So much easier than leaving the bed.
Violet wished they could just fall asleep together and lay tangled there until dawn. Who cared if they were discovered? Let them be found. Christian would marry her, and they would go home together. Their families would be so pleased. There would only be the small matters of his crushing guilt and the potential charges of treason.
She sighed. She could let him go. Just this once, for God and country. But she could not have parted with him for anything less.
As he stretched and dressed, she rose from bed. She slipped back into the green silk and tied a dark, nondescript woolen cloak over it.
From one of her packed trunks, she withdrew a pair of nubby, hand-knit gloves and a small folding knife. “I’d been saving these as Christmas presents for someone. Now I know they were for you.”
He accepted the small gifts with a kiss. “I’ll treasure them always.”
Once they’d dressed, she led him down the back stairs and out to a storage lean-to attached to the back of the building. There was a lock, but Christian made short work of it. Together, they wrenched opened the door, waved away a cloud of dust, and shone the smuggler’s lantern on a small rowboat.
“The ladies use it in the summertime,” she said. “For pleasure jaunts around the cove, or up the canal. No one will notice it’s missing for months.”
He grimaced. “It’s pink.”
“Christian, this is hardly the time to complain about color schemes.”
“No, no. I just would rather it be blue or brown or black. Some darker color.”
“I’d hate for you to take a fisherman’s craft, just to abandon it. The fishermen need their livelihood.”
He scouted the small shed. “Found some pitch,” he said. “We’ll blacken the thing. Give me the lamp, and I’ll warm it.”
They worked together, daubing the boat’s exterior with a hasty layer of dark, sticky pitch. Then they hoisted the inverted craft between them, carrying its weight on their shoulders and rigging the smugglers lantern to hang in the center.
All too soon, they were in the cove, making their farewells. A thin layer of clouds had covered the moon, diffusing its light to a warm, creamy glow. Scattered snowflakes began to fall.
Forcing down the sadness in her chest, Violet went about lighting the lantern. “Remember the signals?” she asked.
He nodded.
“I know this cove in the dark. Just keep your eyes on me. I won’t steer you wrong.”
With his fingertips, Christian turned her face to his. “I know you won’t.”
Christian held her there, allowing himself this one last, lingering minute to memorize her every feature. To simply behold his love. His lady.
And what a lady she was. Pride swelled his heart. Violet was his ideal partner. Brave, clever, discreet, swift with a gun, possessed of an extraordinary facility with languages…
And she was so beautiful. Her skin glowed in the first, faintly yearning hint of dawn. Her eyes were big and blue enough to hold the entirety of this magical night. God, how he wished he didn’t have to leave her behind. If only he could—
“Take me with you.” Her whispered plea wrenched at his heart. She held on to his coat with both hands and pulled up on her toes. “Please, Christian. Take me with you. I can help you. I know I can do it. You know my French is impeccable, and I’ll perfect the Breton. I’ll blend right in as your wi—”
She swallowed hard and lowered herself to the ground. “That is…unless the humble farmhand already has a wife.”
“No,” he assured her, smiling a little. “No, Violet. The humble farmhand does not have a wife. Nor a sweetheart, nor a lover.” He pulled the folding knife from his coat and severed a stray lock of her hair, then pocketed it. “The humble farmhand has a braided lock of golden hair. He keeps it stashed behind a loose board, and sometimes he foolishly kisses it in the dark. He is alone.”
“He needn’t be.”
A snowflake dipped and swirled and clung to her cheek, instantly melting into a teardrop. He kissed it away, then hugged her close. “I wish I could. I wish I could take you with me as my wife. But it wouldn’t be safe. Not now, not like this. I’d be putting lives other than my own at risk. And imagine, if you disappeared so suddenly…by all appearances, abducted by a raving Frenchman…? Your family would suffer so much worry and pain. Spindle Cove would cease to be a haven for the ladies who need it. No reasonable families would send their daughters or sisters to such a place.”
“I know.” She buried her face in his neck. “I know you’re right, on every score. I only wish…”
“Oh, my love.” He cinched his arms around her waist. “I wish it too.”
He held and kissed her just as long as he safely could. And then he held and kissed her for several seconds longer. But he knew it must end.