Читать книгу Regency Proposal - Ann Lethbridge - Страница 13

The taste of salt was strong in the back of Ian’s throat. He stared into the dark, catching the occasional glimmer of foam-crested waves. The steady crash and hiss of waves breaking on sand and the louder roar of water pounding the rocks filled his ears.

But his mind kept wandering. Hell. He had almost kissed Selina back in the tithe barn. The urge to taste her full lips, to feel her body pressed against his, to explore her soft curves with his hands had run hot in his blood. And if he wasn’t mistaken in the way those lips parted and her gaze had softened, she would have let him, too.

The attraction between them had not diminished over time. Indeed, if he wasn’t badly mistaken, it had increased exponentially. Damn it all, he had betrayed his family for her once. He would not do it again.

To be so distracted at such a time as this was insane. He forced his mind back to the job at hand. This last run of brandy would give him the money he needed to buy all the copper required for the still.

Everything was ready for the boat. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

He glanced at the man standing at the very edge of the promontory with a lantern at the ready. ‘Any sign of her?’

Gordy, the signalman, shook his head. ‘Nought.’

Ian grimaced. Time was wasting. He narrowed his eyes to look back across the rocks and the strip of beach into the gully where the men and ponies awaited the signal. They would come out on to the open beach only when the boat was almost aground. Well versed in their respective tasks, they would unload a boat and have the goods travelling back up on to the cliffs in less than ten minutes.

He scanned the cliff tops. No sign of his guards. And nor should there be. But they were there, ready to warn of intruders. He smiled grimly. As usual they’d outwitted the gaugers. Everything was going according to plan. Except the damned boat was late.

Hairs stirred on the back of his neck. The sensation had nothing to do with the stiff breeze hurling itself off the waves. He tried to shake off the feeling all was not well. Over the years, he’d learned to trust his instincts. Why would he ignore them now?

He glanced out to sea. Still no light from the ship. ‘I’m going up top to take a look around.’

Gordy nodded without turning, then stiffened, pointing. ‘There!’ he whispered. He fumbled with the lantern cover. ‘The light dipped beneath the waves, but … yes, there she is.’ Ian, too, could see the faint twinkle far out on the water.

Gordy flashed four times. Two flashes came back.

‘That’s them,’ Ian said. ‘Guide them in, lad. Any trouble, flash two long and two short, out there and up towards the cliffs, as well.’

‘I ken my job, Laird.’

Ian slapped him on the shoulder. ‘That you do, lad. Just reminding myself. I’ll let the men know we’ve sighted the ship.’ Then he’d climb the cliff to check on his guards.

He clambered across the rocks guarding each side of the small bay, keeping to the shadow. Once in the gully, out of the light of the stars and sheltered from the offshore breeze, he smelled the ponies. Manure and the smell of hardworking horse. And hardworking men. A familiar pungent smell. It had surrounded him most of his life. That and the danger. But the joy had gone out of it since Andrew had gone. His brother had loved the adventure of it.

This would be the last run. There was enough money in the coffers to buy the new still. A still that would be legal anywhere else in Britain but here in the Highlands.

‘Tammy,’ he called in a low voice. The man rose up from a rock. ‘She’s coming in.’

‘Aye,’ Tammy said. He nudged the man beside him. ‘Pass the word.’

‘I’ll be back down before she lands.’ Ian walked past the line of horses and men. Men he had trusted with his life more than once. Good men, who trusted him and who’d lose their homes if they didn’t bring this off safely. One or two of them muttered greetings as he passed.

At the end of the line, he passed a slight figure holding the bridle of an ass. Ian frowned. That made nine men. He’d thought there were eight. Was this the source of the troubled feeling he’d had out on the point? The man had a cap pulled down over his eyes and was trying to hide on the other side of his wee beast. Another thing that wasn’t right. They used ponies because they were more docile.

Ian reached over the animal and grabbed the man by the collar. A familiar face grinned up at him.

‘What the hell? Damn it, Logan, you are supposed to be caring for our mother.’

His brother shrugged him off. ‘It is a woman’s job,’ he said sullenly.

Ian closed his eyes in silent prayer for patience. ‘You know what Mother will do if anything happens to you. Make sure you stay out of trouble.’

‘She knows where I am. I’m no child to be left at home. You were out here at eighteen and I’m near twenty.’

