Chapter 7

Lenore was delighted to see the bubbles rising from her hairpin as it sank. She'd wished for Rhys to kiss her, and even though she put little faith in superstition, there was no denying the tingle of excitement at the possibility that it might actually happen soon.

There was no sign of a flag, however, and she climbed back up the narrow steps and back into the clearing, hotly aware of Rhys following her, his head level with her bottom.

"We should check the cave entrance, too. Just in case the flag's been hidden in there." She strode over to another, far newer, set of steps in a hollow of the valley just beyond the well.

Her cousin Maddie had accidentally discovered an enormous underground cave system here only a few years ago, which in turn had led to the discovery of a rich seam of gold. Since ownership of this particular section of land was shared equally between the Davies and the Montgomerys, both families had profited from the unexpected windfall.

"Maddie took us to see the mine a few days ago," Lenore said. "It was fascinating. Our ancestors would be shocked to the core to find Davies and Montgomerys working together in a joint collaboration."

Rhys grinned. "I like to think we've finally evolved. Although it's taken a few hundred years. We both come from families who are particularly resistant to change. Wait, watch your step."

He reached out and took her hand to help her down the stairs, and her fingers tingled at the contact.

In truth, the steps were perfectly safe. Gryff had ordered them to be built to allow easy access to the tunnel system, to replace the steep pile of rubble that had been created when Maddie had fallen through the roof of the cave. But Lenore was glad of the excuse to touch Rhys again.

The light faded as they reached the bottom, and a cool blast of air riffled the hairs at her nape. She reluctantly dropped Rhys's hand.

He pointed to one of the lanterns that had been left by the entrance. "Want to go and explore?"

The cavern extended for some distance, some sections leading all the way to the coast, but Lenore shook her head. "No, although I don't mind caves. We explored an enormous one in Brazil, once. The only thing I didn't like was the bats. Or rather, the smell of the bat droppings." She wrinkled her nose in memory. "I can't tell you how vile it was."

"I can imagine," Rhys chuckled. "Probably as bad as the smell of a regiment of sweaty, unwashed men and their equally sweaty horses, after weeks traipsing around Portugal."

Lenore nodded, struck by the fact that they had much in common. They'd both suffered hardships and difficult situations abroad.

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate being able to have a bath whenever the mood takes me," Rhys said lightly. "It makes up for all the times I dreamed of having one when I couldn't. I promised myself that if I made it back from the war, I'd never take something so wonderful for granted ever again."

"I know exactly what you mean. I used to fantasize about Gunter's ices when we were shipwrecked. I'd imagine entire six-course dinners, the most comfortable feather bed with silk sheets and velvet covers. All the things I couldn't have."

Including him.

She'd dreamed of him. Well, not him specifically, but a tall, dark, handsome mystery man who would capture her heart and sweep her off her feet. He'd kept her company at night and featured in her most lurid daydreams.

Lenore bit her lip to hide her smile. Rhys had, technically, already swept her off her feet when he'd lifted her up on his shoulders. But if she was honest, he'd stolen her heart long before that, the first night she'd ever laid eyes on him.

"I don't think even Prudence and Constance would have ordered a flag hidden down here," she said. "Besides, the clue was for a well, not a cave. One of the other couples must have already been here and found it, while we were in the butterfly house."

"On to the next clue, then," Rhys sighed. "Which is closer, the folly, or the bridge?"

"The bridge." Lenore ascended the steps without his help and pointed to a tree-lined path. "That leads to the track between Newstead and Trellech. The bridge is over the river that marks the border."

"Let's go then."

The sun fell in dappled patches on the ground as they walked together beneath the trees, and a companionable silence settled between them. Lenore was constantly aware of him, but she felt entirely at ease in his company. She'd spent a great deal of time around men, porters who carried their equipment, sailors with whom she'd been shipwrecked, and a few of them had made her distinctly uncomfortable in the way their eyes had lingered on her body.

Rhys was a physically impressive specimen, but she felt safe with him. He was a man who'd provide protection, not a threat.

When they came to the road—little more than a well-used track—they turned and followed it until they reached the bridge that separated England and Wales.

Thanks to an ancient kingly decree, one member of the Davies clan and one member of the Montgomery family had to meet on this bridge on the day of the summer equinox and shake hands in a show of amity. Gryff, as the current Earl of Powys, and Maddie, Lenore's cousin, had represented the two families a few years ago, and subsequently fallen in love.

Lenore had always thought the little stone bridge very pretty, and she stuck out her hand toward Gryff as they set foot upon it.

"What's that for?" He glanced down at her palm with a frown.

"I know it's not the equinox, but we should shake hands anyway. Just in case the universe needs more convincing that we Davies and Montgomerys really have set down our weapons."

She sent him her most teasing, challenging look.

His dark eyes studied her face for a long, thrilling moment, then his large fingers wrapped around hers.

"What if shaking hands isn't enough?" he murmured. "Perhaps we should kiss, to be really convincing."

His gaze dropped to her lips and Lenore's heart began to pound, but she forced herself to pull away. However much she wanted to kiss Rhys Davies, she refused to be an easy conquest, and showing her hand too early in the game would be foolish. If there was one thing she'd learned while stranded on that blasted island, it was that waiting for something was an excellent way to increase desire.

"After three weddings between our families in the last few years, how much more evidence do you think the universe needs?"

She turned away and made a great show of bending over the low stone wall to look for a flag. Rhys muttered something under his breath—hopefully a disappointed curse—and stalked to the opposite end of the bridge.

"We've been beaten to it," he said. "Look."

