“You don’t know about the coach,” she remembered. “We were kidnapped inhercoach.”
“They used it to bring us to the river?”
“Yes. And then the men said they were taking the coach north. But what does that...?” Gwendolyn broke off with understanding. “North,” she repeated.
“North?” he echoed.
“To Scotland. To make it appear as if we eloped?”
He shook his head. “This doesn’t make sense. Or does it?” He mulled the matter over. “We would be the center of all manner of speculation, none of it particularly alarming. Couples elope.”
“Except we could have been missing for years if we were transported.”
“Exactly. Lady Middlebury wouldn’t have to worry about someone else claiming the title.”
A shiver went through Gwendolyn. “I’m just surprised at Lady Orpington’s involvement. Why go through the ruse just to turn you over?”
He had leaned back against the bulwark. She rested on his chest. A yawn escaped her. And was it her imagination, or did he brush his lips across the top of her head? She snuggled deeper in his arms, holding him close. “We are alive and safe because of you.”
“Because ofus,” he corrected her. “You have more courage than a dozen men, Gwendolyn.”
No praise had ever touched her so deeply. “Do you know, Beckett Steele—if I have to be kidnapped, transported, and passed off as having eloped to Gretna, I’m glad it is with you.”
She expected him to laugh. Instead he answered, “This ismyfault. I should have anticipated this. I let myself be distracted.”
“Distracted by what?”
“You.” He looked down at her. His arm around her tightened. “I received a message that you were waiting for me in the gazebo. I was anxious to—” He paused, shook his head, and then said, “A callow lad could have seen the ambush.”
“Anxious about what?” she pressed, uncertain if she understood correctly. His tone combined with the way he held her and his words made her think that he hadwantedto see her. But she needed to hear him say it before she’d let herself believe. The time had come for him to be the vulnerable one.
“Now is not the time. We still aren’t out of danger.”
“Beckett—”
“Gwendolyn. I’ll see you safe. I promise.”
And in that moment, the first big plops of rain came falling down on them.
Chapter Seventeen
The rain came down hard.
It dampened the sails and cut through the wind. It slashed them in the face like soft darts.
Worse, it brought an end to confidences.
Gwendolyn had been on water before in a storm. She knew the dangers of being in the open. She took the rudder, pulling it toward her. “To the shore,” she said. “We must reach the shore.”
The rain came down harder. It was all around them. “Is there an oar?” she asked. The current was growing stronger, rocking the boat as she steered against it. An oar would be useful.
Beckett crawl-walked along the edges of the boat, looking for one. He came back. “I couldn’t find one.” He placed his hand over hers on the rudder. “I’m a good swimmer. Don’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you.”
His face was white in the dark, and his hair was plastered against his skin. She didn’t lookany better. “I swim, too,” she said, and noticed his surprise. “Father made us learn. But he said I already knew from being in the Indies.”
“Cards and swimming,” Beckett said. “An unusual upbringing.”
“But practical for right now.” She gave a worried sigh. “I wonder how far the shore is.”
