well.’ Mariah looked into his eyes. ‘I have reason to be grateful to him—he prevented me from coming upon a rock fall earlier today and warned me to change direction. However, I am sure that caution is best. You shall advise me.’
Alone in her room later that evening, Mariah let her various conversations with Andrew drift through her mind as she prepared for bed. He had talked animatedly of their friends at home and of the beautiful scenery. Of Lieutenant Grainger he had not spoken one word after his warning to her.
She puzzled over his reticence. Lieutenant Grainger had seemed embarrassed when a certain officer had been mentioned. Why had Andrew introduced the subject of the other officer and why should it make the younger man uncomfortable?
Andrew had followed them outside deliberately. Why had he done that? Was it to protect her from a man he was not certain of or … surely he could not be jealous because Mariah had been enjoying his company?
What had brought Andrew to Italy—and what was bothering him? She was certain that he was very worried about something, but did not know what it might be. Could he possibly have financial troubles? Was that why he had come—to ask her to marry him, because he needed money?
The thought made her blood run cold. No, she would not allow herself to think ill of him. He was her friend. He had promised to help her find a suitable husband. She had given him a list of her requirements in a husband and stressed that she did not wish to marry a fortune hunter.
If he wanted her for himself, he would surely give her a sign. Even if she acquitted him of wanting her fortune, which she had immediately, she had to admit that he showed no sign of being madly in love with her. A little voice in her head told her that Andrew might well make a convenient marriage with a suitable lady for the sake of an heir. Many gentlemen in his position did so. Would he consider her suitable—or would he think her too flighty, not serious enough?
Or was there another reason entirely for his reticence? Was Andrew hiding something he did not wish even his friends to know?
Mariah sighed as she slid between cool linen sheets and settled into a soft feather mattress. She loved uncovering secrets and a mystery to solve was a pleasant way to spend her days—and it would stop her wondering why Andrew had not come to the point. Sometimes he looked at her as if he might gobble her up, as if he wanted nothing more than to get her into his bed, but at others he was polite, cool and reserved.
Just what had she done that had made him hesitate? Perhaps it was because she’d shot the man who had been trying to kill Lucinda. Being a crack shot and keeping a cool head in a crisis were perhaps not the most feminine of traits. Men often wanted a sweet docile woman they could protect and dominate. Mariah was too spirited, too bold. Andrew had been attentive to her when she was recovering from her ordeal at the hands of kidnappers, but then, quite suddenly, he had drawn back. She must have done something to make him think her unsuitable—but what?
Thumping her pillow in sudden pique, Mariah felt both frustration and disappointment. She was almost certain that Andrew was the only man she could truly love and she longed to be taken in his arms and kissed until she melted for pleasure, but all he offered was friendship. She might have taken a dozen lovers had she wished or accepted as many offers of marriage. Why must she want the only man who seemed utterly indifferent to her charms? ‘You provoking man,’ Mariah muttered, blew out the candle and closed her eyes.
Mariah was not the only one to lie sleepless for some time after extinguishing the light. Andrew frowned as he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling, his head filled with thoughts of Mariah. He knew that she was tired of being a widow. He had over the years seen her flirt many times. She was entitled to flirt with as many admirers as she pleased. Rich, unattached and as intelligent as she was beautiful, he imagined she was pursued wherever she went. The mystery was that she remained single. She must have had many offers of marriage and many others of a more dubious nature. As far as he knew she remained aloof—why? What kept her from indulging in love affairs? Was she still faithful to her husband’s memory?
She was too young and lovely to remain a widow all her life and he knew it was not her intention. She had asked his advice because she wished for a husband who would treat her as she deserved. In his heart Andrew knew that if he did not speak soon he would lose her.
Yet how could he speak when he did not know who his enemy was? Thus far he had been accused of theft, but Harrison had done nothing. If someone felt bitter hatred for Andrew, they were hardly likely to stop there. His very life might be in danger. It would be wrong to involve a lovely young woman in his life at the moment—however much he wanted to kiss and touch her.
He had experienced jealousy on seeing her laughing with Grainger that evening. Was he a fool to hold his silence? She was beautiful, well connected and charming—what more could he want from a wife?
Remembering how soft and moist her lips had looked, he felt an urgent desire to feel them beneath his, to crush her soft body to his and … This was ridiculous!
Groaning at his frustrated thoughts, Andrew threw back the covers and got out of bed, going to the window to look out. He had accepted Lady Jenkins’s invitation and removed his baggage here earlier in the day, though in view of his feelings that evening he was beginning to regret the decision. The inn might not be as comfortable as this room, but he had been well enough.
The moon was high overhead, shedding a bright silver light over the gardens. Something caught his eye in the shrubbery—a flash of white. A man’s shirt, perhaps? Whoever it was seemed to be hiding … watching the house. Was there someone out there skulking in the bushes?
If some rogue was hoping to break in and steal valuables, he was going to be in for a shock. His instincts alerted to danger, Andrew dressed quickly. This needed investigation.
He left through a window at the back of the villa and made his way round to the front gardens, keeping close to the wall and in deep shadow. He was alert, his finger on the trigger of his concealed pistol, but even after his years of training in the army, he was not aware of the man behind him until the last moment. Someone lunged at him as he turned and grabbed for his arm. They struggled for a few moments and Andrew’s pistol fired into the air. The next moment he heard a shout from the house and the door opened.
‘Andrew—are you out there?’
Hearing Grainger’s voice, the assailant suddenly shoved Andrew backwards, causing him to stumble and fall. Before he was on his feet again the shadow had run off, disappearing into the darkness. Andrew fired another shot in the direction he’d gone, hoping to scare him. He heard a faint curse and then nothing more.
‘I’m over here, Grainger,’ he called. ‘There was someone lurking in the bushes. I came out to investigate and we fought. My pistol went off—unfortunately, it was pointing in the air and not at him. I may have winged him with the second shot, though.’
Grainger was dressed in breeches and shirt and had clearly not been to bed. He had a pistol in his hand as he came to join Andrew.
‘It may be just as well,’ he said. ‘If you’d killed him, we should have had trouble with the authorities. Did you catch a sight of his face? Could you identify him?’
‘No, I caught a glimpse of him, nothing more. He was acting in a furtive manner and I feared someone might be trying to break in and rob us while we slept.’
‘You were not sleeping?’
‘No. I had something on my mind.’
‘Does it concern Lieutenant
