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she had left off her corset and worn her rationals instead of packing them. Unless she wanted to hide behind a rock to change her clothes, however, it was far too late to do anything about her attire.  She kept going.
    Diana stopped at the foot of the steps, shading her eyes against the sun as she looked up. Somewhere above, out of sight of her present location, was Graham Somener’s hideaway and, she hoped, her elusive fiancé. Since there did not seem to be any other way to reach him, she would have to make the climb.
    Pausing only long enough to shake sand off her hem, she juggled her gripsack so that she could use the same hand to lift her skirt above her ankles. Keeping a tight hold on the railing with the other, she gritted her teeth and began the ascent. She had no head for heights but she told herself she would be all right so long as she did not look down.
    Halfway up, when Diana paused to catch her breath, she let her gaze leave the landing at the top of the stairs and scan the rest of the height of land. A little gasp escaped her as she caught sight of a man silhouetted above her and to the right. He was looking out at the water, not down at her, and for that Diana was grateful. She could not see him clearly, but she could tell he was a large, muscular fellow ... and that he carried a rifle.
    She remained motionless for several minutes after he disappeared from view, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears that she was certain the sound must echo off the cliff. That Graham Somener had at least one armed guard alarmed her. Yes, he was wealthy. Yes, the rich and famous sometimes needed protection. But this was an island in rural Maine. What possible danger could Somener need to be guarded from here? The obvious answer was that Justus Palmer was right. Keep Island was being used for illegal activities.
    All the way to Bucksport on the train, she’d been plagued by second thoughts. Palmer’s warnings had raised grave doubts in her mind about Ben’s host. To be blamed for loss of life, whether Graham Somener had been responsible or not, must change a man. Was he the same person Ben had known in his youth? Or had he altered so completely as to become a villain?
    Maggie Northcote, surprisingly, had encouraged Diana to go to Keep Island and tell Ben everything Palmer had said. She insisted the Someners were good people. “Salt of the earth,” she’d said, predicting this would all turn out to be “a tempest in a teapot.” Diana could only hope she was right.
    With renewed determination, she resumed her climb. Ben was up there, on top of the cliff. For all she knew, he was in mortal danger.
      Already short of breath by the time she crested the stairs, the sight that met her eyes momentarily took what was left of it away. A spacious mansion sprawled before her, venerable but well-maintained. The white paint gleamed in the sun and flowers bloomed in profusion in a series of well-tended beds. Here the smell of the sea was tempered by their fragrance ... and with the faint scent of wild strawberries.
    Although a half dozen gardeners could find employment on grounds like these, Diana saw no sign of life as she made her way up a flagstone walk and a set of stone steps that ended at a terrace-sized front porch. She was relieved, she told herself. She did not want to encounter a guard.
    In an automatic gesture, she went to tug her jacket straight and smooth the folds of her skirt. The damp, gritty feel of the fabric had her looking down at herself in dismay. The exertion of the climb and the warmth of the day had plastered the dark red fabric to her bosom. Her skirt, already wet from the ride in a small, open boat, had acquired a layer of salt spray and sand. She lifted a hand to her hair and discovered that her pins had come loose again, allowing damp tendrils to escape what had once been a neat coil at her nape. A shipwreck survivor would probably look more presentable.
    Diana made what repairs she could, squared her