Running into Temptation (Bancrofts of Barton Park) by AMANDA MCCABE Page A

thought. Captain Whitney had turned out to be a false scoundrel, just as all men surely were. The sparkling, dizzy feelings she’d got when he danced with her were evidently just as false. She had to be sensible now. Sir David was the best chance she’d had in a long time. He was a respectable, established gentleman and she did not care about him too much, so he couldnot hurt her. She could not let this chance go.
    Suddenly tired, and fed up with the wind catching at her skirts, Melanie ran back down the hill toward the road. Her uncle would be waking from his nap soon, and she would have to read to him from the naval reports until dinnertime. She turned back to the village, thinking maybe she could take a bit of tea at Mrs. Smythe’s before she had to go back to her uncle’s stuffy, overheated house. As she strolled along the deserted lane, all she could hear was the whine of the wind. Until suddenly she heard another sound, the rumble of hooves pounding on gravel behind her and coming on fast!
    She peered back over her shoulder, holding onto the straw brim of her bonnet, to see a large, gleaming black horse barreling down on her. It was suddenly so close she could see the sheen of sweat on the beast’s flanks and the capes of the rider’s greatcoat flying around him like wings.
    Terrified, she screamed and dived toward the hedgerows, sure she would be trampled by the hooves. She tripped and fell into a mud puddle, soaking her pelisse. She wanted to sob with fear and frustration. What else could go wrong in her life?
    “Are you quite all right, miss?” a man shouted. “I am so terribly sorry. I thought no one was around here.”
    Melanie looked up to see the greatcoated man swooping down on her. He swept off his wide-brimmed hat and for an instant she was dazzled by the halo of sunlight around him. She blinked and saw that he really was quite angelic-looking. Dark, coppery-blond hair tumbled in poetic waves over his brow, and his eyes were a deep, warm chocolate-brown set in a face that looked as if it must have been carved by a master sculptor, all strong jaw and straight, aristocratic nose.
    Had she hit her head when she fell? Surely she was caught in some kind of dream. No one in the village looked like that.
    “Are you injured?” he said, his voice rough with concern.
    “N—no,” Melanie gasped. “I do not think so.” She turned her fascinated gaze away from him to try to check if she was hurt, but she could feel nothing. Nothing but the warm blush in her cheeks at his regard.
    “But I did at the very least give you a fright, for which I am profoundly sorry,” he said. “Please, allow me to check for any injuries.”
    Melanie swallowed hard and nodded. He gently drew the muddied hem of her skirt up a mere few inches to reveal her dirty halfboots. She watched, her head all a-whirl, as his long, elegant fingers, clad in black leather gloves, carefully touched her ankle and shivered at the sensations his soft touch sent all up her body.
    “Does that hurt?” he asked.
    “Not at all,” she managed to answer. “I think you are right—I was more scared than anything else. I should not have been walking in the middle of the lane.”
    “Not at all. I am the one who must apologize, I should have had more care. I was in too much of a hurry on my errand. May I help you to stand?” he asked, with a wide, white smile that dazzled her all over again.
    “Yes, thank you, sir.”
    Melanie held out her hand to him. His gloved fingers closed around hers, strong and warm, and he supported her as he raised her up. He held onto her until she could stand on her own, the dazzling dizziness slowly righting the world around her. All the boredom she’d felt only moments before was gone when she looked up at her rescuer.
    “I have not seen you here before, sir,” she whispered.
    “I have just arrived in the neighborhood on a business matter,” he said with another dazzling grin. “I would have come much sooner if I