“He told you that?”
“Yes. Anyway, I was a much more likely suspect than you ever were.”
Shannon thought she caught a moment’s hesitation, but dismissed it. What reason would Brandon have to lie to her or not tell her everything? “What would make him think that?”
Brandon chuckled. “The girth strap, darling. It didn’t take him long to realize you didn’t know a girth strap from a leading ribbon. Not even when the pieces were laid out before you.”
“I wondered why he asked me so much about horses. My ignorance must have been woefully obvious.”
“Thank God.”
Shannon silently agreed. “But he doesn’t know who actually did it, does he?”
“No. He was only able to reduce the number of people who could have tampered with the strap.”
There was no mistaking Brandon’s pause before he answered her, and Shannon stopped immediately. “There is something you’re hiding,” she said. “Something Sir James knows.” Even in the dim light she could see he was offended by her accusation and immediately began to question her judgment.
“I’m telling you what his lordship told Aurora and me.” That was strictly true, he thought, as far as it went. He was glad to see the bewilderment vanish from the planes of her upturned face. His eyes fell to the curve of her mouth and rested there a moment before he pulled himself away. “There were eleven people at the folly who could have damaged Rory’s tack,” he said as they began walking again. “Rory knows quite well who they are, and you are not among them. Sir James told her that in light of the divorce I was seeking, she should reconsider her decision to stay at the folly, but you can imagine how she responded to that. She still insists there will be no divorce.” He shook his head, recalling Aurora’s fit of temper. “After the scene she enacted in front of him, I think he felt sorry for me. Throughout his investigation Rory betrayed herself as her own worst enemy. I truly think he was beginning to wonder why no one had tried to frighten her off before.”
“That’s cruel,” she said, but found it hard to tamp her smile.
“I know,” he said unapologetically. “But when she was flinging accusations at everyone, it was inevitable that he should wonder why so many people disliked her. I’m afraid that Aurora made that painfully evident. It shocked me a little. I thought she would be more subtle.”
“I know.” Shannon had no difficulty remembering Aurora’s raised voice coming from the confines of the library. “It was almost as if she were, I don’t know,desperateto prove that someone wanted her dead, as if the evidence of the cut strap were not enough.” She shook her head. “Never mind; it sounds strange to my own ears.”
“It does indeed,” Brandon said. “Imagine, my practical Shannon given to flights of fancy.”
She warmed to the phrase “my Shannon,” but questioned the adjective. “Practical? Is that how you think of me?”
Brandon tightened his hold on her waist, wondering if he had done anything to give away his relief at the change of subject. “On occasion,” he admitted, steering Shannon toward the clearing where they had first made love. “Now when you’re—”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You know.”
“I’m afraid I do.” The thin, naked limbs of the willow tree were outlined against a darkening sky. “And it won’t do at all.”
“That practical, rather prosaic side of your nature is showing itself again.”
“A good thing, too. You know what will happen if we stay here long.”
“I’m hoping I do.” His voice dropped, and there was no lightness in his tone now. “Am I really the only one who wants something more than hushed endearments or a casual touch?”
“Damn you,” she said fiercely as she was turned against his body. Her hands pushed ineffectively at his chest. “You know it’s not so. But we can’t, Brandon.” She tried to evade his mouth as his head lowered, and discovered he was quite content to nuzzle her neck. “Not here.”
“Then where?”
She shivered as his breath tickled her skin. “I didn’t mean that.” When she moved again, his lips touched her ear. “I meant nowhere.” His mouth whispered across hers. “Not…now.” Shannon felt her resolve begin to weaken. Her need to touch him, to have him hold her, was greater than her good sense.
Brandon silenced her last protest with his mouth as he lowered her to the ground. The bed of fallen leaves cracked beneath her. Shannon’s fingers fumbled with the silver buttons of Brandon’s waistcoat. He sat up long enough to shed his jacket and lay it under her head. The momentary chill was forgotten as their bodies shared the warmth of a close embrace. Shannon’s hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it out of his breeches so she could touch his smoothly muscled chest. The ivory shawl covering her shoulders was discarded, and Brandon’s fingers slipped under the scooped neckline of her bodice, arousing her with his teasing caress.
Once a canopy of silver-green leaves shaded the lovers; now the deepening indigo of night shadowed them. Brandon’s kisses played along Shannon’s mouth, the bridge of her nose, the delicate skin of her closed eyes. She caught his face in her hands and pulled his mouth back to hers when he strayed too long. Her lips parted, offering him entry, and her tongue engaged his in a tender, mocking battle that spoke of the desire between them.
She helped Brandon with the lacings of her bodice, loosening them until he could ease her dress over her breasts. His eyes adored her, his hands, then his mouth. Shannon’s tiny gasp remained unheard as a whippoorwill moved in the underbrush, crying out its plaintive song. The tips of her fingers brushed the corn silk softness of his hair, pressing against his temples when she felt the flash of pleasure spiral through her.
It was the molding pressure of Brandon’s hands on her naked thighs that brought Shannon to awareness. The skirt bunched up about her waist made her feel like a doxy, and the knowledge that perhaps she was no different than Annie Jones made her grow cold. That she loved Brandon seemed only an excuse, not a reason to be with him now.
Brandon almost immediately sensed her withdrawal. Her hands dropped away from him, and the small, restless movements she made in desiring had ceased. “What is it?” he asked, hooking a leg over her thighs while his hand rested on the curve of her hip.
