me.’
‘Who is the other Will in your life?’
She could have replied, ‘One of my brother’s servants.’ But she didn’t. She didn’t want him to know where she lived, or what her name was, any more than she wanted him to know that her brother owned the land all around them, and they lived in a handsome residence in the Palladian style quite close at hand. She didn’t want to talk about her brother’s wife, gentle, loving and very, very beautiful. Emily wanted for once to be Miss Nobody from nowhere, not rich Miss Winbolt, sister to the local landowner and an heiress in her own right. And, more than anything, she didn’t want to be reminded of the problem that had been gnawing at the back of her mind for weeks, and which had been brutally brought to the fore by her conversation with Mrs Gosworth.
‘He doesn’t matter, Will,’ she whispered. ‘Nothing else matters at the moment.’ She smiled at him dreamily, ‘Will,’ she said. ‘Will.’ And she pulled his head down to hers again. This time the kiss was passionate from the start. He held her so closely that she felt every part of his strong, muscular body, and delighted in it. He smoothed her hair again and kissed her brow, her eyes, and then returned to part her lips with his. Emily’s heart was racing once more, this time with a feverish excitement. She had been kissed before by a man she had been about to marry, but never like this. Never before had she been so aware of her blood running through her veins with such singing delight. Her skin tingled wherever he touched her. She realised now how bloodless, how meaningless those other kisses had been. Nothing in her experience had prepared her for this. She felt overwhelmed by a need to be held by this man, caressed by him. He was no stranger to her—she belonged to him. Nothing existed except the two of them, and the hollow where they lay hidden from the rest of the world in an enchanted, magical world of their own. His lips found her throat, her shoulders, her breasts…
A sound of whistling broke into their idyll. Will Darby on his way home! She stiffened and firm hands gripped her. ‘Lie still,’ he whispered. ‘He won’t see us if you lie quite still.’
The magic vanished into the air, as reality broke in on Emily’s dream. She lay rigid and silent until the footsteps died away in the distance, then, overcome with shame, she struggled to be free of him. ‘It’s Will Darby,’ she said, as she scrambled to her feet and straightened her dress. Avoiding his eye, she stammered, ‘They’ll be wondering where I am. I must go.’
He got up, and when she turned away from him put his arms round her waist. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he murmured against her neck.
‘You can’t,’ she cried in panic, pushing him from her. ‘I have to go alone. You mustn’t come with me.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ he said, half-laughing, half-serious. ‘That’s too much the cruel enchantress. You can’t appear out of nowhere, bewitch me, and then just…disappear! I won’t let you.’
Emily, torn between shame and a treacherous desire to stay, said desperately. ‘Please, you must let me go. I…I cannot stay any longer. Don’t look at me like that! I…I don’t…don’t know what came over me…’ She couldn’t finish the sentence. With a little sob she turned and stumbled down the slope to the footpath, picked up her skirts and ran for dear life towards Shearings. When she threw a hunted glance back, she saw to her relief he was making no attempt to follow her, but stood where she had left him, ruefully shaking his head.
After she had disappeared round a bend in the footpath the stranger stood for a while, then shrugged and went to pick up his coat. The village where he had left his horse and pack couldn’t be more than a few minutes walk away. It was too late now to see Charlwood again tonight. He would put up at a local inn or camp out in some hedgerow or other. The thought didn’t disturb him—the night would be warm, and he had done it often enough in the past. And as he walked he shook his head over what had just happened. It was altogether something new in his experience! Such passion, followed by such an abrupt departure! Why had she gone? Was the other Will her lover, or even her husband, perhaps? He rather thought he would never know. He shrugged again and went on his way, deciding to dismiss the episode from his mind. Unless Charlwood proved to be more suitable than he had thought at first sight, he wouldn’t be in the area for long. It was most unlikely their paths would ever cross a second time. At this thought he felt a fleeting regret. There had been something about her that had attracted him as he had not been attracted for many years. Not her looks—he could hardly remember anything about the way she looked, except for a pair of silver-grey eyes. Her legs and ankles had been good, too. He grinned as he remembered his first sight of her, those long slender legs dangling from the tree… But there was something else… Something about her had appealed to him at a deeper level. She had been such a strange mixture of abandonment and innocence…
He shook his head, and stepped out more briskly. No, she was just a passionate little flirt. She was probably a consummate tease, too. Life was too short to spend a second thought on her. But, by heaven, she knew how to stir a man’s blood!
Chapter Two
By the time Emily reached Shearings she was exhausted. The bruises and scratches she had forgotten a short while before had returned to plague her, and she limped painfully through the garden room door in the direction of the back stairs. But, though she went as quietly as she could, she was not quiet enough. Rosa had obviously been listening for her.
‘Emily! Dearest! Thank goodness you’re back! We were worried about you, after the carriage returned without you. But why have you come in this way—?’ She stopped short and regarded her sister-in-law with astonishment. ‘Heavens! What on earth have you done to yourself? No, don’t waste time on that now—you can tell me later. We must get you upstairs to your room first.’
Emily was helped through the hall and up to her room at the top of the main staircase, and was soon sitting in a chair being ministered to by Rosa herself and by Mrs Hopkins, the housekeeper. Mrs Hopkins had been with the Winbolt family for many years, and had known Emily since childhood. She gently removed her torn clothes, exclaiming as she did so at the state of her hands and legs. Rosa meanwhile fetched salves and lotions from her own room, then disappeared again to return with a glass of Philip’s best brandy. After a short while Emily was lying on her bed, propped up by pillows, her hands bandaged and the scratches on her legs bathed and soothed with ointment. Rosa sat beside her on the bed and held the brandy to her lips.
‘Drink it all,’ she said with a reassuring smile. ‘Every drop. You’ll feel better.’
When Emily hesitated, Mrs Hopkins nodded her head. ‘There’s nothing like a drop of brandy, Miss Emily,’ she said firmly. ‘You do as Mrs Winbolt says.’ They waited until Emily had finished the brandy, then the housekeeper said, ‘If you don’t need me any more, ma’am, I’ll go about my business. The master will be back soon, I dare say.’
After she had gone out Rosa said, ‘She thinks you’ll feel able to talk more freely in her absence, but she could have stayed. Mrs Hopkins wouldn’t dream of gossiping with the other servants. She is the soul of discretion.’ She paused, then said hesitantly, ‘I’m very anxious to know what happened, Emily. If you feel well enough to tell me, I’d like to hear about it.’
Emily took a breath. Discretion was a good word to use. She would have to use a good deal of it herself.
‘You know that I visited Mrs Gosworth this afternoon…’ she began. She paused.
‘I did warn you,’ said Rosa. ‘She is one of the unkindest people I know. Oh, Emily, I should have gone with you. Did she upset you?’
‘She tried,’ said Emily with a small grimace. ‘But I’m afraid she was disappointed.
