“Nearer to the mark?”
“In believing that I possess sufficient honor not to take advantage of a lady in desperate straits.”
She wanted to reach out and touch his waistcoat again to see if she had not imagined the hard muscle beneath it. “I believe that.”
“Then, pray, pay me the compliment of knowing that I have your best interests at heart. And, Miss Lucas”—he held her gaze steadily—“I assure you that those best interests do not include me.”
Her heart rose in her throat. She nearly choked on it.
“Of course,” she managed fairly credibly. “You will sleep on the floor, then?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I will sleep in the hayloft. For the benefit of our hosts we shall put it off to your illness and need for the comfort of a female companion who understands such matters. Mrs. Polley will share your quarters.” His voice caressed. He mustn’t know it or he would never speak to her in such a manner. It made her entire body hum.
The door opened and Mrs. Bates and Betsy found them like that, standing close together, as though they were truly a newly wedded couple expecting a happy event. Not, rather, that she was a wayward, wicked girl who wanted quite fervidly to kiss a man to whom she was not betrothed, and he had just told her quite clearly that she may not.
But she was a practical-thinking person, not the dreamer her stepsister Serena had always been, nor a meek lamb like her sister Charity. So she asked their hostess if she could assist in preparing supper, and as she moved about the room she tried not to notice that—despite his words—he watched her without ceasing.
Chapter 8
“H e’s a beauty, sir.” The farm boy stroked Galahad’s nose.
“Are you fond of horses, Tom?” Wyn affixed the leading line to the inside carriage horse and drew the trace through its ring. Sir Henry’s cattle were not in the first flush of youth, but they were far from hacks, and they’d managed the narrow track he had taken southwest handily enough in the moonless night. Wyn regretted the theft. But the necklace would compensate the old squire for the loss until he returned to London and could send money. His funds were slim, but sufficient. Then he would retrieve Miss Lucas’s jewelry and restore it to her.
Rather, he would ask Leam or Jinan to do so. Neither would deny him, for by then he would be in no position to do anything of his own volition.
In the meantime he hoped she would not regret the loss of her jewels. But she didn’t seem the sort to regret, rather to seize what she wanted without hesitation, as she had tried to seize him.
“These here are the finest I’ve seen.” Thomas hefted a forkful of hay. “Is that one the lady’s saddle horse?”
“No. This one was bred to be a hunter and she belongs to a duke.” As Miss Lucas belonged to her father and eventually to Mr. Highbottom. It was a damn good thing her father had already arranged a match for her. With her ripe lips and eyes full of a desire as heated as it was innocent, she wouldn’t last a season in town with her maidenhood intact. She would offer that sparkling smile and those questing hands to the next man she naïvely trusted, and that man certainly would not refuse her. What fool other than he would?
The boy’s eyes rounded. “Well, that’s a fine thing, you knowing a duke.”
“I know him only by hearsay.” By the report of a girl with red, puckered scars across her cheeks and brow.
“What’s he like, then?”
“He lives alone in an impregnable fortress.”
The lad whistled through his teeth. “A castle?”
“A castle he never leaves and into which he never allows a soul. The duke is a recluse.” A recluse who prized his lost filly beyond telling, but who had insisted to the Falcon Club’s director that he would not pay for her return unless he first saw her, and that the man who retrieved her bring her directly to him. Into his fortress.
“They do say some of them great lords is
“In believing that I possess sufficient honor not to take advantage of a lady in desperate straits.”
She wanted to reach out and touch his waistcoat again to see if she had not imagined the hard muscle beneath it. “I believe that.”
“Then, pray, pay me the compliment of knowing that I have your best interests at heart. And, Miss Lucas”—he held her gaze steadily—“I assure you that those best interests do not include me.”
Her heart rose in her throat. She nearly choked on it.
“Of course,” she managed fairly credibly. “You will sleep on the floor, then?”
The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I will sleep in the hayloft. For the benefit of our hosts we shall put it off to your illness and need for the comfort of a female companion who understands such matters. Mrs. Polley will share your quarters.” His voice caressed. He mustn’t know it or he would never speak to her in such a manner. It made her entire body hum.
The door opened and Mrs. Bates and Betsy found them like that, standing close together, as though they were truly a newly wedded couple expecting a happy event. Not, rather, that she was a wayward, wicked girl who wanted quite fervidly to kiss a man to whom she was not betrothed, and he had just told her quite clearly that she may not.
But she was a practical-thinking person, not the dreamer her stepsister Serena had always been, nor a meek lamb like her sister Charity. So she asked their hostess if she could assist in preparing supper, and as she moved about the room she tried not to notice that—despite his words—he watched her without ceasing.
Chapter 8
“H e’s a beauty, sir.” The farm boy stroked Galahad’s nose.
“Are you fond of horses, Tom?” Wyn affixed the leading line to the inside carriage horse and drew the trace through its ring. Sir Henry’s cattle were not in the first flush of youth, but they were far from hacks, and they’d managed the narrow track he had taken southwest handily enough in the moonless night. Wyn regretted the theft. But the necklace would compensate the old squire for the loss until he returned to London and could send money. His funds were slim, but sufficient. Then he would retrieve Miss Lucas’s jewelry and restore it to her.
Rather, he would ask Leam or Jinan to do so. Neither would deny him, for by then he would be in no position to do anything of his own volition.
In the meantime he hoped she would not regret the loss of her jewels. But she didn’t seem the sort to regret, rather to seize what she wanted without hesitation, as she had tried to seize him.
“These here are the finest I’ve seen.” Thomas hefted a forkful of hay. “Is that one the lady’s saddle horse?”
“No. This one was bred to be a hunter and she belongs to a duke.” As Miss Lucas belonged to her father and eventually to Mr. Highbottom. It was a damn good thing her father had already arranged a match for her. With her ripe lips and eyes full of a desire as heated as it was innocent, she wouldn’t last a season in town with her maidenhood intact. She would offer that sparkling smile and those questing hands to the next man she naïvely trusted, and that man certainly would not refuse her. What fool other than he would?
The boy’s eyes rounded. “Well, that’s a fine thing, you knowing a duke.”
“I know him only by hearsay.” By the report of a girl with red, puckered scars across her cheeks and brow.
“What’s he like, then?”
“He lives alone in an impregnable fortress.”
The lad whistled through his teeth. “A castle?”
“A castle he never leaves and into which he never allows a soul. The duke is a recluse.” A recluse who prized his lost filly beyond telling, but who had insisted to the Falcon Club’s director that he would not pay for her return unless he first saw her, and that the man who retrieved her bring her directly to him. Into his fortress.
“They do say some of them great lords is
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