He bent and picked up something from the ferns. It was a purple silk flower.

"That's from Harriet's hat," Lenore frowned. "It's covered in flowers like that. She must have pulled it off and left it here as a sign that she and Morgan have already been here."

"And presumably claimed the flag," Rhys growled. "Ugh."

"We'd better hurry to the next clue. It must be getting close to lunch time."

Rhys checked his pocket watch. "You're right. It's already past noon. But we still have time to get to the folly before one o'clock. Come on."

Rhys clearly knew the direction of the folly, because he started to follow the riverbank south, and Lenore smiled at the suspicion that he'd trespassed on Montgomery land on more than one occasion.

She trailed after him, enjoying the way the sun glinted off the rippling water and the swish of cornflowers and buttercups against her skirts.

After half a mile or so they branched off into the trees again, and the cool shade was a welcome relief. Lenore was no stranger to walking miles on foot, but perhaps they should have gone back for horses after all. She felt hot and sweaty, which probably wasn't the best way to attract the man of her dreams.

With his handsome face, Rhys had always been inundated with female attention, and while she knew she was reasonably pretty, she was also wild and alarmingly self-sufficient. Her skin was unfashionably tanned after months beneath a harsh tropical sun, and she had a regrettable number of freckles that no amount of powder could conceal.

Many men, she knew, preferred cool, serene beauties who looked like they needed rescuing. She was perfectly capable of rescuing herself and she refused to pretend otherwise.

She didn't want a man who would sweep in and save her from the perils of the world. She wanted a fellow adventurer who would toss her an oar and pitch in if they were headed towards the reef. Someone who would treat her as an intellectual, if not a physical, equal.

Rhys was like that. And she wanted him by her side.

The folly's single crenellated tower and artfully crumbling walls came into view just then, peeking through the wild tangle of ivy and moss that threatened to engulf them completely.

It had never been a complete building. Lenore's great grandfather, Sir Lionel Montgomery, had commissioned it, back when no self-respecting landowner was content without a dilapidated temple somewhere on the grounds. Family legend had it that he'd employed a live-in hermit to wander about whenever he had guests.

Four classical marble statues guarded the ruin, each one representing one of the four elements; water, fire, earth and air, and Rhys paused as they neared the one depicting water.

He held his hand up for quiet and Lenore stilled at his back, then heard what he had: a distinctly feminine giggle.

"Tristan, no! Someone might come!"

Rhys's lips curved upward. "That's Carys!" he whispered. "Come on."

No-one was in sight, so he bent low and pushed through the undergrowth. Lenore followed, trying to stay quiet, and together they crept around the curved outer wall of the turret and peered through the remains of a gothic-arched window.

Rhys's sister Carys was enjoying a scandalously thorough kiss with her husband, Lenore's eldest cousin Tristan.

Rhys's eyes gleamed with amusement as Lenore's cheeks heated. He gestured upward, pointing to a fluttering green flag nestled in a giant fern sprouting from the stonework directly above Tristan's head.

There was no chance the couple hadn't seen it—they were clearly celebrating their victory prematurely.

Rhys put his fingers to his lips, then silently gestured his intent to circle around behind them, climb the wall from the opposite side, and attempt to grab the flag while they were otherwise engaged. Lenore nodded and watched him sneak away, and decided to help by creating a distraction.

She backed up a few paces, then said in her most peevish tones, "Oh, come on Davies! I've seen three-legged donkeys move faster than you. I thought you soldiers were good at marching?"

She swished her skirts and batted some ferns, making as much noise as possible, and heard Carys utter a frustrated curse just as her coppery-red hair appeared in the window embrasure.

"Oh, hello Carys!" Lenore called, waving madly. "Is Tristan there with you? Or have you split up to cover more ground?"

Tristan's face appeared next to his wife's and his expression was one of a man who'd been interrupted in the most unwelcome manner. His hair, usually so ordered, was definitely ruffled, and his once-perfect cravat was decidedly askew.

Lenore bit back a chuckle.

"Ah, there you are Tristan. Have you found any flags yet?"

"Just the one," Tristan growled. His eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "Where's Rhys?"

Lenore tried to look innocent, but the sound of scraping stone gave Rhys away. Tristan's head whipped back round, and he rushed back toward the flag, jumping up and grabbing it moments before Rhys could seize it from his precarious position on the top of the wall.

Lenore let out a disappointed groan. "No!"

"Ha!" Carys crowed in delight and flung her arms around Tristan's neck. "Well done, my love! And bad luck, brother. Better luck next time!"

She stuck her tongue out at a glowering Rhys, who shook his head in frustration.

"Bloody hell, I was this close," he grumbled, holding his finger and thumb an inch apart to demonstrate.

Carys sent a cheeky glance up at her husband. "I've always been extremely lucky here."

Tristan swatted her playfully on the bottom. "Enough, hoyden. It's time to head back to Trellech for lunch."

Rhys disappeared as he climbed back down the wall, then reappeared beside Carys. He glanced over at Lenore. "Do you want to go back to Newstead Park for lunch, or are you brave enough to risk potential poisoning with the Dastardly Davies over at Trellech?"

Lenore chuckled. Logically, it made sense for them both to go to Trellech, since that was where they needed to be for the final clues, but Rhys obviously didn't want to say that out loud, in case Tristan and Carys hadn't solved all the riddles.

Besides, she'd never actually seen the infamous Davies stronghold, and she'd been dying to get a look at it for months.

"I'd love to join you at Trellech," she said regally. "If Tristan's brave enough, then so am I."