The Black Diamond (42 page)

"But what is it we're seeking?" Aurora asked, scanning James's words to determine what her husband knew that she didn't. "Surely our great-grandfathers wouldn't choose a hiding place that's within clear view of every passing sailor."

"They didn't. Mount's Bay is navigated mainly by fishermen, all of whom sail along the coastline so as to avoid the very rocks you just mentioned. And should a few ships actually pass close enough by Merlin Rock to offer their occupants the precise view our great-grandfathers meant for us to see, those glimpsing it wouldn't have a clue they were beholding something of great significance."

"What exactly is it they'd be beholding?" Aurora demanded.

"The final piece of the puzzle: the highest peak."

"Mousehole's highest peak?"

"Exactly."

"But Julian, Mousehole is a small fishing village. There are no soaring cliffs, ridges, or moors there."

"There needn't be. Keep in mind what Mr. Scollard said—not all peaks must be quite so towering or difficult to mount. The peak we're seeking could be no more than a modest hill. The important thing is that it will be visible from where we stand, and it will be taller than all else surrounding it." Julian tossed a grin in Mr. Scollard's direction. "Remember: 'It all depends on what is being sought and who is doing the seeking'."

"You're an extraordinarily quick study," the lighthouse keeper praised.

"But of course. I am the Merlin, am I not?" Julian replied with a chuckle.

"Very much so," the older man concurred. "Very much so."

"So we stand atop Merlin Rock and gaze toward the highest point on Mousehole," Aurora interrupted, following Julian's reasoning. "And when we find it, we row in and begin our search."

"Right. We also bring a few things with us." Again he pointed at the inscription. "'Chart your path, then soar to the highest peak and the key to all life's treasures will be yours'. According to James, we've got to take Geoffrey's sketch and the strongbox keys with us when we row out to Merlin Rock."

"Our great-grandfathers must have stored their treasures in a third strongbox—one that requires both these keys to open it," Aurora said excitedly. With that, she snatched up the sketch. "Do you think this will help guide our way?"

"I do. My guess is it will chart out the area we'll eventually be exploring—it's doubtless some kind of map."

"How clever! A sketch with a double purpose: first, to lead us to James's strongbox, now to depict the location of the treasures that the Fox and the Falcon restored for King George."

"And among those treasures, my beautiful, brilliant Aurora, is the one that will remedy the past and make way for the future—the black diamond."

"At last," Mr. Scollard pronounced. "Your great-grandfathers' names will be untarnished. The clues they so carefully placed will be deciphered as they wished—by two whose lives and love will reunite families never meant to be divided. Thereby, all the seeming coincidences will be ascribed—and rightfully so—to fate."

Mr. Scollard rose, rubbing his palms together. "Low tide occurs late each afternoon. Plan to arrive at Merlin Rock just before sunset. Tonight, ride only as far as Polperro. Tomorrow, venture forth, and complete the voyage that will end your journey. In the interim, revel in your love—it is fate's greatest gift, as is the strength and perseverance that ensured it triumphed over all the obstacles and all the evil that threatened it." With that, he walked over to the sideboard, flourishing a pot and three cups that had definitely not been there an instant earlier. "But first, some tea. Enough to strengthen you—and to celebrate the most glorious of futures." Mr. Scollard poured, handing the first cup to Aurora. "Drink a great of deal of this between now and the commencement of your wedding trip," he instructed. "It will ease the seasickness you'll experience on your way home."

"Seasickness?" Aurora took up her cup, frowning. "I never imagined I'd suffer from that. I thought I'd adore sailing the open waters."

"You won't and you will."

"Then I don't understand."

"You'll only feel unsettled this once—and only on the last lap of your journey home. But fret not. There will be good reason for your short bout of sickness."

"A storm?" Aurora questioned.

Mr. Scollard concentrated on pouring the other two cups of tea. "A pending storm," he amended with a secret smile. "One that promises to bring with it an overwhelming amount of excitement, adventure, and passion."

Chapter 16

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J
ulian's oars sliced through Mount's Bay, low tide having rendered the waters relatively smooth. Still, the small boat rocked from side to side—not due to the inefficiency of its navigator, but to the impatience of his passenger.

"I wish we could move faster," Aurora murmured, leaning forward to peer through the lingering filaments of light still flickering across the water.

"Yes, I know,
soleil
." Julian grinned. "I'm as eager to reach Merlin Rock as you are. However, if you lean any farther forward, you're going to plunge into the bay, which will necessitate my diving in after you—and will slow us down considerably. Which would be a pity, given that we're almost there. So please try to stay still."

Reluctantly Aurora perched on the edge of her seat. "Very well, I'll try." She negated her own words at once, leaping up and pointing toward a faint gray mass that broke the surface of the water about thirty yards away. "That must be it."

