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A bookcase that had blended in with the rest, had swung open, revealing the room behind.
“How many men were there?” Ophelia asked quietly, filling the silence about them. Even the ocean was deadened in their tiny room.
“Three,” she answered. She’d told them the same thing half a dozen times since they’d entered the room, but she thought it made all of them feel better to know their men outnumbered the thieves.
“Three,” Ophelia repeated, twisting her hands together. “Unless there were more back at the boat.”
Charlie shook her head. “It sounded like they were the three responsible for hiding the goods. They discussed opening some of the wine. Could they do that with others helping?”
Bianca stepped up and took her hands. “That sounds right. Good job listening. Come sit. You’ll wear yourself out.”
She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly. I’m too nervous. He should have come up with us. He was injured and—”
“And you love him,” Cordelia finished. “Have you told him?”
Charlie’s shoulders slumped. She’d said that she wanted to marry him. But lots of women wanted to marry titled lords. It wasn’t quite the same as confessing that she was in love.
“He’s going to marry her. Chris said so,” Bianca said. “It’s why Papa allowed Lord Balstead down to the beach to fetch her. He’d promised they’d wed.”
Charlie wrapped her arms about her stomach. She’d wanted to debate that turn of events. But then he’d raced up the hill with her in his arms, literally been shot protecting her. She wasn’t sure she could protest their union but she could tell him how she felt. Hope that given time, he would return her feelings. Learn to love her despite his past connection to his wife.
A noise outside the room stilled all of them. The case thumped and then swung open, Mr. Moorish standing in the door. “Everyone all right here?”
Ophelia and Cordelia stood as Charlie turned toward her host. “We’re fine. Are all of you all right?”
He gave a slow nod, a small smile touching his lips. “Mostly fine. We need to get the constable, but we’d thought we’d allow all of you to see your beaux first.”
The girls rushed to the door, and for a moment, Charlie thought they might not all make it out the door, but somehow they jockeyed through and she heard their cries as they each found the man they searched for.
Cordelia let out a cry. “You’re hurt.”
Charlie stepped toward the door then, her heart hammering in her chest. For some reason, she was more nervous than she’d ever been to see Raithe. Inside, something had changed. She’d succumbed to the love that had been rising inside her, and she didn’t know what that would mean precisely.
But she didn’t even make it to the entrance before he was in front of her.
His breeches were covered in sand, his hair windblown, and blood stained the sleeve of his shirt. He looked divine.
She gave a cry as, without thought, she launched herself into his arms. “I was so worried.”
He wrapped her in his embrace, lifting off her feet. “Charlie,” he whispered close to her ear, his voice rough with emotion.
Her breath caught. “You should set me down. Your arm.”
“I don’t want to,” he answered, his voice gruff even as he nuzzled his face into her neck. “You’re sure you’re not injured anywhere?”
“I’m fine.” She leaned back to look at him. “You’re the one I’m worried about.”
Rather than answer, he captured her lips with his own a quick, hard kiss that left her breathless.
Mr. Moorish cleared his throat. “I’ve sent for the constable, I’ll wait for him in the sitting room downstairs. The rest of you should go get some rest and make sure to lock your doors both inside and out. The balconies are climbable.” Then he turned and left the room.
Charlie looked over Raithe’s shoulder. “He left us?”
Rathmore wrapped an arm around Ophelia’s waist. “He knows we want to protect our women tonight, I think.”
Charlie’s mouth dropped open. “But…”
Raithe let out a short chuckle. “The advantage of being engaged. Now, my sweetheart, will you help me bandage my arm?”
