felt cruelly betrayed, lost and abandoned, the immensity of it causing her intense pain.
She knew she’d feel better if she could only get away. If she could escape from him. She didn’t want to stop because then she wouldn’t have to think about anything else. But eventually she would have to stop and when she did she would have to feel, which she didn’t want to face. She didn’t want to see Henry. She didn’t want to look in his eyes. She hadn’t loved him. She didn’t know what it meant to love anyone, but it did nothing to lessen her humiliation and the pain of such a public betrayal.
She kept on heading out of the village. What she was planning to do when she stopped running she couldn’t say. The most important thing was to get away. She heard her name being called. She kept on going. Her heart was racing in her chest and she felt a sharp pain in her side.
‘Wait,’ someone called.
She heard herself gasp and saw the road ahead of her blur. She kept hurrying on. She heard footsteps behind her and then another call of her name. Not until a hand grasped her arm did she halt, breathing hard. She turned, her mind and her senses disjointed, the people and carriages passing by in a maze of confused colours and muffled sounds. Her confusion was exacerbated by the colour of light blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes, the sound of a deep, mellifluous voice and the pleasant aroma of a sharp cologne. Still holding her arm, Alexander Golding led her to the side of the road, out of harm’s way of passing carriages.
The eyes that looked into hers were as transparent and as brilliant as sunlight on water. His sharp, sceptical gaze seemed to bore into her brain.
‘Are you all right? You are upset.’ He spoke evenly, without sympathy, seemingly uncaring of her plight or the cause. Her chest was rising and falling in rapid succession.
‘Of course I am upset,’ she replied irately, trying to pull herself together. ‘What Henry has done to me is unforgivable. What was I? Some tender titbit he decided to play with, a simpleton to fill his needs for a night or two. What amusement he must have had playing his sordid little game with me. And how disappointed he must now be feeling, knowing he has lost his wager.’
Nothing moved in his face, but his eyes darkened. Quietly, he said, ‘I am sorry you had to find out like that.’
‘Yes—so am I, but thank goodness I found out before it was too late. Now would you please let go of my arm?’ He obliged at once.
Her anger somewhat diminished, Lydia stared at the darkly handsome stranger. He possessed a haughty reserve that was not inviting. There was also an aggressive confidence and strength of purpose in his features, and he had the air of a man who succeeded in all he set out to achieve. From the arrogant lift of his dark head and casual stance, he was a man with many shades to his nature, a man with a sense of his own infallibility. With her mind on what Henry would have done to her had this stranger not intervened, she was unnaturally calm, as calm as the Ice Maiden Henry had accused her of being.
‘I—I...’ Words seemed to stick in her throat, almost choking her. She felt exposed and vulnerable, knowing this man was seeing her like this. Normally poised and in complete control of herself, she felt so undignified. It was all so humiliating. When she had first looked at him she had seen by his face that he was a hard man not easily softened, so she was surprised he had even come after her. ‘Please excuse me. This is all so sudden—so confusing.’
For the first time, Alexander looked at her and she at him. Something passed between them. Each felt that this moment was one of great importance, that they stood on the edge of something tangible, but they did not understand what it could be. Lydia swallowed hard. She could not seem to look away. She thought she should scream or try to run away. She did neither. Noise and bustle went on around them, but the sounds and people were lost to them as they looked at each other. It was a look that stretched for only seconds, but seemed far longer before Lydia averted her eyes as her heart swelled with such a bewildering array of emotions that she was overwhelmed.
* * *
Caught off guard by the effect this young woman was having on him, Alex immediately recollected himself. He could see she was still in the process of reeling from the truth of what Henry had done. She was dressed with tasteful simplicity in a gown the colour of raspberries. Her features were striking, her hair beneath her bonnet a rich, shining black. Her large dark green eyes tilting slightly upwards were moist, droplets of tears caught in her thick fringe of lashes glittering like diamonds. Her mouth was as red and ripe as a berry, her lower lip full. The sun was warm and the light glinted softly against her. It made her skin luminous. Quite tall and slender, she was wholly arresting and he could not seem to drag his eyes away.
When he had burst into the room to halt the wedding, he had been unable to focus on anything else but his brother-in-law. When he had learned Henry had come to Scotland and his reason for doing so, he had taken the young woman to be one of the high-spirited good-time girls who thought of little else but the frivolous pursuit of pleasure, whose life was one constant round of uninhibited fun and who thought it necessary to be a rebel, to outrageously defy the order of society—hence her easy compliance to adhere to this mad escapade.
The anger provoked by Henry’s reprehensible behaviour began to subside a little, and Alex felt a faint stirring of admiration for the self-assured way in which the young woman faced him. Anger burned like a flame in her eyes and he was touched, despite himself, by her youth. When he looked at her, there was no hint of the softening in his mood. His eyes, harsh and impenetrable, met hers, and, if she had but known it, they were adept in keeping a legion of employees in their place.
‘I imagine it is,’ he said at length. Beginning to see how devastating it must be for her to realise she had fallen prey to a seducer, he suddenly showed a hint of human feeling. ‘This cannot be easy for you. You did not know Henry had a wife.’
Wishing herself anywhere but where she was, facing the lonely place that rejection and anger had taken her, Lydia blinked hard to make the tears of hurt, anger and frustration disappear, hating herself for a weakness which ordinarily she would never show. ‘Had I known that, I would not be here. I cannot believe he has done this to me. How could he?’
There was a desperate, almost wild look about her. She seemed ready to bolt like a wild horse at any moment. The cords in her neck were strained and the glimmer of tears slipped like melting dreams from her eyes. Alex felt a curious need to treat her with gentleness, to say something to comfort her. But he didn’t know her or understand the nature of her grief, or her true relationship with his sister’s husband.
‘It’s all right. I am not about to judge you.’
She didn’t look convinced. Distrust clouded her eyes. Fiercely, she wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. ‘But I think you will.’ She tried to sound scornful. She only sounded afraid. The stranger would know, hear her inner weakness, and she despised him for knowing. Her natural resilience began to reassert itself. She looked at him, eyes flashing, defiant chin lifted. ‘I thank you for arriving when you did.’
‘There’s no need.’
Alex noticed her posture—arms stiff, hands clenched by her sides. Her face was white like alabaster and her eyes glittered. He could not take his eyes off her—in fact, she looked quite magnificent. She reminded him of a rapier blade made of steel. Drawn up to her full height, she was standing on her dignity. He could see that the fear had left her and she was in the grip of an ice-cold, venomous rage. He waited for her to conclude whatever inner battle she was engaged in and he tried to keep his face as non-committal as possible.
‘I imagine you were looking forward to going to America.’
‘Yes.
