Beyond Seduction

by Stephanie Laurens

  “We can certainly seal the area off,” Charles said, studying the map anew. “If we put men on the road up from Lizard Point, he’ll drive right into their arms.”

  “Especially as he won’t know they’re there,” Christian said.

  Madeline noticed that Dalziel was not so much pacing as circling, a panther deciding when and how to spring. Gervase, on the other hand, had grown still, but it was an intense stillness she now recognized as ruthlessly contained tension. Like her, he was quivering to be off, to do, but he knew how to control the impulse to action, how to manage it.

  Evenly she said, “If they can’t go down to the cove, but will as soon as the tide retreats, then they’ll be waiting on the cliffs—they’ll be able to see us when we’re literally miles away, and have plenty of time to…react.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Edmond will be in too much danger, of being whisked away at the very least, if we try to surround them now, while it’s daylight.”

  The men all looked at her, all considered. None argued.

  “We need a plan.” Dalziel flung himself into his chair. “Let’s assume he waits with his little band on the cliffs until the tide turns and it’s night, then he goes down, taking Edmond with him, and they start searching—that’s when we close in. So”—he looked up at Gervase—“how do we do that?”

  The others resumed their seats, all except Charles, studying the map. Muriel touched Madeline’s sleeve, whispered she was going to check on Crimms, and left. Madeline listened as the men tossed around options—the men they could muster, how best to split them up, how best to converge on the cove—

  Abel coughed, and caught Gervase’s eye. “One problem you ain’t taking into account.” Gervase raised a brow; Abel continued, “It’ll be a wreckers’ moon tonight.”

  Gervase stared at him, then softly swore, surged to his feet and went to look out of the bow window, searching the western sky. “He’s right. The wind’s turned and there’s a storm blowing in.”

  “Aye—the clouds will cover the moon, and the wind’s in the right quarter to blow ships onto the reef off Kynance.” Abel grimaced. “And as they’ve had no chance yet this season, no question but that that crew, whoever they be, will be out there tonight, setting false beacons on the headlands, doing their damnedest to lure some poor unsuspecting captain in. Which’ll mean they’ll be up on the cliffs themselves tonight.” Abel looked at Dalziel. “I don’t care how many London bully boys your man has with him, he’ll not get anywhere near Kynance once the sun goes down.”

  Christian raised his brows. “Can we leave it to the wreckers to keep him from the cove?”

  “No.” Dalziel’s voice was flat and cold. “He’ll recruit them. He’s never been slow to use others. He’ll offer them sure cash, and all they’ll have to do for it will be to join his men and search—not even chance their regular work.”

  Abel slowly nodded. “Not that I know any of ’em, mind, but I’ve heard it said that if you offer them hard coin, they’ll kill their own mother.”

  Madeline felt chilled. All she could think of was that Edmond was in the thick of that…. Her eyes widened. Horror slid icy fingers down her spine. “Edmond will recognize the wreckers—he’ll know who they are.” She looked at Gervase. “They’ll kill him.”

  Gervase held her gaze. “They won’t get a chance to—we’ll get there before the traitor leaves. Until he finds his cargo and departs the scene, Edmond is safe. Once he leaves, Edmond won’t be, but as our villain’s not going to find his cargo in Kynance Cove, Edmond will be there when we go in to rescue him.”

  The evenly voiced statement had her blinking, had her incipient panic subsiding like a pricked balloon. She swallowed, nodded—felt calmer. Enough to smile reassuringly at Ben and Harry when they looked to her for confirmation.

  Thank God for Gervase.

  She hugged Ben to her, and repeated the words in her head.

  “How many of them are there—these wreckers?” Dalziel, narrow-eyed, looked at Abel.

  He shrugged, glanced at Gervase. “Ten, maybe. No more.” As if in explanation, he added, “They’re landlubbers, you know—the lot of ’em—while smugglers are all sailors. There’ve never been that many wreckers, or the rest of us would know, but they’ve always been vicious about secrecy, so no one’s ever been certain who is and who ain’t, and no real way to tell, not in these parts. Only thing we do know is that their favorite cove these last years has been Kynance.”

