“Yes, Kingsbury won’t try anything, will you, knowing I will shoot your lady first.”
The men departed, and Marielle pocketed her pistol. She walked over to a large rock and pulled a bottle of liquor and three glasses from behind it. “Care for a drink?” she asked politely as though she was offering them morning tea.
“No, thanks,” Malcolm said.
“I’ll have one,” Adeline replied.
He pulled back to stare down at her.What?
She squared her shoulders. “It’s not every day one receives an offer to share a drink with a real-life criminal. Plus, it has been a rather eventful morning. Can you believe I climbed down that cliffside and did not fall to my death?” She accepted the glass of brown liquor. “I think it is my biggest accomplishment to date.” Her words seemed to rush out of her in a rather hysterical stream.
Marielle looked over at him, and he held out a hand. “Why the hell not? What is it?”
“Brandy, mais bien sûr.”
For the first time, he focused on her French accent. She was tall for a woman, with long russet hair that cascaded down her back and was held back from her face by an emerald green silk scarf. Her clothes were plain, dark wool skirt and vest over a white, men’s shirt with billowy sleeves. She poured herself a glass and took a deep draught before pouring more to replenish it.
Malcolm took a sip, the excellent brandy smooth and smoky on his tongue. He gave Adeline’s shoulders a squeeze. “Drink slowly, darling.”
She took too large a sip, and her eyes went round as saucers as she swallowed. Blinking rapidly for a moment, she smiled wide. “I like it. Quite potent but smoky and a bit sweet.”
Malcolm chuckled. He took another swallow himself. “It is excellent.”
“We bring in the best.” Marielle waved a hand in the air. “That is what you toffs want. Only the best.”
He tilted his head. “You are not going to shoot us, are you?”
“Non.He would not appreciate that.”
“Who? Bretton?”
“Oui, yes. He is not going to be happy, but it’s for his own good.”
That was cryptic. Malcolm exchanged a glance with Adeline.
But Marielle kept talking. “You are here to take up the land, yes?”
“It is far past time for me to pay attention to Bridestone.”
“So, we will have to go find another place. It will take a couple of weeks at least,” she muttered.
Then she strode off toward the water’s edge, sipping her brandy and talking to herself, her words getting lost on the breeze.
“How long do you think we will have to wait for this Bretton fellow?” Adeline asked.
Her answer came almost immediately as a man strode around the outcropping. “Marielle! What the hell is going on? Treave said you brought a bloody naval commander right down into the middle of operations.”
Marielle walked over to him, her hands outstretched. “And what kind of way is that to greet me?”
The man took her into his embrace and kissed her. Then he stepped back to look down at her. “What is going on,ma chérie?”
Tall and broad-shouldered, he dressed simply in wool pants, a white shirt, and a plain, brown jacket. He had a bandanna tied over his hair and sported a full beard.
“I found them on the cliff right above us.” She pointed over to them.
Malcolm stood. There was something so familiar about this man. Had he arrested him before, perhaps?
The man turned. A pair of piercing green eyes widened in shock. “Malcolm?”
