by Regina Scott
Jess tipped back her head, and moonlight picked out her features. “Who else could I trust to take you?”
“Turn back,” he said. “It’s dangerous.”
She cocked her head, and he could just make out the fluttering lashes. “Why, Mr. Denby, whoever said it wasn’t?” She straightened to nod toward the bow. “Man the sails, if you please. As soon as the tide turns, we’ll make a run for the Dragon’s Maw. We’ll need the sails as we approach to push us, but they must be down before we reach the opening, or we’ll come in too fast and wreck against the cliff.”
She was so calm, so sure, that he could not doubt her. Amazement courted awe and birthed an emotion he wasn’t ready to name. He went to do as she bid.
She had to tack past the cliff face twice before he felt it. The hull shifted; the cant of the boat swung. The tide had turned. She leaned on the tiller.
“On my command,” she called.
He had only served on a cutter twice, but he knew the expected response. “Aye, Captain,” Lark acknowledged.
The ketch veered in toward the cliff, closer, closer, until he could hear the roar of the surf against the rocks. Boulders stuck up ahead, the way between impossibly narrow. Lark caught his breath. She wouldn’t, she couldn’t…
“Now!” she shouted, and he released the rope to let it whip through his fingers. Down came the sail, creaking in protest.
The boulders surged on either side, then darkness wrapped them.
“There’s a lantern at my feet,” Jess said. “Come light it. Quickly.”
He felt his way back, stumbling as he reached her. The darkness pressed in on him like a blanket, covering his eyes, his face. Relief surged as his fingers touched the tinderbox.
A few moments later, the wick caught, and light flowed around them. She took a deep breath.
“And here we are, sir. The caves under Castle How.”
He turned and lifted the lantern high, higher. The light still didn’t reach the walls on either side or the roof above them. They were gliding through black water, each movement, every creak magnified in the vast stillness.
“The incoming tide will carry us the rest of the way,” she told him. “But we’ll have to wait until the tide turns again before we can leave.”
Lark glanced at her. “How long?”
“About five hours in this tide cycle. We should reach the cove just as dawn breaks.”
He stiffened. “You could be seen.”
“I brought a gown with me. If anyone notices us coming in, I can claim to have been a passenger with you for a night sail. Everyone will assume my brother captained the ketch.”
He wasn’t so sure of that. “You risked a great deal to do this for me—your reputation, your position.”
She raised her chin. “I did it for the good of the village. We must know who implicates us.”
That he could not argue.
Ahead came a whisper, made more rhythmic by the echo.
“We’re near the shore,” she said. “Prepare to drop anchor.”
“Aye.” Lark hooked the lantern to the mast and went forward. Out of the darkness, walls loomed, craggy and dark. Water glistened silver in the lamplight. Ahead, he made out a rocky beach.
“Lower anchor,” she ordered.
“Lower anchor, aye.” He picked up the chunk of iron and flung it out, heard it splash in the water. A moment more, and the ship swung to a halt.
They had reached the fabled caves. Would discovering their secrets warrant the danger to Jess?
~~~
Jess released the tiller, fingers stiff from her grip. She rose and went to join Lark in the bow. She’d forgotten how odd it felt to wear trousers. The striped pair she’d found among her brother’s belongings were looser around her legs than those she’d worn as a girl but tighter in the seat. At least his jacket closed over her chest, which also felt odd without its usual corset. But she would never have been able to sail into the caves in her fashionable gowns and the stiff underpinnings they required.
Lark had fetched the lantern and now held it high again. By its light, she made out the beach, dotted with rocks that had fallen from the cave’s roof. Walls enclosed the back of the main cave, with a darker arch recessed into one side.
She pointed to it. “That’s the entrance to the stairs up to Castle How.” Her voice echoed.
He appeared to be studying the beach. “No permanent structures.”
He sounded disappointed. She could only be glad. “Just that ring of rocks, there. That’s where we used to light a fire.”
