He was glad of the silence necessitated by his ruse, or he might have promised her more than was appropriate.
He had no sooner thought as much than he caught a whiff of woodsmoke. He stopped and Zephyr halted behind him, taking the opportunity to nibble at the shoulder of his cloak. Joshua remained utterly still and listened.
Yes. There was movement within the ruins and he could just barely discern a ribbon of smoke rising from it. Someone had taken refuge there. He recalled that there was still a structure of a sort, though the roof was only partial, it would provide some shelter from the elements. The keep had been built on a mound and would originally have had a wooden palisade around the central tower. The wood was gone, of course, but the deep ditch dug outside those walls was still a furrow in the ground. It was impossible to see much at this hour and this distance, but the hair prickled on the back of his neck in warning.
He knew there were numerous soldiers returned from the war, decommissioned and unable to find paid positions. He had hired as many as possible at Addersley Manor, but there was a limit to his own resources. The less fortunate of such men turned to banditry and lived rough.
This was no place for Miss Emerson.
He pivoted smartly and led the horse back in the direction they had come.
“I thought we would explore the ruins,” Miss Emerson protested just as Joshua heard a sound from that very location. He swung into the saddle behind her with purpose, thinking only of her safety, catching her around the waist as he gave Zephyr his heels. The stallion was more than happy to break into a canter and then a gallop, tossing his head as he raced back toward Bramble Cottage.
“Oh!” Miss Emerson had been seated side-saddle, but she turned toward him now, as she had that previous time. Her hand landed upon his waistcoat, the feel of her exploring caress sufficiently to make Joshua’s heart leap. When she leaned her cheek against him, her trust complete, he once again felt that dizzying tide of desire. He could smell her scent, that of her skin mingled with a touch of lavender, a feminine combination that prompted him to spread his hand across her back and draw her closer.
Another lady might have been shocked or dismayed, but Miss Emerson laughed lightly. She wound an arm around his waist, pressing herself against Joshua in a way that made him forget everything but the lady who was virtually in his arms. “Oh, sir, I fail utterly in denying temptation,” she whispered, but Joshua did not care.
He could be wicked for her, and she might be as impulsive as she liked in his company.
Bramble Cottage appeared all too soon and Zephyr apparently knew their destination. He halted of his own volition in the shadow of the surrounding hedges, exhaled mightily and shook his head, then reached to nibble at the budding flowers.
Joshua did not chastise the creature in this moment. There was only Miss Emerson and his relief that she was safely homeagain. He touched her chin with a fingertip, lifting her face, and bent to capture her lips beneath his own.
The lady, perhaps predictably, responded with an enthusiasm that could not be denied.
He had takenher to his refuge.
Helena readily guessed the truth, and loved that his impulse had been to share his secret with her. It made perfect sense that he had changed his mind in the last moment, but she had divined the truth.
She had to learn more about the ruins, whatever they were.
For the moment, though, there was only his wondrous kiss. This time, his caress was more confident and demanding, as if he was encouraged by her response. Helena had no inclination to be reserved. She had never felt such pleasure or such surety of a man’s honor. This time, he cupped her nape in one broad palm, the leather of his glove smooth against her skin. This time, his kiss was deeper, as if he would sear her very soul with his touch.
Or make it impossible for her to even notice another man, now that they had met.
Helena leaned against him, surrendering fully, trying to show his victory with her response. He made a little growl that she found satisfying beyond all, then tore his lips from hers. She felt him looking down at her and wished she could pierce the shadows of his hood. She reached for the edge of the fabric, but he moved away, leaping from the saddle.
“Helena!” Aunt called from the house and Helena winced. “Where are you, girl?” She looked up at her own window and spotted her aunt in that chamber, where she had left the lamp burning, and grimaced.
Her champion locked his hands around her waist and lifted her down, retreating a step to kiss her hand. Such a salute would not suffice, not now.
Helena flung herself against him, moving with speed that he could not be noble and turn her aside. She reached up and slipped her fingers into his hair, pulling his head down that she might kiss him again. Again, he made a low sound of capitulation, as if he could not resist the temptation she offered, then his arms were around her and his mouth closed over hers once more.
Helena closed her eyes, wishing Aunt a thousand miles away, as her lover lifted her from the ground to hold her captive against his chest. She wanted his kiss to last forever. She wanted him to lift her back into the saddle and ride away with her. She wanted to learn more of all that could pass between man and wife, and she wanted to do it with him. Impulse, she was certain, could not steer her false when her heart clamored to be with this man.
But he set her on her feet again, a small sound revealing his reluctance to do as much, then escorted her to the opening in the hedge as if she was a queen. He bowed low, just as Aunt shouted again, and kissed her hand.
Then he lifted his head, as if he would study her, though she could not see his face. He turned her hand over and she felt the warmth of his lips against her palm as he planted a kiss there. He closed her fingers over the imprint, as if he would advise her to hold fast to that invisible token, and Helena knew she could love this man with all her heart and soul.
Lord Addersley said she had need of a protector, but Helena was certain she had found one.
He kissed his own fingertips and might have backed away, but Helena closed the distance between them hastily. She needed to know. He caught her one hand in his when shereached for him. Her one hand was held captive against that fine waistcoat, but she reached boldly into the shadows of the hood with the other.
He inhaled sharply and retreated, but she had felt the cleft in his chin.
It could not be. She knew only one man with a cleft in his chin, one of a height and breadth with this one, one who rode with assurance but otherwise did not share this man’s élan.
How could her champion be Lord Addersley?
