Beneath the afternoon sunshine, Faith removed her bonnet and dangled it by its ties at her side as she ambled down the lane.
Oh, how glad she was that she’d decided to go for a walk! This was so much better than staying inside the house with the ladies, doing needlework or watercolors. She also didn’t think she’d be able to tolerate the fresh gossip that was certain to arise among them, especially with the men spending the day away fishing.
She deeply breathed in the fresh air and smiled at the birds chirping from the trees lining the short stone wall. Ah, peace and quiet. A God send. Especially after last night.
She thought she’d been prepared to see Stephen again. After four years, she thought her silly heart had learned its lesson and hardened just enough to be immune to his grins and charms. That having discovered the hard way the dangers of losing one’s heart to the wrong man she would know better than to put herself into harm’s way again with that smooth-tongued devil.
Apparently not. Because he was all she’d been able to think about during the long sleepless night she spent pacing in her bedroom. How he’d said he’d missed her. How he’d asked her to forgive him. How he wanted to friends again.
Friends? Ha! She’d seen the look in his eyes when he’d tried to kiss her, and it certainly wasn’t friendship that lingered there.
He’d said he’d changed, but had he really? Oh, he’d grown fully into manhood. That much was clear with every glance. It was also tantalizingly obvious beneath her hands when they’d rested against the hard muscles of his shoulders. Yet the changes weren’t only physical. A sobriety lingered in him that hadn’t been there before.
But the same empty flattery and compliments, the same taking of convenient kisses...Had he truly changed from the self-centered young man he’d been, when he’d cared for no one and nothing but his own selfish desires? If she let him back into her heart and he hadn’t changed, how would she ever recover if he wounded her again? He’d sliced open her heart the first time. A second might shatter it irreparably.
A howl pierced the quiet, followed by sharp curses and the sound of a hard object hitting a soft one. Another heartbreaking howl—
Faith ran.
Ahead in the road, a large stranger held a shaggy wolfhound by the scruff of his neck and beat at it with a club. The dog’s eyes were wide with fear, its tail tucked between its legs. It struggled to break free as the club struck brutally against its head. A bone-chilling howl of pain tore from its throat.
Faith made a diving grab for the hound just as the man raised his arm to strike again. “Leave that dog alone!”
The man hesitated in his swing when she threw her arms around the dog’s neck. Then he let out a violent curse that set the animal into a fit of snarling barks. “That damn cur tried to bite me!”
“That’s no reason to beat him!” she defended, sliding as much of her body between the man and the wolfhound as possible. If the brute wanted to hurt an innocent creature, then he’d have to go through her to do it! “He thought you were trying to hurt him.”
“I’ll sure as hell hurt him now!”
The man grabbed her arm and yanked hard to pull her away from the dog, who instantly began to snarl and snap at the man. He kicked at the hound, and the animal latched onto his leg, sinking its teeth into his calf.
With a curse, he viciously kicked the dog loose. He swung the club again, just barely missing Faith’s head. So close she felt the whoosh of air against her cheek.
A gunshot split the air.
The man spun around in surprise, his hand clamped tightly over the club and holding it above his head, ready to strike. He stepped back just far enough for Faith to see—
Stephen.
He sat on his horse in the middle of the lane, with one arm raised into the air and a trail of smoke curling from the end of the spent pistol in his hand. His face remained hard and emotionless, and Faith shivered. She’d never seen him looking so fierce before. So deadly.
“The lady said to leave the dog alone,” he said calmly, his deep voice coldly controlled. “So if I were you, I’d release her.” He slowly raised a second pistol in his other hand and pointed it at the man’s chest. “And step away.”
The man shoved her to the ground beside the dog, who immediately darted between her and the stranger to protect her. The hair along its back stood on end as a low, threatening snarl emanated from between its bared teeth.
“Damned bitch!” The man tossed the club down at her feet and then spat at the ground. “As worthless as that mangy cur.”
White-hot rage flickered in Stephen’s eyes, but he calmly kept the pistol pointed at the man. “You’re a stranger to this area.”
“That’s none of your goddamned bus—”
“Or you would know that she is Lady Faith Westover, daughter of the Duke of Strathmore.”
The man’s red face paled to white.
“Who will surely set you swinging by the neck for touching her.”
“But I-I didn’t—I didn’t!” He glanced down at her, and his eyes widened as he finally took in the quality of her clothes and the fairness of her face. “I-I...My apologies, my lady! But that dog bit at me, and I was only—”
“Leave,” Stephen ordered in a voice so filled with raw fury that an icy shiver slithered down Faith’s spine. He cocked the pistol. “Now.”
The man ran down the lane and plunged into the woods. Within seconds, he was gone from sight. By nightfall he’d be two villages away. A ragged sigh of relief poured from her.
Stephen eased down the hammer, then dismounted from his horse. As he tucked both pistols beneath his redingote, he came forward slowly, watching the dog and carefully keeping his distance from its snapping jaws.
“Good boy,” she told the hound in the calmest voice she could muster, despite the fierce pounding of her heart. “Hush now.”
At her soft words, the animal stopped barking and with a whimper spun around to race back to her. It buried its furry head against her shoulder, and all of it shook violently with fear. Petting it soothingly, Faith rolled her eyes that her guard dog had turned out to be not so fierce after all. Because for all he’d hated the man who’d struck him, he didn’t give a single growl or snarl as Stephen knelt on the ground beside her. Traitor.
“Are you all right?” Concern thickened his voice.
“I’m fine.” Although her dress was completely ruined, both by the ground where she’d fallen when the man shoved her and now by the ripe smell of dirty dog.
He tugged off his gloves and with a worried frown reached for her chin, to turn her head from side to side as he studied her for any signs of wounding. Heaving out a breath of relief, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly against him.