Even as she said the word, a shiver went through her.
“You’re cold,” Lark said. He started to shrug out of his coat, and she caught his hand.
“No need. I brought blankets and the last of the rolls from dinner.”
His chuckle was multiplied against the rocks. “You thought of everything.”
She’d thought too much. After he’d left her at the shore, she’d asked Maudie to take a note to Lord Featherstone’s lodgings. She could only be grateful the baron had agreed with her plan, even though it raised his silvery brows. She’d have far preferred to convince Alex to sail the ketch, but he had not returned before the appointed hour. She’d tried to nap, but her thoughts chased her, and it wasn’t just concern for Alex that kept her awake. She was actively considering how to attract Lark. Wonder vied with worry. She was known for her matchmaking, but she’d acknowledged she lacked the skill when it came to her own heart. What made her think she could be any more successful this time?
Even if she had sailed into the Dragon’s Maw for him.
He returned now with the blankets and draped one about her shoulders. “Your mantel, Your Majesty. I’ll have your feast ready shortly.”
“When was I coronated?” she teased, snuggling into the wool’s warmth as he set out for the stern once more.
“Oh, years ago,” he assured her, bringing her back a roll from the pack she’d carried aboard. “You are the undisputed queen of Grace-by-the-Sea.”
She snorted. “That’s Mrs. Greer. I am merely a lowly handmaid.”
“You are nothing of the sort.”
The warmth in his voice made her suddenly toasty indeed. She bit into the roll, then nodded to the beach as she swallowed.
“I thought you’d want to go ashore.”
He crouched beside her, roll in one hand and gaze on the rocky beach. “So did I, but it’s clear no one uses this regularly. There’d be some sign—disturbance of the rocks where a boat had landed, the smell of smoke in the air from a fire.” He drew in the chill air and blew it out. “I’ve risked your life for nothing.”
She shifted, her shoulder brushing his. “At least you’ve ruled this out as a landing spot.”
“Which pleases you no end, I’m sure. One less possible tie to Grace-by-the-Sea.”
His frustration echoed with his words. “If there are smugglers in the area, we will find them,” she promised him. “Since you do not intend to investigate the caves further, perhaps we should get some sleep. Otherwise, tomorrow will be a very long day.”
“Good thinking. The change in the tide should wake us. I’ll put out the light to save the oil.”
She wrapped the blanket more securely around her and leaned against the side of the hull. The incoming tide rocked the ketch gently. The darkness was complete. She heard Lark settle near her.
Once again, she knew sleep was the prudent choice, but she couldn’t seem to relax. The darkness pulsed against her eyes. She closed them, made herself take several calming breaths. Nothing helped. She had so many questions she wanted to ask him. Or perhaps merely one.
“Why didn’t you come back to the spa before now?” she murmured.
The boat shifted as he did. “There seemed to be no need. It was enough to visit my mother and sisters, ensure to their wellbeing. The spa was another world, one I felt I had left behind.”
She swallowed. He couldn’t see her, didn’t know how each word troubled her.
Why was it so hard to hear this?
“And now?” she asked. “What do you think of Grace-by-the-Sea now?”
“It is like a peaceful garden,” he allowed. “And I can see why you and the Spa Corporation wish to keep it so. The war, these smugglers, seem far away most days.”
“Is that so bad?” she protested.
“No,” he said. “At times, I find myself tempted to stay.”
“Then stay.” Though she couldn’t see him, she opened her eyes and twisted to gaze in his direction. “Your mother and sisters would be so happy to have you near.”
“And you?” he murmured. “Would you like me near, Jess?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Oh, yes.”
Something brushed her hand. She grasped his fingers, clung to them.
“I’ll see what can be done,” he murmured. “I serve at the whim of the Excise Office. I had assumed I’d be reassigned to Kent when the Lord of the Smugglers was found. Would you ever consider leaving Grace-by-the-Sea?”
