waves washing over the beach. Imagining those deadly waves creeping ever closer to the mouth of the cave firmed his resolve. "We have two problems, Jason."
"Only two?" Quiet retching and the rustling movements in the background worried him.
"Jason?"
"I'm fine. Just a touch of nausea."
"Are you tied up?"
"No. Are you?"
"Yes, I am." Randall sank slowly to the ground. Things weren't as bad as he'd thought if Jason was free. He could relinquish his idea of burning the ropes. "I'm back here, just look toward the torch and ..."
He was interrupted by more violent retching. "Jason?'
"It's fine. Just give me a minute."
Randall's eyes drifted shut and he concentrated on breathing shallowly to still the pain. "Just as long as you know we have a very fine window of time between the smugglers leaving the beach in about an hour and the tide starting in."
"Yes, I understand."
Randall rested in quiet for a while, trying not to grow too impatient with the passing of time. Finally his straining ears caught the sound of movement. "Jason?"
A grunt came from the darkness. "Yeah."
Slowly, a crawling figure emerged. Randall transferred his focus from the patch of night sky visible at the mouth of the cave to that shadowy figure. It crept closer and closer, pausing at times. Jason's breathing was unnaturally loud, his movements oddly slow. "It's safe, Jason. The smugglers aren't coming back in here."
"I'd walk if I could, Randall. Everything is spinning and my guts are churning worse than a seasick miss in a nor'easter."
Randall fell silent and let the annoyed sounding Jason make his way to him. It seemed like hours passed before the panting man knelt beside him. "My hands..." He twisted to the side, baring his wrists.
"Patience isn't much of a family trait with you Grettons, is it?" Jason grumbled, shifting on the ground.
The cold touch of a blade slicing through the rope surprised him. "They left you your knife?"
"They left me a knife. It isn't mine. Mine seems to be missing, but this one was lying underneath me. Strange, hmm?"
"Not so much." Thank God for Caleb Jeffries. "One of them was an old friend of mine. Actually, he almost married my sister. He's the one who told me how long we had to wait before the beach would be clear."
He clenched his jaw against a yelp as the blade nicked his skin. Jason muttered an apology and continued sawing away at the rope. At last the bindings gave way, and Randall sighed in relief. Swinging his arms forward, he let his head fall on his knees.
"Here. It's better if you get the rest." Jason pressed the blade into his palm, then to Randall's shock, collapsed back against the rock. His face was ashen, glistening with sweat.
"I've got it. No worries. Just, rest Jason." Keeping one concerned eye on his lover, he sliced as efficiently as possible through the ropes wrapped around his boots.
When the rope fell away, he stood shakily, wincing with the pain of his battered limbs. "I'm going to go check and see if the coast is clear." Jason nodded. Randall kept close to the wall of the cave as he made his way to the mouth of the cave.
The beach was swept clean of all tracks, no sign of the smugglers' presence remained. As expected, the tide was rising, but it seemed they had plenty of time before the waves reached the mouth of the cave. "It's all clear." He called back.
"Can you help me, please?" Jason's voice sounded small and hesitant.
Cursing himself for forgetting the man's weakness, Randall hurried to his side. Reaching down, he extended a hand for Jason to grasp, then pulled the man upright. Jason sagged against him, and Randall caught him with an arm around his waist.
"How badly are you injured?" There was a doctor in the village, or maybe Cecy...
"It's just the nausea. It'll fade. I need fresh air."
"You need medical care. I've the feeling that you've got a concussion. I've seen it when people strike their heads before. Cecy fell from a horse when she was fifteen, and struck her head.