“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.”

“I'll take the path,” James said.

“Are you certain?” she asked with a frown. “You must be terribly weary.”

“Someone has to fetch the horses. You two go ahead. I'll meet you on the road.” And before either of the Ravenscrofts could argue, James had taken his leave and was scrambling up the steep path.

Blake smiled and tugged on Caroline's hand. “Riverdale is a very smart man.”

“Oh, really?” She tripped along behind him, leaving Chartwell to guard the prisoner. “And what prompted you to make that observation at this time?”

“I have a feeling he would be a bit uncomfortable accompanying us.”

“Oh? Why?”

Blake offered her his most earnest expression. “Well, as you know, there are certain aspects of marriage that require privacy.”

“I see,” she said gravely.

“I might have to kiss you once or twice on the way back.”

“Only twice?”

“Possibly three times.”

She pretended to think about that. “I don't think three times will be nearly enough.”

“Four?”

She laughed, shook her head, and ran down the beach.

“Five?” he offered, his long strides easily keeping up with her. “Six. I can promise six, and I'll try for seven…”

“Eight!” she yelled. “But only if you catch me.”

He broke into a run and tackled her to the ground. “Caught you!”

She swallowed, and her eyes filled with sentimental tears. “Yes, you did. It's rather funny, actually.”

Blake touched her cheek, smiling down at her with all the love in the world. “What?”

“Oliver set out to catch an heiress, you set out to catch a spy. And in the end…” Her words trailed off, and her voice choked with emotion.

“In the end?”

“In the end, I caught you.”

He kissed her once, lightly. “You certainly did, my love. You certainly did.”

Selections from the Personal Dictionary of Caroline Ravenscroft

July 1815

non-par-eil (noun). A person or thing having no equal; something unique.

A year of marriage and still I think my husband a nonpareil!

November 1815

e-da-cious (adjective). Devoted to eating, voracious.

I am quite hungry now that I am carrying a child, but still I am not as edacious as I was those days while trapped in Blake's washing room.

May 1816