicious fried smells. Fish again—of course, they were right on the ocean—and eggs, toast with some sort of preserves smeared across it.

  Carne leaned against the stove to watch him devour the lukewarm breakfast. “So you’ve truly slept outdoors, not stayed at inns?”

  “Just one night,” Phillip admitted. “And not by choice, if I’m being truthful. Camping sounds more exciting than it actually is. I barely got a wink of sleep what with stones prodding me through the tarp and the cold seeping into my bones.”

  Carne’s lips twitched. “A little chilly for your lovely picture of ‘sleeping under the stars.’ Lucky you weren’t drenched.”

  “I was. With dew when I woke in the morning.”

  And now Carne laughed, a marvelous rich chuckle. Phillip was happy to join in and laugh at his own expense. What a delightful way to start the day.

  Chapter Five

  By the time they got all of Phillip’s equipment loaded in Carne’s wagon, drove as near the shore as possible, then carried the camera bags and tripod down the steep drop to the beach, it was nearly noon. Carne had told him they couldn’t have arrived sooner anyway as the tide was only just ebbing to its lowest point, revealing the caves.

  Caves! The word alone had Phillip so excited he’d jump up and down and clap his hands if he were alone. Since he was a boy, he’d dreamed of seeing the pitted coastline with its caverns leading inland. They’d sometimes served as hiding places for open-seas pirates or smuggled illegal goods brought by foreign ships, or for men on the run from the law. The sea caves were more exciting to Phillip than a personal tour of Buckingham Palace given by King George himself would have been.

  Phillip inhaled the rich, salty aroma of the sea and the fishy scent of creatures stranded by the low tide. On his left, surf rolled in relentlessly—a calming, repetitive swoosh. On his right, the cliff rose high, its stony outcroppings twisted into all sorts of fantastical forms. For a moment, Phillip merely stood taking it all in. He stared at the far misty edge of the horizon where sea met sky and watched the swelling waves in their shifting hues of gray, green, and blue. Forever and forever, and forever again… Wasn’t that a line from some poem he’d read? If not, he must hurry and write it down.

  Carne had trudged on ahead, and Phillip hurried to catch up. His new brogans, sturdy for hiking rough terrain, crunched over shells and pebbles with every stride. He stared at the back of the Cornishman’s shirt, which seemed stretched to its limits across those wide shoulders. Then his gaze strayed to the rear of Treleaven’s trousers, too loose to properly display anything. Phillip nearly clicked his tongue in disappointment.

  Carne abruptly stopped. “Here’s a large zawn.”

  Phillip tore his attention away from his guide’s backside to fix it on the open black maw that appeared in the rock once they rounded a bend of the beach. Puddles of water and strands of seaweed decorated the sandy floor of a space that rose high above his head. The open entrance was well lit, but it was impossible to tell how far back the cave went. It grew dark under the overhang very quickly.

  “Ohh,” Phillip breathed.

  Carne frowned at him, then at the cave. “What do you see?”

  “A cave! An actual Cornish cavern. Does it fill up at high tide?”

  “Not right up, but enough so’s a man couldn’t stand. He’d be sucked out to sea by the pull of a breaker.”

  Together they entered the rocky cathedral. Phillip craned his neck to look straight up at the damp granite overhead. A drop of water landed on his cheek.

  “Are there any particular tales connected to this cave? Someone who was trapped and drowned, perhaps? Or loot hidden to protect it from government agents and perhaps a showdown when they followed the smugglers here?” He voiced the tales he’d read.

  “It’s only a great pit in the cliff. Not a cavern as it goes no more ’an a few yards,” Carne said. “No tales of ghosts or pirate gold or anything. If you want to take a photograph, best set up quick. There be other places further down the strand to see before the tide returns.”

  “No hurry. We may come back as many days as it takes to capture the images I need.” But Phillip moved to set up his tripod.

  It was going to be difficult to capture it all: the cave, the strand at low tide with just a hint of wave rolling in to show how near the sea was. How wonderful if he could somehow create a panoramic view by joining together different shots. If motion picture cameras could capture moving images, there must be a way to create
a still picture that encompassed the full range of human vision from edge to edge.

  Carne handed him the camera he’d taken from its box. “How will you know if you’ve got anything? Don’t you need to take the plates someplace to process them?”

