Page 57 of A Perilous Passion

The poor children of Fortuneswell! Rafe had told her about the traitor paying youngsters to light their illicit beacons, despite knowing the pyres would explode and kill them. Only a cruel and merciless enemy could hold the lives of innocents so cheap. How awful it would be if little Jesse Scadden or Annabel Embury were blown to smithereens!

Charlotte resolved to question all the children she came across to make sure they weren’t involved.

Her worries about Justin were pushed to the back of her mind as she pondered the issue of the children, the beacons, and the free traders who were helping the French, especially their leader, Lord Culverdale. She just couldn’t fathom such a vicious traitor. She tried not to think about what he might do to her if he discovered her identity. She almost wished Jenny had hit him a lot harder.

How did one stop such a man? How could he be caught and compelled to reveal his accomplices and the locations of the beacons? He might refuse to talk, at all, but go to the gallows laughing while some other vile creature stepped into his shoes and continued with the plot.

If only there were some way she could shed light on the man’s secrets. But she didn’t move in the lofty social circles to which he belonged, so there was no way to get close enough to do anything.

Unless…

What if she somehow let him know she was Abraham Cutler’s daughter, and pretended to want to help him?

The idea so distracted her, she wandered off the path unthinking and found herself in front of a dilapidated barn, overgrown with elder and hawthorn bushes.

She stopped and stared at it. What a superb place this would be to keep a secret lookout over the bay. One could see everything from this vantage point—from a fleet on the horizon to a small skiff nipping into shore ready to unload its cargo close to the cave she and Rafe had found.

At the memory of their shared moment in the cave—she with her skirts up around her waist and Rafe rocking back and forth between her thighs—a wave of heat swept over her so powerful it made her dizzy. She clutched for the wooden doorpost of the barn’s midstrey for support.

Good heavens. What was happening to her? How could the mere thought of being in that undignified position arouse such a blaze of excitement deep inside?

It was tragic that the one man who’d let her down so badly was the only man ever to inspire such elemental desire within her. The feeling of frustrated need threatened to break her apart.

She stared through the doorway of the barn, eager for distraction. It was dark inside, even though the sun cast occasional speckles of light on the floor through holes in the roof. A stale smell assaulted her nose—rotting straw, ancient chaff, and accumulated dust. A rustle from above revealed a little owl perched on a beam, and she tilted her head back to get a better view of it.

A large hand clapped over her mouth, and she was pulled back against a sturdy male body.

No, not again!

She hoped against hope she’d not accidentally stumbled into the clutches of one of Culverdale’s men.

A familiar voice against her ear exclaimed, “Charlotte!”

She shook the hand away from her mouth and spun round, staring up in astonishment. Eventually she found her voice.

“My God. Justin?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Justin lifted Charlotte off her feet and swung her round. “Yes, it’s me. How fortunate you should come here!” he exclaimed delightedly.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. “But— How did—?”

He laughed and swung her around again. “I’d been cudgeling my brain to work out how to let you know I was here. I’ve been lurking, hoping some small child might saunter past whom I could bribe to deliver a note.”

She pushed herself out of his arms and waited until the world stopped spinning. “Oh Justin, you’re safe!” For now at least. Oh, this was a disaster of the first order! “Have you lost your mind? Whatever possessed you to desert?”

His grin didn’t waver. “Did you not get my last letter? It explained everything.”

“Good heavens, I never thought you’d actually do it.”

“I’d risk anything for you, you know that. And God, I hate the army.”

He’d come for her? That was the last thing she wanted to happen, and also the last thing she felt able to talk about. “How did you manage to get here in once piece, all the way from Scotland?”

“It’s a long story, my angel, but you shall hear it in time. I confess I’m hungry and weary from the journey, but I daresay, seeing you is all the food I need. It’s like manna from heaven!”

This was not good. She didn’t want him to think of her in that way. “We’ve plenty of food at home,” she said.