‘That was different.’ In those days there hadn’t been anyone else to go. The clan had relied on him and Andrew to help them get through the winter. But for all his slight stature, Logan was right, he was old enough. And another pair of hands wouldn’t hurt.

‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But if the gaugers come, you are to run. I’m relying on you not to get caught. You’ll need to warn the village.’

Logan grinned, his teeth a quick white flash in the dark. ‘Aye. I’ll run like the wind. You can count on me.’

Ian knew he could. And if he tried to protect him, Logan would rebel and go his own way as Andrew had. ‘See you keep that damned beastie quiet.’

A dog whined. It jumped up at Logan, who pushed him down.

‘What in the devil’s name is Gilly doing here?’ Ian asked.

‘I dinna ken. I locked him in with Beau. He must have escaped.’

‘Carelessness,’ Ian said. ‘Keep the damn animal quiet.’

Logan glowered and made a grab for the dog. It darted out of reach.

The man next in line chuckled.

Ian smothered a cursed and left his brother to it.

The prickles on his neck had not subsided. If anything, they were worse. He climbed the steep path up the wall of the gully instead of following the track beside the burn tumbling down to the sea.

As he raised his head over the brow, a whiff of pipe smoke tickled his nostrils. ‘Damn it, man. Put that out. It can be seen for miles.’

Davey had brawn, but no brain. He knocked the bowl on his heel and stamped on the embers. “Tis all right for them down in the gully. The wind’s damn cold up here, Laird.’

‘It’ll be hot in hell if you get yourself shot.’ Ian swept his gaze around the surrounding countryside. ‘Hear anything?’

Davey gave a smug laugh. ‘Aye, I heard something, all right. At first I thought it was a rabbit. I walked back along the path a ways.’

‘And?’

‘I caught a lass creeping up on us. Ranald has her.’

What had been a faint unease across his skin was now a full-fledged alert in his gut. ‘A woman?’

‘A Sassenach by her voice.’

This really wasn’t good. ‘Stay here and keep a sharp look-out.’

‘Aye, Laird.’

Ian strode along the stream bank, until he came to the place where it disappeared underground. ‘Ranald?’

The burly innkeeper rose up out of the heather. ‘Here.’

‘Davey said you caught a wench spying.’

‘Aye, Laird, I have her tied up over there beside the horse.’

Definitely not good. And yet something lightened inside him. It was the oddest sensation. Shoving it aside, he strode to the cluster of rocks indicated by Ranald. He held up his lamp and looked into a pair of very angry brown eyes.

‘Lady Selina. I might have known.’ He knelt beside her and undid her gag.

‘Your man is an idiot,’ she hissed. ‘I told them I had a message for you. I told them to fetch you, but they wouldn’t listen.’

He pulled out his knife and sawed at the ropes around her wrists. ‘What message?’ He started on her ankles, keeping his gaze fixed on the job and not letting them stray to her shapely calf. Or at least, not much.

‘The Revenue men know about tonight. They have set a trap. You have to leave here right away.’

So, his instincts had not played him false, curse it. If they left without the goods, it would be another year before he could set his plans in motion. And Lord Carrick would not be best pleased. ‘How do you know this?’ He cut through the last of the rope and helped her to her feet. God, she was small. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder.

She rubbed at her wrists. ‘Never mind that. You have to go. Now.’

‘Where are they waiting for us?’

‘Surprisingly enough, they didn’t give me any details.’

The sarcasm in her voice made him want to laugh. ‘How did you get here?’ And then he saw for himself. Beau. And no saddle in sight. ‘You rode bareback?’

‘I couldn’t saddle him myself.’

He shook his head. It seemed there was still something of the spirited girl inside the sophisticated woman.

She pulled her cloak around her. ‘I’ll go now.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I said not.’ Gaugers weren’t above firing their muskets at shadows, let alone at a fleeing horse. ‘Ranald,’ he called softly.

The innkeeper appeared like magic. Obviously, he’d been standing close by, listening. ‘Keep her here. I’ll go warn the men on the beach and return to take her home. And, Ranald, not a word of this to anyone, understand?’ Ranald nodded.

Ian glanced at the stubborn set of Lady Selina’s jaw. ‘Whatever you do, keep her here.’

What they needed now was some sort of diversion.

