Chapter 12

Lucy and Will were already hurrying toward the open front door by the time Lenore and Rhys emerged from the cellar.

Lenore didn't regret their kiss one bit, but she was a little shaken to imagine what would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted. Would Rhys have stopped kissing her of his own free will? Because she wouldn't have had the fortitude to do it.

And would he have taken things further? She would have allowed it, willingly, but what would he have thought of her if she'd given herself to him fully? She was still a virgin, although she'd read enough books and seen enough erotic drawings to know exactly what it meant when a man and a woman made love. Her blood heated at the thought of Rhys touching her body so intimately.

She slid a glance over at him as they headed out into the courtyard, half afraid he'd apologize and call it an impetuous mistake.

"Only two clues left to find," he said brightly, clearly determined to act as if nothing had happened. "Island, and boat. I say we try the boat shed first."

Lenore fanned her warm cheeks and nodded, just as a shout of annoyance emerged from the direction of the stables.

Rhys sent her a conspiratorial smile. "Sounds like someone's just discovered there's no tack to saddle their horses."

Lenore couldn't help but smirk. That had been an excellent idea.

"What's the shortest way to get to the boat house from here?"

"Through the formal gardens, then a short walk through the paddock. Follow me."

Rhys led her away from the main house and through a small wooden door set in the outer wall of the courtyard. Lenore had glimpsed these formal gardens from up in the turret, but there was no time to admire the flowers and box hedges as they hurried onward.

None of the other couples were in sight, and it wasn't long before the lake appeared through a bank of trees before them. A few swans and ducks disturbed the glassy surface, and Lenore's eyes widened at how large it was.

"The boat house is over there, behind those rhododendrons," Rhys said.

The land sloped steeply down toward the lakeshore, and together they skidded down the embankment, taking care not to fall. Lenore was glad that beneath her impractical dress she'd had the foresight to wear a pair of far more sensible ankle boots. If she'd been wearing pretty, silk slippers they would have been ruined by now.

She thought she heard someone crashing through the undergrowth, off to their left, and increased her pace, and they reached the boathouse unchallenged.

The shed was built into the side of the hill, with the far end almost completely below ground, and the front giving onto a shingle ‘beach' that acted as a launch for the boats.

Lenore peered cautiously inside, but the scrape of wood and a splash from the far side of building made Rhys hurry forward to investigate.

He let out a hiss of annoyance as Morgan and Harriet suddenly drifted into view, floating in a rowboat that must have been tied to the small wooden dock beyond the boat shed.

"Damn it!" Rhys muttered as Harriet sent them a cheerful wave while Morgan plied the oars to take them further out into the lake.

"See you on the island!" Morgan called cheerfully.

"Quick," Lenore hissed. "There are more boats in here. And we should look for the flag from the ‘boat' clue, in case they haven't found it."

She stepped inside, quickly examining the three little rowboats that were illuminated by the light streaming in from the windows set in the roof. Two were upside down, stored on wooden stands, and she checked beneath them. There was no flag hidden there, nor behind the piles of oars, assorted garden tools, or under the stack of picnic blankets folded neatly on a chair in one corner.

Rhys had just grabbed the front of the boat closest to the door, ready to drag it out onto the shingle, when the wooden doors slammed shut with a bang, and a guffaw of masculine laughter sounded from outside.

"What the—?" Rhys exclaimed.

Another loud bang, this one clearly the scrape of something heavy being placed against the outside of the door.

"Morgan!" Rhys bellowed. "I'll strangle you!"

"Not if you're stuck in there, you won't," Morgan shouted back gleefully.

Lenore bit back a laugh as she realized how they'd been duped. Morgan had only pretended to start rowing out to the island and must have doubled back to land when he saw the chance to trap them in the shed.

"Harriet!" she called out, a pleading tone in her voice. "Cousin!"

"Oh, dear. Look at that. The wind must have blown the door closed."

Harriet's dry, amused voice floated through the gaps in the planks. She didn't sound the least bit contrite. In fact, she was clearly struggling not to laugh. "And a big branch seems to have fallen right across the doors. How unfortunate. Sorry, Lenore, my love. But all's fair in love and treasure-hunting. We'll come and let you out if you're still there when we get back from the island."

"Don't promise them that," Morgan scolded her, with mock-severity. "They can stay in there all night, for all I care."

Rhys slammed his palm against the inside of the door, rattling the hinges, then pushed against it with his shoulder, but whatever Morgan had placed to block the doors held fast.

"We'd love to stay and chat," Morgan taunted, "but you know how much we Navy boys like the water. It's our second home, and I have the most amazing urge to get back out there and feel the wind on my face."

"You'll feel my fist on your face if I ever get out of here," Rhys bellowed through the door. He took a step back and rammed the wood again with his shoulder, but while the two doors did buckle outwards a bit, it was not enough to break whatever had been braced against them.

"Stop!" Lenore urged him, half amused and half impressed at his display of brute strength. "You'll hurt your shoulder. There must be another way out."

