cheeks.
“Does he now?” Jack studied her face.
“I—I brought him here when we were—”
“Don’t explain, my lovely.” His voice was soft, his eyes full of compassion. “I know it hurts you.”
“Not anymore. Not really.” She couldn’t look at him, so she pulled open the ledgers and ran a finger down the page. But her eyes were blind and registered nothing.
“If I were your uncle—if I had any kind of power—I’d have forced him to marry you.”
“It’s better we didn’t marry.” The letters on the page swam even as the lump formed in her throat. “We’d be miserable now.”
“But your reputation would be intact and you wouldn’t be alone. Come to think on it, I should have killed him,” he spat out viciously.
“Jack!” The ferocity of his tone shocked a laugh out of her.
“Well. Someone should have done something,” he said, mouth set.
Gratitude bloomed within her, warm and bright. “Jack.”
“Aye?”
“I’ve never said thank you for letting me in.”
“With the smugglers?” He turned eyes bright with curiosity on her. “I’d say you do more for us by divvying up the blunt than we do for you.”
“Not just with the smugglers, though you did give me something useful to do.” She smiled. “Well, I suppose ‘useful’ would depend on what side of the law you’re on.”
“That it would.” He laughed.
“But I meant letting me into it all. Smuggling, the pub, the villagers. Anna. Your family.”
“’Twas the least I could do after you saved my life.”
“It was only a musket ball.”
“I thought I was done for, my lovely, until you came around.” He grinned at her. “Aside from that, your big sad eyes reminded me of the sea. The sea will always call to the sailor.”
Yes. This is where she belonged. She bent her head to accommodate the few inches between them and kissed his weathered cheek.
“Thank you, Jack.”
“A kiss from my lovely lass.” His grin flashed, causing the lines around his eyes to fan out in the most comforting way. “Don’t tell Anna.”
“It’s our secret.” She sent him a saucy smile and a wink, just to please him.
“Always lucky, that Jack Blackbourn,” someone called out. Answering guffaws reminded her they weren’t alone.
She looked up and caught John the blacksmith’s eye. The merriment within her faded.
“Who could the traitor be, Jack? Who do we trust?”
“I’d say you can’t go to the magistrate, as that’s Lord Paget and he knows about the quarries.”
“You don’t really think Lord Paget—”
“Our list of suspects is short.”
“It is.” She sighed and nodded toward the others. “Could it be one of our men?”
“I don’t know. It bears thinking on.”
“I’ll finish today’s tally, then.” She pulled her coat closer around her and felt the weight of the folio. “Then I’ll hide this folio with the first and we’ll decide what to do.”
“Aye. I’ll see what I can learn in the pub. If something’s afoot, the lads that come down to the pub might know.”
“Be circumspect.”
“I don’t know what that word means. But for you, my lovely lass, I’ll do it.” With a wave, he sauntered across the cavern and through the tunnel. She heard his whistle echo as he left the quarries and disappeared into the night.
As she compared the contents of the trunks and barrels with her ledgers and ticked them off, her mind turned over the possibilities. The traitor was unlikely to be any of the smugglers, though it wasn’t impossible. They all had access to the quarries, but not the information. Lowborn smugglers wouldn’t have the contacts in London that would allow them an avenue to the information. Unless, of course, someone from London had approached the smugglers in the first place.
She let her gaze roam the room. Misery and guilt weighed heavy on her heart. These men were her friends. Her comrades. They’d accepted her without a qualm when Jack brought her in. She’d found comfort
“Does he now?” Jack studied her face.
“I—I brought him here when we were—”
“Don’t explain, my lovely.” His voice was soft, his eyes full of compassion. “I know it hurts you.”
“Not anymore. Not really.” She couldn’t look at him, so she pulled open the ledgers and ran a finger down the page. But her eyes were blind and registered nothing.
“If I were your uncle—if I had any kind of power—I’d have forced him to marry you.”
“It’s better we didn’t marry.” The letters on the page swam even as the lump formed in her throat. “We’d be miserable now.”
“But your reputation would be intact and you wouldn’t be alone. Come to think on it, I should have killed him,” he spat out viciously.
“Jack!” The ferocity of his tone shocked a laugh out of her.
“Well. Someone should have done something,” he said, mouth set.
Gratitude bloomed within her, warm and bright. “Jack.”
“Aye?”
“I’ve never said thank you for letting me in.”
“With the smugglers?” He turned eyes bright with curiosity on her. “I’d say you do more for us by divvying up the blunt than we do for you.”
“Not just with the smugglers, though you did give me something useful to do.” She smiled. “Well, I suppose ‘useful’ would depend on what side of the law you’re on.”
“That it would.” He laughed.
“But I meant letting me into it all. Smuggling, the pub, the villagers. Anna. Your family.”
“’Twas the least I could do after you saved my life.”
“It was only a musket ball.”
“I thought I was done for, my lovely, until you came around.” He grinned at her. “Aside from that, your big sad eyes reminded me of the sea. The sea will always call to the sailor.”
Yes. This is where she belonged. She bent her head to accommodate the few inches between them and kissed his weathered cheek.
“Thank you, Jack.”
“A kiss from my lovely lass.” His grin flashed, causing the lines around his eyes to fan out in the most comforting way. “Don’t tell Anna.”
“It’s our secret.” She sent him a saucy smile and a wink, just to please him.
“Always lucky, that Jack Blackbourn,” someone called out. Answering guffaws reminded her they weren’t alone.
She looked up and caught John the blacksmith’s eye. The merriment within her faded.
“Who could the traitor be, Jack? Who do we trust?”
“I’d say you can’t go to the magistrate, as that’s Lord Paget and he knows about the quarries.”
“You don’t really think Lord Paget—”
“Our list of suspects is short.”
“It is.” She sighed and nodded toward the others. “Could it be one of our men?”
“I don’t know. It bears thinking on.”
“I’ll finish today’s tally, then.” She pulled her coat closer around her and felt the weight of the folio. “Then I’ll hide this folio with the first and we’ll decide what to do.”
“Aye. I’ll see what I can learn in the pub. If something’s afoot, the lads that come down to the pub might know.”
“Be circumspect.”
“I don’t know what that word means. But for you, my lovely lass, I’ll do it.” With a wave, he sauntered across the cavern and through the tunnel. She heard his whistle echo as he left the quarries and disappeared into the night.
As she compared the contents of the trunks and barrels with her ledgers and ticked them off, her mind turned over the possibilities. The traitor was unlikely to be any of the smugglers, though it wasn’t impossible. They all had access to the quarries, but not the information. Lowborn smugglers wouldn’t have the contacts in London that would allow them an avenue to the information. Unless, of course, someone from London had approached the smugglers in the first place.
She let her gaze roam the room. Misery and guilt weighed heavy on her heart. These men were her friends. Her comrades. They’d accepted her without a qualm when Jack brought her in. She’d found comfort
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