To Catch An Heiress (24 page)

“Blake?”

James's voice pulled his mind out of its painful vise, and he looked down.

“We need to get going.”

Blake just looked back out at the sea.

“Blake? Blake? Are you all right?” James stood and began patting his friend down, searching for injuries.

“No, I—” And then he saw it. A body floating in the surf. Blood in the water. And Caroline—alive!

Blake's mind snapped back to life. So, too, did his body. “What's the best way down?” he asked curtly. “We haven't long.”

James regarded the manner in which the man and the woman holding Caroline hostage were arguing. “No,” he agreed, “we don't.”

Blake retrieved his weapon from the ground and turned to James and William Chartwell, the uninjured War Office man. “We need to get down as silently as possible.”

“There are two paths,” Chartwell said. “I surveyed the area yesterday. There is the one Prewitt used to force her to the beach, and another, but—”

“Where is it?” Blake interrupted.

“Over there,” Chartwell replied with a jerk of his head, “but—”

Blake was already off and running.

“Wait!” Chartwell hissed. “This one is steep. It will be impossible at night.”

Blake crouched at the head of the path and peered down, the moonlight affording him precious little illumination. Unlike the other path, this one was shielded from view by trees and shrubs. “This is our only hope of getting down undetected.”

“It's suicide!” Chartwell exclaimed.

Blake whirled around. “My wife is about to be murdered.” And then, without waiting to see if either of his colleagues cared to follow him, he started the slow and treacherous journey to the beach. It was agony not to be able to race headlong down the hillside. Every second was critical if he wanted to return home to Seacrest Manor with Caroline safely in his arms. But the terrain wouldn't allow anything other than the tiniest of baby steps. As it was, he had to make most of the journey sideways to keep from losing his balance.

He heard a small pebble rolling down the path and then felt it hit his ankle. The disturbance could only mean—thank God!—that James was following him. As for Chartwell, Blake didn't know the man well enough to predict what he would do, but he had enough confidence in the War Office to know that at least he would do nothing to jeopardize Caroline's rescue.

As he descended, the wind shifted and began carrying sounds from the beach. The man and the woman holding Caroline hostage were arguing. Prewitt's voice was conspicuously absent, and Blake could only assume that his was the body floating in the surf.

Then he heard a sharp cry from Caroline. Blake forced himself to calm down. She sounded more surprised than in pain, and he needed to retain a cool head if he was to make it to the bottom of the path in one piece.

He reached a small ledge and stopped to catch his breath and reassess the situation. A few seconds later, James was at his side.

“What's happening?” James asked.

“I'm not sure. She looks unharmed, but I still have no idea how we're meant to get out there and save her. Especially when they're all standing in the water.”

“Can she swim?”

“Bloody hell. I have no idea.”

“Well, she grew up near the coast, so we can hope. And—Good Lord!”

“What?”

James's head slowly swiveled to face him. “That's Carlotta De Leon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Blake sensed that his friend had more to say. “And…?”

“And it means we're in worse trouble than we'd feared.” James swallowed. “Miss De Leon's as ruthless as they come, and a fanatic to the cause. She'd shoot Caroline in the heart with one hand and use the other to flip pages in a Bible.”

* * *

Caroline knew she was running out of time. Davenport had no pressing reasons to keep her alive. He clearly only intended to have what he considered a little sport with her. He probably thought it would be exciting to have his way with the wife of an agent of the crown.

Carlotta, on the other hand, was motivated by more political reasons, most of which involved the collapse of the British Empire. And it was obvious that the woman believed passionately in her cause.

Her two captors were bickering over Caroline's fate, and she had no doubt that the argument was going to escalate into a full-scale shouting match before long. She also had no doubt that Carlotta would emerge the victor. It was a simple enough outcome to predict; Davenport could always find another woman to pester. Carlotta wasn't likely to find another country she wanted to destroy.

And that meant that Caroline would end up very dead if she didn't do something soon.

She was still held firmly in Davenport's grasp, but she twisted until she was facing Carlotta, and blurted out, “They're after you already.”

