“What?” Penn swung around and looked at where she pointed. There on the rock was a pattern of lichen that looked suspiciously like…a drawing. He stalked to the rock and stared at the pattern.

Amelia stood beside him. “It looks like several waterfalls. Why draw a picture of waterfalls beneath a waterfall?”

Penn opened his bag and found the small cleaning brush. Lifting it to the rock, he gently scrubbed the lichen away. In so doing, things became much clearer. The lichen collected at the bottom of the drawing fell away to reveal letters.

“Amelia, hand me the paper.” He’d been sure to bring that just in case the code from the White Book would be necessary to find the heart.

She handed him the code. “You were smart to bring this, but then you are the smartest man I know.”

He shot her a look of amusement. “Your flattery will not go unremarked.” Quickly deciphering the letters, he looked down at what he’d written. “Sgwd Clun Gwyn. Fall of the White Meadow.”

“Another waterfall?” she asked.

“Two, actually. There’s a lower and an upper falls.” He looked at the drawing again. “That is definitely the lower falls. They’re four smaller falls and pools between them. Excellent for a swim on a summer’s day. The upper falls are far more majestic—a single fall of water at least forty feet tall.”

“So this is pointing us to the lower falls?”

“That’s my guess.” He felt vaguely unsatisfied, as if he were missing something. He brushed his hand over the rock, feeling the grooves. With a curse, he gave the paper back to Amelia. “Hand me a fresh piece of parchment and a scrap of charcoal.”

She dug around for what he needed and gave them over one at a time.

Flattening the paper over the rock, he used the charcoal to make a relief of the carving.

Amelia leaned in close to him. “A rubbing?”

“A trick I use quite often.” He finished and stared at the paper. But it was Amelia who saw it first.

She pointed to the top of the falls. “There! It looks like a tiny heart.”

He turned with the paper, holding it to the light filtering through the falls. Excitement swelled in his chest. “Yes, that’s a heart.”

She grinned widely, mirroring his elation. “The heart. We know where to go.”

“Indeed we do, back out to the River Mellte and then north.”

She hugged him with glee. “We almost have it!”

They turned on the path and started back along the waterfall, walking quickly in their excitement. As soon as they emerged from behind the fall, Penn stopped short.

Standing above them on the path was Amelia’s husband and four other, larger men. One of them Penn recognized from outside Forrest’s cottage. All of them drew pistols, and Penn rushed to do the same.

Trailed by the henchmen, Forrest came down the path, his pistol trained on Penn. “I wouldn’t try that. If you shoot me, the others will take you down faster than you can say, ‘Please, don’t shoot.’” He slid his gaze toward Amelia. “Don’t bother with your pistol either, you Amazon. One of you disarm them!” he yelled over his shoulder.

One of the henchmen rushed forward and relieved both Penn and Amelia of their pistols, tucking one into his belt and handing the other to another of the men.

“You were a bit difficult to track, but not impossible, as you can see,” Forrest said smugly. His eyes narrowed at Penn’s hand, and he took a step forward. “What’s that?”

Penn wadded the parchment and threw it into the center of the river, where it rushed downstream.

“Goddammit!” Forrest cocked his pistol and aimed it directly at Penn’s heart. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” Penn said calmly, aching to throw the man into the river after the paper. In fact… “Would you like to go after it? I’d be happy to help.” He gave the man a malevolent smile.

Forrest sneered. “I ought to shoot you. I think I will.”

Amelia leapt in front of Penn, putting herself between him and Forrest’s weapon. “No! You can’t shoot him. He’s an earl.”

Bloody hell, what was she doing? Penn put his hands on her hips. “Amelia, don’t.”

Forrest looked momentarily surprised, then laughed. “An earl? No wonder you like him, sweetling. That would be quite a step up from me.” He exhaled with exaggerated regret. “Alas, we are still married.”

“Only as long as you live,” Penn growled.

“Yes, well, at present, that looks to be longer than you will.”

“You can’t kill him, please,” Amelia begged. “I’ll go with you. I’ll take you to the heart.”

Forrest blinked at her. “You know where it is?”

“It was on the paper,” she said.

Penn dug his fingertips into her hips and held her against his chest. He whispered against her ear. “Amelia, please don’t.”

“You’ll come with me willingly?” Forrest asked skeptically. “And not just to get the heart. We’ll get the heart, and we’ll go back to my cottage together, as husband and wife.”

Fury raged through Penn. He longed to pummel the blackguard. “Why do you want her now, Forrest? Is it because she’s only attractive to you when she wants someone else?” He nuzzled Amelia’s cheek to needle the man.

She elbowed Penn in the gut, shocking the hell out of him and nearly causing him to lose his balance. She stepped away and turned furious eyes on him. “I don’t want you either. I liked being alone. However, if my choice is to get the heart and return with Thaddeus, so be it.”

Forrest’s laughter filled the gorge. “You’d choose me over an earl? Too bad for you, Bowen.” He reached out and took Amelia’s hand, pulling her to his side. “Keep an eye on him,” he shouted to his cohorts before turning his head to his wife. “How can I trust you? I suspect you’ve been whoring yourself with this…earl. Why would I want you back?”

“Because you do,” she said softly, sweetly.

Penn’s heart clenched under the stress. He watched, horrified, as she kissed him, her lips sliding over his. Penn could almost feel her doing the same to him, and he had to stifle an angry cry.

