For the first time, a real chill struck her. This was not a distant gunshot. This was destruction and possibly harm, for the hostler would not have allowed the horses to go without resistance. “Did he do this?”
“Unless he has an accomplice. All right. We’ll walk.”
“Where?”
“Where he isn’t.” Harry urged her along the top of the cliffs.
Fear closed in on her. Truth to tell, she hated the fog, clinging so close around them. Yet Harry allowed her no pause. Silent now, he concentrated on their steps, glancing at each stone and bush, stopping and listening.
His silence deepened her dread. She wished she could see or hear anything. Then a faint gust of wind touched her cheek, and she breathed in, grateful for the fresh, salt-scented air.
Harry felt his gut tighten. “Damn it again. Our luck didn’t hold.”
“What luck?” Jessie asked, and she sounded truly puzzled.
The sea, which had so kindly gifted them with the blessed fog, was now whisking it away, tearing at their cover, gradually revealing Harry and Jessie to any watching eye. “What luck, indeed?” he repeated. For not a damned tree or a bit of cover was anywhere in sight. As he glanced up the hill, he saw the inn, then he saw it disappear in a puff of fog. No one had stood on the veranda; the inn might have been empty, but Harry knew the servants must be cowering in their hiding places, frightened by the gunshot. And the villain… ah, he was undoubtedly on their trail.
This morning, when Harry had dressed, he’d hoped to propose to her. Now he just wanted to keep her alive.
Turning toward the cliffs, he said, “Softly, now.” Just yesterday, he had fallen down the cliff onto a narrow, winding path. It was not visible from above, and the rugged boulders along the way provided cover from any watching eyes on the beach. He would hide Jessie there, then go back and find the so-called Lord Granville.
The first step was long, waist-high on him, and he slid down, then turned and held up his hands.
She peered over and turned a pale green.
“Make haste. I won’t let you fall.”
?
??I know that,” she said in a peevish tone. Then she took a breath and slithered over. Before them the vista opened up to the horizon. Wisps of fog smudged the ocean. Black boulders pocked the sandy beach below. She said, “This is not a reassuring sight for a gently bred young lady.”
“Truth to tell, it’s not a reassuring sight to me.” If he were alone, he wouldn’t think of the danger, but having to protect Jessie…yes, he’d made the right decision. He couldn’t ever see her again—if they came out of this alive.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jessie asked.
He didn’t answer. Pressing himself against the wall, he took her hand and led her along. Their feet dislodged bits of gravel, and she pressed herself against the rock as if she could meld with the stone.
“You never told me you were afraid of heights,” he murmured.
“I’m not. I’m cautious.”
She sounded snappish, and for some reason, that cheered him. “Very wise,” he murmured.
“Where are we going?”
Yes, definitely snappish. “To hide you, then go after this Lord Granville.” A movement on the beach caught his eye.
The impostor stood on the beach, scanning the cliff with a spyglass.
Harry pushed Jessie down so she was bent double, then pulled her toward the shelter of a large boulder along the path. When they were crouching behind it, he cautiously looked out.
The impostor still surveyed the cliff.
“He’s rather casual, isn’t he?” Jessie spoke in his ear.
Harry glanced around to see her peeking over his shoulder. “Get down!”
She ducked behind him, but seemed unrepentant. “Can you shoot him?”