on the upturned rowing boat, her legs stretched out in front of her, her skirts almost to her knees as she let the sunshine dry her skin so she could dust off the sand. She leaned back on her supporting hands and saw that Lucian was studying her bare legs. She straightened up slowly, refusing to be put out of countenance, as she let her skirts slide down and brushed the sand away. When he lifted his head and met her gaze he had a heavy-lidded look of concentration that she had no trouble deciphering at all.
She pulled on her shoes and stood up to find he was still crouched down, buckskin breeches stretched tight over strong horseman’s thighs, the tails of his coat brushing the cobbles, his hat in his hands. ‘You have been riding, sir?’
‘I was just going to, but I wanted to be certain Marguerite had luncheon and a rest before I left.’ He straightened up and began to stroll back along the jetty parallel with them as they made for the steps. ‘You look well, sweetheart. There is colour in your cheeks.’ Tactfully he made no mention of the signs of tears.
‘I liked it, Sara showed me so many things. But I am tired now. Thank you, Sara.’ She turned and kissed Sara’s cheek, gave her hand a little squeeze, then climbed the steps to her brother’s side.
‘Do you ride, Mrs Harcourt?’ he asked. ‘Would you join me?’
‘I do, Mr Dunton. But it will take me half an hour to get home, change and have my horse brought round from the livery stables.’
‘If you give me directions I will fetch it to you, which will save some time.’ The severe mouth curved into a sensual smile. ‘I find myself very eager for a good gallop.’
Wretched man! A good gallop, indeed. I know exactly what he means and he knows perfectly well that neither of us is going to give way to whatever it is that makes him look like that and turns my knees to jelly. It is basic lust, I suppose, and we are both grown up enough to deal with it.
* * *
Her house, one of a row of neat, newly built, terraced villas with a desirable view of the bay, was a brisk five minutes’ walk uphill. Maude, her maid, scurried for the clothes press when Sara swept in, breathlessly calling for her riding habit.
‘The English one, my lady?’
Sara hesitated. It was very tempting to see Lucian’s expression if she appeared in the Rajput clothing that she and her mother used for riding in the privacy of the family’s country estate, but she had to remember that in daylight she was still Mrs Harcourt and it was not good policy to upset the precarious balancing act that was her social standing in the town.
She was changed, hat on head, boots on her feet when Maude twitched the curtain to look down on the street and reported, ‘There’s a gentleman outside with your mare, my lady.’
Sara jammed an unnecessary pin into her hat, pulled down the veil and ran downstairs, amused to see that her staff were all peeking from various places to see her gentleman caller. Besides Maude she employed a footman and a cook and a maid of all work who came in daily—a size of household that partly soothed her father’s worries about her living alone and which filled the small house to its limits.
‘My lady.’ Walter the footman opened the door with a flourish and handed her a riding crop. He, at least, had good reason to be in the hall.
‘Come and assist me so that Mr Dunton does not need to dismount, Walter.’ The footman beamed and she guessed he would now go back and give the other staff a detailed description of the gentleman, right down to the toes of those glossy boots.
‘That’s a pretty animal,’ Lucian remarked as she settled into the saddle and twitched her skirt into place.
‘She is indeed.’ Sara gave the arched dark grey neck an affectionate pat as she turned the mare’s head uphill. ‘My brother bred her—Twilight by Moondancer out of New Dawn. I thought to go along the clifftops to the west. That way is perfect for the good gallop you wanted.’ And she would give him exactly what he asked for, she thought with an inward smile.
The livery stables had done Lucian proud with a raking chestnut hunter that was a good match for Twilight, its long legs eating up the ground with ease while the gallant mare had to work hard to keep abreast. But like Sara she was not willing to be bested by a male and she was still in contention when they reached the spur in the track leading to Merlin’s Bay.
‘Down here,’ Sara called as she reined in and the chestnut thundered past. It gave her an opportunity to admire Lucian on horseback without seeming to stare as he rode back to her. Being in the saddle was his natural habitat, she guessed, and it suited him, brought animation to a face that sometimes seemed severe in repose and showed off a fine physique.
‘Where does it go to?’ he asked when he reached her.
‘Merlin’s Bay, which is a recent renaming. I think it was originally something prosaic like Murdle Bay or Mumbles Cove, but it is a local beauty spot and it was given a more glamorous title to attract the visitors when Sandbay began to be more popular.’
There was just room to ride side by side as the track descended into the little valley, woodland crowding in on either side. ‘It seems very isolated and intimate,’ Lucian observed.
‘I’m afraid that is an illusion.’ As she spoke a second, wider, carriage road joined them from the right and the track levelled out into a wide space where two carriages were already drawn up in the shade and grooms were walking three horses up and down. ‘It is a popular tea rooms and gardens now. I thought that we could take refreshments here.’
‘I would very much like to make the better acquaintance of your mama,’ Lucian remarked as he swung down from the saddle and came to help her to dismount.
‘You would?’ Sara kicked her foot out of the stirrup and allowed herself to slide down into his perfectly proper and impersonal grasp.
Lucian lowered her to the ground and gestured to one of the grooms who came forward to take their mounts. ‘She has sent you out into the world perfectly equipped to deal with importunate males, hasn’t she?’
‘I cannot imagine what you mean, Mr Dunton,’ Sara said demurely. ‘You tease a little—that is all.’ At least, I hope it is teasing. I think he will behave as a gentleman should. ‘There are some pleasant places to sit amongst the trees along the shoreline and we can order food and talk with no danger of being overheard.’
There were about a dozen people visible in the little pleasure grounds and they had no difficulty finding a table with benches under an arbour. A waiter came to take their order and Lucian sent him away to fetch cold meats, salads, bread and butter, ale, lemonade and a selection of cakes. ‘You missed your luncheon,’ he pointed out when Sara protested that Twilight would buckle at the knees if she ate all that.
‘Marguerite looked happier than I have seen her since before this whole miserable business began,’ he said abruptly when the food had been delivered. ‘And I had almost forgotten what she looks like with roses in her cheeks. You have worked a miracle.’
‘I fear not. The fresh air and some gentle exercise put those roses there and the opportunity to talk to someone who is completely unconnected with the emotions behind all this helped, I think.’ Sara ate some cold chicken while she pondered how to talk to him and then decided to simply say what she thought. ‘She loves Gregory, she believes in him and it is tearing her apart not knowing what has happened to him. But she fears you looking for him because she believes you will kill him when you find him.’
