"I do hate it!" she burst out. "I hate it so much it eats me up inside. Do you know what worry feels like? Real worry? The kind that burns a hole through your stomach and makes you want to scream?"
He closed his eyes for a moment and said softly, "I do now."
"Then you'll understand why I can't sit here and do nothing. It doesn't matter that I hate it. It doesn't matter mat I'm terrified. Don't you understand that?"
"Caroline, perhaps if you were trained by the War Office. If you knew how to shoot a gun, and-"
"I can shoot a gun. I shot Percy."
"What I'm trying to tell you is that if you come along, I won't be able to concentrate on the mission. If I'm worrying about you, I'll be more likely to slip up and get myself killed."
Caroline chewed on her lower lip. "You have a point," she said slowly.
"Good," he interrupted, his voice terse. "Then it's settled."
"No, if s not. The fact remains that I can be of help. And you might need me."
He grasped her upper arms and locked his eyes onto hers. "I need you here, Caroline. Safe and sound."
She looked up at him, and saw something in his gray eyes she'd never expected-desperation. She made her decision. "Very well," she whispered. "I'll stay. But I'm not happy about it."
Her final words were muffled as he pulled her to him in a crushing embrace. "Thank you," he murmured, and she wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or to God.
The following evening was the worst Caroline had ever known. Blake and James had left shortly after the evening meal, before the sky had even grown dark. They had claimed that they needed to assess the lay of the land. When Caroline had protested that someone would notice them, they had only laughed. Blake was known as a landowner in the district, they'd replied. Why wouldn't he be out
and about with one of his cronies? The two even planned to stop at a local pub for a pint in order to further the ruse that they were merely a pair of carousing noblemen.
Caroline had to allow that their words held sense, but she couldn't shake the serpentine shiver of fear crawling in her belly. She knew that she should trust her husband and James; after all, they'd been working for the War Office for years. Surely they should know what they were doing.
But something felt wrong to her. That's all it was, a pesky feeling that simply wouldn't go away. Caroline had few memories of her mother save for their stargazing outings, but she remembered her laughing once with her husband and saying something about feminine intuition being as solid as gold.
As she stood outside Seacrest Manor, Caroline looked up at the moon and stars and said, "I truly hope you had no idea what you were talking about, Mother."
She waited for the sense of peace she usually found in the night sky, but for the first time in her life, it failed her.
"Damn," she muttered. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked up again.
Nothing. She still felt awful.
"You're reading too much into this," she told herself. "You've never had even an ounce of feminine intuition in your entire life. You don't even know if your own husband loves you. Don't you think a woman with intuition would know at least that?"
More than anything, she wanted to hop on a horse and ride to Blake and James's rescue. Except that they probably didn't need rescuing, and she knew that Blake would never forgive her. Trust was such a precious thing, and she didn't want to destroy theirs mere days into the marriage.
Maybe if she went down to the beach, to where she and Blake first made love. Maybe there she could find a little peace.
The sky was growing darker, but Caroline turned her back on the house and walked toward the path that led to the water. She edged through the garden and had just stepped onto the rocky trail when she heard something.
Her heart froze. "Who's there?" she demanded.
Nothing.
"You're being silly," she mumbled. "Just go to the b-"
Seemingly out of nowhere, a blinding force hit her on the back and knocked her to the ground.
"Don't say a word," a voice growled in her ear.
"Oliver?" she choked out.
"I said don't talk!" His hand clamped over her mouth. Hard.
It was Oliver. Her mind raced. What the hell was he doing here?
"I'm going to ask you some questions," he said in a frighteningly even voice. "And you are going to give me some answers."
Staving off panic, she nodded.
"Who does your husband work for?"
Her eyes widened, and she was thankful that he took his time removing his hand, because she had no idea wha,t to say. When he finally let her speak, his arm still brutally wrapped around her neck, she said, "I don't know what you're talking about."
He yanked back, so that his upper arm cut into her windpipe. "Answer me!"
"I don't know! I swear!" If she gave Blake away his entire operation would be ruined. He might forgive her, but she would never forgive herself.
Oliver abruptly changed his position so that he was twisting her arm behind her back. "I don't believe you," he growled. "You're a lot of things, most of them annoying as hell, but you're not stupid. Who does he work for?"
She chewed on her lip. Oliver wasn't going to believe that she was completely in the dark, so she said, "I don't know. Sometimes he goes out, though."
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Where does he go?"
"I don't know."
He pulled on her arm so hard she was sure her shoulder would come out of the socket.
"I don't know!" she shrieked. "Truly, I don't."
He spun her around. "Do you know where he is right now?"
She shook her head.
"I do."
"You do?" she choked out.
He nodded, his eyes narrowing malevolently. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered him so far afield this evening."
"I don't know what you mean."
He started dragging her toward the main road. "You will." He pulled her along until they reached a small gig parked by the side of the road. The horse was peacefully chewing on grass until Oliver kicked him in the leg.
"Oliver!" Caroline said. "I'm sure that wasn't necessary."
"Shut up." He jammed her up against the side of the gig and tied her hands together with a rough piece of rope.
Caroline looked down at her hands and noted with aggravation that he was as good at tying knots as Blake had been. She'd be lucky if any blood reached her hands. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded.
"Why, to see your dear husband."
"I told you, I don't know where he is."
"And I told you, I do."
She gulped, finding it harder and harder to keep up her bravado. "Well then, where is he?"
He shoved her up into the gig, sat down behind her, and spurred the horse into motion. "Mr. Ravenscroft is presently standing on a bluff overlooking the English Channel. He has a telescope in his hand and is accompanied by the Marquis of Riverdale and two men I do not recognize."
"Perhaps they are out on some sort of scientific expedition. My husband is a great naturalist."
"Don't insult me. He has his telescope fixed on my men."
"Your men?" she echoed.
"You thought Iwas just another idle lackwit latching on to your money, didn't you?"
"Well, yes," Caroline admitted before she had a chance to check her tongue.
"I had plans for your fortune, yes, and don't think I've forgiven you for your betrayal, but I've been working toward my own destiny as well."