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A happy laugh. "You're welcome to distract me in that particular manner any time you want, Husband."
"Really? Then I doubt you'll be leaving our cabin to see any of the sights you crave during our upcoming trip."
"That's all right. I crave you more." With that, Aurora reached out, grabbing hold of the jutting stone and wriggling across onto its flat surface. "Care to join me?" Her eyes twinkled. "Although I must warn you, this stone is even more cramped and uncomfortable—and infinitely more public—than our carriage seat."
"Cramped, uncomfortable, and public don't deter me in the least. However, I wouldn't risk scratching that beautiful skin of yours," Julian proclaimed valiantly, tying the mooring rope about his waist and clambering across to where his wife was scrambling to her feet. "Still, there are ways around that particular problem." A challenging flame darted through his topaz eyes as he righted Aurora, tugged her against him. "I could take the brunt of the scratches," he murmured into the bright cloud of her hair. "Better still, we could stand. I'd support your weight, even drape your skirts around us so no one could see." A seductive chuckle. "Care to try?"
Aurora leaned back, stared at him in disbelief. "You're serious, aren't you?"
"When it comes to making love to you? Always. A more pertinent question is, are you serious?"
With a swift glance at their surroundings—the not-so-distant fishing boats, the nearby villages—Aurora gave it up. "Bested again," she grumbled.
Julian grinned. "You're welcome to retaliate. Later, you may best me to your heart's content."
"What an enticing notion. I look forward to it." She tucked loose strands of hair away from her face, her mood altering as she contemplated the smooth waters of Mount's Bay, the picturesque shoreline that defined its boundaries, the huge white gulls that flew gracefully overhead. "To me, all this is a miracle," she admitted, awe lacing her tone. "Until now, these places were just wisps of dreams floating about in my head, fragments of Mr. Scollard's legends. Now they're real."
"They sound much like you," Julian replied in a husky whisper. "An unknown dream that's now reality—a miracle. My miracle."
Aurora curve
d into his side. "Thank you."
"No, soleil—thank you." His arm encircled her waist, keeping her close against him. "There's Mousehole," he told her, pointing straight ahead. "And Land's End wraps around to the west."
Following his gesture, Aurora gazed at the village that housed their great-grandfathers' secret, seeing naught but a tiny harbor dotted with fishing boats and a narrow stretch of beach that receded away from the shore to become green tracts of land. "It's lovely, but I'm not certain what I'm looking for," she said, peering beyond the coast to the rows of houses set before grassy hills. "As I said, there's nothing remotely towering…"
Her voice lodged in her throat.
The sun, now shimmering in the west, had poised over Mousehole, going utterly still as it bathed the village in a final blaze of color. Fiery rays swept inland, revealing a pair of gently rolling hills situated directly before Aurora's widening eyes. As she stared transfixed, the rays converged into one solitary beam that pierced the space between the two identical crests, illuminating a third hill nestled just beyond and directly between the others—a hill that soared taller than either of its counterparts, its grassy slope heralded by a line of hedges forming an arch at its base.
"Julian," she began, her heart hammering like a drum. "That hill…"
"I see it." His answer was a terse whisper, rife with excitement and discovery.
Aurora tore her gaze from the hedges, inclining her head to regard her husband. "It's more than the hill's height. Even more than the intense way the sunset converges upon it. There's something about it…"
"Such as the fact that those hedges are arranged precisely like the ones on Geoffrey's drawing?" Swiftly Julian extracted the sketch, unfolding it and pointing to the line of hedges his great-grandfather had sketched—hedges that opened into the thick maze of greenery that defined the grounds of Morland Manor.
The fading sunlight flickered over the drawing and Aurora stared from it to the hill and back. "You're right—they're identical." She inhaled sharply. "So it's true. This was our great-grandfathers' plan. What we're seeing now proves it. 'Twould be impossible for anyone approaching at a different angle to view the base of that hill. It's shielded by the slope of the land and the houses at its forefront. No one could spot it unless they were standing where we are, at precisely this time of day. And even if someone were to defy all those odds to stand upon Merlin Rock at low tide just as the sun set, they'd have no notion what they were viewing—not unless they held this very sketch in their hands."
"I'd be willing to bet there's an opening in that hill, Rory."
"And I'd be willing to bet you're right."
As if to substantiate the validity of their words and proclaim the fact that its mission had been achieved, the sun relinquished its hold on Mousehole, slipping slowly beneath the horizon, giving way to dusk.
"Let's row to shore." Julian tightened his hold about Aurora's waist, hoisting her onto the boat, and, after untying the rope about his midsection, swinging down beside her.
"We'd better hurry," Aurora advised, taut as a bowstring as they propelled the craft toward the coast. "I know we brought a lantern, but it will be far easier to find the opening in that hill with the aid of some daylight."
"Agreed." Julian rowed in quick hard strokes, taking them closer and closer to shore.
Aurora jumped out the instant she could, wading through several feet of ankle-deep water to tug the boat onto the sand. "Let's go," she urged her husband.
Julian needed no second invitation. By the time Aurora had wrung out her skirts he was beside her, seizing her hand to lead her onward.
They made their way across the sandy beach and through the narrow path leading inland. Once they passed the houses and reached the unbroken stretch of hills, they abandoned the path altogether, trudging over the rolling tracts of grass on a more direct route to their goal.
