“No!” Harry was far enough away and the ground was precarious. He couldn’t reach her in time to stop her. “Please. Jessie, no.”
She ignored him, fixing her gaze on the faker below, and scooted down the path as quickly as possible. The impostor shouted encouragement.
Grimly, Harry descended with less stealth and more purpose, allowing the impostor to see him.
The blackguard smiled, a repulsive uplift of the lips. “Hurry, darling, so I can protect you.” He moved to intercept Jessie.
No matter how much Harry rushed, Jessie had the easier descent. He wanted to shout at her to remember last night, to believe in him, but what was the use? She either trusted him or she didn’t. Apparently she didn’t. If only he’d been frank with her…but he’d learned the habit of secretiveness in a hard school. He’d never imagined it could work against him. And now, right before his eyes, the woman he loved would be killed.
It would be his fault.
As she reached the lower slope, she glanced at him and seemed to slow. She wound out of sight behind the jagged boulders, and the impostor must have lost sight of her, too, for he dropped the open, earnest mask and donned an expression of fierce intent. He whipped out a pistol and pointed it at Harry. “Don’t come any closer,” he shouted. “Or you know what I’ll do.”
Harry loosened the knife in his sleeve and kept coming. It was a race now. Each man moving to catch Jessie and seal his victory over the other. The stranger moved to the place where she should come out.
She didn’t.
Instead she appeared from around the edge of the cliff, walking on the sand right toward the impostor.
“No!” Harry shouted, and raised his knife. But he was far away and had no chance of an accurate throw. He might hit Jessie. He slid, landing hard on his rear, rising to hurry again.
The blackguard grinned and strolled toward her, pointing the pistol at her head.
Still walking, she stooped to the ground, rose to her full height, and as he reached out to grasp her, she threw two handfuls of sand in his eyes.
He staggered back, clutching his face and cursing.
Harry made a last, suicidal leap onto the beach and stumbled on the soft ground.
Baring her boot, Jessie kicked the impostor in the knee.
Harry heard the bone and ligaments crack.
The impostor dropped the pistol. He screamed. Clutching his leg, he fell and rolled in agony.
Picking up the gun, she skipped back, looked at Harry, and in that sweet, pleased tone of hers, she said, “You were right. Kicking him in the knee worked awfully well.”
Harry wanted to shake her, to shout at her, to make it clear she was never to endanger herself again. Instead he stalked toward her and stripped off his black cravat, then his white one.
“Here?” She lavished a flattering look on the vee of his chest, then glanced around. “Now? Don’t you think you ought to tie him up first?”
With a blow of the elbow, Harry knocked the fellow unconscious. “I’m going to tie him up first.” He knelt on the villain’s spine. “Then I’m going to load you on the first coach and send you home to your father with a note to keep you there until you’re no longer a menace to society, which will be never.”
She seated herself on a boulder and watched him truss the bastard like a Christmas goose. “Don’t be silly. I’m not going.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. Why should I do what you tell me? You’re not my husband. You’re only my lover.”
Harry’s head shot up, and he glared at her.
“And a very exciting lover, too.” She placed the pistol on the flat surface beside her. “Give me one reason for me to leave you.”
“If you stay with me, you’ll be in danger.” Standing, he poked at the stranger’s body with the toe of his now-scuffed best boot. “From people like this.”
“Yes.” She gave the body a thoughtful look. “I can see that would be a problem for a farmer from Derbyshire to be chased by blackguards like this one.”
Harry crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to look forbidding.