“Eek,” she choked out, shuddering at the thought.
Nick glanced over at her with a smile. A smile that didn’t waver when he reached out a hand to brush at the hair at her temple.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What was it?”
“Mm. Just a cobweb.”
Not believing him for a moment, Cyn brushed frantically at her hair. Then her dress. By the time she’d finished, she’d given herself a stern lecture about fear and foolish missishness. This was the likeliest spot they’d found in this whole damn shoreline, and she wasn’t going to miss out because of spiders. Or decomposition.
Cyn threw back her shoulders, hit her head on a low bulge in the ceiling, and headed for the opposite side of the narrow hollow. But before she reached for the wall, she tugged on her thick gloves. If it was any kind of treasure worth finding, it wouldn’t be hard to feel even past salt-stiffened leather.
They worked in silence, aside from her occasional squeaks of panic whenever she felt something shift away from her searching fingers. Just rocks, she told herself. Just pebbles. But when she reached deep into a wide hole, the distinctive sounds of skittering claws clattered up from the dark.
“Oh, God,” she whispered. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” She took three deep breaths and then eased her hand back in. A mouse couldn’t hurt her. Even a rat wouldn’t do damage past the gloves. And she couldn’t just move on. The hole was a good fifteen inches wide. The perfect hiding place.
She ran her hand down the concave wall of the hole, wondering if the grit that shifted under her fingers was sand or droppings.
“Here!” Nick shouted, scaring the stuffing out of Cynthia. She snatched her hand out of the hole so fast that she fell to her backside with a squeal. That squeal turned to a groan when rocks dug into her bottom.
“I’ve got something,” Nick said, completely ignoring her moan of pain. “I’ve got something.”
The scrape of metal against rock ricocheted through the tiny cave. Cynthia, on her knees now, held her breath and watched Nick’s back as his arms shifted and tugged.
“Almost.” Metal screamed, Nick grunted, and then hundreds of tiny rocks pinged against the ground. “Got it!”
She scrambled up to her feet.
“It’s a box, Cyn!” He was moving toward the light as he spoke, and she hurried to catch up. “And it’s heavy.”
Her blood pounded against the walls of her veins, banging out a crazed pulse. They’d done it. They’d actually done it. “Let me see!”
Just under the edge of the mouth of the cave, Nick stopped and turned toward her, box balanced on both his palms. It was small, but solid, constructed of rough wood banded with iron and rivets. In short, it looked like a smuggler’s chest of treasure. Inconspicuous and sturdy.
“Oh, Nick,” she breathed, daring only to touch one finger against a metal corner.
“It’s yours. Take it.” His smile stretched to a grin that narrowed his eyes with its intensity. When she took the box from his hands, her own eyes widened. It was heavy. She hurriedly set it on the ground and tugged off her gloves.
“I told you I had a good feeling,” Nick said as he knelt beside her.
“Stop saying that.” She tried to toss him an exasperated look, but when she turned toward him he kissed her. A brief, happy kiss that was over nearly before it had begun. Still, she felt stunned by it.
“Go on,” he urged.
Lips still tingling, she nodded and ran her hand over the cool metal bands. There was a loop for a lock, but it seemed to have been secured with string. Another hint, perhaps. How would an eleven-year-old boy secure his treasure?
Nick handed her a penknife, but he needn’t have bothered. She’d barely put the knife to the string when it gave way. Too much moisture for too many years.
“Ready?” he breathed, and Cynthia lifted the lid.
Chapter 17
Gold glinted under the pale sun, throwing starbursts against the dull wood of the small chest. Those starbursts were absorbed by the flat darkness of tarnished silver and copper.
For a moment, for one glorious, joyous moment, his heart floated, buoyed by its own desires.