Once Corrie was clear, James said to the man he would very likely recognize, “Now, I’m not going to take off your mask which means if I went to Bow Street I couldn’t give them a description of you. Truth is, I don’t want to know who you are or what you’re smuggling. I want you to get up and walk toward your men. When you reach them, I want you to get all of them in the boats. Go, now, or I’ll have to shoot you and you won’t have to worry about anything at all, ever again.”
“The two of you,” the man remarked as he rose slowly to his feet, gingerly feeling his throat that had so recently enjoyed Corrie’s knee. “I hadn’t appreciated how very good you are together. It is a pity that-well, never mind.” He turned and trotted down the beach toward the boats and his men. The man was standing at the bow, looking back at them. He cupped his mouth in his hands and yelled, “I ask only that you keep out of the cave!”
Within minutes the men were shoving the boats out into the water, then jumping in.
The man raised his hand in a salute.
“There’s a ship, James, I can see it now,” Corrie said, pointing.
“Yes,” he said. “I wonder what they were smuggling.”
“Maybe they left something in that cave. Let’s go look.”
James thought about it as he kept his eyes on the retreating boats. The sea was choppy, the wind rising.
“You know what? I don’t give a good damn what’s in the cave, if anything. Let’s get out of here instead.”
She looked disappointed, but nodded, taking his hand, and together they walked back up the path to the top of the cliff.
As they stood on the edge of the cliff, looking out toward the two boats, far distant now, nearly to the ship, the sky began to lighten.
“It’s nearly dawn,” Corrie said, wonder in her voice. “It seems more like three weeks have passed.”
“Amen to that,” James said. “I would swear there was something familiar about that man.”
“I think you’re right. It’s probable we do know him or at least know who he is.”
“A gentleman smuggler.”
“He moved well. Of course he wasn’t good enough to take the both of us.”
James grinned, shook his head at her. “At this point I don’t care who or what he is. I saw you shiver. Don’t do that again. You don’t want to get ill from this, all right? Just keep thinking how excellent you feel, how warm you are in my coat. Let’s go, Corrie.” She stretched a moment, then shivered again, a good shiver. “Actually, I am feeling excellent since that short nap. I must say too that when I put my knee on his throat, I remembered that was what I did to Willie Marker, and it made me feel even better.”
“Poor Willie, and all he wanted was a kiss.”
She shuddered.
“Now, I want you to keep that coat real close. Just keep thinking how good you feel. No illness, Corrie. That’s one thing we can’t afford.”
The coat was wet, but she pulled it close. It was better than nothing. She looked at James, his white shirt damp, the wind slicing through it, making the sleeves billow.
It started drizzling again.
They didn’t see a single living creature until after the sun was up. They heard cows mooing.
“Glory be, I don’t believe it,” Corrie yelled. “Where there are cows there have to be people to milk them.”
Hand in hand, they ran in the direction of the mooing. There was a farmhouse, the back of it facing the sea, the front bordering a narrow road, and on the other side was a good-sized pasture and beyond the pasture, a forest of elm and maple trees. The house was built of gray stone, a hulking ugly house with a barn attached. At the moment, it was the most glorious structure either of them had ever seen.
“Oh, there’s smoke coming out of the chimney. That means it’s got to be warm in there.”
They ran to the front of the house, panting, and James called out, “Is there anyone here? We’re in need of assistance!”
From behind the closed door, an old voice said, “I don’t give no assistance to no one. Go away.”
“Please,” Corrie said, “we mean no harm. We’ve been walking all night and are very wet and cold. Won’t you please help us?”
“Yer rich coves, from the sound of ye.” The door opened a crack, and a very old face, seamed deep by years in the sun, and eyes a bright, intelligent blue, peered out at them.
“Wot’s this? Oh my, ye’re both a rare mess, ye are. Come in, come in now.”
The door went wide, and James and Corrie walked into the house, James ducking before the lintel would have knocked the top of his head off.
It smelled like vanilla inside.
“Oh, how wonderful,” Corrie said, sucking in that wonderful smell, turning to the wrinkled old woman, swathed in a huge apron that covered nearly all of her. “What a delightful house you have, madam. Thank you so much for letting us in. And it’s so very warm.”
“Please, ma’am,” James said. “We’ve been in the rain all night and I’m very worried about Corrie.”
“Aye, I can see that,” the old woman said. “I’m Mrs. Osbourne, me man is out there wi’ the cows. Our milk is the best in the district. I’ll give ye a cup o’ milk, all nice and warm, that’ll make ye jig again. Now, ye’re both wet, let me find ye something to wear.”
Mrs. Osbourne disappeared into another room, and James realized that behind the door past the kitchen was indeed the barn.
“Corrie, I want you to hang my coat over that chair and get yourself close to the fireplace. We’re nearly home.”
When Mrs. Osbourne came back after only a few minutes carrying a pail of milk, she said to Corrie, “Aye, little dearie, let me pour ye some nice fresh milk, then we’ll get ye into some nice dry clothes.”
Corrie drank the warm milk gratefully then handed the mug to James, who finished it off.
She followed Mrs. Osbourne into an old-fashioned bedchamber with a lovely big bed and a huge trunk at its base. Mrs. Osbourne left Corrie there to change into a long shapeless gown of indeterminate gray with a high neck and not a single ruffle or flounce. Corrie thought it was a lovely dress. She was humming as she stripped off her wet clothes and laid them all spread out on the floor, careful not to let them touch Mrs. Osbourne’s blue rag rug. She could hear Mrs. Osbourne speaking to James, but couldn’t make out her words.
She toweled off her hair and untangled it as best she could with her fingers. She was warm, her belly filled with the lovely milk, and she was more than ready to take on more kidnappers. Or smugglers. What an amazing night it had been. And James was all right. She’d seen to it.
She walked back into the sitting room. “Your turn now, James.”
When James took the men’s clothes into the bedchamber, Corrie said, “I thank you, ma’am. Lord Hammersmith was kidnapped. We both escaped and have been walking in the rain nearly all night.”
“A lordship is he? Well, I suppose he should have a title attached to that beautiful face of his. I don’t think Mr. Osbourne’s clothes will fit him well, but at least they’re dry. Would ye like to buy some milk?”
Before Corrie could laugh or reply, James came out of the bedchamber dressed in Mr. Osbourne’s clothes. Corrie knew that beauty would have to be in the eye of a very biased beholder. The breeches, old and baggy, came only to his ankles. The dark brown cotton shirt didn’t quite meet over his chest, which made him look very manly indeed, what with chest hair poking out. She didn’t think she’d seen James’s chest since he was sixteen. Should she tell him that he would look magnificent indeed if he’d take off those ridiculous clothes?
Probably wise not to say that. She didn’t want to hurt Mrs. Osbourne’s feelings.
“You look very natty, James.”
“I’m warm and dry, as you are, Corrie. Thank you, Mrs. Osbourne and Mr. Osbourne as well. Once Corrie and I are home again, I will have the clothes returned to you.”