Selina glared at Ranald. ‘I told you he would want to hear my message.’

The man mumbled something under his breath, then covered his lantern. Selina blinked furiously to adjust her vision to the gloom. She should leave. She could be home in bed before anyone noticed her departure, her conscience clear.

What Ian did on his own account was his concern. But if she was caught aiding them Father would be mortified. And furious. If Dunstan discovered she’d warned the smugglers, after he’d let fall information about his mission in her presence, he’d call off their betrothal. If nothing else, a man expected loyalty from his wife. And that meant she’d have to start looking for a suitable husband all over again. Unless the scandal ruined her completely. It probably would.

But she’d known the risks when she set out. And she would do it all over again if required, because she was honour bound to help him as he had helped her when she’d asked. Not to mention that she did not like the thought of him being sent to prison.

Only now she needed to go home. She rubbed her cold hands together and looked at the horse and then at Ranald. ‘Let me go. I’ll return the horse in the morning.’

‘Ye’ll stay put,’ the burly man said. ‘The Laird said so.’

‘The Laird is an idiot.’

‘Take one step and I’ll tie you up again.’ The tone of voice made it clear he meant it. She huffed out a breath. Men. They always wanted to rule the roost.

The minutes lengthened. She watched Ranald, waiting for him to lose interest, to give her a chance to slip away. At any moment the Revenue men could be upon them, or, worse yet, Dunstan and his militia.

That really would be her undoing.

The sound of booted feet on rocks brought her head around. Men. Coming up from the shore at a run, leading a couple of ponies with muffled hooves and ladderlike carriers on their backs. Empty carriers. They guided the beasts to the path along the cliff top towards the village. What on earth were they doing?

Another pony emerged from the gully. This one was laden with tuns and turned away from the village and disappeared into the dark. Blast the man. He had taken absolutely no notice of her warning and was continuing as if nothing was wrong. She was a fool to have thought she could help.

A shout rang out on the headland in the direction the first two ponies had gone. A flash. A loud bang. Clearly a shot. Then more flashes and bangs, getting closer.

They were shooting at the men he’d sent along the headland. Someone was going to get killed. Was Ian mad?

The train of loaded ponies continued on, one after another, while she bit her knuckles to stop from giving voice to her fears. The men leading the ponies passed by at a run, heads down and faces covered with mufflers. Then there were no more. Like ghosts, they had disappeared.

Where was Ian? She peered into the gloom, moving closer to the rocky path.

Shouts came from farther along the cliffs. The sound of men fighting hand to hand. Ranald muttered a curse, clearly impatient to be gone. Could Ian have somehow slipped past her to join in the fray now that the smugglers had departed with their booty?

Another figure emerged from the path up from the beach, cursing and swearing as he pulled on the leading rein of a resisting animal. It squealed indignantly. Its handler threw an arm over its nose to muffle the sound. The ass snorted a protest.

Selina understood just how it felt.

Then the damn thing surged forwards as if terrified. The man holding it cursed again. A flash of white at the animal’s heels told Selina all she needed to know. ‘Gilly,’ she whispered.

The handler halted the ass and stared at her. ‘Lady Selina?’

‘Logan Gilvry. Another idiot. Where is Ian?’

He shook his head. ‘He’ll be up shortly. He’s helping the boat to shove off. Giving us a chance to get clear.’

‘Then go,’ she said.

‘Aye. Gilly, set him on.’

The dog nipped at the ass’s back hoof. It jerked forwards and set off at an awkward run with Logan at its head and Gilly close behind.

The sounds along the cliff had ceased. The smugglers—a decoy, she guessed—must have run for it. No doubt the Revenue men and the militia would soon realise they’d been tricked and make their way along here.

She had to leave before they caught her.

Ranald also hopped from one foot to the other, looking worried.

‘Go,’ she said.

‘The Laird said I was to watch you. Here.’

‘The soldiers could arrive at any moment. I’ll ride and warn Laird Gilvry, while you follow your men. Help me up on the horse and then you can leave.’

Ranald scratched his head. ‘You’ll go to him?’

She nodded.

‘All reet, my lady, but I am trusting you to keep your word.’ He tossed her up on the big stallion’s back and led the horse to the top of the pathway. ‘Watch your step. It is verra steep.’ He touched his forelock and took off after the others.

