Prologue
On occasion and thankfully not often, Miss Nicoll Driscoll suffered from insomnia.
She also learned long ago that if her thoughts would not settle then it was futile to retire because she would only toss and turn, which would lead to a frustrating night with little sleep.
Instead, she walked until she grew tired.
Such was the case tonight, but instead of taking the path to the beach, which had been her original intention, Nicoll settled on a patch of grass at the edge of a low cliff.
She blew out a sigh and hugged her knees to her chest, hoping the sound of gentle waves would calm her mind. Except, those waves were rather turbulent. She looked above but there were hardly any clouds in the sky that would indicate a storm.
With a shrug, she rested her chin on her knees and hoped to be lured into sleepiness, but voices from below drifted up and drew her curiosity.
Nicoll inched closer to the edge to see who might be out this late only to spy four men carrying crates and casks down the hill by way of another path and setting them on the beach to be retrieved by two men with a dinghy, who took them to a larger ship anchored in deeper water.
Smugglers!
She suspected that the crates contained silks and lace, which were often smuggled from the island. As for the casks, no doubt they contained brandy.
However, because she did not want to know more than she already did, Nicoll rose to return to her home. Unfortunately, her foot dislodged small rocks and pebbles, which fell over the edge to the beach below.
She stilled and held her breath as she watched and hoped that the men did not notice. The men stopped what they were doing and looked up and then at her.
One of the men spoke to the others, gestured first to the path and then to the dinghy, before he turned and took the path up the hill—toward her.
What to do?
Did she wait? Meet him halfway or disappear and sneak back home and hope that he did not recognize her.
Nicoll snorted.
Nobody ever recognized her even though she had attended several balls and entertainments because her father was the fourth son of a marquess and he was on the island on behalf of the Crown, therefore the residents wanted him to find favor with them, especially if they were merchants.
The man’s boots crunched against the gravel and as he rounded the curve and the moon lit his face, Nicoll realized that he was none other than Lord Cecil Claxton.
Oh, she knew him, or of him.
Third son of a duke and a barrister who had visited Jersey at least twice because of a difficult estate matter.
Was that a ruse? Was there even an estate? Unfortunately, her family had not lived on the island long enough to know if Lord Cecil visited often, which would make him suspect.
He was a handsome devil with light blue eyes and blonde hair, sculpted cheeks and jaw and tempting lips. And he carried a confidence that she rarely witnessed in others…
Nicoll sucked in a breath. There were many things about Lord Cecil that were tempting, but she would not succumb to his charm as so many before her.
She had attended many of the same entertainments as Lord Cecil and watched him flirt and tease, his smile making silent promises.
He was the type of man that no sensible miss would ever be caught alone with…
“Is it not rather late to be out and alone?” he inquired when he came to a stop before her.
Had Lord Cecil not had a reputation of only seducing those who were willing, she would be frightened.
But, from all that she had gleaned, he was delightful, fascinating…
an honorable and honest rake of no promises.
Thus, Nicoll decided that she was safe in his presence despite the lateness of the hour and—alone!
“I could not sleep.”
“Or you were here to spy?”
“I had no idea that anyone else would be out,” she returned. “Is it not also late for you and your friends?”
“Men are not bound by the same rules, nor would these circumstances see us ruined.”
“Nor will I be.”
He cocked a blonde eyebrow. “So long as no one comes across us.”
“Then perhaps you should return to your task and leave me be.” She smiled.
“Yes, my task.” Lord Cecil narrowed his blue eyes. “What did you see?”
“Men loading a boat with crates and casks,” she answered. “As it was done under the cover of darkness, I can only assume that you did not go through the Customs House at St. Helier.”
He said nothing. Instead, he stared, his blue eyes bore into hers while he weighed his next words or perhaps actions. Regardless, Nicoll had no intention of waiting around to see what he decided and turned to start back up the path that would take her to the very top of the hill.
“Where are you going?” Lord Cecil demanded.
A polite question would have deserved a well-mannered answer. However, a demand received a single word response. “Home.”
“And where is home?”