  Dalziel nodded. “How many nonlocals has our villain gathered?”

  They tossed around numbers, and settled on less than ten.

  Dalziel looked at Gervase. “How many men can we muster?”

  The answer was in the thirties. “Possibly more, depending on what I find when we reach the castle.” Gervase caught Dalziel’s gaze. “I assume you’re suggesting a little local housekeeping while we’re dealing with our fine traitor?”

  Dalziel shrugged. “If fate is steering us in that direction, then I for one say we shouldn’t fight the current. There’s more than one villain in our world.”

  The others murmured agreement.

  Madeline sat, hands clasped around Ben’s, with him leaning against her, and listened while they discussed and planned how they would put paid to the local wreckers, overcome the imported ruffians and capture the man who had kidnapped Ben, and now Edmond—at the same time keeping Edmond safe.

  While she saw nothing to argue with in the plans that slowly took shape, there was one thing—one aspect—they’d overlooked.

  “So”—Dalziel looked down at the map around which they’d all again gathered, Abel included; Gervase had just finished explaining the terrain of the clifftops, confirming that approaching undetected over land was impossible—“we’ll have to walk into the cove around the shoreline.”

  “Can’t.” Gervase shook his head. “The way’s impassable at several points.”

  Dalziel looked at him, then raised his brows. “How, then?”

  Gervase looked across the table at Abel. “We go in by sea.”

  Abel grinned, a startlingly ferocious sight. “Aye—there’ll be a small fleet putting into Castle Cove soon enough.”

  They transferred their headquarters to the castle. Gervase and Madeline went ahead on horseback, leaving the others to follow in a procession of carriages. They left Harry and Ben at the Park; Ben had had enough excitement for the moment, and Harry accepted that he had to remain in case the men left as a token force at Lowland Point needed further direction.

  Side by side, Gervase and Madeline clattered into the castle forecourt and dismounted. Before they reached the top of the castle steps, Belinda, Annabel and Jane rushed out.

  Eyes wide, they grabbed Gervase. “You have to come and see!” Jane tugged him forward.

  “There’s boats—lots of them—coming into the cove,” Belinda informed him.

  “The sailors look rough—are they smugglers?” Annabel demanded.

  Gervase raised his hands, palms out. “Yes, I know.” He looked at Annabel. “And yes, they’re local smugglers.”

  “Really?” Belinda’s eyes grew huge. She turned back into the house. “How exciting!”

  Annabel said nothing, just followed, the same look of fascination on her face.

  “Maybe if we ask nicely they’ll take us for a sail.” Releasing Gervase, Jane ran after her sisters.

  Gervase stared at their retreating backs, then looked at Madeline.

  She met his gaze, read the mute appeal therein. Lips lifting, she patted his arm. “I’ll go and speak with Sybil, and your sisters as well. You’d best get down to the cove.”

  “Thank you.” His relief was heartfelt; it rang in his tone.

  Raising her hand, he brushed a kiss over her knuckles, then left her, striding back down the steps and heading for the ramparts. Madeline watched him go, then went into the house.

  She found Sybil in the drawing room with Penny. The girls were ranged before their mother, seated on the chaise, asking permissi
on to go down to the cove.

  “Madeline!” Sybil turned to her with relief. “What is this about smugglers taking over the cove—do you know?”

  “The biggest local smuggling gang have just brought their boats into the cove, but girls?” She waited until all three girls looked her way. “I’m afraid we’ve a very serious situation on our hands.”

  She told them the story; Sybil, Penny and the three girls all listened with rapt attention, exclaiming here, horrified there, relieved at the last when she told them that the gentlemen were planning to rescue Edmond that evening.

  When she finished, the girls, now sober and quiet, exchanged glances, then looked at her. “We’ll behave, we promise—you and Gervase have enough to worry about without us teasing you.”

  She smiled, feeling the gesture go rather wobbly. “We’d both appreciate it—tonight is going to be difficult.”