"Fine," Rhys huffed, turning from the door with a final glare, as if his fury could singe his brother on the other side. "Sneaky bastard."

"You're just annoyed you didn't think of it yourself," she said, and was rewarded with a curl at the corner of his lips.

"True enough," he conceded. "I would have done exactly the same to him, if our positions were reversed."

In truth, Lenore wasn't all that dismayed at being locked in another gloomy space with Rhys, but any hope that they could resume kissing was dispelled by the way he started to prowl around the space, looking for an alternative exit.

Her spirits deflated a little.

Was he tired of kissing her already? Had once been enough to satisfy his natural male curiosity? Had he not enjoyed it as much as she had?

He stomped to the back of the shed and stood, hands on hips, looking up at the small, semicircular window set high up on the back wall.

The slope of the hill meant that although the window was about six feet up the back wall of the shed, it was only a couple of feet above the grassy hillside outside. The bobbing heads of foxgloves and cornflowers could be seen tapping against the glass.

"You're going to have to climb through that," Rhys said decisively. "My shoulders are too big."

Lenore smiled, delighted by the way he didn't question either her ability or her willingness to do such a thing. The fact that he regarded her as a capable member of his team, as opposed to a fragile female who would be scandalized at the thought of climbing out of a window, made her inordinately happy.

She dragged the chair from the side of the room, and stood on it, but while she could reach up and undo the window latch and push open the large pane, she wasn't high enough to climb out.

She glanced at Rhys over her shoulder and found him studying her back view, and bit back a grin. Hopefully he was enjoying the view.

"You're going to have to give me a boost."

He nodded, and she sucked in a breath as his strong hands slid around her waist. "No," he muttered pensively, "that's not going to work. You won't get high enough. I'm going to have to lift you from lower down.

"Go on, then."

He bent and wrapped his right arm around the front of her knees, pressing her legs together. The position put his cheek flush against the outside of her thigh, her bottom resting on his shoulder.

"This should do it. Up you go!" He straightened, and Lenore grabbed the window frame with both hands. She pushed her shoulders through the open casement, then her upper body, as Rhys pushed her lower half, his hands gripping her legs.

It was definitely not the most elegant position, and she struggled not to laugh as he abandoned all attempt at propriety and gave her bottom a firm push. His hands lingered much longer than necessary, too, and her stomach flipped at the feel of his broad palms cupping her hips, then sliding over the rounded curves of her arse. He gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Sorry!" He muttered from behind her. "Can't be helped."

Lenore kicked her heels to try to wriggle through the gap, and her left foot connected with something hard.

"Ow!" Rhys yelped. "Bloody Hell, woman, that was my nose!"

"Sorry!" She called back.

With one final push to her ankles, she managed to pull herself fully out of the window and collapsed, panting, on the grassy bank. She turned and peered back in at Rhys. He was holding his nose, and her eyes widened at the trickle of blood that seeped from beneath his cupped hand.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" she gasped again, filled with genuine remorse. "I couldn't see what I was kicking. Is it broken?"

He felt along the ridge with his fingers, then wiped away the tiny smear of blood with his thumb. "It wouldn't be the first time," he said, "But no. Not from a little tap like that."

She studied his nose intently, trying to see if there was a telltale kink in it, but he seemed to be telling the truth. His nose was as straight and as perfect as ever. Although he'd probably look just as handsome with a crooked nose.

Their positions, with him below, and her above, made her think of the scene from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, but Rhys was hardly the sort of man to linger outside a maiden's bedroom window mooning over her beauty. He'd be more likely to scale the walls and claim a kiss, and more.

He waved his hands in an impatient gesture. "Don't just stand there looking at my nose. It's fine. Go around the front and see what Morgan's barred the door with."

Lenore scrambled to her feet, embarrassed at having been caught gazing at him like a lovesick puppy.

The doors had been barred with a stout log, angled to prevent their opening from within, and with a grunt she managed to roll it aside. Rhys emerged and she let out a shocked shriek as he caught her by the waist and spun her round in a celebratory little dance.

"Excellent work," he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He released her abruptly, as if suddenly realizing the informality of what he'd done and sent a dismayed glance at the front of her dress. Lenore looked down to see what he was looking at, and found the fabric covered in streaks of black dirt, dust, cobwebs and green grass stains.

She brushed at the stains, but it was a futile effort.

"I'll buy you a new one," Rhys promised. "Since the window was my idea. That one's ruined."

Lenore rolled her eyes. "You'll do no such thing. What would people think, if word got out that you'd bought me a dress?"

"Nobody would have to know."

"Men only buy dresses for women they're intimately acquainted with."

"I just had my hands on your arse, Montgomery," Rhys said with a wicked grin. "I'd call that intimate acquaintance, wouldn't you?"

Lenore turned away to hide her blush. "I can buy my own dresses, thank you very much. I don't need your Davies charity." She pointed across the lake. "Look! Morgan and Harriet are already halfway to the island already."

"Then let's get after them. I have a bone to pick with that brother of mine."