She urged the stallion down the rugged slope and hoped to goodness the animal wouldn’t stumble as she let him have his head. Miracle of miracles, the horse seemed to know his way down the rock-strewn path. Ian must have ridden him down this way in the past.

It was a small lonely patch of beach along a rocky shore, known to few but the locals. Or that’s how Ian had described it that long-ago day. A place where they could be alone. She realised now that he had been ashamed to be seen with her.

At the bottom of the incline she found Ian walking up the beach towards her; behind him a rowboat was steadily pulling out to sea. He glared at her as she drew up beside him.

‘What the hell are you doing here? I’ll have Ranald’s—’

‘Hush. The Revenue men are close behind me.’

He frowned. ‘They followed you? Damn it. What game are you playing?’

‘They didn’t follow me. They know exactly where they are going and they will be here any moment. While they come down this way, we can ride up the path on the other side.’

He pressed his lips together. ‘Aye. Hang on tight, then.’

She grasped the stallion’s mane. Ian took a few steps at a run, then leapt up behind her. Impressive.

The sound of men in heavy boots echoed off the gully walls along with curses as they slipped and slid on the tricky path.

‘Time we were gone.’ He leaned forwards and they were off.

The feel of his hard thighs cradling her buttocks was positively indecent. So was his arm around her waist. But locked in that strong embrace, she felt perfectly safe, when she should be feeling terrified.

A cry went up behind them. The Revenue men must have heard the beat of the horse’s hooves on the sand. It also meant they weren’t far behind, but a man on foot was no match for this horse, even carrying two riders.

She set the horse’s head towards the zigzagging path at the other end of the cove. A gentler climb up to the headland. They were halfway there, when a stream of men poured onto the beach from that direction.

‘A pincer movement,’ Ian yelled. ‘That’s how they meant to catch us.’ He yanked the horse’s head around. The beast turned in a circle while Ian scanned the cliffs and the men coming at them at a run from both sides at once.

‘Look’s like we’ve only one option,’ he yelled. ‘Keep your head down.’ He set the horse running at the sea.

Her mouth dried. Her heart thundered. What could he be thinking? They’d drown. From horseback, the sand looked very far away. Too far to jump off. At this speed there was nothing she could do but hang on.

The wind whipped her hair out of its pins and it flew wild in her eyes. She leaned low over the horse’s neck so Ian could see where they were going.

Where were they going?

Surf splashed up around them. Ian didn’t slow the horse’s pace. The water hit her face like icy needles and soaked her legs through the clinging fabric of her skirts and then the wool fabric of her knee breeches all the way to her waist. She gasped.

A howl of dismay went up from the men running after them.

‘Load.’ The terrifying shout came from the behind them. They were going to shoot!

The horse tried to turn back as its feet lost contact with solid ground.

Ian slid from its back into the water. ‘Come on, Beau,’ Ian yelled. ‘It’s all right, lad.’ The horse’s ears pointed forwards, its body low in the water, its breathing fast and laboured.

A volley from the beach kicked up spurts of water all around them. Selina closed her eyes, waiting for the pain. Nothing.

‘Hang on,’ Ian shouted. ‘We are nigh out of range.’ He struck out strongly, with the horse trailing behind. Laying along the stallion’s back, her skirts a tangle around her legs, Selina clung to the horse’s neck for dear life. Waves hit her in the face with a salt-laden slap, making her gasp and blink to clear her stinging eyes. It was impossible that this horse could swim very far.

Another volley. Selina glanced over her shoulder to see the waterspouts a few feet behind and, if her eyes weren’t deceiving her, the men were already waist-deep in the sea. Surely they didn’t stand a chance of hitting them now. She prayed she was right and concentrated on holding on to the pitching beast.

Ian slowed and swam alongside. ‘Come on, old fellow, you can do it.’ He directed the horse to swim parallel to the shore, heading south.

How Ian kept swimming in such chilly water she didn’t know. Her hands and legs were numb, her teeth chattering. She tried to remember how far it was to the next beach and wondered if they would get there before they drowned. Or perished from cold.

It might be better to drown than be caught with a known smuggler. Father would never forgive her and even the placid Dunstan would never marry her.

When she’d finally found the perfect man and plucked up the courage to take the matrimonial plunge, she’d ended up up to her neck in the sea instead.

She just had to make it home without anyone finding out.