"Absolutely." Julian's expression reflected her own wild exhilaration. He reached into his pocket, extracting the key he'd found at James's falcon cages. "Come, my beautiful adventurer. 'Tis time to explore Mr. Scollard's legend, to see where your nymph Tamara and her giant Tavy take us."
Aurora's enraptured gaze lifted from the key to her husband. "Lead on, Merlin. To our next adventure—and to the recovery of James's strongbox."
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
The cliffs were even more breathtaking than Aurora had imagined.
Traveling from Morland by carriage, she and Julian spent the night in Plymouth, then left by ketch at dawn, heading north from where the river Tamar rushed into the sea, and passing the majestic expanse of limestone cliffs until they reached its northernmost peak.
"I'm grateful James chose a crevice and not a summit in which to hide the strongbox," Aurora commented, gazing up at the towering cliffs. "Those are a bit too intimidating a challenge, even for me."
"They're dangerous as hell," Julian concurred, glancing down at Geoffrey's diagram. "We're also fortunate he chose this first peak rather than the ones beyond as his hiding place. Not only will that preclude our doing much climbing, it will also lessen the time it takes to recover the strongbox. Just beyond this point, the Tamar narrows from a swell to a stream. That's where we reverse our direction and head south. Geoffrey's diagram was explicitly drawn facing south—most likely to hide the crevice from view of those traveling north by sea. But as it is—" Julian gestured toward the green canopy appearing ahead. "—we're almost there."
Minutes later, Julian skillfully veered the ketch about, steering past the wooded area which, although devoid of blossoms during the winter months, were lush with evergreens filtered with sunshine. The stream curved closer to the cliffs, which rose up from the water like a crashing wave.
"There's the crevice on Geoffrey's drawing," Aurora exclaimed, gathering up her skirts and rushing to the ship's bow.
Julian followed her gaze, staring at the rift in limestone that corresponded with Geoffrey's heavy pencil mark on the diagram. "It is indeed." Swiftly he lowered the sail, easing the ketch closer, then tying it to the trunk of an old oak tree that jutted out from the base of the cliff. "Let's go." He gathered up his tools and leapt off the ship, turning to assist Aurora only to find that she'd already scrambled onto land and was making her way up the steep incline.
He chuckled, following her lead and arriving at the crevice just behind his wife.
"Julian—hurry!" Aurora was virtually jumping up and down.
"Sorry to detain you, soleil," he teased. "I stopped to gather our tools. I thought they might prove useful. Or did you intend to claw your way through layers of stone?"
Aurora flashed him a rueful smile. "I'm sorry. However, I did tell you that patience was not one of my virtues."
"So you did." Grinning, Julian squatted, feeling about the area with his hand, reaching deeper until he encountered a loose section of stone. Purposefully he tugged at it, twisting and flinging aside small pieces of rock until he'd worked the larger section of stone free.
With a harsh sound of triumph, he lifted it away.
"Is it there?" Aurora demanded, kneeling beside him.
Julian frowned. "I don't know. I'll have to pound and chisel a bit. My hand won't fit in the crevice."
"Mine will. Let me explore the hollow, see if I can feel the strongbox. At least that will determine whether we should continue tearing this section of rocks apart or turn our attentions to an adjoining spot." Aurora leaned forward, sliding her palm into the designated area, working her hand deeper until her fingers struck a hard, smooth object. "Julian," she said excitedly. "I think I found it."
"Good." Julian's tone was even. "'Tis time to employ a cardinal rule of adventurers. Nothing is yours until you're certain that what you've found is indeed what you seek. And even then it's not yours. Not until you're holding it in your hands and you've eliminated any potential obstacles that might stand in your way. Now, stay as you are. I'm going to work a few more of the surrounding stones free. Once I have, I want you to move your hand about, feel along the surface of the box. Do you recall any of the details on Geoffrey's strongbox?"
"Yes. There was gilded trim all the way around. And knobs—two smaller, two larger, one of which hid the keyhole."
"Excellent." Julian was already digging, working the stones around Aurora's wrist away one by one. "Let your fingers be your eyes. Search for the very details you just described to me."
"All right." Aurora shifted impatiently, willing away the stones Julian was slowly urging free.
"Patience, soleil," Julian murmured, reading her mind. "Haste often breeds disaster." A grunt as he hauled aside a huge section of rock. "How's that?"
"Better." Aurora's palm flattened atop the hard surface, moving about as she explored their find. "It's the strongbox," she proclaimed. "I'm sure of it. I can feel the gilding, the knobs, even all four sides adjacent to the top. We've found it, Julian."
"Then it's time to seize our prize." With single-minded intensity, Julian tugged Aurora's hand free, peering into the crevice and nodding purposefully. "From what I can make out, it looks intact. Let's maneuver it up."
For a half hour they chipped and pounded at stones. At last their efforts were rewarded.
Tossing the tools aside, Julian bent forward over the newly formed chasm, lifting the chest from its rocky bed. With a harsh grating sound, the chest eased free.
