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Sara asked, “What is your name?”
“Colin, and as I said, no need to tell me yours,” he answered.
The ale was delivered and he toasted her silently before taking a long swig. She sipped at hers and for a moment she felt free, wild, and young. It was as though she were seventeen, meeting Raoul on the cliffs.
Was she now about to pass the boundary of wrong into evil? Perhaps.
She knew that the vicar would banish Heather from his home. She knew him, had endured his boring conversations, and because he was dependent on her good offices for his continued presence at the vicarage.
Yes, the vicar would no doubt send his niece away, but that would not solve her problem. Godwin would follow and find her and be angrier than ever. No, she had no choice but to proceed with her most intricate plans.
“Colin, I should like to hire some men,” she whispered. “For a very special job. Discretion is utterly important.”
“I’m your man, then,” Colin answered
La, was she making a mistake? This man knew her. If she left now, she would be safe, but Heather Martin would also be safe. She couldn’t have that.
She had to go through with her plan.
The tavern keeper returned at that moment and said, “Madam…perhaps ye would like a table alone, or better yet, I can recommend another tavern more suited to the likes of ye.”
“Well, Jenkins, mayhap you don’t understand that the lady is quite comfortable here…with me.” Colin inclined his head and asked, “Aren’t you, my lady?”
“Yes, thank you…er, Jenkins,” Sara answered. What was she doing? What? She would go to hell for this? Well, hell in the afterlife was uncertain…if she didn’t do this, if she didn’t ruin Heather, she would be ruined. Easy choice.
Jenkins, the tavern owner frowned but seemed to wash his hands of the situation as he walked off and returned to ordering his barmaid about.
“Well then, my lady, how can I be of service?” Colin asked.
Sara hesitated.
Colin lowered his voice, “Is it protection you are looking to hire…for a journey? If so, my men and I are at your beck and call.”
“You say your name is Colin. That isn’t enough. Your speech is that of an educated Englishman from the north, I think, and yet you have the sea written all over you. Just who are you, Colin?” she asked quietly.
“Ah, very astute. Yes, I am from the north and I am the third son of a squire whose estates are to let. I took to the sea—the navy, and when I sold out, my love of the sea suggested there was a living to be had transporting goods to and fro.” He eyed her. “Now, what is your need of me and my men?”
“Are you saying you are a smuggler?” Sara already suspected this, but she wanted to gage his reaction.
“Aye, ye could say that we are,” Colin answered with a grin. “Bred a gentleman but born for the sea and the excitement it has provided.”
“And, of course, one must survive and a third son doesn’t always have choices,” Sara said, not because she cared, but because she was still taking stock of him.
“Exactly,” he said.
“I think I have seen you before, in the village,” she said as they exchanged a long glance at one another.
“Indeed, though we have never been properly introduced, we have on occasion passed one another here and there. I am Colin Falwell, and I would appreciate it if you would tell me what it is you need, as I would very much like to give it to you,” he said with a smirk and a slight bow of his head.
“I am not sure you are just the sort of gentleman for the job,” she started doubtfully.
“Oh, but I am exactly what you need,” he interrupted. “My crew…and I are at the moment in-between…gainful employment, and I would be happy to serve you in any manner you deem fit.”
She laughed. “Very well.?
? She was attracted to Colin. He brought out the flirt in her immediately. “Perhaps you may be in a position…to…er…please me.”
He grinned and reached for her gloved hand. She allowed it.
