Her pleased little grin had caused a quickening in his groin.
It had also caused a quickening of something else. Something he’d tried to extinguish but never could: hope. The voice inside his head whispered,She’s changed, and so have you. Perhaps there is a way to win her back?—
“We’re here.”
Lottie’s whisper jerked his attention back to the present and the gaping hole that appeared halfway up the side of the cliff. It was the entrance she’d told him about—the one she’d seen Legg entering the night before. Without proper reinforcements and knowledge of what awaited inside the caverns, she’d wisely decided to monitor his movements from afar. Legg had emerged about an hour later, minus the sack he’d been carrying. Had he delivered supplies to his old crony…was Tony Quinton waiting inside those caves?
Although Jack believed Tony was feckless rather than felonious, he did not want to take any chances. A fox was at its most dangerous when cornered.
“I’ll go in first,” he said in low tones.
Even in the moonlight, he could see Lottie rolling her eyes at him. She lit her lantern and waltzed into the mouth of darkness as if it were a ballroom. Sighing, he readied his own light and followed.
Inside was a narrow rocky corridor, and their lamps afforded a small bubble of visibility in the oppressive gloom. Natural rock formations created eerie shapes along the tunnel, which looked like it had been widened by human hands—smugglers, no doubt. The coastline was riddled with secret warrens used to store goods trafficked across the Channel. It made sense that the smugglers had made their hideouts higher up from the beach; the high tides would fill the lower caverns created by nature.
Jack kept close to Lottie. Even in this godforsaken place, her nearness teased him, the whiff of her linen-and-lavender scent freshening the dank passage. Her thick braid was gilded by his lamplight, and he had the urge to sweep it to one side, place a kiss on her nape like he used to…once upon a time.
They arrived at a fork in the path. Separated by a line of stalactites that hung like glittering chandeliers, the two passageways split off in different directions. Crouching, Jack examined the ground. He found traces of sand and mud caked on the path to the left, and they looked fresh.
“Footprints.” He took the lead and felt the change in the terrain. “Have a care. The path is sloping downward.”
“I can look after my—oof.”
He turned just in time to catch her around the waist.
“All right?” he asked.
Even in the dimness, she looked adorably annoyed. “I am fine. I just slipped a little.”
“Slip all you want. I am happy to catch you.”
Truthfully, he wanted to do a lot more than catch her. In her current outfit, he felt every supple line and curve of her pressed against him. They fit like they always had—like two halves meant to be a whole.
“Don’t be an idiot.” She shoved at his arm. “Let me go.”
Was it his imagination, or did she sound slightly breathless? On that wistful thought, he continued to lead them down the passage. When it divided in other places, he identified the path those before them had taken and followed it.
“I hope you know where you’re going,” Lottie muttered.
“Of course I do. I’m a cartographer.”
“Are you really?”
Hearing her skepticism, he cast a glance backward. “Not everything I told you was a lie. In fact, I stuck to the truth whenever I could. You know me, Lottie, better than anyone.”
“That’s not saying much. Considering I thought you were dead.”
He ignored her jibe. “Maps have fascinated me since I was a child, and I’ve always had a good sense of direction. When I retire, I plan to spend my days charting new territory and drawing maps.”
“Hmm.” Her reply was noncommittal. “What direction are we headed now?”
“Northeast. On a decline of approximately…” He mentally calibrated. “Seventeen degrees.”
“How would I know if you were wrong?”
“I suppose you’ll have to trust me.”
He flashed her a grin. She snorted.