The gaping hole in her heart was her answer. But if she truly wanted a future with him, shouldn’t she be willing to give as much as she asked of him?
“I’ll see what can be done,” she answered.
Chapter Seventeen
Dawn was still asleep when they sailed back into the cove. So were most of the villagers. Jess brought the ketch as close to the shore as she could, and Lark splashed through the shallows to fetch the small boat. After she’d anchored, he rowed out to fetch her back.
“Are you sure you want to interview Jack Hornswag and Quillan St. Claire today?” he asked as he helped her ashore.
She nodded, hiding a yawn. She had managed a few hours of sleep in the cave, but likely not enough. “I’ll be fine. See you at the spa at eight.”
He brought her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss against her knuckles. Her legs felt wobbly as he released her. But she managed to reach the cottage and slide into bed with Maudie for a couple more hours of sleep. And still, Alex hadn’t come home.
It was harder than ever to climb the hill that morning and perform her duties. Still, she had her Regulars all sorted and was instructing Miss Barlow in the fine-tuning of the fountain when Lark strolled in.
“I’ll be back this afternoon,” she told the lady and Maudie.
“We’ll perform admirably,” Miss Barlow assured her. “I’m delighted to assist. Being the hostess of such a prestigious spa is quite a calling.”
It was indeed. But now, she had another.
She donned her bonnet and walked with Lark down the hill.
“No one the wiser, I trust?” he asked.
“Only Lord Featherstone. He has yet to arrive this morning.”
He chuckled. “Last night was more of an exertion than he generally has in a week, I warrant.”
They reached the Mermaid shortly after, and Lark insisted on calling Jack Hornswag out onto the side of the building to talk. He was protecting Jess’s reputation. Ladies did not generally dally in the public rooms of an inn, after all, even if they were concerned about their village and smugglers. The innkeeper nodded to both of them, planted his feet in the chalky soil, and put his hands on his massive hips.
“Well? How can I help the hostess of the spa this morning?”
Jess smiled at him. “By answering a few simple questions. We are assisting Magistrate Howland in compiling the returns for the lord-lieutenant.”
He spit toward the sea. “That for the lord-lieutenant. He’s all for protecting his own, never mind those who have need of their things.”
Lark’s mouth tightened, but Jess kept her look pleasant. “It is rather daunting to think of transporting every person, animal, and crop inland to prevent the French from harming them. You must have a large cellar and many goods to protect.”
“Large enough,” he acknowledged. “But I told all that to the constable.”
“And have you a boat or barge to help ferry things away?” Lark asked.
Mr. Hornswag narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t go out at sea. Hurt my leg in the war, and it’s never been the same since.”
“You bear it bravely,” Jess assured him. “What a shame a man of your skills must be confined to land.”
He turned to her, and a smile broadened his face. “Ah, but all the pretty lasses are on land, Miss Chance.” He nodded to Lark. “You might remember that next time you start asking about boats, Mr. Denby. Young Alex was saying how much you wanted to sail through the Dragon’s Maw.”
Jess started. “You’ve seen my brother?”
He nodded his massive head. “He was in my public room last night. And I’ll tell you the same thing I told him.” He loomed over Lark. “I don’t trust those currents. Never have. Never will.” He straightened with a nod, as if satisfied that was that.
Lark thanked him for his time and took Jess’s elbow to lead her back up the hill.
“Not much help,” she managed.
“No,” Lark agreed. “And I take it your brother still doesn’t know of our trip.”
“He never came home last night,” Jess admitted. “It’s not the first time. I wish I knew what he was doing, besides loitering in the public room.”
His hand slipped to hers, and he gave it a squeeze. “We’ll find out.”
Hope bubbled up inside her, like water rising in the fountain. He was holding her hand, offering comfort. How extraordinary. Maudie was always there for her, if in her aunt’s own world, and Abigail could be counted upon for advice and counsel, but no one else since her father had died had made it sound as if they were in this together. As if she didn’t have to rely only on herself.