"Oh, Julian, it really is James's strongbox." Aurora wiped a dirty sleeve across her forehead, oblivious to the fact that her face was now muddied, her gown and mantle ruined beyond repair. "Let's open it."
"Not yet. Not until we're in the ketch, safely on our way."
Something about Julian's tone made her look about. "Do you think we were followed?" she asked, scrutinizing the vast acres of woods, the tiny village beyond. "And if so, by whom? Your man Stone? That scoundrel Macall? Or one of the thieves that's been prowling about Pembourne in search of the black diamond?"
"The latter is unlikely," Julian replied, sitting back on his haunches. "Those thieves have lost interest since I retracted all the ludicrous accusations my father spouted."
"You're right. The threatening notes and attempted burglaries have all but ceased. So, if it's not privateers…" Aurora scanned the area again. "Stone would have no reason to conceal himself, especially now that he and I have officially met. Do you think it's Macall? Do you think he discovered your whereabouts and tracked us here?"
"No." Julian shook his head. "Macall's determined enough to hunt me down, but not shrewd enough to follow me undetected from a distance—especially by water. If he were out there, I'd have spied him hours ago. No, actually I don't think we were followed—this time. However…"
"I know," Aurora interrupted, her eyes twinkling. "The cardinal rule of adventurers. Eliminate any potential obstacles." She rose to her feet, brushing clumps of dirt from her gown. "Tell me, Merlin—is hurrying permitted? Or is that too conspicuous? Must we walk unobtrusively so as not to arouse suspicion?"
Julian chuckled and stood up, the strongbox and tools tucked beneath his arm. "Hurrying is not only permitted but advisable. Come."
They scrambled down the cliffs, Aurora's gown catching and ripping several times along the way. At last they reached the ketch, at which time she bounded by Julian, leaping aboard and fidgeting restlessly as her husband lowered the strongbox and tools to the deck, then swung down beside her. "Now," she urged. "Quickly. Open it."
Julian extracted the key, then paused, offering it to Aurora while he untied the rope that bound their ketch to land. "Why don't you?"
"I?" Aurora stared. "Really?"
"James was your great-grandfather. Technically the strongbox belongs to you." A teasing grin as he raised the sail. "Besides, you deserve a reward. You've proved to be quite a splendid—and successful—adventurer." He folded her fingers around the key, then
resumed his place at the helm. "You open. I'll steer. It's all yours, Rory."
Trembling with excitement, Aurora kneeled beside the strongbox, locating the knob that corresponded to the one beneath which Geoffrey had concealed his keyhole.
She grasped it firmly and eased it aside until the slot was revealed. Then she fit the key into the slot, exerting pressure—a little at a time—until the lock gave, opening with a telltale click.
Aurora's gaze met Julian's.
"Bravo, soleil," he praised. "Now let's see what James left us."
Wetting her lips, Aurora raised the lid, baring the chest's contents for them both to see.
A dagger adorned with the head of a falcon greeted their eyes. Beneath the dagger lay a single sheet of paper covered with text, discolored with age.
Aurora lifted both articles from the strongbox and turned her attention first to the dagger, which she held out for Julian's inspection. "It's identical to Geoffrey's."
"Indeed it is," he concurred. "Clearly this is James's way of ensuring us that what we've found is genuine—left to us by the Falcon." Julian veered the ketch on its course, casting a quick look at the paper in Aurora's hand. "One edge of the page is jagged. And the words are printed, not penned. What do they say?"
"The page must have been torn from a book." Aurora frowned, turning the paper back to front, scanning the contents. "There's printing on both sides. The content describes the hunting habits of the falcon—more specifically, the merlin and the kestrel."
"The two smallest falcons," Julian noted aloud. "Interesting. We'll have to read the text more closely, see what particular wording James wants us to distinguish. Are there any marks penned on the page?"
"No marks, no underlined or circled words, not even a notation in the margin—not on either side." Aurora fingered the page's uneven edge. "The good news is that none of the contents were cut off when the page was torn free." A pause. "I wonder what book James took it from."
"That might be equally as significant as what's printed on the page itself," Julian mused aloud. "I suggest we leave Plymouth immediately, ride directly to Pembourne to show our findings to Slayde and Courtney. After all, we have no immediate reason to return to Morland now that we've found the strongbox. And your brother and sister-in-law deserve to know our findings."
Aurora shot him a knowing look. "Not to mention that Pembourne contains James's library—and all his falcon books—which you're eager to get your hands on, given that one of them is doubtless the book we seek."
Julian chuckled. "You're becoming increasingly more insightful."
"Perhaps my insight is strengthening only with regard to you," Aurora suggested pointedly, studying her husband's profile to gauge his reaction. "Careful, Merlin. I'm beginning to understand the way you think."
An amused sideways glance. "Should I feel threatened?"
"Only if you insist on retaining those wretched walls of yours." Her smile was beatific. "If not, I'm quite harmless."
