Miss Winbolt and the Fortune Hunter by Sylvia Andrew

the talk once again became business like. William could see that Emily had for got ten him as she wandered here and there, completely absorbed in what she was doing. Once she found a cluster of small white bells buried among the weeds and bent to examine them more closely, an expression of delight on her face. A few stalks of purple daisies were apparently another prize. But though shewas clearly en chanted by those and Charlwood’s other hidden treasures, she never lost sight of the overall design. He watched her, fascinated by the swift changes in her expression, as she assessed the prospect from the back of the house, examined the perspective from where the avenue of trees began, took a closer look at the fountain… Her enthusiasm was infectious, and William was once again intrigued. How many sides were there to this woman? At their first meeting he had seen her aroused by the excitement of his love-making, with little thought of restraint; at the Langleys’ ball he had seen her severely self-con trolled, coolly ironic, even though she must have been almost frightened out of her wits. But this was a different woman again. This woman had passion and control, was able to use her brain to plan and assess, even when in the grip of enchantment. Was this, at last, the true Emily Winbolt? If so, she was someone to be reckoned with.
    Emily suddenly became aware of William staring at her, and stopped in the middle of what she was saying. ‘I…I’m sorry,’ she faltered. ‘Philip always says my enthusiasm runs away with my tongue. I am very interested in garden design.’
    â€˜So I have guessed,’ said William, unable to suppress a smile.
    Emily’s cheeks grew pink. ‘You’re laughing at me,’ she said accusingly.
    â€˜Only a little. I am impressed, too.’
    She smiled nervously, started to say something, then stopped. They stared at each other in silence. After a long moment she drew in a sharp breath and turned abruptly away, but haste made her unwary. Her foot caught in the trailing branch of a bramble, and she would have fallen if William had not caught her. He held herbriefly to steady her, then knelt down to release her dress and shoe from the thorns. He inspected her ankle and looked up. ‘Are you hurt?’
    â€˜No, no. I…I’m perfectly all right. It was stupid of me…’ Her voice died away as he got up, put his hands on her waist and turned her round to face him.
    Suddenly William felt exactly as he had at their first meeting, his heart beating faster, his breathing uneven. Here in this wilderness of thorns and roses he was more tempted than he had ever been before. It was quite outside all his previous experiences. He wanted to embrace her as passionately as he had embraced her in the hollow, to forget where and who they both were, and the promises he had since made her. His arms tightened… Then she looked up, and the silver-grey eyes were wide with apprehension. It stopped him. A false step now and he and the woman he had just got to know would never again enjoy the easy com pan ion ship of the last half-hour. If he valued her confidence in him, he must draw back. With an effort he said as calmly as he could, ‘I apologise. Before we examine the gardens another day, I’ll make sure the paths are clear. You could have had a bad fall. As it is, you’ve had a shock. Are you sure you’re all right?’
    The dangerous moment had passed. She straightened herself and said care fully, ‘Thank you. You’re very kind, but you may let me go, now. I shan’t fall again.’ Still avoiding his eye, she said in a low voice, ‘I think it would be better if we went back.’
    William paused, then made up his mind and said, ‘Of course, if that is what you wish. I was hoping to show you the folly, but if you are still too shaken…’ He looked at her and added care fully, ‘I assure you I will take