  Phillip attached the camera to the tripod and screwed on the lens while explaining the procedure to Carne. As he talked, he continued to look from one feature of the landscape to the next, figuring out how he might best portray the full grandeur of it all. And he must absolutely find the exact right way to light a particular grouping of stones that looked rather like a mermaid reclining on the beach.

  They spent the next hour or perhaps longer setting up and taking shots at this location. Phillip moved the tripod numerous times and tried different aperture settings to allow just the right amount of light. He also went as far as he could into the fissure. As Carne had said, it was only a large pit in the rocks. Ah well, perhaps the next stop would be an actual cavern one could explore. Carne had brought along two old miners’ caps, so evidently he had a place in mind.

  “The next place is a ways from here, not allowing much time to spend in the cave,” Carne warned at last.

  “Yes. All right.” Phillip hurriedly disassembled the camera.

  It was a long walk down the shoreline, especially bearing the burden of equipment. The sun shone delightfully at the beginning and bore down with beastly pressure by the end. Phillip had taken Carne’s cue, leaving his jacket in the cart and rolling up his shirtsleeves. Still, his shirt clung to his sweating body by the time they reached their destination.

  “It’ll be dark inside. Can’t use your camera.”

  “I wish I had some flash powder,” Phillip said.

  “But maybe take a picture of the entrance.” Carne indicated an opening in the rock much smaller than the other. A man would have to stoop to go inside. Phillip was game to put on the rustic miner’s hat with its candle on the bill and crowd inside to walk where smugglers had once walked.

  He leaned the tripod against the cliff wall far from the water’s edge. Carne piled the camera and lens boxes beside it. Best to tour the cavern first so as not to eat into their precious time of low tide. Picture-taking could happen after.

  Phillip glanced at Carne and froze. The man had removed his sweaty shirt and tossed it with the equipment. He wore only a thin vest that showed every eye-popping muscle in his arms. The material was so thin, Phillip could nearly see Carne’s skin through it as well as the swirl of dark hair on his chest above the scooped neck. The Cornishman stood with hands on hips, looking out to sea, black hair blowing in the breeze, his beautifully sculpted lips enhanced by moustache and beard.

  Phillip’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard.

  Carne glanced at him. “Thirsty? Here.” He handed over a leather flask of tepid water, which Phillip gratefully drank. “Easy, now. That has to last us the walk back. Ready to go in?”

  Phillip nodded and tried desperately to stop thinking about how they would be very close together in the confining darkness of the cavern. Bumping into each other, no doubt. His skin tingled at the thought. “I’m ready.”

  “Then, in we go.”

  *

  Carne had brought Professor Singleton to visit two spots that would make him feel he’d seen something special, but which held no significance to anyone in Par Gwynear. The cove where the Concern actually received and stored contraband before moving it to its final destination was not too much farther.

  Phillip had been correct; there actually were caves some villagers’ ancestors had used when they needed to hide from the law, or any other enemy. Mitchells’s great-great-grandfather had set up quite a cave dwelling around the next outcropping from here. He’d outfitted his rocky kingdom finer than his family’s house. But that site Carne would never show Phillip. Generations later, it was still considered Mitchell territory and not to be trespassed on.

  Now, as he squatted and waddled into the low-ceilinged cavern, the stench of fish enough to choke a man, the small glow of their headlamps barely illuminating the space, Carne allowed Phillip to go first so he could feel more like an explorer. There wasn’t anything the man could trip over or fall into in the narrow tunnel. The man’s gangly body telescoped down to fit into the tunnel. Imagine if such a tall man had to work the mines.

  “My, it is close in here, isn’t it?” Singleton sounded breathless.

  Carne would’ve been happy to back out. He hated tight spaces. But his employer walked on. Carne grew distracted watching Singleton’s arse move underneath his trousers, and more distracted by the fact he was staring at another man’s backside and feeling vaguely aroused.

  After a bit, the professor glanced over his shoulder. Carne’s beam struck his eyes, making them glow. “It’s very damp. Not really conducive to storing anything is it?”

  “Gone far enough?” Carne asked.

  “Not if there’s a larger space up ahead where we might straighten up and look around.”

  “There isn’t. Small lads like to play here sometimes, but it’s not fit for a grown man to stand in.” He shone his light on more wet rock and squirming and scuttling sea creatures in tide pools.