"I'm glad to hear that, soleil. I've started to see for myself just how formidable an adversary you would be."
Julian's tone was teasing, which irritated Aurora more than the wariness she'd been expecting. Teasing meant he was intentionally evading the subject, skillfully thwarting any inroads she hoped to make. Damn you, Julian, she fumed silently. You can't shut me out forever. I won't let you.
The fervor of her own resolve gave her pause. Yes, Julian was a challenge—one she'd vowed to rise to. But the intensity of her determination to break down his emotional walls far exceeded anything she'd ever experienced in the mere facing of a challenge. What exactly was troubling her so much? Julian was giving her all the things he'd promised when he offered for her: adventure, excitement, passion. He'd vowed to share the exhilaration of his life, the wealth of his experience. He'd said nothing about relaying his innermost thoughts, sharing his feelings.
Opening his heart.
So why was it so bloody important to her that she secure those things? Why couldn't she just accept the wonders she'd already been offered—exploring the world, seeking out the black diamond, fueling the fires of passion? Why were those enticements no longer enough?
The answer was as startling as it was obvious.
She was falling in love with her husband.
Aurora nearly groaned aloud. How could this be happening? she pondered in astonishment. A month ago she hadn't even known Julian Bencroft. 'Twas impossible for him to have captured her heart in a matter of days.
And yet she'd trusted him in a matter of minutes.
She'd told him so herself on the day he proposed, argued that time was not a requirement for trust, that trust came from within and was ofttimes instinctive rather than earned. And how could she refute that statement when she knew in her heart it was true? She had trusted Julian from the onset, had believed in his noble intentions, his decency, his honor. She'd placed her life and her future in his hands, knowing somehow he would give her everything she craved.
What she hadn't realized was just how much she craved.
But love? Unlike trust, love took time, familiarity, cultivation. Didn't it?
It hadn't with Slayde and Courtney.
Aurora squeezed her eyes shut, the full impact of her realization sinking in. I'm a fool, she berated herself inwardly, contemplating the overwhelming sensations she experienced each time she and Julian made love—sensations too profound to stem merely from lust, incited by a fervor that intensified more with each joining. A stupid, bloody fool. What did I think Mr. Scollard was trying to tell me when he compared me with Courtney, reminded me of the days when she grappled with her feelings for Slayde after being thrust unexpectedly into his life? Mr. Scollard was as much as telling me I'd soon experience something similar with Julian. Only I was too dim-witted to hear.
Well, I hear you now, Mr. Scollard, she acknowledged ruefully. The question is, what am I going to do about it?
For now—nothing.
The decision erupted in her mind with the same conviction as had the realization of her feelings. And while she was still reeling from the knowledge that she was falling in love with Julian, she was sensible enough to know that she couldn't act upon her newfound discovery—not now. Not with the black diamond still unrecovered, the echoes of the past still haunting their lives. There was too much closure yet to be had, too many hurdles to be contemplated and surmounted.
And unearthing the black diamond was only the first.
After that came she herself.
Aurora drew a slow, steadying breath, grasping the open strongbox in her hands as if it were an anchor. She'd never truly imagined falling in love, and now that she had—well, she needed time to understand these new startling feelings that had stormed her senses, taken her completely by surprise.
Then came the third—and perhaps the most difficult—hurdle of all: Julian.
How could she convey these feelings to him? What could she say, and when? How severe would his reaction be?
That he'd be irked was a certainty. Aurora was too honest to delude herself into thinking otherwise. She, better than anyone, knew the way her husband regarded her: as an exciting and delightful diversion, a tempting indulgence to be savored at will, even a kindred spirit and worthy companion. But love? Love was not part of Julian's plan any more than were the constraints spawned by emotional bonds. Julian was an adventurer. He would not welcome the potential limitations love would impose on his way of life. He was also a loner—one who'd already divulged more of himself than he liked and who would be reluctant to permit further intrusions into his private thoughts and feelings.
Lord help her, what impasse had she backed herself into this time?
"Aurora?" Julian's voice was questioning, his gaze curious. "Why are you staring into that strongbox as if it contains another secret we have yet to unearth?"
"Because it does." Jolting back to reality, Aurora fingered the frayed page that lay within the box. "We still have to determine why James chose this p
articular page to tear out and hide. It's obviously a crucial clue that he meant for us to find."
"Then you agree we should go to Pembourne?"
Pembourne. The prospect sent waves of relief flooding through Aurora—for reasons that had little to do with James's library. "Yes, definitely," she concurred, thinking that traveling to her old home meant receiving precisely what she needed: the wondrous balm of Courtney's counsel. "I suggest we leave Plymouth at once and ride directly to Pembourne."
* * *
It was late at night when they arrived, and Aurora glanced anxiously at the manor, experiencing another surge of relief when she saw that the lamps on the first level were still lit.
"They're awake," she murmured, nearly leaping from the phaeton. She bounded up the steps, knocking loudly and repeatedly until Siebert opened the door.