Page 33 of A Nanny for the Reclusive Billionaire

“Satisfied?” he asked her.

“Be careful,” she said, echoing her earlier sentiment instead of answering him. “Please.”

“I will.”

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth, and he realized it wasn’t only Oliver she was concerned about, it was him.

But right now, he had one objective.

Get. Oliver.

He swung his legs over the side of the cliff. “When I tug on the rope, pull.”

Panic flashed in her eyes. “I’m not strong enough to pull both of you up on my own.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll do most of the work. You only have to give us a little extra boost. Can you manage that?”

“I think so.” She stood taller against the wind and squared her shoulders. “Yes, I can.”

“Good. Wait for my signal.” He glanced down to check on Oliver, still huddled on the ledge, his hands white-knuckled on the rocks. “Hang in there, pal. I’m on my way.”

He felt with one foot, then the other for a toehold, winding his way down the steep precipice as quickly and efficiently as he could without slipping. The rain had started to fall more steadily, making the stones slick and slowing his progress.

“Hurry,” Oliver moaned. “It’s hard to hold on.”

“Almost there.” A few more feet and he’d be able to crowd onto the narrow ledge with his son. “Don’t let go.”

When his feet touched the ledge, Rhys let out a long, exhausted breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding. He loosened the rope so it was big enough to fit around both of them and slipped it over Oliver’s shoulders, turning his son to face him. His pale cheeks were streaked with rain or tears or both. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Oliver’s lower lip quivered. “Are you mad at me?”

Despite the tight spot they were in, Rhys had to fight not to crack a smile. “We can talk about that later. How about first we get off this cliff?”

“O…okay.” Oliver hiccuped.

“Put your arms around me and hold on with everything you’ve got.”

Wordlessly, Oliver complied, wrapping his arms and legs around Rhys’s neck and waist. Rhys tugged on the rope, and they began the long climb back up the cliff, made even harder by the increasing wind gusts and the added weight of their now rain-soaked clothing. When, after what seemed like hours, they reached the top, Rhys’s arms and legs throbbed with exhaustion. Fortunately, Mallory was there to help them over the edge.

“Take him,” Rhys panted before flopping, spent, onto his back on the wet ground. “He’s drenched.”

“Come on.” She freed Oliver from the rope and scooped him up. “I don’t know how dry they’ll be, but I saw a couple of blankets in the UTV.”

Rhys dragged his tired body out of the muck and shuffled after her, then untied the rope from the axle and stuffed it inside his jacket. He started to slide into the driver’s seat, but Mallory stood in his way, blocking him.

“You’re drenched, too. Take this and wrap yourself up.” She thrust a damp wool blanket into his chest. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Numbly, he took the blanket. “Thanks.”

“I’ll drive. Get in the back with Oliver.”

“I can…”

“No, you can’t.” She gave him a little push toward the rear of the UTV. “You had your chance to play hero. Now it’s my turn. Sit with your son. He needs you.”

Too tired to argue—and conceding she had a damn good point—Rhys draped the blanket around his shoulders and climbed into the back seat next to Oliver. Mallory revved the engine, and the UTV lumbered down the hill.

His trembling son looked up at him with wide eyes, his fair hair dark with rain and plastered to his face. “Are you going to yell at me now?”