He looked delighted. “You remembered her name!”
There was literally nothing about Carlos that she’d forgotten, no matter how hard she tried. “Well, you remembered the name of my cat, didn’t you? So, is your ship here in Cornwall?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.”
“I’d like to see it. Her. Someday.”
“She’s sometimes in the harbor of Treversey,” Carlos said. “When you go into town, I could point her out.”
“I suppose,” Poppy said, feeling sad all at once, “that I should go back up to the house. Avoid scandal and all that.”
“Why would you want to avoid it?” he returned.
“Oh, stop teasing me and help me down, if you want to be useful.”
He slid off the rock, then turned. That was when Poppy realized there really was no ladylike way to leap off a four foot tall boulder in a gown.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, lifting one arm above his head, just at the height for her to grab for stability. “Just take my hand and jump down. I’ll make sure you don’t stumble.”
“The angle is…rather awkward. You must not look,” she warned.
“Take my hand, and then I’ll close my eyes,” he said.
Poppy did, and then jumped, finding it less demeaning than she feared. But then she was standing toe to toe with Carlos, her hands in his.
He was smiling at her in the way that made her stomach flip-flop. He said, “There. Back on the ground, and your dignity intact. Oh, wait.” He reached around her and adjusted the bow on the wide ribbon just below the waist of her gown. “There. You’re once again high-tied.”
She groaned, mostly to cover her reaction to their near embrace. “If this devolves into puns, I’ll have to leap into the ocean to escape.”
“Then I’ll not dampen the mood further.”
“Mr. de la Guerra!”
“Sí?” he asked, too innocently.
“Stop it.”
“I like you better when you’re berating me, rather than when you’re silent.”
“Don’t tease me. I’m all too aware I can’t keep my mouth shut.”
“You’re so diverting it’s never occurred to me to wish otherwise.”
“Speaking of diverting,” she said, pointing to a light on the water she just noticed, “What is that?”
Carlos followed her finger. The odd light bobbed and shook on the water, as waves partially obscured it for a second, then revealed it again as it crested.
“A boat, I expect.” His voice became much lower. “A small one.”
He was right. The light belonged to a dinghy making its way toward the shore. Their shore. Poppy watched as the boat came closer and closer.
“They’re smugglers,” Carlos muttered. “And they’re going to beach here. We have to get out of sight.”
“What?” Poppy shivered. Real smugglers would never appear at the beach directly below Pencliff Towers, would they? And yet, the house suddenly felt as remote as the moon. “Maybe they’re just local fishermen, out for a pleasure cruise at night, through eel-infested waters.”
“I doubt it,” Carlos said.
“Then we should leave.”
