Page 50 of Captain Jack’s Woman

The squad of Revenue men were still out of sight on the other side of the hill. Jack nudged Champion close to Delia. “There’s a path to the beach over there.” He pointed. Kit squinted through the rain. “Where that bush hangs over the cliff. Take it. I’ll follow in a moment.”

Kit resisted the impulse to say she’d wait. His tone was not one to question. She kicked Delia to a canter, swiftly crossing the open area to the cliff’s edge. At the head of the path, she paused to look behind her. The Revenue came around the hill and saw them—she at the cliff, Jack riding hard toward her. He’d dallied to make sure the troop didn’t miss them. With a howl, the Revenue took the bait. Kit sent Delia to the sands, reaching the foot of the path as Champion landed with a slithering thump a few yards away. She’d forgotten that trick of his.

“West!”

At the bellowed order, Kit turned Delia’s head in that direction and dropped the reins. Primed by the tension, the mare obediently went straight to a full gallop, leaving Champion in her wake. Kit grinned through the raindrops streaking her face. Soon enough, the thud of Champion’s hooves settled to a steady beat just behind her, keeping pace between her and their pursuers.

Behind Kit, Jack watched her flying coattails, marveling at the effortless ease of her performance. He’d never seen anyone ride better—together, she and Delia were sheer magic in motion. She held the mare to a long-strided gallop, a touch of pace in reserve. Jack glanced behind him. The Revenue were dwindling shapes on the sand, outdistanced and outclassed.

Jack looked forward, opening his mouth to yell to Kit to turn for the cliff. A blur of movement at the top of the path, the last path before they passed onto the west arm of the anvil-shaped headland above Brancaster, caught his eye. He shook the water from his eyes and stared through the rain.

Hell and confound the man! Tonkin had not only disobeyed orders and come east, but he’d had the sense to split his men into two. He and Kit weren’t leading the Revenue west—they were being herded west. Tonkin’s plan was obvious—push them onto the narrow western headland, then trap them there, a solid cordon of Revenue Officers between them and the safety of the mainland.

Kit, too, had seen the men on the cliff; slowing, she glanced behind her. Champion did not pause; Jack took him forward to keep pace between Delia and the cliff. “Keep on!” he yelled in answer to the question in Kit’s eyes.

“But—”

“I know! Just keep going west.”

Kit glared but did as he said. The man was mad—all very well to keep on, but soon they’d run out of land. She could just make out the place ahead where the cliff abruptly ended. There was only sea beyond it.

Unconcerned by such matters, Jack kept Champion at a full gallop and pondered his new insight into Sergeant Tonkin. Obviously, he’d underestimated the man. He still found it hard to believe Tonkin had had wit enough to devise a trap, let alone put it into practice. It wasn’t going to work, of course—but what could one expect? Tonkin’s net had a very large hole which was one hole too many to trap Captain Jack.

A crack of thunder came out of the east. The heavens opened; rain hit their backs in a drenching downpour. Jack laughed, exhilaration coursing through him. The rain would hinder Tonkin; it would be morning before the sodden Revenue men could be sure the prey had flown their coop.

Kit heard his laughter and stared.

Jack caught her look and grinned. They were still riding hard directly west. The tide was flowing in fast, eating away the beach. On their left, the cliff swept up to a rocky outcrop, then fell to a rock-strewn point. The beach ran out. Kit pulled up. Champion slowed, then was turned toward the rocks.

“Come on.” Jack led, setting Champion to pick his way across the rocky point, waves washing over his heavy hooves. Delia followed, hooves daintily clopping.

Around the point lay a small, sandy cove. Beyond, sweeping southeastward, the beaches on the southern side of the headland gleamed, a pale path leading back to the mainland. But the Revenue would be skulking somewhere in the murk, waiting.

In the lee of the cliffs, the rain fell less heavily. Jack pulled up in the cove; Kit halted Delia alongside Champion. She sat catching her breath, staring through the rain at the headland on the opposite side of the small bay.

“Well? Are you ready?”

Kit blinked and turned to Jack. “Ready?” The sight of his smile, a melding of excitement, laughter and pure devilry, set her nerves atingle. She followed his gaze to the other side of the bay. “You’re joking.” She made the words a statement.

“Why? You’re already soaked to the skin—what’s a little more water?”

He was right, of course; she couldn’t get any wetter. There was, however, one problem. “I can’t swim.”

It was Jack’s turn to stare, memories of their night of near disaster on the yacht vivid in his mind. In a few pithy phrases, he disabused her mind of any claim to sanity, adding his opinion of witless women who went on boats when they couldn’t swim. Kit listened calmly, well acquainted with the argument—it was Spencer’s standard answer to her desire to sail. “Yes, but what are we going to do now?” she asked, when Jack ground to a halt.

Jack scowled, narrowed eyes fixed on the far shore. Then he nudged Champion closer to Delia. Kit felt his hands close about her waist.

“Come here.”

She didn’t have much choice. Jack lifted her across and perched her on Champion’s saddle in front of him. It was a tight fit; Kit felt the butt of Jack’s saddle pistol press into one thigh. He took Delia’s reins and tied them to a ring on the back of Champion’s saddle, then his belt was in his hands. “Hold still.” Peering at her waist, he threaded his belt through hers.

“What are you doing?” Kit twisted about, trying to see.

“Dammit, woman! Hold still. You can wriggle your hips all you like later but not now!”

The muttered words reduced Kit to frozen obedience. Later. With all the excitement, she’d forgotten his fixation about later. She swallowed. The moment hardly seemed ripe to start a discussion on that subject. He’d been half-aroused before she’d wriggled; now…

“I’m just making a loop so I can catch hold of you if you slip off.”