If only Lark could be persuaded to take a risk and marry.
~~~
Lark ought to return Jess to the spa. Her guests would be looking for her. Crabapple would have questions on courting. Lord Featherstone would be looking for his daily dose of the spa waters. But he was loath to let her go. Perhaps that was why he suggested they take a walk along the shore path, just to tarry in her company.
“I’d like your opinion on some of the other boats,” he explained. “It shouldn’t take long.”
“Very well,” she said, as if she had nothing more important to do than to spend time with him. He tucked her hand in his arm, and they were off.
The shore path cupped the cove in either direction, running past cottages crowded up against the headland. Most were neat and trim, but, here and there, chipping paint and crumbling rock gave testimony of too many storms weathered. The waves ate away at the ground in front at high tide, their movement compelling. A gull soared overhead with a mournful cry.
Jess gazed out over the waters. “Did you disappear at odd times like Alex does when you were coming into your own?”
Lark barked a laugh. “Too often for my mother’s nerves, I’m sure. And, I’m ashamed to say, I always had a ready story for my absence. I think she suspected I was up to no good, but mostly I was just exploring.”
Her brows rose. “Exploring? Exploring what, exactly?”
He shrugged. “Everything, anything. I was convinced there was more to the world than the everyday life of Upper Grace.”
She sighed. “We weren’t enough for you.”
He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “You would be enough for any man, Jess.”
He was getting carried away again, but before he could think better of it, she stiffened. Jerking her hand out of his, she grabbed his arm and tugged him into the shadow of the nearest cottage.
He looked at her askance, but she put a finger to her lips and nodded toward the path. A moment more and the vicar hurried past, glancing forward and back as if he feared someone had let the hounds out after him.
“Is there a reason you don’t want the vicar to see us?” Lark whispered.
Jess craned her neck, gaze following the minister as he headed for High Street. “Odd that he would be down on the shore this morning. Monday is generally the day he takes some time to himself. What purpose did
he have on this side of the cove?”
Lark glanced after the minister, who was still moving faster than most errands would warrant. “It seems he doesn’t want anyone to notice he’s been down this way. Interesting.”
She did not look pleased. “More interesting that I see my own minster and my first thought is to hide. Perhaps my conscience is the one that requires examining.”
“Why, Miss Chance,” he teased, “what terrible thing have you done?”
She didn’t answer, smile prim. “Perhaps you should tell me which of these boats troubles you, sir.”
Lark eyed the cove. Most of the fishermen were out, now. Besides her family ketch, only one looked like it could fly through the water. The vessel was likely large enough to make it to France and fast enough to evade capture by a revenue cutter.
“Whose boat is that?” he asked Jess.
She followed his gaze. “Henry Bascom’s.”
He should have known. Yet why was it at anchor and not on its way to France?
“Lark?” she asked. “You’re frowning. What is it?”
He nodded toward the ship. “The other fishermen are out plying their trade. Why hasn’t Henry Bascom joined them?”
Now she looked troubled. “I don’t know. We could try his home once more, but we likely won’t get far questioning his wife again if he isn’t home or refuses to come to the door. Do you want to watch the harbor and see if he appears?”
That could take hours, and he felt the moments ticking away. “No,” he said, turning for High Street. “I’ll leave my card at Dove Cottage, see if Captain St. Claire is amenable to a visit.”
Jess fell into step beside him. “He may refuse to speak to you too. After all, he is supposed to be an invalid.”
“An invalid or too busy having adventures,” Lark said.
She cast a glance in his direction, quick, but thoughtful. “Did you ever find the adventure you sought?”
“A bit,” he allowed. “I never know what I’ll discover on my riding circuit. Some days it’s nothing more than hours in the saddle.” He grinned at her. “And some days, I get to chase smugglers for miles across fen and ford.”