Nicoll glanced over her shoulder. “I see no purpose in telling you.”
He hurried to catch up then stepped into her path, which forced Nicoll to cease her progress. It was also the first time that she had suffered a moment of fear then quickly dismissed it. Lord Cecil would not harm her no matter what the circumstances. Of that she was certain.
“My concern is that you may feel the need to tell someone what you witnessed tonight.”
“You want my assurance that you can return to your tasks with no fear of repercussions for what many would consider an illegal act even though the crime is not truly in Jersey, but when you bring your contraband ashore in England.” She smiled.
“No doubt you might believe that you can charm me into making a promise of silence or provide my address. Is that not what a rake would assume?”
“Or you could give me your name,” he added. She also noticed that he didn’t deny his intention.
“You shall have neither name nor address,” Nicoll returned with a smile as she stepped around him.
He reached out and gently grasped her elbow. “What of an assurance of silence?”
“I see no need to offer such.” Seldom did she have the upper hand in any matter.
In fact, she was rarely noticed and the power she currently held over the charming Lord Cecil offered a thrill of daring and excitement.
“It is midnight, therefore, who would I tell? There is no one at the customs office, which is also nearly two miles away, and I am without a horse. Therefore, I intend to return to my home.”
“What of tomorrow?” he asked.
Nicoll shrugged. “I anticipate that any information I may be able to provide will no longer be essential as it is likely you will have already sailed.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”
“It is not an assurance,” she quickly corrected his assumption. “I will think on it more tomorrow, after I awaken.”
Nicoll glanced down at the hand that gently held her arm. He had only meant to stop her, not once using force or pressure that would have been painful. Yet, an unfamiliar warmth spread from his touch.
Lord Cecil slowly let go of her arm.
She offered a nod then strode up the hill leaving him behind and no doubt wondering what she might do.
Only then did she let a true smile of enjoyment form.
For once, her insomnia had produced a most enjoyable evening encounter.
Cecil wanted her to stop walking, turn around and return.
He wanted the promise or at least her name, but he gained neither.
Instead, he watched the dark curls dance on the wind and the gentle sway of her hips as she retreated up the path and away from him
Who was that woman?
She looked familiar but Cecil could not recall where he had seen her.
She was quite pretty with grey eyes, nearly silver in the moonlight, and high cheekbones and full lips. It was not possible that they had ever attended the same dinners, balls or entertainments because Cecil would certainly have requested an introduction.
Was she a maid, shopgirl, or governess?
He blew out a sigh and turned down the path.
This would need to be the last time he smuggled anything out of Jersey. It wasn’t as if there were truly estate matters and such a ruse could only be used for so long, but now he had been discovered.
It also mattered not whether they had crossed paths previously because he was unlikely to see her again and she was correct that he, his men and the ship would be gone before morning.
At least, that had been the plan.
Instead, a storm blew in before the sun rose. High, violent waves crashed against the beach and had his ship not been anchored further away from the cove, it may have been splintered across the boulders that jutted out of the water.
Throughout a good portion of the morning, the wind blew, lightning flashed and thunder boomed, which did nothing to help ease his anxiety as he waited for someone from the Custom House to pay him a visit.
Yet, nobody arrived at his door and as his departure had been delayed by a day, Cecil decided to take a risk and advantage of the invitation received from Mr. and Mrs. Riley. Everyone of authority, including those who worked in customs, was expected to be in attendance.
With a deep breath, he stepped across the threshold and immediately came face to face with The Lieutenant Governor, in conversation with the Custom Collector, Mr. Jeffery.
With them was another Custom Collector, more recent to the island and Custom House, Mr. Driscoll.
When all three men looked in his direction and offered a nod of greeting, Cecil finally relaxed.
She had kept his secret. Now, if he only knew her name then he could thank her.
Then again, she may still be deciding or assumed he had already sailed.
Those thoughts did not sit well with him.
As he stepped further into the room, he paused only long enough to see who was present and with whom he might strike up a conversation or possibly seduce, only to be brought up short when he glanced a woman with dark hair to his left and returned his attention to her.