He didn’t fall asleep. He hadn’t known there was still smuggling into Britain. Why, for God’s sake? He remembered his father saying that French brandy was much better when it was smuggled in. There was something about the danger of it, the risk involved, which wasn’t all that great, he’d admitted, that gave it an extra dash of heat, right to the belly.
One thing he was sure of: These scoundrels weren’t out to kill his father.
The man with his very smooth, very educated voice was suddenly standing over them. James realized that he must have nodded off after all.
“Tired, are you?”
“The nap helped,” James said quietly, not wanting to awaken Corrie.
The man, still masked, came down on his haunches beside James. “This girl-she’s wearing a ball gown and you’re dressed in evening clothes as well. You’re obviously a gentleman and she a lady. It’s also obvious that you haven’t been dancing all night given where you are and your appearance. I’m inclined to believe that you were kidnapped and that perhaps she played a part in the rescue. But here’s the problem. If I leave the two of you here, you’ll tell Bow Street, and I wouldn’t like that at all.”
James said, “I don’t understand why you’re smuggling. The war with France has been over for years upon years. I didn’t even know smuggling still went on.”
The man looked amazed. He stood up quickly. “I’m going to take the two of you with me, no choice, so I don’t want any arguments from either of you. I’ll put you ashore near Plymouth. Would you like me to guess your names, or will you tell me who the devil you are?”
“I imagine you already know who we are, don’t you? Now, there’s no reason to take us to Plymouth. If I went to Bow Street, what would I tell them? I don’t even know where we are, exactly. I don’t even know how long it’s going to take us to get back to London. I have no idea who you are, and I haven’t a clue what you’re smuggling.”
The man cursed. He tapped his booted foot on the sand. He looked back toward the men who were nearly finished bringing the wooden crates out of the cave, making their way toward the two boats that were already loaded down. “No, there’s no choice, I can’t take the-”
James kicked the man hard in his belly, knocking him backward. James was on him in a flash, his fist slamming against his jaw, hard, and he fell back unconscious. James grabbed his gun and took two steps back and gave his hand to Corrie, whose mouth was suddenly so dry she couldn’t have spit on the wretched man if she’d tried her best. They heard shouts, saw the men running toward them, guns drawn.
James shouted, “All of you, stop right there or I’ll shoot your leader!”
The men stopped dead in their tracks, then began talking amongst themselves.
The man twitched, his arm snaked out to grab James’s hand, but Corrie was faster. She kicked his arm, then fell on him and shoved her knee against his throat. He stared up at her, saying nothing because he couldn’t breathe, and because he didn’t know what to say. She drew back her knee just a bit. “Now you know how dangerous I am,” Corrie said, leaning down close to his face. “You’re not a very competent villain, sir. James and I bested you without much effort at all.”
James yelled out, “All of you, throw your guns into the boats! I’m not going to leave you defenseless, but I don’t want you shooting at us either.”
James looked down at Corrie, her knee still pressed against the man’s neck, he, no fool, still lying perfectly still, and said, “Well done, Corrie, now back away from him. That’s it.”
Once Corrie was clear, James said to the man he would very likely recognize, “Now, I’m not going to take off your mask which means if I went to Bow Street I couldn’t give them a description of you. Truth is, I don’t want to know who you are or what you’re smuggling. I want you to get up and walk toward your men. When you reach them, I want you to get all of them in the boats. Go, now, or I’ll have to shoot you and you won’t have to worry about anything at all, ever again.”
“The two of you,” the man remarked as he rose slowly to his feet, gingerly feeling his throat that had so recently enjoyed Corrie’s knee. “I hadn’t appreciated how very good you are together. It is a pity that-well, never mind.” He turned and trotted down the beach toward the boats and his men. The man was standing at the bow, looking back at them. He cupped his mouth in his hands and yelled, “I ask only that you keep out of the cave!”
Within minutes the men were shoving the boats out into the water, then jumping in.
The man raised his hand in a salute.
“There’s a ship, James, I can see it now,” Corrie said, pointing.
“Yes,” he said. “I wonder what they were smuggling.”
“Maybe they left something in that cave. Let’s go look.”
James thought about it as he kept his eyes on the retreating boats. The sea was choppy, the wind rising.
“You know what? I don’t give a good damn what’s in the cave, if anything. Let’s get out of here instead.”
She looked disappointed, but nodded, taking his hand, and together they walked back up the path to the top of the cliff.
As they stood on the edge of the cliff, looking out toward the two boats, far distant now, nearly to the ship, the sky began to lighten.
“It’s nearly dawn,” Corrie said, wonder in her voice. “It seems more like three weeks have passed.”
“Amen to that,” James said. “I would swear there was something familiar about that man.”
“I think you’re right. It’s probable we do know him or at least know who he is.”
“A gentleman smuggler.”
“He moved well. Of course he wasn’t good enough to take the both of us.”
James grinned, shook his head at her. “At this point I don’t care who or what he is. I saw you shiver. Don’t do that again. You don’t want to get ill from this, all right? Just keep thinking how excellent you feel, how warm you are in my coat. Let’s go, Corrie.” She stretched a moment, then shivered again, a good shiver. “Actually, I am feeling excellent since that short nap. I must say too that when I put my knee on his throat, I remembered that was what I did to Willie Marker, and it made me feel even better.”
“Poor Willie, and all he wanted was a kiss.”
She shuddered.
“Now, I want you to keep that coat real close. Just keep thinking how good you feel. No illness, Corrie. That’s one thing we can’t afford.”
The coat was wet, but she pulled it close. It was better than nothing. She looked at James, his white shirt damp, the wind slicing through it, making the sleeves billow.
It started drizzling again.
They didn’t see a single living creature until after the sun was up. They heard cows mooing.
“Glory be, I don’t believe it,” Corrie yelled. “Where there are cows there have to be people to milk them.”
Hand in hand, they ran in the direction of the mooing. There was a farmhouse, the back of it facing the sea, the front bordering a narrow road, and on the other side was a good-sized pasture and beyond the pasture, a forest of elm and maple trees. The house was built of gray stone, a hulking ugly house with a barn attached. At the moment, it was the most glorious structure either of them had ever seen.
“Oh, there’s smoke coming out of the chimney. That means it’s got to be warm in there.”
They ran to the front of the house, panting, and James called out, “Is there anyone here? We’re in need of assistance!”
From behind the closed door, an old voice said, “I don’t give no assistance to no one. Go away.”
“Please,” Corrie said, “we mean no harm. We’ve been walking all night and are very wet and cold. Won’t you please help us?”
“Yer rich coves, from the sound of ye.” The door opened a crack, and a very old face, seamed deep by years in the sun, and eyes a bright, intelligent blue, peered out at them.
“Wot’s this? Oh my, ye’re both a rare mess, ye are. Come in, come in now.”
The door went wide, and James and Corrie walked into the house, James ducking before the lintel would have knocked the top of his head off.
It smelled like vanilla inside.
