“You seem to like trouble.”
“Perhaps a little too much.”
“I imagine you tire easily. This should be no different.”
He studied her, perhaps trying to determine if her feelings matched her words. They didn’t. They were as far apart as London and Bengal.
“Hawke. Are you there?” Mr Ramsey again, though he didn’t enter the cottage.
Could he sense the tension from outside? Was he afraid he might find them flushed and straightening their clothes?
Mr Hawke should have been striding out the door. Yet something kept him in the cottage.
She felt it too. The unwillingness to part. That quiet fear this moment might be the only happiness either of them would ever know.
He kissed her again, a firm, lingering press of lips, like a soldier heading off to war. Little did she know how true that would soon feel.
Mr Ramsey called once more. This time his voice pierced through the haze of heat and hope, chilling her to the bone.
“Mr Irving is back. He brings a contract.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dominic strode from the cottage, his pulse kicking like pistol fire. Ahead, Ramsey loitered on the path, no less irate.
“Tell me Irving is in his carriage, and you didn’t let him through the blasted gate,” Dominic snapped. “If I get within three feet of the fool, I’ll throttle him with his own cravat.”
Ramsey scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Crocker had no choice, but he made them walk up the drive.”
“Them?”
“Irving’s not alone. He brought the magistrate.”
Dominic stopped dead. “Sir Lionel?”
Ramsey gave a grim nod. “Seems the contract is binding.”
“The devil it is.” Fury surged through him. “Remain with Miss Harland. Lock the doors. I’ll handle this.”
Ramsey caught his arm. “Sir Lionel would love nothing more than to see you swinging from the gallows. Take Beattie with you. He’s the voice of reason.”
Sir Lionel Deane was a puritan who’d loathed Dominic’s father. He would burn Shadowmere and all its sinners to ash, if the law allowed.
“Whatever happens, Miss Harland mustn’t leave these grounds.”
“Understood.”
Dominic gripped Ramsey’s arm. “She’ll want to face Irving and curse him to Hades. Neither of them must know she’s here.”
“You’re asking me to restrain her?”
“No.” He was the only man who’d ever put his hands on her. “Just convince her it’s wiser to stay out of sight.”
He didn’t envy his friend the task.
“Tell her I’ll pay for her obedience. She may name her prize.” She’d want something more precious than money. A piece of his soul.
Ramsey’s brow shot up. “Dominic Hawke cowing to a woman?”