She pulled back and gave Forrest a brilliant smile. “Now, let us go and get the heart. It’s at the top of the Fall of the White Meadow, a magnificent fall—forty feet tall, he said.” She flicked a cold glance at Penn, but now he understood her ruse.

She was talking about the upper falls. Not where the heart was. God, she was amazing, and he’d never loved her more.

He masked his relief and managed to grit out, “You deserve each other.”

“Tie him up,” Forrest said, taking Amelia’s hand and turning to head back up the path.

“Wait.” She pulled away and turned back to Penn. She took his hand, and he realized she held his small knife. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. The heart is the most important thing to me. You’ve always known that.” She curled his hand around the knife, then went back to Forrest.

Amazing maybe didn’t adequately describe her.

He watched her walk past Forrest and continue up the path. He knew exactly where to find her—and he would, just as soon as possible.

The largest of the henchmen took a length of rope from his pack and approached Penn.

“Where would you like me?” Penn asked affably.

“Take his bag and tie him to a tree,” Forrest said. “A very rough one. Wouldn’t want him to be too comfortable. Then catch up with us.” He smirked at Penn. “I’m sure someone will come to find you, Bowen. Someday.” With a gleeful whistle, he turned and followed Amelia up the path.

The ruffian grabbed Penn by the arm and dragged him toward a tree. Penn carefully slipped the knife up his sleeve and prayed the villain wouldn’t find it.

“Nah, this one’s too smooth,” the man said, shoving Penn to the next tree. “This one’ll do.”

Penn winced as the rough bark bit into his back, and he nearly let the knife slip from his sleeve.

The ruffian pulled the pack over Penn’s head and dropped it to the side. Penn considered sticking his knife in the man’s gut, but if he wasn’t successful, his options would be limited. Better to use the knife to cut himself free and come up with a plan to dispatch the brigands and rescue Amelia.

Expelling a grunt, the man jerked Penn’s arms around the tree. Then he looped the rope around Penn and the trunk, binding him tightly so the rough bark pressed uncomfortably through his clothing. The rope went around his chest and arms but didn’t sit as low as his wrist. It was going to be the devil to contort his hands to get the rope cut. He hoped he didn’t drop the knife. Perhaps he should’ve stabbed the man.

Seizing the moment, Penn coaxed the knife into his hand, then shot his arm forward, slicing awkwardly at the villain’s chest as he pulled at the slack rope. Occupied with tying the rope, the man was taken completely off guard. He stumbled back with a cry. Eager to keep him from sounding the alarm, Penn dove toward him and knocked him to the ground. He rose over him with the knife, intent on killing him if necessary.

However, it wasn’t necessary because the sound of the man’s skull striking a rock made Penn cringe. The brigand’s head lolled to the side, and his eyes drooped closed. Penn leaned over and listened for breathing.

He wasn’t dead. Penn expelled a sigh of relief. He’d just as soon not kill anyone if he could avoid it. He stood and grabbed the rope, then dragged the man to the tree where he tied the villain’s thick wrists together. Lastly, Penn used the rope to secure him to the trunk.

Picking up his bag, he pulled it over his head and settled the pack against his hip. Then he stashed his knife in his coat and started up the path. He was eager to catch up to Amelia, but he needed to be smart and careful. If they saw him coming, they could just take aim.

Instead, he’d creep off the path through the trees and the shrub and look for an opportunity.

Traipsing through an untraveled area took more time, but he reasoned it was worth it. At least he hoped so. When he neared the junction of the two rivers, he slowed and took stock of his surroundings. He climbed up a steep hill to his right and used it as a vantage point to see the path.

One of the henchmen stood sentinel at the junction. He looked out over the rivers and periodically turned in a circle as he surveyed the area.

Penn climbed back down and picked his way to a tree that was closer to the junction. He picked up several rocks and shoved them into his bag before shimmying up the trunk. Crawling carefully out to a branch that gave him a good perspective, he reached for one of the rocks. He wouldn’t have many chances to hit his mark before the man found him. And then he’d have to worry about evading the brigand’s pistol shot.

Twice the size of a duck egg, the rock would do significant damage if Penn was able to hit his mark. He took a deep breath and hefted the weapon before pulling his arm back and letting the object fly.

He didn’t wait to see the result before pulling another, slightly smaller rock, from the pack. The first missile struck its target, but the man didn’t go down. The rock hit him square in the shoulder, prompting him to look around frantically.

Penn clenched his jaw and threw again. This time, it struck the villain in the neck. He lifted his hands, gasping as he staggered backward. He lost his balance and tumbled down the ravine toward the river.

Scurrying back down the tree, Penn ran to the junction and looked down. The henchman lay in a heap at the bottom and appeared to be unconscious. Even if he wasn’t—or if he awoke—he wouldn’t be able to climb back up without assistance. He’d have to follow the river and hope to find another way up to the path.

Turning on his heel, Penn followed the track for a bit before reverting to the brush to avoid being seen. He passed the lower falls of Sgwd Clun Gwyn, and things became difficult as the slope became more vertical. The walk along the beaten path would be strenuous enough. Here, amongst the plants and trees of the forest, it was a bloody challenge.

Then he heard a sound that terrified him to the bone: a single gunshot.

Swearing, he ran to the path and gave up his plan of being quiet. He had to get to Amelia, and he had to do it now.