  She rose, intending to go and find Gervase, to see what he was doing.

  Penny rose, too. “I should find my husband—I’m certain I heard his voice some time ago, and the dogs have been too quiet, which means they’re probably out with him.”

  They left the drawing room together; behind them, Sybil called Sitwell in to ask about their unexpected guests and give the necessary orders.

  Madeline waved to the door at the back of the hall. “Let’s go up to the east battlements—they give an excellent view out over the cove.”

  They climbed the stairs, then went out onto the windswept battlements. Giving up her hair as a lost cause, Madeline walked to the raised stone walls and looked out. “There.” She pointed to where, far below, a small fleet of rowing boats bobbed on the waves. Then she noticed the doors of the castle boathouse were open. “They’re lowering the castle’s boats, too.”

  Penny and she watched as first one boat, then another was swung out on the boom and lowered into the water. Gervase and Charles were manning the winch; two of the men helping jumped down into each boat, sat, took up the oars and rowed the boats across the cove to join the others by the castle watersteps.

  Madeline counted the seats. “They can carry…eighteen, not counting the oarsmen, who’ll have to stay with the boats.”

  Penny leaned on the wall beside her. “How many villains will there be on the beach—Londoners plus wreckers?”

  “They’re not sure, but perhaps as many as twenty.”

  “But some of those will be on the cliffs.”

  “Two lookouts, at most.” Madeline wrinkled her nose. “We can send more men by land, but the odds for the assault on the beach—as they’re terming it—aren’t that good. Those who go by land won’t be able to reach the cove in time to be of any help there.” She looked out for a moment more, then, lips setting, turned away. “It’ll be hand-to-hand fighting on the beach.”

  Penny glanced at her, then followed her down the stairs. “I know it’s easier to say than do, but don’t worry. I’ve seen the Bastion Club members in action, and of one thing you may be certain—one way or another they’ll win.”

  Madeline nodded. She hoped they would, but after nearly losing one brother to the murky underworld of London, she wasn’t about to remain quietly at home while the members of the Bastion Club rode like white knights to the rescue. No matter what they thought—no matter what Gervase thought—she knew where her place should be.

  She bided her time; she needed to catch Gervase alone, but not in a corridor or abovestairs—somewhere they could speak privately yet in a formal setting.

  The men spent the next several hours getting their arrangements in place. Gervase’s library-cum-study became the hub of all activity; she joined the group there, expecting her customary malelike status to allow her to be an unnoticed observer, but unfortunately Christian, Charles and Dalziel saw her clearly as a female—more, as a lady—and behaved accordingly.

  They were very aware she was there, that she was listening.

  As for Gervase, his view of her had radically altered; he certainly didn’t view her as he once had. Although subsumed beneath the unexpected rush of action, their evolving link, the sexual and emotional connection between them, hadn’t waned in the least; the curious hiatus—where he wanted to marry her while she simply didn’t know—was still there, like a caught breath, as if they were poised on some emotional edge, waiting to see, to learn, which way they would fall.

  Because of that she accepted she had to tread warily, carefully, with him.

  The door opened and Charles strode back in; Penny slipped in on his heels. “None of our scouts sighted the curricle.” Charles had gone out to the forecourt to confer with three grooms they’d sent across the fields and along the cliffs, as if they, local lads all, were simply enjoying a ride. “No sign of any unusual activity along the cliffs above Kynance Cove.”

  Gervase grimaced and looked down at the detailed map spread over his desk. “Lizard Village is small, but there are numerous scattered farmhouses, cottages and, even more useful, barns in that area—they could easily have taken over one or more.”

  “He’s certainly clever enough to get out of sight while he’s waiting for the tide to turn.” Dalziel was once again circling. “I suggest we resist the temptation to search further. The last thing we want is to let him know we’re here, preparing to pounce.”

