and her hands pressed at her stomach as though to suppress the nausea rolling there. Seth and his cronies might not have happened upon them by unlucky chance as they walked towards Woodville Place. It was not unusual for her to stroll home using this route. Had Seth been watching her since Fred drove off in the trap? Had he plotted to ambush her with the intention of physically punishing her for reporting him to the magistrate? If so, he must have put his plan into action before he saw her set off home with an escort. He certainly had not been ready for the challenge Randolph presented.
‘They won’t cow me,’ Deborah announced with a shaky attempt at bravado. ‘I’m not frightened of them.’
‘Well, you should be.’ A large hand caught her sharp little chin and tilted her head so he could scan her profile beneath a shadowing bonnet brim. He tightened his hold as she tried to twitch her face free. ‘Has he tried to intimidate you like this before?’
Deborah shook her head, her golden tresses swaying against his abrasive cheek as he inclined towards her to catch her quiet response. ‘It’s just been nasty looks and comments and so on, although on one occasion he did try to grab me when I passed him in a lane near Hastings. Our maid Lottie was with me that day. But that didn’t stop him.’
‘And?’
‘I knocked away his hand. It was about six months after Edmund was murdered by one of those brutes. Luckhurst was probably just showing off to his friends. He said he’d marry me so I wasn’t left on the shelf. They all started laughing.’
‘You don’t go out alone in future.’
Deborah swivelled about to frown at him. No man had spoken to her with such curt authority since she was a teenager. And of course her father had had a right to dictate to her. She was a viscount’s daughter, an only child who had been reared to be confident and independent. Since her stepfather had died, and her mother had grown increasingly nervous and prone to her migraines, Deborah had taken over the reins at Woodville Place. She made decisions that affected the lives of her and her mother and their few servants. She was her own mistress. Who did Randolph Chadwicke think he was, ordering her about? But for a quirk of fate the hiatus in their acquaintance might not have been breached today … or any other day in the near future. They were now strangers to one another. She raised sparking sapphire eyes and drew a breath in readiness to forcefully remind him of all of it, but a grim smile told her he had no need to hear her lecture—he could guess the gist of it.
The stallion was prodded into action and the sudden motion threw her back against him. She felt his arm tighten, anticipating her rejection, but after a moment resting rigidly against him, she felt her body involuntarily relaxing. Soon she’d curved into him for warmth and lowered her bonnet against the wind whipping at her complexion.
By the time their ride was at an end Deborah was feeling very subdued and not a little guilty.
The horse ambled in a circle, once, twice, in front of rusting iron gates that stood ajar at the head of a leafy avenue that wound to Woodville Place. She realised Randolph was giving her an opportunity to invite him to take her right up to her door before he had to insist he do so.
‘Would you like to have a cup of tea and a bite to eat, sir, before you set on your way again?’ she asked in a small voice.
‘Why … thank you, Miss Cleveland, I should very much like that.’ Randolph’s answer was ironically formal and suited to a light dialogue conducted in a drawing room rather than one addressed to the back of her head as she perched, rather windswept, atop his trusty steed. Overhead, branches of a stout oak tree formed a canopy of drily rustling leaves. The breeze strengthened, causing a few scraps of curled russet foliage to drift down and settle on her skirt. In front of her Randolph’s hand brushed them idly off, then refastened on the reins. She stared, as one fascinated, at long brown fingers intertwined with leather, feeling suddenly shyly conscious of her hips snugly settled between his muscled thighs. She could feel her cheeks becoming warm from the intensity of his scrutiny; she knew his eyes were constantly on her. There was so much more to be said. She owed him an apology and her gratitude, for, without him … She dared not think what might have happened to her.
During the gallop home, safe in Randolph’s arms, she’d come to appreciate just how fortunate she’d been. But for his presence by her side today she might be lying beaten and abused in a ditch by the wayside. She felt deeply ashamed that earlier she’d implied that, if he visited her and her mother at Woodville Place, he’d be unwelcome.
‘You will say nothing to my mama of what went on, will you?’ Over a shoulder she slanted up an appealing look at him. It was the first time she had properly studied him for any length of time. Earlier her sliding glances had quickly darted away. But now she gazed and, whilst waiting for his answer, she realised that he wasn’t so very changed in looks from the man she’d thought she’d marry when a tender eighteen years old. The grooves bracketing his mouth and radiating from his feline eyes weren’t extremely ageing, she decided. His hair was now long and light and his visage far darker and leaner, but he still resembled the handsome gentleman she’d wanted to be her husband.
‘I’ll not tell your mother Seth Luckhurst has designs on your virtue.’ Randolph’s tone sounded quietly ironic.
‘His design is to keep me quiet,’ Deborah stressed on a blush. ‘He has no liking for me.’
‘He doesn’t need to have a liking for you, Deborah,’ Randolph returned as one explaining something that ought to be obvious. ‘Don’t ever go out again without a chaperon.’
Deborah limited her mutinous response to making a tight little pout of her mouth. Of course she knew his advice was sound and sensible. Still it rankled that, if she took it, her freedom and independence—things she cherished—would be lost to her. The lout who’d forced her to change her habits deserved no such victory.
‘Does your mother know that your driver was beaten today?’ Randolph asked abruptly.
A forceful shake of the head preceded her words. ‘I told Fred to avoid her and go straight away to his quarters and rest. If Mama finds out that Seth is threatening me, she will suffer very badly with her nerves.’
‘What did Luckhurst say about you that caused your driver to remonstrate with him?’
‘I’m not sure …’
‘I think you are,’ Randolph contradicted. ‘What did Luckhurst say?’
Deborah twisted her fingers in her lap. ‘Fred truly would not repeat it and, as he was in pain from his injury, I did not insist he tell me. I guessed from his embarrassment that it was something lewd.’
‘I imagine you’re right. So are you going to promise to heed my warning and only go out accompanied in future?’
Deborah looked up and, as their eyes held, she felt a sudden yearning to have him again put his arms about her and comfort her. For all her bold talk of standing up to the bullies, she felt a coil of fear unfurl in her belly. Soon Randolph would again be gone from the area and she would have no champion to scare off the likes of Luck-hurst for her. She sensed rather than saw his amber eyes drop to her softly parted mouth and her breath caught in her throat as she realised he need only incline forwards a little to lock together their lips.
‘Will you soon be gone from here?’ she whispered, her eyes riveted to the shady chin just a few inches away.
‘I don’t know.’
‘What business …?’
Her
