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"They know you're in the country. They want to see you hang."

Carlotta laughed. "They don't even know who I am."

"Oh, yes, they do," Caroline replied, "Miss De Leon."

Carlotta's knuckles turned white around the han­dle of her gun. "Who are you?"

This time it was Caroline's turn to laugh. "Would you believe I am the woman who was mistaken for you? Amusing but true."

"There is only one man who has ever seen me..."

"The Marquis of Riverdale," Caroline supplied. Oliver had already said his and Blake's names, so there didn't seem much need for secrecy.

"If I might interrupt..." came Davenport's sar­castic voice.

BANG!

The force was so great, Caroline was sure she'd been shot. But then she realized two things: she felt no pain, and Davenport's grip had gone utterly slack.

She swallowed convulsively and turned around. Two bodies were now floating in the water. "Why did you do that?"

"He bothered me."

Caroline's empty stomach churned and heaved.

"I never knew his name," Carlotta said softly.

"Who?"

"The marquis."

"Well, he certainly knows yours."

"Why do you tell me this?"

"Self-preservation, pure and simple."

"And how is this meant to save you?"

Caroline's lips curved into an enigmatic smile. "If I know this much, just think what else I could tell you."

The Spanish woman's stare was hard and steely. "If you know too much," she said with eerie softness, "then why shouldn't I kill you right now?"

Caroline fought for her composure. Her knees were trembling, and her hands were shaking, but

she hoped Carlotta would just attribute that to the cold water swirling around her calves. She had no idea whether Blake was dead or alive, but either way, she had to remain strong. If he had-God for­bid-been killed up on the hill, she was damned if she was going to let his life's work be completely destroyed by this tiny, dark-haired woman. She didn't care if she died in the process, but she wasn't going to let that list of War Office agents out of the country.

"I didn't say I know too much," Caroline finally said. "But I might know exactly what you need."

There was a terrifying moment of silence, and then Carlotta lifted her gun. "I'll take my chances."

In that moment Caroline realized she'd been ly­ing to herself. She did care if she died. She wasn't ready yet to leave this world. She didn't want to feel the pain of a gunshot wound, to know that a bullet had torn her skin and her lifeblood was seep­ing out into the cold waters of the English Channel.

And God help her, she couldn't die without learning of Blake's fate.

"You can't!" she yelled. "You can't kill me."

Carlotta smiled. "Oh?"

"You're out of bullets."

"I have another gun."

"You'll never escape without me."

"Is that so?"

Caroline nodded frantically, then spied some­thing mat made her so thankful she was one inch away from committing herself to a convent just to show her gratitude.

"And why, pray tell, is that?"

"Because the boat is leaving."

Carlotta whirled around, saw Oliver's boat head­ing back out to open waters, and spat out a word Caroline had never before heard spoken in a female voice.

When Blake's feet hit the gravelly beach, it was all he could do not to race into the ocean and yank his wife to safety. But he'd chosen the steeper path so as not to lose the element of surprise, and he knew he had to proceed with care and caution. James landed softly next to him a moment later, and together they surveyed the scene.

Carlotta seemed to have gone positively un­hinged, waving her fist and screaming curses at the receding boat, and Caroline was inching slowly backward, edging ever closer to the beach.

But just when she'd managed to go far enough so that she might possibly be able to run to safety, Car­lotta whirled around and leveled her gun at Caro­line's midsection.

"You're not going anywhere," she said in a deadly voice.

"Couldn't we at least get out of the water?" Car­oline replied. "I can't feel my feet any longer."

Carlotta nodded curtly. "Move slowly. One false move and I'll shoot you dead. I swear I will."

"I believe you," Caroline replied, with a mean­ingful glance toward Davenport's body.

Slowly, without ever taking their eyes off each other, the two women moved out of the water and onto the beach.

From his hiding place behind a tree, Blake watched the entire interchange. He felt James edge closer to him, then heard his whisper in his ear.

"Wait until they get a little closer."

"For what?" Blake asked in response.

But the marquis made no reply.

Blake watched Carlotta like a hawk, waiting for the exact right moment to shoot the gun out of her hand. There was no finer shot in all of England, and Blake was confident he could do it, but not while Caroline was blocking his way.

But then, before Blake could stop him, James stepped suddenly out into the clearing, both of his hands in the air.

"Let her go," the marquis said in a low voice. "I'm the one you want."

Carlotta's head swung around. "You!"

"In the flesh."

Caroline's mouth fell open. "James?"

Carlotta's gun made an arc through the air as she changed her aim. "I have been dreaming about this day," she hissed.

James jerked his head to signal to Caroline to move out of the way. "Is that all you've been dreaming about?" he purred.

Caroline caught her breath. James sounded posi­tively seductive. What on earth had happened between those two? And where was Blake?

"Caroline," James said in forceful tones. "Move aside. This is between Miss De Leon and me."

Caroline had no idea what he was up to, but she wasn't about to leave him to the mercy of a woman who looked as if she wanted to skin him alive. "James," she said, "maybe I-"

"MOVE!" he roared.

She did, and in less than a second a shot rang out. Carlotta howled in pain and surprise, and

James charged forward, pinning her to the ground. There was a scuffle, but James outweighed the tiny Spanish woman by a good six stone, and she didn't have a chance.

Caroline ran forward to help, but before she reached them, she, too, was tackled from the side.

"Blake? Oh, Blake!" She threw herself into his arms. "I thought I would never see you again."

He crushed her to him and held with all his might. "Caroline," he gasped, "when I saw... When I heard..."

"I thought you were dead. Oliver said you were dead."

Blake clutched at her, still unable to believe that she was safe. He knew he was holding her too tightly, that her tender skin would bruise from the force of it, but he couldn't let go. "Caroline," he said hoarsely, "I have to tell you-"

"I didn't leave Seacrest Manor!" she interrupted, her words coming out in a rush of air. "I swear it. I wanted to, but I didn't because I didn't want to betray your trust. But then Oliver snatched me, and-"

"I don't care." He shook his head, aware of the tears rolling down his cheeks but completely at the mercy of his emotions. "I don't care about that. I thought you were going to die, and..."

She whispered his name and touched his cheek, and he was undone.

"I love you, Caroline. I love you. And you were going to die, and all I could think-"

"Oh, Blake."

He held on tight to her arms, his entire body strangely off balance. "All I could think was that I

would never be able to tell you, and you would never hear me say it, and-"