"It is indeed. I spotted it five minutes ago and have been heading toward it ever since."

Glancing over her shoulder, Aurora tossed her husband a disgruntled look. "One day I'll best you, Merlin. Then we'll see about that bloody arrogance of yours."

Julian leaned forward, releasing an oar only long enough to tug Aurora backward until she tumbled onto his lap. "You've already bested me," he said huskily, brushing her lips with his. "You've conquered my heart,
soleil
."

"Then we've bested each other," Aurora replied soberly, tracing the beloved lines of her husband's face. "Because I love you so much, it frightens me."

"Don't be frightened." He tucked her close against him, maneuvering the boat toward its goal. "I'm yours. Now. Always." He kissed her hair. "We began this adventure together. We'll finish it together. We'll deliver the stone to the Prince Regent, complete our great-grandfathers' mission—and ensure they're not only exonerated of all suspicion but celebrated as the heroes they were. Then we'll ride directly to Pembourne and stay until Slayde and Courtney's babe is born."

"After which we'll sail away to see the world." Aurora sighed, kissing Julian's throat. "I've never made love on a ship before."

"We'll rectify that before the ship even leaves port—I promise."

"I'm growing rather fond of your promises."

Julian tipped up her chin, kissing her until her bones melted. "I've a lifetime of promises to offer you, my love. An exquisite, wondrous lifetime." He bent his head to kiss her again.

The oar thudded as it struck something hard. "Merlin Rock." Aurora jerked upright, exhilarated color staining her cheeks. "Julian, we're here."

"See how quickly the time passes when you're engaged in something enjoyable?"

A happy laugh. "You're welcome to distract me in that particular manner any time you want, Husband."

"Really? Then I doubt you'll be leaving our cabin to see any of the sights you crave during our upcoming trip."

"That's all right. I crave you more." With that, Aurora reached out, grabbing hold of the jutting stone and wriggling across onto its flat surface. "Care to join me?" Her eyes twinkled. "Although I must warn you, this stone is even more cramped and uncomfortable—and infinitely more public—than our carriage seat."

"Cramped, uncomfortable, and public don't deter me in the least. However, I wouldn't risk scratching that beautiful skin of yours," Julian proclaimed valiantly, tying the mooring rope about his waist and clambering across to where his wife was scrambling to her feet. "Still, there are ways around that particular problem." A challenging flame darted through his topaz eyes as he righted Aurora, tugged her against him. "I could take the brunt of the scratches," he murmured into the bright cloud of her hair. "Better still, we could stand. I'd support your weight, even drape your skirts around us so no one could see." A seductive chuckle. "Care to try?"

Aurora leaned back, stared at him in disbelief. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"When it comes to making love to you? Always. A more pertinent question is, are
you
serious?"

With a swift glance at their surroundings—the not-so-distant fishing boats, the nearby villages—Aurora gave it up. "Bested again," she grumbled.

Julian grinned. "You're welcome to retaliate. Later, you may best me to your heart's content."

"What an enticing notion. I look forward to it." She tucked loose strands of hair away from her face, her mood altering as she contemplated the smooth waters of Mount's Bay, the picturesque shoreline that defined its boundaries, the huge white gulls that flew gracefully overhead. "To me, all this is a miracle," she admitted, awe lacing her tone. "Until now, these places were just wisps of dreams floating about in my head, fragments of Mr. Scollard's legends. Now they're real."

"They sound much like you," Julian replied in a husky whisper. "An unknown dream that's now reality—a miracle.
My
miracle."

Aurora curved into his side. "T
hank
you."

"No,
soleil
—t
hank
you
." His arm encircled her waist, keeping her close against him. "There's Mousehole," he told her, pointing straight ahead. "And Land's End wraps around to the west."

Following his gesture, Aurora gazed at the village that housed their great-grandfathers' secret, seeing naught but a tiny harbor dotted with fishing boats and a narrow stretch of beach that receded away from the shore to become green tracts of land. "It's lovely, but I'm not certain what I'm looking for," she said, peering beyond the coast to the rows of houses set before grassy hills. "As I said, there's nothing remotely towering…"

Her voice lodged in her throat.

The sun, now shimmering in the west, had poised over Mousehole, going utterly still as it bathed the village in a final blaze of color. Fiery rays swept inland, revealing a pair of gently rolling hills situated directly before Aurora's widening eyes. As she stared transfixed, the rays converged into one solitary beam that pierced the space between the two identical crests, illuminating a third hill nestled just beyond and directly between the others—a hill that soared taller than either of its counterparts, its grassy slope heralded by a line of hedges forming an arch at its base.

"Julian," she began, her heart hammering like a drum. "That hill…"

"I see it." His answer was a terse whisper, rife with excitement and discovery.

