A Vow For An Heiress. Helen Dickson
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Some deep-rooted feminine instinct made Rosa’s breath catch in her throat at being confronted by a man of such powerful physical presence. He had an expression of strength and marked intelligence. His eyes drew another’s like a magnet to a pin. They were so full of life, so charged with the expression of their owner’s awareness. Unexpectedly, she found herself the victim of an acute attack of awkwardness and momentarily at a loss for words, for in such close proximity, his overwhelming masculinity seemed more pronounced. When her eyes locked on his she was quite unprepared for the effect he had on her—her pulse seemed to leap. With his piercing blue eyes and his rich dark hair, he was an extremely attractive man.
‘The child is unhurt—’
She was brusquely interrupted. ‘No thanks to you.’
His words had an aggressive ring to them. Bright colour flamed in her face and her slender figure stiffened and drew itself erect. She stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
He looked at her full in the eyes, fixing her with a gaze of angry accusation. ‘I realise that your carelessness may have been accidental and if that is the case then I advise you to be more careful in the future.’
His condemnation was unnecessarily severe. She thought his anger had been brought about out of concern for the child, but she would not excuse his rudeness. ‘I would be obliged, sir, if you would voice your unjust accusation in a more temperate manner and apologise.’
The young woman’s anger and animosity might at any other time have amused William and, looking into a pair of eyes the colour of green moss in which gold and brown flecks shone and seemed to dance about, he might have taken time to admire her slender form and the flawless beauty of her face beneath the high-brimmed silk bonnet, but now, his major concern being for the child, he did not smile. His temper was not improved by her bold attack, which caused his lean features to darken and his lip to curl scornfully across even white teeth.
‘And I would be obliged if you would see fit to mind your own business.’
‘That is exactly what I was doing and from what I have witnessed, sir, I would advise you to mind yours. It may have escaped your notice, but the inn yard with horses and carriages coming and going is a dangerous place to be for a young child.’
William’s jaw hardened and his eyes snapped fiercely as he fixed her with a savage look. There was a murderous expression on his face and it was with a great deal of effort that he restrained himself. ‘You are an extremely outspoken young lady—too outspoken for your own good.’
For a long moment he stared at her hard, then turned away, but Rosa could feel his contained anger as he stepped aside. The look he had given, cold and dismissive, had sent chills up her spine.
‘Not usually,’ she replied, refusing to be so rudely dismissed. When he turned and looked at her once more she met his eyes with a cool hauteur that belied the anger mounting inside her to match his own. ‘Only when I find myself in the presence of someone as insufferable as yourself. Your accusation that I pushed the child—accidental or otherwise—into the path of the horses was harsh indeed. I did neither.’
‘Her nurse tells me otherwise.’
‘Then she was mistaken. She had taken her eyes off the child and someone from the crowd pushed him. I witnessed what happened with my own eyes and reached out just in time to save him from being trampled to death. So you see, sir, you might have made certain of the facts before accusing me. Your time would be best spent seeking out the real culprit.’
For a moment he appeared to freeze as he absorbed her words. ‘Someone else pushed him? You saw who it was?’
‘No, I did not. My whole attention was on the child. I do not know you, sir, but someone must have a very deep grievance against you to want to hurt the child.’
‘That may be so, but I will decide that. You are a stranger. Do not take it upon yourself to assume. Is that understood?’
Rosa stared at him. How dare this man speak to her in this condescending manner? She was so taken aback by his rudeness she could hardly speak, but when she did so it was with a fine, cultured accent like frosted glass. ‘You, sir, are the most insufferable, rudest man I have ever had the misfortune to meet. Is it your habit to attack those who have done you a kindness?’
William’s face paled significantly beneath his dark countenance, although he was furious with himself more than with her for he seldom betrayed his feelings in this manner. He had misjudged her, he could see that now, but before he could reply to her cutting remark she had turned on her heel. He caught her arm, halting her, his eyes doing a quick search of those around him.
‘Not usually. I urge you to think back. It is most important that you do. Did you by any chance manage to see who it was?’
‘No, I did not. I cannot help you.’ Her chin lifted haughtily. ‘Now please let go of my arm.’
Immediately he dropped his hand. ‘In that case there is nothing more to be said.’
Realising that she was being dismissed, Rosa stepped back. ‘You are right. There isn’t. I expect it is beneath you to offer an apology.’
William gave her an uneasy glance, well aware that she, too, might have been hurt had she not stepped in to pull the child out of the way of the horses and that she was probably scared out of her wits by her show of bravado. ‘If I have offended you, then I beg your pardon. Are you harmed at all?’
‘I am perfectly all right—not that it is any of your affair,’ she remarked, still too angry to be mollified by his apology. ‘Good day, sir.’
Turning on her heel, she hurried towards the waiting coach, relieved to see Dilys already inside. She had no idea who the man was and handsome though he was, that was the only thing to his credit. He was exceedingly rude. She did not suppose she would see him again and she thanked God for it. But, rude though he might be, one thing was certain—she was hardly likely to forget him in a hurry.
Before climbing inside Rosa looked back at the foreign woman, feeling that her show of ill temper might be a refuge from fear. But fear of what? she wondered curiously. Turning away, she saw a man backing away into the crowd. He, too, was foreign, of Indian origin, she thought as she noted his brown face and long tunic-like coat and European trousers, both in black. She felt his stare. There was a stillness about him, a silence, that was entirely menacing. She felt the hairs stand up at the back of her neck. She was taken aback by the ugliness of his expression—a scowl of such concentrated venom that made her draw back.
William’s unease about what had just happened failed to lose its grip. His face betrayed very little of the emotions swirling through his body and his eyes remained impassive as he made a silent observation of the scene around him. But rage flooded through his veins as he thought of the danger that had presented itself to the child. His jaw hardened. The complexity of his emotions exasperated him. At a time when he should be focusing on his new role in life and trying to keep the Ashurst estate from being sold off, he was finding his time taken up protecting Dhanu. He was seeing danger in every shadow. That he had been followed from India he was certain, but he had thought he’d thrown them off the trail in London. However, if what the young lady had told him was true, then it would appear he was mistaken.