Chapter Three
They climbed a wooded hillside, and emerged into a cliff-top meadow. Rugged gray cliffs stretched north and south. To the east, the sea glittered blue and silver. Was it his turn to say something? Barnaby groped for a comment. “Beautiful.”
A track ran near the edge of the cliff. “The riding officer’s path,” Marcus said. “You can look down into all the coves.”
“Are there smugglers here?”
“Not here. Further north.”
The stilted, awkward conversation dwindled into silence. They walked without talking. Butterflies fluttered among the wildflowers. A brisk breeze brought the scent of the ocean. Birds soared on the thermals, making sounds like cats mewing, and beneath those sounds, a voice echoed in his ears. Marcus’s voice. You f****d my wife.
“I never thought you’d move so fa