Carlotta froze, then turned slowly to Caroline. “What, precisely, do you mean?”

“They know you're in the country. They want to see you hang.”

Carlotta laughed. “They don't even know who I am.”

“Oh, yes, they do,” Caroline replied, “Miss De Leon.”

Carlotta's knuckles turned white around the handle of her gun. “Who are you?”

This time it was Caroline's turn to laugh. “Would you believe I am the woman who was mistaken for you? Amusing but true.”

“There is only one man who has ever seen me…”

“The Marquis of Riverdale,” Caroline supplied. Oliver had already said his and Blake's names, so there didn't seem much need for secrecy.

“If I might interrupt…” came Davenport's sarcastic voice.

BANG
!

The force was so great, Caroline was sure she'd been shot. But then she realized two things: she felt no pain, and Davenport's grip had gone utterly slack.

She swallowed convulsively and turned around. Two bodies were now floating in the water. “Why did you do that?”

“He bothered me.”

Caroline's empty stomach churned and heaved.

“I never knew his name,” Carlotta said softly.

“Who?”

“The marquis.”

“Well, he certainly knows yours.”

“Why do you tell me this?”

“Self-preservation, pure and simple.”

“And how is this meant to save you?”

Caroline's lips curved into an enigmatic smile. “If I know this much, just think what else I could tell you.”

The Spanish woman's stare was hard and steely. “If you know too much,” she said with eerie softness, “then why shouldn't I kill you right now?”

Caroline fought for her composure. Her knees were trembling, and her hands were shaking, but she hoped Carlotta would just attribute that to the cold water swirling around her calves. She had no idea whether Blake was dead or alive, but either way, she had to remain strong. If he had—God forbid—been killed up on the hill, she was damned if she was going to let his life's work be completely destroyed by this tiny, dark-haired woman. She didn't care if she died in the process, but she wasn't going to let that list of War Office agents out of the country.

“I didn't say I know too much,” Caroline finally said. “But I might know exactly what you need.”

There was a terrifying moment of silence, and then Carlotta lifted her gun. “I'll take my chances.”

In that moment Caroline realized she'd been lying to herself. She
did
care if she died. She wasn't ready yet to leave this world. She didn't want to feel the pain of a gunshot wound, to know that a bullet had torn her skin and her lifeblood was seeping out into the cold waters of the English Channel.

And God help her, she couldn't die without learning of Blake's fate.

“You can't!” she yelled. “You can't kill me.”

Carlotta smiled. “Oh?”

“You're out of bullets.”

“I have another gun.”

“You'll never escape without me.”

“Is that so?”

Caroline nodded frantically, then spied something that made her so thankful she was one inch away from committing herself to a convent just to show her gratitude.

“And why, pray tell, is that?”

“Because the boat is leaving.”

Carlotta whirled around, saw Oliver's boat heading back out to open waters, and spat out a word Caroline had never before heard spoken in a female voice.

When Blake's feet hit the gravelly beach, it was all he could do not to race into the ocean and yank his wife to safety. But he'd chosen the steeper path so as not to lose the element of surprise, and he knew he had to proceed with care and caution. James landed softly next to him a moment later, and together they surveyed the scene.

Carlotta seemed to have gone positively unhinged, waving her fist and screaming curses at the receding boat, and Caroline was inching slowly backward, edging ever closer to the beach.

But just when she'd managed to go far enough so that she might possibly be able to run to safety, Carlotta whirled around and leveled her gun at Caroline's midsection.

“You're not going anywhere,” she said in a deadly voice.

“Couldn't we at least get out of the water?” Caroline replied. “I can't feel my feet any longer.”

Carlotta nodded curtly. “Move slowly. One false move and I'll shoot you dead. I swear I will.”

“I believe you,” Caroline replied, with a meaningful glance toward Davenport's body.

Slowly, without ever taking their eyes off each other, the two women moved out of the water and onto the beach.

From his hiding place behind a tree, Blake watched the entire interchange. He felt James edge closer to him, then heard his whisper in his ear.

“Wait until they get a little closer.”

“For what?” Blake asked in response.

