Caroline placed a finger against his lips. "I love you, Blake Ravenscroft."
"And I love you, Caroline Ravenscroft."
"And I don't much love Carlotta De Leon," James grunted. "So if one of you is inclined to help me, I'd like to tie her up and be done with her."
Blake broke away from his wife with a sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry, Riverdale."
Caroline followed and watched as the Spanish spy was bound and gagged. "How do you mean to get her up the hill?"
"Oh, bloody hell," James muttered. "I certainly don't want to carry her."
Blake sighed. "I suppose we could send out a boat tomorrow."
"Oh!" Caroline exclaimed. "That reminds me! I nearly forgot.-I saw the people on Oliver's boat before they sailed off. It was Miles Dudley, just as we thought. I didn't recognize the other man, but I'm certain if you apprehend Mr. Dudley, he will lead you to him."
At that moment, Chartwell skidded down the hill. "What happened?" he asked.
"I'm surprised you didn't see it all from the safety of the cliff," Blake said bitterly.
But James's face lit up. "No, no, Ravenscroft, don't scold the lad. He's just in time."
Chartwell looked suspicious. "Just in time for what?"
"Why, to guard Miss De Leon. We'll send out a boat to fetch the both of you in the morning. And
while you're at it, you can pull those two bodies out of the water."
Chartwell just nodded, knowing he had no choice.
Blake looked up the hill. "Damn, I'm tired."
"Oh, we don't need to go up the path," Caroline said, pointing east. "If you don't mind walking a half mile or so down the beach, the cliff disappears, and if s a relatively flat walk to the road."
"I'll take the path," James said.
"Are you certain?" she asked with a frown. "You must be terribly weary."
"Someone has to fetch the horses. You two go ahead. I'll meet you on the road." And before either of the Ravenscrofts could argue, James had taken his leave and was scrambling up the steep path.
Blake smiled and tugged on Caroline's hand. "Riverdale is a Very smart man."
"Oh, really?" She tripped along behind him, leaving Chartwell to guard the prisoner.
"And what prompted you to make that observation at this time?"
"I have a feeling he would be a bit uncomfortable accompanying us."
"Oh? Why?"
Blake offered her his most earnest expression. "Well, as you know, there are certain aspects of marriage that require privacy."
"I see," she said gravely.
"I might have to kiss you once or twice on the way back."
"Only twice?"
"Possibly three times."
She pretended to think about that. "I don't think three times will be nearly enough."
"Four?"
She laughed, shook her head, and ran down the beach.
"Five?" he offered, his long strides easily keeping up with her.
"Six. I can promise six, and I'll try for seven..."
"Eight!" she yelled. "But only if you catch me."
He broke into a run and tackled her to the ground. "Caught you!"
She swallowed, and her eyes filled with sentimental tears. "Yes, you did. It's rather funny, actually."
Blake touched her cheek, smiling down at her with all the love in the world. "What?"
"Oliver set out to catch an heiress, you set out to catch a spy. And in the end..." Her words trailed off, and her voice choked with emotion.
"In the end?"
"In the end, I caught you."
He kissed her once, lightly. "You certainly did, my love. You certainly did."
Selections from the
Personal Dictionary of
Caroline Ravenscroft
July 1815
non-par-eil (noun). A person or thing having no equal; something unique.
A year of marriage and still I think my husband a nonpareil!
November 1815
e-da-cious (adjective). Devoted to eating, voracious.
I am quite hungry now that I am carrying a child, but still I am not as edacious as I was those days while trapped in Blake's washing room.
May 1816
trea-tise (noun). A book or writing which treats
some particular subject.
Blake finds so much in our two-day-old son to boast over; I anticipate a treatise on the topic of David's intellect and charm any day now.
January 1818
col-la-tion (noun). A light meal or repast.
This confinement is nothing like the last; it is a blessed day when I can even manage to partake of a cold collation.
August 1824
cur-sive (adjective). Of writing; written with a running hand, so that the characters are rapidly formed without raising the pen, and in consequence, have their angles rounded and separate strokes formed, and at length become slanted.
Today I tried to instruct Trent in the art of cursive writing, but Blake intervened, stating (rather impertinently, in my opinion) that I have the handwriting of a chicken.
June 1826
prog-e-ny (noun). Descent, family, offspring.
Our progeny insist that the holes dotting the wall around Blake's dartboard were made by a wild bird somehow trapped in the house, but I find this explanation implausible.
February 1827
eu-pho-ni-ous (adjective). Pleasing to the ear
We have named her Cassandra in honor of my mother, but we both agree that the name has a most euphonious ring to it.
June 1827
be-a-ti-fic (adjective). Making blessed, imparting
supreme happiness.
Perhaps I am a foolish and sentimental woman, but sometimes I pause to look around at all that is so precious to me -Blake, David, Trent, Cassandra-and I am so overcome with Joy I must wear a beatific smile on my face for days. Life, I think-I know!-is good, so very, very good.