She stopped mid-step, baffled by his cryptic explanation. ‘How can you know that? And besides, I am not attired for an outing.’ Serena gestured to her servant’s garb, which was no longer fresh. Saints above, she probably reeked of lye and bore smudges of dust as well.
‘Never mind your appearance. Just come.’ He reached out and clasped her hand, tugging her along with him. ‘And I know because he told me.’
Told him? Too bemused to argue, Serena stumbled behind the young stable-hand. How was a visit to the lighthouse urgent, anyway? And why was it so significant for her to join them? Hadn’t Mrs Jones told her to stay away from Mr King, and that she promised to keep the charmer away from Serena? Well, so much for that.
Rounding the corner, Serena saw Mr King seated in his curricle, with the reins in hand. He was just as dishevelled as she had last seen him. ‘Ah, good for you, Xavier. You thought to bring the lovely Miss Bellingham, I see. Come along then.’ His eyes were bright with impatience.
As Mr Xavier handed her up into the carriage, Serena saw Mr King pull his snuff box from a pocket. He flicked it open and took a pinch, sniffing hard at each nostril. She must have frowned for his face spread into a wide grin. ‘Nothing like a pinch of snuff to refresh the senses.’
Serena turned back to Mr Xavier, a question on her lips. Before she could speak, it seemed he read her mind.
‘I shall catch up on my horse.’
She had only framed her mouth into an ‘O’ before Mr King flicked the reins and the horses lunged forward. And not at a calm walk either. He urged them straight into a run. Serena knew there was no point in trying to slow him. Mr King loved the speed and, on all accounts, it was likely to pour with rain at any moment, so there was reason to hurry. Rather than comment, she gripped the side of the curricle hard enough to make her knuckles white. She tried not to fall against Mr King when they bumped through a rut or rounded a bend.
When they arrived at the stately lighthouse, however, Mr King raced right by it, heading straight for the grey sky. Serena sucked in her breath and held on with both hands, visions of the curricle soaring over the edge flashing through her mind. Did the man intend to stop? At the last moment, Mr King pulled Misty and Storm to a sudden halt, laughing with his head thrown back.
‘Your face was worth the dramatic stop, Serena.’
It was funny? He thought it a great joke to scare her? The corners of her mouth curved upward, even as she scolded him. ‘Mr King, that was not very genteel of you.’ If she had a fan in her hand, she might have rapped him over the knuckles.
He handed her from the curricle, civilised to perfection now. ‘Perhaps not. But don’t you think it would be marvellous to fly over the edge?’
Serena gurgled a chuckle. ‘If I had wings, maybe.’
Mr King tucked her hand through his elbow and led her closer to the edge. The wind whipped at their clothing as the storm clouds rolled in from the sea, dark and menacing. Seagulls gleamed white against the darkness, playing in the gale, their cry a stark reminder that nature would have its way. Serena shivered and pulled her thin wrap tighter around her body.
Mr King’s arm slipped around her shoulders and rubbed up and down her arm. ‘Too cold for you, my dear?’
Serena shrugged away from him, not willing to encourage his attentions. Surely he’d understood her refusal. But both Mr Xavier and Mrs Jones did say Mr King was too impulsive. She shook her head free of these troubling thoughts and focused on the view.
‘A storm is coming.’
‘I enjoy a good storm.’
Serena shuddered again, remembering they had almost lost Papa several times to storms like this.
He continued. ‘They speak to me.’
‘What? Storms?’
‘Yes. Well, it is as if they speak my language.’
Serena turned to watch his profile as he stared at the approaching dark clouds. His eyes were fervent with excitement, as though he would hasten the storm’s approach if he could. How did he derive so much energy from thunder and lightning? Even as the question entered her mind, the clouds answered with a rumble and a flash.
Mr King closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. In the next moment, his eyes snapped open and turned to her. ‘I feel like flying.’
Serena chuckled, unsure of what he meant, but she became aware when he stepped right to the edge of the precipice and stretched his hands out. Alarm shot through her as though struck by the lightning currently slicing through the sky into sea. ‘Mr King!’
‘Come and try it,’ he shouted into the wind.
Dear God, what was he thinking? This was more than reckless, but she dared not chastise him. If he became angry and slipped ...
Serena forced a merry smile. ‘No, no. I can feel it from right here.’ She spread her arms out to mimic him. In truth, she could imagine taking flight with only ocean below, and the wind in her face.
For a moment, thunder seemed to approach from both directions, but when Serena looked over her shoulder, she realised the noise behind her was Mr Xavier arriving. She let out a breath of relief. He would know what to do. He leapt from his horse and hurried over, his face pale.
‘Saints above, we have to get him away from the edge.’
Mr King made a sudden movement, turning to scowl at his nephew, and Serena gasped as he seemed to lose his balance. Time hung in that moment. Would he fall? Serena’s entire body tensed, her breath caught, ready to lunge and pull him to safety, even though she knew she would never get to him in time. What was likely two seconds, stretched into
