the adjoining rocks. She sank back down on her knees to consider how to get closer to the men. Who were they? And where was the earl?
Patience studied the massive boulder providing her shelter and wondered if it could be ascended. Her hands skimmed the surface and felt small indentations that could allow for toeholds. Carefully, relying more on touch than on sight, she grasped the rough surface for purchase. The first few times proved wearisome, always slipping backward, but finally she pursued another recess with success and pulled herself up slowly by degrees, hampered by her wounded arm. She tried to keep her heaving breaths quiet as she climbed to the top.
I can do this. Do not look down, she encouraged herself. The edge at the top was almost within her grasp. Feeling exultant, she grabbed the slippery sides of the rock and hiked her head up to clear the top.
A weasely, hairy, dirty face stared back at her. And then Patience did a very womanly thing. She screamed as she lost her balance and pitched backward.
Chapter 9
Red Tattoo lay hidden behind the cliff’s low hedges, spying on the dark shadows appearing and disappearing near the tall white beacon, Parson’s Down, high above. His lordship had mentioned earlier that a small unit of five men who served as sea fencibles kept surveillance for enemy ships crossing the Channel. Rumors abounded that the Frenchmen planned to overtake control of the beacon, but why and when?
His lordship and the captain should arrive any minute. What could be keeping them? A movement from the beach distracted Red from the beacon. He counted two figures by the shore watching the Channel waters. Most likely smugglers.
Perhaps the master and his friend had been delayed, and with this thought Red decided to search for them on the path. It had grown quite late, over an hour since his lordship had sent him up the cliffs. His small, thin figure made no blot on the landscape as he crawled on his belly to a thick copse of trees. Finding the path’s hidden entrance, he scurried downward. Halfway down the cliff, the sure-footed Red braked before the surprised earl with the captain right behind him.
“What do you here, Red?” Londringham demanded. “Thought I told you to remain above.”
“Yes, what’s happening?” Kilkennen chimed in from behind Londringham’s tall form.
“Sir, I was…”
They heard a sudden, high-pitched woman’s scream followed by an animal’s bellow.
The commotion froze the men before they leapt into action. Bryce ordered Red back up the cliff to follow anyone that leaves the beacon.
“C’mon, Kilkennen, those sounds came from below!”
“But what about our French spy?” Kilkennen gasped while hurtling himself behind his friend’s running form down the twisted path to the shore.
“Our spy could be on the cliffs or below on the shore. But someone is in trouble.”
Their conversation could not continue at their frantic pace were they to find the woman whose terror-filled voice had broken the still night.
Patience landed on her side with a thump. The wind knocked out of her, she remained still in order to check injuries she sustained from the fall. She slowly eased into a sitting position, her shaking body throbbed from the jolt. A quick check of her vital parts came up with a suspected sprained wrist and further injury to her still-mending left arm.
Before she could take one step, she found herself scooped up and thrown over a stranger’s huge, burly shoulder. The ragged-clothed man, for that was all she could see upside down, rounded the huge rock at a quick pace and proceeded several feet before halting at the side of the cliffs covered with climbing moss and a latticework of branches. The pain in her wrist throbbed in time with her rapidly beating heart. Oh, why do I have to have such a curious streak? she remonstrated herself.
Breathing heavily and too weak to summon her vocal cords into working order, fear alone kept her silent. Where was
Patience studied the massive boulder providing her shelter and wondered if it could be ascended. Her hands skimmed the surface and felt small indentations that could allow for toeholds. Carefully, relying more on touch than on sight, she grasped the rough surface for purchase. The first few times proved wearisome, always slipping backward, but finally she pursued another recess with success and pulled herself up slowly by degrees, hampered by her wounded arm. She tried to keep her heaving breaths quiet as she climbed to the top.
I can do this. Do not look down, she encouraged herself. The edge at the top was almost within her grasp. Feeling exultant, she grabbed the slippery sides of the rock and hiked her head up to clear the top.
A weasely, hairy, dirty face stared back at her. And then Patience did a very womanly thing. She screamed as she lost her balance and pitched backward.
Chapter 9
Red Tattoo lay hidden behind the cliff’s low hedges, spying on the dark shadows appearing and disappearing near the tall white beacon, Parson’s Down, high above. His lordship had mentioned earlier that a small unit of five men who served as sea fencibles kept surveillance for enemy ships crossing the Channel. Rumors abounded that the Frenchmen planned to overtake control of the beacon, but why and when?
His lordship and the captain should arrive any minute. What could be keeping them? A movement from the beach distracted Red from the beacon. He counted two figures by the shore watching the Channel waters. Most likely smugglers.
Perhaps the master and his friend had been delayed, and with this thought Red decided to search for them on the path. It had grown quite late, over an hour since his lordship had sent him up the cliffs. His small, thin figure made no blot on the landscape as he crawled on his belly to a thick copse of trees. Finding the path’s hidden entrance, he scurried downward. Halfway down the cliff, the sure-footed Red braked before the surprised earl with the captain right behind him.
“What do you here, Red?” Londringham demanded. “Thought I told you to remain above.”
“Yes, what’s happening?” Kilkennen chimed in from behind Londringham’s tall form.
“Sir, I was…”
They heard a sudden, high-pitched woman’s scream followed by an animal’s bellow.
The commotion froze the men before they leapt into action. Bryce ordered Red back up the cliff to follow anyone that leaves the beacon.
“C’mon, Kilkennen, those sounds came from below!”
“But what about our French spy?” Kilkennen gasped while hurtling himself behind his friend’s running form down the twisted path to the shore.
“Our spy could be on the cliffs or below on the shore. But someone is in trouble.”
Their conversation could not continue at their frantic pace were they to find the woman whose terror-filled voice had broken the still night.
Patience landed on her side with a thump. The wind knocked out of her, she remained still in order to check injuries she sustained from the fall. She slowly eased into a sitting position, her shaking body throbbed from the jolt. A quick check of her vital parts came up with a suspected sprained wrist and further injury to her still-mending left arm.
Before she could take one step, she found herself scooped up and thrown over a stranger’s huge, burly shoulder. The ragged-clothed man, for that was all she could see upside down, rounded the huge rock at a quick pace and proceeded several feet before halting at the side of the cliffs covered with climbing moss and a latticework of branches. The pain in her wrist throbbed in time with her rapidly beating heart. Oh, why do I have to have such a curious streak? she remonstrated herself.
Breathing heavily and too weak to summon her vocal cords into working order, fear alone kept her silent. Where was
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