“Are you mad?” she hissed, even as she took it. “What am I going to do with this, offer to slice up some beef for dinner?”
“They won’t expect a woman to be armed,” he explained. “God, I wish we had a distraction. If I could just get a few seconds’ head start…”
“Well, there’s one thing that might throw them off for a moment. How’s this?”
Carlos looked back and the sight hit him in the gut. Poppy had hitched up the skirts of her gown to reveal possibly the most glorious pair of legs he’d ever seen.
“More women should hike,” he muttered, his gaze captured by the vision.
Poppy reached out and dragged him to her. “Hurry up. If you look like you’re kissing me, they won’t think you’re ready to pounce on them.”
He was ready to pounce on something, all right. He pushed Poppy back against the rock, partly to protect her from possible stray bullets, but mostly to hitch one leg up around his thigh—an arresting sight for any man with a pulse.
With his mouth over hers, he breathed, “If things get bad, you need to get behind me.”
“I can run for the cliff stairs.”
“No, you can’t. They’re blocking the way. Same for the caves. Just trust me.”
Then he kissed her, hard.
That was how the vanguard of the smugglers found them.
“Who the hell are—” a voice shouted, but then laughter broke out all around Carlos and Poppy.
“It’s just a lad and his girl!” another voice called. “What should we do with them?”
“Hey, you both. Stop all that!”
Hearing the threat behind the words, Carlos did stop, and turned so that Poppy was partially concealed by his body.
Four men stood in a semi-circle, watching them. In the middle was a big bear of a man who Carlos recognized as one of Spargo’s lieutenants. What had Spargo called him in the tavern? Malcolm.
“Little ragged, but she’s a beauty,” another man said, peering at Poppy.
“She’s my beauty,” Carlos snapped, looking back at them. His voice acquired a drunken edge. “So why are you lot looking at her?”
Malcolm didn’t appear to recognize Carlos, not yet. Unsurprisingly, his gaze kept traveling to Poppy, who was blushing scarlet at his perusal. She yanked her skirts back down.
“You’ve picked a bad place for your little dalliance,” Malcolm said.
“Have I?” Carlos asked. “Seemed good enough.”
“Seems ain’t the same as is, friend. We’re using it. So move along,” Malcolm said, not raising his voice. He put his hand on the pistol at his belt. “Let’s have no violence about it.”
“Please, darling,” Poppy said, her obvious embarrassment at being seen like this completely believable. “Let’s go.”
“Listen to your lady friend,” the man went on. “This is not worth a fight.”
“Oh, very well,” Carlos grumbled. “Keep your eyes off her,” he warned as he pulled Poppy toward the stairs. Was it possible they could get out of this unscathed?
“Hey, I’ve seen you before,” one man said. It was the skinny man who picked the fight with Carlos in the bar. “You’re that Spanish sailor. What the hell are you doing here, dressed like a swell?”
Malcolm’s attention snapped back to Carlos. “So it is. Something’s not right here. Both of you, walk forward. Slowly, hands out.”
Carlos made a show of keeping his hands well away from his body, which also helped shield Poppy’s actions from their view.
“Poppy. Cuando te lo diga, corre hacia la orilla. Entendido?”
