Chapter 23

san-guine (adjective). Hopeful or con­fident with reference to some particular issue.

san-guin-ar-y (adjective). Attended by bloodshed; characterized by slaughter.

After this night, I shall never again con­fuse the words sanguine and sanguinary.

-From the personal dictionary of

Caroline Ravenscroft

Caroline squinted at the horizon, but in the dark haze of night she could see nothing. This didn't surprise her. Blake and James would never be so stupid as to use a lantern. They were probably hidden behind a rock or shrub, using the faint moonlight to spy on the activities on the shore be­low.

"I don't see anything," she said to Oliver. "You must be mistaken."

He turned his head slowly to face her. "You re­ally think I'm an idiot, don't you?"

She pondered that. "No, not an idiot. Many other things, but not an idiot."

"Your husband," he said, pointing ahead, "is hid­ing among those trees."

"Perhaps we ought to alert him to our presence?" she asked hopefully.

"Oh, we'll alert him. Have no fear." Oliver brought the gig to a halt with a vicious yank of the reins and pushed her out to the ground. Caroline landed hard on her side, coughing, on dirt and grass. She looked up just in time to see her former guardian pull out a gun.

"Oliver..."

He pointed the weapon at her head.

She shut her mouth.

He jerked his head to the left. "Start walking."

"But that's the cliff."

"There's a path. Follow it."

Caroline looked down. A narrow path had been carved into the steeply sloping hill. It zigged and zagged its way down to the beach, and it didn't take much more than a brisk wind to send loose pebbles rolling down the incline. It didn't look safe, but it was considerably more appealing than a bullet from Oliver's gun. She decided to follow his orders.

"I'll need you to untie my hands," she said. "For balance."

He scowled, then acquiesced, muttering, "You're no good to me dead."

She started to breathe a sigh of relief.

"Yet."

Her stomach churned.

He finished untying her hands and pushed her toward the edge, musing aloud, "Actually, you might be most useful as a widow."

This time, her stomach heaved, but she swal­lowed down the bile, coughing on the acidic taste in her mouth. Her heart might be racing, she might be feeling something far beyond terror, but she had to remain strong for Blake. She stepped out onto the path and began her descent.

"Don't try any false moves," he said. "You'd be wise to remember I've a gun pointed at your back."

"I'm not likely to forget it," she bit' off, poking her toe out ahead of her to feel for loose rocks. Damn, but this path was treacherous at night. She'd hiked similar paths during the day, but sunlight was a powerful ally.

He jammed the barrel of the gun against her back. "Faster."

Caroline swung her arms wildly to keep her bal­ance. When she was satisfied that she wasn't about to tumble to her death she snapped, "I'm not going to do you a bit of good dead of a broken neck. And believe me, if I start to fall, the first thing I'm grab­bing is your leg."

That shut him up, and he didn't bother her again until they were safely on the beach.