“I am starting to see that,” Blake murmured as he walked towards her. “But I also have tricks up my sleeve.”
He darted towards her and grabbed the clue from her hand, dancing away as she tried to reach it. He held it aloft, grinning mischievously as she jumped at him.
“Give that back.” Jane thumped his chest as she leaped towards the clue in his hand.
“No.” Blake moved out of her reach as the smell of cinnamon and vanilla washed over him.
“This is quite underhanded,” Jane pointed out.
“I think you mean it is overhanded.” Blake laughed. “Besides, I am not the one who threw someone else’s clue into the water.”
“You started it.” Jane made another swipe for the paper in Blake’s hand.
“And now you have come down to my level. Rather satisfying to see what influence I already have on you.” Blake winked at her, still holding the clue out of her reach.
Jane shook her head at him, her hands clenched into fists. “If you ruin the clue with your wet hands, I shall never forgive you.”
“I had not realized I had wormed my way back into your good graces,” Blake said mockingly.
“You are utterly deplorable.” Jane threw her hands up in frustration.
“Thank you,” Blake replied.
“Fine.” Jane scowled and began to storm towards the lake. “Fine!”
She is not going to go into the lake. There is no way she is going to do that.
Blake watched as Jane looked at the stick and then realized that none of the bottles would be within reach. She glanced back at him, and he saw the fury and determination in her gaze.
He looked at her questioningly, still not quite willing to believe that she would go into the water.
There is no way.
“Stupid, irritating…” Jane’s angry mutterings floated towards him as he watched her kick off her shoes.
A moment later, she lifted her skirts a little, looked back at him once more, and glared. And then, to his surprise, she walked into the water. Her gasp broke through his stupor.
“It is freezing!” Jane’s teeth began to chatter.
Blake had not realized that he had moved towards the woman until she slipped and he somehow managed to catch her. Her arms went around him, and their eyes met.
“You do seem to have a habit of falling into my arms,” he murmured.
“Incorrigible rake,” Jane muttered, though she did not let go of him.
“I am.” Blake gently guided Jane back to the shore. “As amusing as it would be to see you drenched to your bones, I suspect if you caught a cold, Miss Minton would skin us both alive. So, I will do the gentlemanly thing and read you the clue.”
“Your next clue lies at the place where our next stage began. Where permission was sought, given but not bought. Where agreements were forged and love reigned supreme.”He wrinkled his nose—the poetry was truly awful.
Jane peered suspiciously at the clue in Blake’s hand. “How do I know that you are not making this up?”
“Firstly, I would never make up something quite so trite. And secondly, are you always so suspicious?” Blake asked.
“Have you given me any reason to trust you?” Jane crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a pointed look.
Blake shrugged. “Perhaps not. Though I assure you, what I am reading is the truth. See for yourself.” He handed her the clue. “Glassbury wrote this—I would know his style anywhere.”
“It is rather distinctive. Cressida showed me some of the poetry he wrote her when they started courting.” Jane shook her head, and Blake found himself wondering if Miss Minton had shown her some of Glassbury’s letters. “I think at one point, he used the line, ‘You are the beautiful song the singing singer sings.’ And then he proceeded to rhyme singer with ringer.”
