The maid—Babette, he’d called her, lifted her gaze to Annabelle’s. Her eyes, the color of toasted honey, went wide with apparent delight before she lowered her lashes, curtseyed, and scampered away.
Annabelle opened her mouth to give voice to her curiosity, then heard a low moan of pleasure—her own—as Lord Randall placed both of her feet atop the bundle Babette had delivered. A hot stone from the fire.Heaven.
She wanted nothing more than to snuggle deeper into the soft blanket in which he’d bundled her, close her eyes, and enjoy the cozy warmth.
With effort, she batted back the impulse. She was not here as his house guest. She was the hunter. He, the cornered rabbit.
To that end, she pierced Randall, still crouched before her, with a challenging glare.
He did not appear to notice.
He contemplated her, an indeterminate expression on his face. His thick, dark brows were furrowed, and he wore a definite frown. Not one of displeasure, she decided. Uncertainty? Yes.
He did not know what to make of finding her, here, seated before his hearth.
A moment later, he proved her theory correct. “Why are you here?” he demanded without preamble, rising to his feet and dusting off his hands.
“As if you don’t know.” Her statement was a bluff, but she chanced it anyway.
He snorted. “I haven’t the faintest notion. Nor can I fathom your crossing from the mainland at dusk, in a blizzard, alone—a foolhardy venture at best, and perilous to both you and your horse, at worst.”
That stung. She had not meant to put the horse in any danger. But who could have anticipated the storm worsening like that?
Every local who’d posited an opinion,an irritating inner voice answered.
She brushed off the inconvenient thought. “I did not intend to come here alone. I hired a guide, who promised to see me and my…er…chaperone safely here and back before the tides shifted again.”
His expression turned dubious. He crossed his arms over his chest, one corner of his mouth crooking upward in a sneer of sorts. “If so, where is this so-called guide?”
“If you must know, we were set upon by highwaymen and he turned tail and fled like the coward he was.”
“Highwaymen? That’s preposterous. There are no highwaymen haunting Holy Island’s borders. There’s nohighway.”
Realizing she no longer suffered the effects of exposure, she shrugged off the blanket, letting it settle around her hips, then straightened in her seat.
Lord Randall’s gaze seemed to take this in, darting over her in one swift sweep. A ruddy stain appeared high on his cheeks, scattering her thoughts in a most irritating fashion.
What had he said? Oh, yes.No highwaymen.
“A figure of speech, Lord Randall. Thieves. Brigands. Call them what you will. They appeared from behind a series of dunes and approached Mr. Blackwell, my companion, Miss Dunn and myself as we faced the tidal flats. Mr. Blackwell seemingly recognized their ill intent and turned his mount, urging my chaperone and myself to follow. She did.”
He rocked on his heels and scrubbed a hand over his chin. “I see. But you opted to stand your ground.”
“Of course I did. I did not come all this way to be turned off by some dastardly villain. One of them actually pointed a pistol at me, then had the temerity to assault me in his attempt to secure my valuables. Unfortunately, at that point I was forced to cede my reticule—one I purchased in Paris, no less—carrying the funds meant to cover the round trip to the castle and back to the Pilgrim’s Rest Inn where my m—chaperone, undoubtedly, awaits me, now.”
He stared at her as if she’d grown a second head. “Is any of that tale true?”
She arched a brow at him. “Of course. My brother was right in his summation of this region.”
Randall’s gaze turned stony at the mention of Gaston.
Shaking his head as if in disbelief, he stalked toward a large walnut credenza, unearthing a crystal decanter of amber colored liquid from its cabinet. “You had no business challenging robbers. You could have been killed. Gun-toting villains rarely have a care for offending members of the nobility.”
“They did not know who I was. It wasn’t as if they asked for an introduction before accosting us.”
Mouth firming, he slanted her a long look. “Would you like a brandy? I apologize for not offering sooner.”
She sniffed at the ungracious offer. In point of fact, however, she’d never tasted brandy. She was curious as to its draw. “That would be nice. Just a small one.”
