Regency Proposal. Ann Lethbridge

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      The sarcasm in her voice made him want to laugh. ‘How did you get here?’ And then he saw for himself. Beau. And no saddle in sight. ‘You rode bareback?’

      ‘I couldn’t saddle him myself.’

      He shook his head. It seemed there was still something of the spirited girl inside the sophisticated woman.

      She pulled her cloak around her. ‘I’ll go now.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Why not?’

      ‘Because I said not.’ Gaugers weren’t above firing their muskets at shadows, let alone at a fleeing horse. ‘Ranald,’ he called softly.

      The innkeeper appeared like magic. Obviously, he’d been standing close by, listening. ‘Keep her here. I’ll go warn the men on the beach and return to take her home. And, Ranald, not a word of this to anyone, understand?’ Ranald nodded.

      Ian glanced at the stubborn set of Lady Selina’s jaw. ‘Whatever you do, keep her here.’

      What they needed now was some sort of diversion.

      Selina glared at Ranald. ‘I told you he would want to hear my message.’

      The man mumbled something under his breath, then covered his lantern. Selina blinked furiously to adjust her vision to the gloom. She should leave. She could be home in bed before anyone noticed her departure, her conscience clear.

      What Ian did on his own account was his concern. But if she was caught aiding them Father would be mortified. And furious. If Dunstan discovered she’d warned the smugglers, after he’d let fall information about his mission in her presence, he’d call off their betrothal. If nothing else, a man expected loyalty from his wife. And that meant she’d have to start looking for a suitable husband all over again. Unless the scandal ruined her completely. It probably would.

      But she’d known the risks when she set out. And she would do it all over again if required, because she was honour bound to help him as he had helped her when she’d asked. Not to mention that she did not like the thought of him being sent to prison.

      Only now she needed to go home. She rubbed her cold hands together and looked at the horse and then at Ranald. ‘Let me go. I’ll return the horse in the morning.’

      ‘Ye’ll stay put,’ the burly man said. ‘The Laird said so.’

      ‘The Laird is an idiot.’

      ‘Take one step and I’ll tie you up again.’ The tone of voice made it clear he meant it. She huffed out a breath. Men. They always wanted to rule the roost.

      The minutes lengthened. She watched Ranald, waiting for him to lose interest, to give her a chance to slip away. At any moment the Revenue men could be upon them, or, worse yet, Dunstan and his militia.

      That really would be her undoing.

      The sound of booted feet on rocks brought her head around. Men. Coming up from the shore at a run, leading a couple of ponies with muffled hooves and ladderlike carriers on their backs. Empty carriers. They guided the beasts to the path along the cliff top towards the village. What on earth were they doing?

      Another pony emerged from the gully. This one was laden with tuns and turned away from the village and disappeared into the dark. Blast the man. He had taken absolutely no notice of her warning and was continuing as if nothing was wrong. She was a fool to have thought she could help.

      A shout rang out on the headland in the direction the first two ponies had gone. A flash. A loud bang. Clearly a shot. Then more flashes and bangs, getting closer.

      They were shooting at the men he’d sent along the headland. Someone was going to get killed. Was Ian mad?

      The train of loaded ponies continued on, one after another, while she bit her knuckles to stop from giving voice to her fears. The men leading the ponies passed by at a run, heads down and faces covered with mufflers. Then there were no more. Like ghosts, they had disappeared.

      Where was Ian? She peered into the gloom, moving closer to the rocky path.

      Shouts came from farther along the cliffs. The sound of men fighting hand to hand. Ranald muttered a curse, clearly impatient to be gone. Could Ian have somehow slipped past her to join in the fray now that the smugglers had departed with their booty?

      Another figure emerged from the path up from the beach, cursing and swearing as he pulled on the leading rein of a resisting animal. It squealed indignantly. Its handler threw an arm over its nose to muffle the sound. The ass snorted a protest.

      Selina understood just how it felt.

      Then the damn thing surged forwards as if terrified. The man holding it cursed again. A flash of white at the animal’s heels told Selina all she needed to know. ‘Gilly,’ she whispered.

      The handler halted the ass and stared at her. ‘Lady Selina?’

      ‘Logan Gilvry. Another idiot. Where is Ian?’

      He shook his head. ‘He’ll be up shortly. He’s helping the boat to shove off. Giving us a chance to get clear.’

      ‘Then go,’ she said.

      ‘Aye. Gilly, set him on.’

      The dog nipped at the ass’s back hoof. It jerked forwards and set off at an awkward run with Logan at its head and Gilly close behind.

      The sounds along the cliff had ceased. The smugglers—a decoy, she guessed—must have run for it. No doubt the Revenue men and the militia would soon realise they’d been tricked and make their way along here.

      She had to leave before they caught her.

      Ranald also hopped from one foot to the other, looking worried.

      ‘Go,’ she said.

      ‘The Laird said I was to watch you. Here.’

      ‘The soldiers could arrive at any moment. I’ll ride and warn Laird Gilvry, while you follow your men. Help me up on the horse and then you can leave.’

      Ranald scratched his head. ‘You’ll go to him?’

      She nodded.

      ‘All reet, my lady, but I am trusting you to keep your word.’ He tossed her up on the big stallion’s back and led the horse to the top of the pathway. ‘Watch your step. It is verra steep.’ He touched his forelock and took off after the others.

      She urged the stallion down the rugged slope and hoped to goodness the animal wouldn’t stumble as she let him have his head. Miracle of miracles, the horse seemed to know his way down the rock-strewn path. Ian must have ridden him down this way in the past.

      It was a small lonely patch of beach along a rocky shore, known to few but the locals. Or that’s how Ian had described it that long-ago day. A place where they could be alone. She realised now that he had been ashamed to be seen with her.

      At the bottom of the incline she found СКАЧАТЬ