  “Such a place could hardly be useful to smugglers.” Singleton sounded as disappointed as a boy receiving a prayer book for a Christmas present.

  “Nope.” Carne grinned. He’d have the professor on his way soon enough, once he’d realized there was nothing interesting to see around here. Funny the thought didn’t please him as much as it ought to. He wouldn’t have minded spending a couple of weeks in the man’s company. Singleton was certainly an interesting fellow.

  Another yard or so along, the cavern narrowed to where they would’ve had to crawl on hands and knees. Singleton conceded, and they turned to exit the way they’d entered.

  Almost immediately, Singleton’s light went out, leaving him to feel his way blind. “Sorry. Could you light it again?” he asked.

  “My matches are too damp. They won’t strike. I’ll have to go in front.”

  Carne pushed past the other man’s body in the far too narrow space. Their shoulders bumped. Carne turned, and his chest, stomach, and groin rubbed against Singleton’s as he squeezed past. He had to rest a hand on the man’s waist and tilt his head so his own light wouldn’t flicker out. These acrobatic maneuvers served to get Carne into the lead, but also left him with a ridiculous erection. He’d felt a bulge in Singleton’s trousers, and his own cock had responded to it. The smell of the man’s sweat seemed suddenly stronger than the smell of the sea, and Carne felt an unaccountable urge to inhale Singleton’s manly scent.

  Definitely too close quarters in this place.

  “Mr. Treleaven?” Singleton’s voice echoed oddly in the rocky chamber. “You needn’t fear I’ll do something to disgust you.”

  “I don’t,” Carne snapped, then reflected that perhaps that the apologetic tone Singleton used meant he hadn’t noticed Carne’s response.

  No such luck.

  “I expect simple friction, no matter what the cause, might explain our bodies’ response and—”

  “Yes. That,” Carne said. “We’d best be on our way before the tide comes in.” He hurried to lead the way back out to sunlight and open air.

  He wanted to apologize to Carne, or perhaps curse him, but he wasn’t sure what he could say or even why he was upset.

  Business, Carne reminded himself. He was going to be paid for his time, and he must keep Singleton happy. Not just to earn his pay, but to keep the man from wandering off into danger.

  “Perhaps we should go to the public house.” He’d let the others see Singleton wasn’t a threat. Better still, he’d stop spending so much time alone with him.

  Chapter Six

  Carne tried not to run. And really, what could he be running from? He wasn’t easily embarrassed, at least he never had been in the past. For some reason, Phillip Singleton unnerved him and made him feel…not inferior, never that, for the odd gentleman treat
ed him like a friend rather than a member of another class, but unsettled somehow.

  He walked quickly along the shore and winced as sand filled his shoes. If he were alone, he’d haul them off and roll up his trousers.

  “The water is the most remarkable color,” Singleton called from behind him. He obviously felt not the slightest tension. “I’m reminded of the green of the Caribbean.”

  Carne slowed his hurried footsteps and turned to face him. “You’ve been there?”

  “No, but I’ve seen paintings. Someday, perhaps, I’d like to visit. And you would like to travel.” He spoke as if he knew—it wasn’t a question.

  Carne sped up again, moving away from this man who seemed to know his thoughts. Or, worse, he had been spying on him somehow.

  “Don’t grow upset. I saw your copy of Swift.” In another mind-reading moment, Singleton called after him. “From your parents.” He trotted and caught up with Carne. “You must miss them a great deal. I could comprehend so much in that one inscription. So very many things—that they knew you, they loved you, and knew you longed to travel, although clearly they hadn’t understood the book to be a satire, but that they—”

  “Dammit. Just stop.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to remind you of their loss.”

  “No, not that. Stop paying so much attention.”

  Instead of growing insulted, Carne broke into a grin. “I told you I found you interesting.” He pushed up his glasses. “Once I become fascinated by something, I find it difficult to shift my focus, but I shall endeavor to do so if I’m making you uncomfortable.” He glanced over his shoulder at the cave. “What happened in there—the physical arousal, I mean—it is nothing to be ashamed of or worry over. Truly.”

  “Oh, and are you an expert in that sort of thing as well? A professor of lusts?” Carne fell silent, wishing he hadn’t been so sharp with the man—or spoken the word lusts aloud. Business, he reminded himself.