Aurora tore her gaze from the hedges, inclining her head to regard her husband. "It's more than the hill's height. Even more than the intense way the sunset converges upon it. There's something about it…"

"Such as the fact that those hedges are arranged precisely like the ones on Geoffrey's drawing?" Swiftly Julian extracted the sketch, unfolding it and pointing to the line of hedges his great-grandfather had sketched—hedges that opened into the thick maze of greenery that defined the grounds of Morland Manor.

The fading sunlight flickered over the drawing and Aurora stared from it to the hill and back. "You're right—they're identical." She inhaled sharply. "So it's true. This was our great-grandfathers' plan. What we're seeing now proves it. 'Twould be impossible for anyone approaching at a different angle to view the base of that hill. It's shielded by the slope of the land and the houses at its forefront. No one could spot it unless they were standing where we are, at precisely this time of day. And even if someone were to defy all those odds to stand upon Merlin Rock at low tide just as the sun set, they'd have no notion what they were viewing—not unless they held this very sketch in their hands."

"I'd be willing to bet there's an opening in that hill, Rory."

"And I'd be willing to bet you're right."

As if to substantiate the validity of their words and proclaim the fact that its mission had been achieved, the sun relinquished its hold on Mousehole, slipping slowly beneath the horizon, giving way to dusk.

"Let's row to shore." Julian tightened his hold about Aurora's waist, hoisting her onto the boat, and, after untying the rope about his midsection, swinging down beside her.

"We'd better hurry," Aurora advised, taut as a bowstring as they propelled the craft toward the coast. "I know we brought a lantern, but it will be far easier to find the opening in that hill with the aid of some daylight."

"Agreed." Julian rowed in quick hard strokes, taking them closer and closer to shore.

Aurora jumped out the instant she could, wading through several feet of ankle-deep water to tug the boat onto the sand. "Let's go," she urged her husband.

Julian needed no second invitation. By the time Aurora had wrung out her skirts he was beside her, seizing her hand to lead her onward.

They made their way across the sandy beach and through the narrow path leading inland. Once they passed the houses and reached the unbroken stretch of hills, they abandoned the path altogether, trudging over the rolling tracts of grass on a more direct route to their goal.

Dusk was giving way to darkness when they approached the twin crests flanking their goal.

Coming to a halt, Aurora squinted through the hills to the taller peak beyond and beheld the shadowy outlines of the hedges looming before her. She shivered—whether from excitement or the cold night air, she wasn't certain.

"Are you all right?" Julian asked, drawing her mantle more closely around her. Without awaiting an answer, he shrugged out of his coat, wrapping it about her for added warmth. "Better?"

"You'll freeze," she protested.

"Not a chance." He flashed her that devastating grin. "I promise. Besides, you can warm me later—at the same time that you best me." He captured her hand, guiding her to the base of the hill they sought.

Aurora caught her breath as Julian held up the lantern and scanned the hedges for an opening.

His answer came in the form of a dark hollow cloaked by greenery, hovering directly before them.

"There," Julian proclaimed, indicating the shadowy cavern with a triumphant flourish. "That's it,
soleil
. We've found it." His forearm shot out, precluding Aurora's immediate—and anticipated—rush forward. "Wait. Give me a minute to glance over this sketch. It will be dark in that cave—very dark. 'Tis best if I get my bearings before we enter, lantern or not."

Impatient though she was, Aurora recognized the prudence of her husband's actions. Forcing herself to stay still, she peered over Julian's shoulder, channeling her impatience into something productive. "Let me study the sketch with you. I know you're a superb navigator. But it can't hurt for us both to have a sense of where we're headed."

"Good idea." Julian lowered the drawing so they could both see it, angling the lantern to maximize their light. "For the first time in my life I wish I were more familiar with the grounds of Morland Manor," he muttered.

"You don't need to be." Aurora's forefinger traced the portion of the sketch depicting the area where they stood. "Geoffrey's drawing is very straightforward. These are the hedges closest to the manor. Behind them, the other rows of hedges sprawl back into a maze of sorts."

"The gardens are here, to the right," Julian concurred. "To the left are the tenants' quarters, the carriage house, and the stables."

"And look what's just behind the stables," Aurora exclaimed, eagerness lacing her tone. "Two barns—one large, one small. The large one is merely labeled 'livestock'. But the small one is specifically marked 'hunting dogs'." Aurora raised ebullient eyes to her husband. "And we all know what hunting dogs pursue."

"Foxes." Julian gave his wife a quick, hard hug before turning back to the sketch, scrutinizing the area surrounding the smaller barn. "Look. There's an opening in the hedges right here, alongside the dwelling. That's it, Rory—that's what we're looking for." Swiftly Julian reviewed the route they needed to take, committing to memory the curves and bends in the path.