But the marquis made no reply.

Blake watched Carlotta like a hawk, waiting for the exact right moment to shoot the gun out of her hand. There was no finer shot in all of England, and Blake was confident he could do it, but not while Caroline was blocking his way.

But then, before Blake could stop him, James stepped suddenly out into the clearing, both of his hands in the air.

“Let her go,” the marquis said in a low voice. “I'm the one you want.”

Carlotta's head swung around. “You!”

“In the flesh.”

Caroline's mouth fell open. “James?”

Carlotta's gun made an arc through the air as she changed her aim. “I have been dreaming about this day,” she hissed.

James jerked his head to signal to Caroline to move out of the way. “Is that all you've been dreaming about?” he purred.

Caroline caught her breath. James sounded positively seductive. What on earth had happened between those two? And where was Blake?

“Caroline,” James said in forceful tones. “Move aside. This is between Miss De Leon and me.”

Caroline had no idea what he was up to, but she wasn't about to leave him to the mercy of a woman who looked as if she wanted to skin him alive. “James,” she said, “maybe I—”

“
MOVE
!” he roared.

She did, and in less than a second a shot rang out. Carlotta howled in pain and surprise, and James charged forward, pinning her to the ground. There was a scuffle, but James outweighed the tiny Spanish woman by a good six stone, and she didn't have a chance.

Caroline ran forward to help, but before she reached them, she, too, was tackled from the side.

“Blake? Oh, Blake!” She threw herself into his arms. “I thought I would never see you again.”

He crushed her to him and held with all his might. “Caroline,” he gasped, “when I saw…When I heard…”

“I thought you were dead. Oliver said you were dead.”

Blake clutched at her, still unable to believe that she was safe. He knew he was holding her too tightly, that her tender skin would bruise from the force of it, but he couldn't let go. “Caroline,” he said hoarsely, “I have to tell you—”

“I didn't leave Seacrest Manor!” she interrupted, her words coming out in a rush of air. “I swear it. I wanted to, but I didn't because I didn't want to betray your trust. But then Oliver snatched me, and—”

“I don't care.” He shook his head, aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks but completely at the mercy of his emotions. “I don't care about that. I thought you were going to die, and…”

She whispered his name and touched his cheek, and he was undone.

“I love you, Caroline. I love you. And you were going to die, and all I could think—”

“Oh, Blake.”

He held on tight to her arms, his entire body strangely off balance. “All I could think was that I would never be able to tell you, and you would never hear me say it, and—”

Caroline placed a finger against his lips. “I love you, Blake Ravenscroft.”

“And I love you, Caroline Ravenscroft.”

“And I don't much love Carlotta De Leon,” James grunted. “So if one of you is inclined to help me, I'd like to tie her up and be done with her.”

Blake broke away from his wife with a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry, Riverdale.”

Caroline followed and watched as the Spanish spy was bound and gagged. “How do you mean to get her up the hill?”

“Oh, bloody hell,” James muttered. “I certainly don't want to carry her.”

Blake sighed. “I suppose we could send out a boat tomorrow.”

“Oh!” Caroline exclaimed. “That reminds me! I nearly forgot. I saw the people on Oliver's boat before they sailed off. It was Miles Dudley, just as we thought. I didn't recognize the other man, but I'm certain if you apprehend Mr. Dudley, he will lead you to him.”

At that moment, Chartwell skidded down the hill. “What happened?” he asked.

“I'm surprised you didn't see it all from the safety of the cliff,” Blake said bitterly.

But James's face lit up. “No, no, Ravenscroft, don't scold the lad. He's just in time.”

Chartwell looked suspicious. “Just in time for what?”

“Why, to guard Miss De Leon. We'll send out a boat to fetch the both of you in the morning. And while you're at it, you can pull those two bodies out of the water.”

Chartwell just nodded, knowing he had no choice.

Blake looked up the hill. “Damn, I'm tired.”

“Oh, we don't need to go up the path,” Caroline said, pointing east. “If you don't mind walking a half mile or so down the beach, the cliff disappears, and it's a relatively flat walk to the road.”