Declan gathered his reins, scanning the tree line. “Was the person on foot or horseback?”
“Mounted,” said Camille, breathless.
“Astride or sidesaddle?” Declan’s thighs dug into his horse. The animal began to dance.
“Astride,” said Camille, “like a man. But it was a slight person. I never saw a face.”
Declan glanced at Helena. For the first time ever, her expression conveyed the beginning stages of fear.
“Nettle,” Declan called, spinning around, “will you take the ladies safely home? Use very special care. Do not let them out of your sight. Keep to the main roads. I must pursue this.”
Nettle assured him, and Declan spoke to Helena. “Go with Nettle, my lady. Stay close to your sister. Be watchful and do not deter from the shortest route home.”
“But, Shaw?” she called, worry in her voice.
“Go,” Declan said, digging his heels into his horse and bolting for the tree line.
Chapter Twenty-One
Seven Duchesses (Potential)
Happy ?
Sneezy
Doc
Sleepy ?
Bashful
Dopey
Grumpy ?
Declan came to her in the middle of the night.
She was in a deep sleep. Something about the very real, very near smell of him elevated her achingly sensual dream to a vividness that made her body hum. He was in her dream, but now she could taste him, she couldfeelhim.
He shook her gently. “Helena?” he whispered. He put a palm over her mouth.
Helena’s eyes popped open.
“It’s me,” he whispered, hovering above her. “Shhh. It’s Declan.”
She blinked into the darkness. His face was clear, but his body blended with the shadows.He’d dressed again entirely in black. Not the black from the masquerade, but a black overcoat, dark shirt, and buckskins. Without the yellow livery, he looked like a thrilling stranger—an achingly familiar, very thrilling stranger.
“Can I move my hand?” he asked lowly. “You won’t scream?”
Helena nodded and he slid his hand away.
She gasped, “What are you doing here?”
“Does your maid sleep in the anteroom?”
“No. Belowstairs.”
“Good. Will you get up? Can you dress yourself?”