  Pausing, he met Gervase’s eye, then glanced at Charles and Christian. “This may well be our last and best chance to catch this blackguard—we know he’ll be in that cove tonight. We should focus on taking him then. If he learns we’re near, in the neighborhood, despite his desire for his cargo his instinct for self-preservation might yet be strong enough to make him bolt.”

  The others nodded.

  Madeline opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Gervase added, “And he does have Edmond.”

  Dalziel nodded, reassuringly grim. “Indeed.”

  Penny joined Madeline by the side of the room; together, they listened—Madeline suspected both of them critically—while the final dispositions were made. As well as Gervase and this three friends, Abel was there, along with Gervase’s head stableman, one of Abel’s brothers, Gregson the bailiff, and a selection of others.

  Christian wasn’t especially at home on the waves; he was the obvious choice to command their land forces—the small band of grooms, farmers, gardeners and laborers they’d assembled.

  “So we block the road here.” Leaning over the map, Christian put his finger on a particular spot. Craning past the various shoulders, Madeline saw he’d indicated a place just south of Cross Lanes.

  “There’s a curve and a dip,” Gervase said. “He’ll be on the downward slope heading toward you by the time he sees you.”

  Christian nodded. “I’ll station enough men there to stop a curricle as soon as we get there, just in case for some reason he gets the wind up and flees early, but assuming he’ll be on the beach at least until you make your move, I’ll take the rest of the men and scout around. It might be wise, given the area we’re trying to secure, to make sure there are no horses available for him to commandeer, in case he gets away from us at the beach.”

  Dalziel nodded curtly. “We take all possible precautions.” He studied the map, then grimaced. “As you so rightly point out, the area is big—any net we fashion will necessarily have big holes. If he slips past us at the cove and doesn’t take his curricle, it’s not going to be easy to prevent him escaping.”

  “But this,” Gervase said, “is the best we can do.”

  The others nodded.

  “So”—Gervase looked at Charles—“to the action on the beach.”

  He and Charles had the most experience with smugglers and skirmishes, if not outright battles, on beaches, waged from the sea.

  Charles wrinkled his nose. “I can’t see any point in carrying pistols, can you?”

  Gervase shook his head. “Too wet, not terribly useful at such close quarters given how confused it’s bound to be, and not useful enough given the numbers we’ll face.”

  “Unlik
ely any of them will be carrying pistols either.” Charles grinned, a distinctly anticipatory wolfish expression. “So it’s blades—swords, cutlasses, daggers.”

  Both Abel and his brother were nodding.

  Gervase glanced at them. “There’s a small armory here. I’m assuming your men will have their own weapons, but we can make sure everyone in the boats is well equipped.”

  “Aye,” Abel said. “We might need a few extra blades, just to cover things.”

  “Right.” Dalziel shifted. “Now for the timing.”

  Madeline noted the puzzled glances Christian, Charles and Gervase threw him—and the subsequent flick of their eyes to her and Penny—before they followed their ex-commander’s lead.

  She narrowed her eyes. They weren’t going to discuss the details of the assault on the beach in front of her and Penny.

  Beside her Penny humphed, obviously having come to the same conclusion. Glancing at her, Madeline saw Penny’s gaze boring into her husband; she intended getting the details from him later.

  Madeline looked at Gervase, considered, then she arched a brow at Penny. “I think I’ll go and organize with Sybil to have dinner brought forward. Coming?”

  Bending a distinctly jaundiced look at the males gathered about the desk, Penny sniffed. “I may as well.”

  They left the room on their appropriately ladylike mission, but once the early dinner had been organized, Madeline slipped back into the library, this time alone. She drifted to the far end of the room and stood looking out, plainly not attempting to overhear the men’s plans.

  She didn’t need to hear them; she was more than capable of planning herself.

  Sitwell arrived to announce the cold collation laid out in the dining room for the gentry, and the kitchen for everyone else. The others drifted out. She waited, knowing Gervase wouldn’t leave the room without her…. What she hadn’t counted on was his ex-commander’s irritating insight.

  Dalziel didn’t leave either. When all the others had gone, he stood by the desk with Gervase—both of them with their gazes trained on her.