“It’s too far.”
“Can he shoot us?”
“Only if he has a rifle, which he does not. Now, listen. I’m going to have to leave you here.”
He was on his knees. She was on her knees. But she faced him without flinching. Her head was tilted, and her wide eyes watched him inquiringly. If she was frightened, she didn’t show it, and his heart squeezed with the pain of knowing he must save her today and abandon her tomorrow.
She would face disgrace and ruin, he knew, but better that than death.
Somehow her chin had gotten smudged, and absently he licked his thumb and scrubbed at the mark. “I want you to stay put. No matter what happens, remain here until I come to get you.”
She nodded.
“You do trust me to come and get you.”
She nodded again.
He couldn’t resist. One more time.
One last time.
Wrapping his hand around her neck, he pulled her toward him and kissed her. Her eyelids drooped. Her lips easily parted for him. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she sucked at it eagerly. Pulling her against him, he held her close, chest to chest, and the world faded away. For a brief, exultant moment, there was no crashing ocean, no lurking danger. There was only Jessie, and him, and love.
Love.
Tearing himself away from her, he stared into her exquisite face for one agonizing moment. He loved her, and his heart was breaking.
Her eyes widened as he gazed at her, and lifting her hand, she smoothed the hair off his forehead. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing.” His voice rasped through a throat tight with anguish. “Stay here.” He was off and running, staying low, dodging from boulder to boulder. He got off the path. He worked himself along the cliff into position above the impostor. The impostor still looked up on the cliff with his spyglass, and Harry realized he was searching the very top of the cliff, looking for the place where they had descended. The impostor was too sure of himself; he must have spotted them after the fog cleared. At last he seemed satisfied, and moved a little farther down the beach, closer to the place where Jessie was hidden—and closer to Harry.
Cupping his hand around his mouth, the wretch called, “Lady Jessica, I saw you go over the cliff. I know you’re up there. You’re frightened. Come, let me care for you.”
Harry judged the distance between them. He smiled. He was now close enough to shoot. Kneeling behind a rock, he pulled his pistol free.
“Listen to me. The man you’re with…he’s an impostor.”
Harry froze.
“He’s not who he says he is. He has a dark past.”
True, but not true, and Harry had never wanted to kill someone as much as he wanted to kill this bastard.
The man had a smooth voice that soothed and charmed. “He’s a criminal, wanted by the law. A murderer. I fear he’ll harm you. Come to me. I’m Lord Granville. You can trust the man your father wants you to marry. I’ll protect you.”
She wouldn’t listen, would she? She didn’t have any doubts about Harry, did she? Not since last night. Surely she didn’t think he would injure her.
He steadied on the boulder and took aim right at the bastard’s heart. He pulled the trigger… and nothing happened.
Damn it! He almost flung the pistol on the ground. Damp powder, probably. The mists of England were notorious for ruining shots.
“He let the horses go so you couldn’t get away. Think of the poor horses, running free, falling in holes, breaking their legs…”
Harry glanced over at Jessie. She watched him, her face solemn. She didn’t believe that bastard, did she?
“He’s a dangerous man, a villain of stunning treachery. He has a gunshot wound in his shoulder. He’s trying to kidnap you so he can threaten me. Come down, darling, I’ll protect you.”
She stared at Harry for one more moment, then she stood.