“Dear God, Faith,” he murmured, his mouth buried in her hair. “What were you thinking, to confront a man like that? You could have been seriously injured.”
“I wasn’t hurt,” she protested. She closed her eyes and drank in the strength of his arms around her, the hardness of his body pressed against hers. She’d missed being in his arms more than she’d realized, more than she should have let her herself feel. Even though she knew she should push him away, she couldn’t find the resolve to do so.
“When I saw that bastard raise that club—” A soft curse passed his lips. He cupped her face between his hands as he admitted in a raspy murmur, “If he’d hurt you, I would have killed him.”
Her lips parted softly at the intensity in him. She’d never seen him like this before. Never this angry, never this upset. And that it was because of her—
No. She wouldn’t let her foolish heart get its hopes up this time, only to be dashed again when he turned his attentions away. Or when he decided to leave again.
“Faith,” he whispered and leaned in to kiss her.
She froze, her breath catching in her throat and all of her tensing as his lips moved gently against hers. For one desperate moment she was certain that even her heart had stopped beating. He was kissing her—Stephen was kissing her! Oh heavens. She should have shoved him away, should have slapped him, should have done...anything except sit there and let him.
But moving away was the last thing she wanted to do. Not when the protective warmth of his arms and the taste of his kisses were so bittersweet that she couldn’t find the strength to deny herself of them. And certainly not when his kiss ached, filled with such longing that she trembled from it. He kissed her as if he needed this embrace to survive, as much as he needed air to breathe. Its intensity stunned her. So did her own heart-thumping response to it, how her blood heated and her flesh tingled. How she thrilled at the way his mouth so easily took possession of hers.
Confusion spun through her, and an aching rose low in her belly. Stephen was kissing her, and it was just as wonderful as she remembered. No...not as wonderful. Better. So much better because when he’d left he’d still been a man-boy, full of fire and urgency. Now he was all man, and the rashness inside him had tempered into control, making him all the more dangerous because of it.
“Faith,” he whispered achingly as he tore his mouth away from hers and trailed his lips along her jaw. “Beautiful Faith...how much I missed you...”
She squeezed her eyes shut against the stinging tears. Instead of thrilling her, his words angered her. Her heartache ran too deep be assuaged by mere words. He’d flattered and flirted with her before, after all, only to break her heart. He’d kissed her hungrily four years ago, too, lavished her with compliments and flattery, and it meant nothing in the end.
“Not enough,” she whispered sadly, turning her face away.
“What do you mean?” His lips found her ear and sucked at her earlobe, and she couldn’t fight down the delicious tingles that vibrated through her.
“You left.” A confusion of conflicting emotions rioted inside her, half which had her wanting to shove him away and the rest making her thrill at the way his muscles flexed beneath her fingertips, tempting her to simply throw her arms around him and surrender. “With no warning, no explanation...”
“I couldn’t stay.” Regret roughened his voice even as his arms tightened around her, as if he could read her mind and sense her doubt. As if he were afraid she might slip away. “I had to leave. England was unbearable for me, you know that. There was too much pressure from my family to be something I wasn’t, too many responsibilities for the marquessate, and my father...” He drew a jerking breath at the memories of that time. “Daniel had already enlisted. The regiment was leaving—”
“You left,” she repeated, unable now to stop the tears from gathering at her lashes, the sobs from choking in her throat. “You left me.”
“I was a damned fool, I know that now.” He placed a kiss against her lips, so tender that it stole her breath away. “Forgive me, Faith.” Another kiss, this one lingering long enough for his hands to sweep tenderly over her body. “Give me a second chance.”
Her chest clenched so painfully that she winced. Those were the exact words she’d longed to hear for the past four years, for him to realize what a cad he’d been and how much he’d lost when he left her. But sweet words and empty flattery had always come easily to him. How could she believe him about this?
His lips cajoled at hers to open so he could slip his tongue inside, and when she did, helpless now to push him away, a wanton sensation curled through her, sliding down her spine until her toes curled beneath her. Oh heavens, he’d curled her toes! More, a wicked ache began to throb between her legs. Through a fog of desire, her mind couldn’t think of the right thing to do at that moment. She knew only the longing that blossomed inside her and the delicious slide of his tongue between her lips in a tantalizing rhythm that had her grasping at his shoulders to keep from falling away with him into oblivion.
He rained kisses along the side of her neck, never kissing the same spot twice before moving on, as if he wanted to explore and taste every bit of her. She couldn’t fight back the urge to lean into him, to press herself as tightly against him as she could. When she arched her back and brought her breasts against his lapels, she was rewarded with a soft groan of appreciation.
As if he knew how close she was to capitulation, he slid his hand up to her neck and massaged slow circles against her nape. Such an innocent touch, yet the possessiveness of his hand on her and the seductive caresses of his fingertips conveyed exactly how much pleasure he could give her if she simply let go. If she forgave him and somehow found a way to erase the past four years of loneliness and tears.
“Faith,” he murmured. “I’ve changed. Let me prove it to you.” He took her bottom lip between his and sucked until he pulled the faint ache from between her legs all the way up through her body. “Say you’ll give me a second chance.”
Her breath came fast and shallow as his hand at her waist began to slid slowly upward over her ribs, higher and higher...When he cupped her breast, holding her fullness against his palm, a hot yearning shot through her with a fierce intensity she’d never felt before. He murmured her name and strummed his thumb over her nipple, and the soft friction made her shiver. She whimpered as every inch of her tingled with a desperate longing to be touched even more intimately.
“I’ve made terrible mistakes, Faith, but I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to correct them.” As his hand continued to caress her breast and tease at her nipple through her dress, the other one traced delicate patterns at her nape, and he placed a soft kiss against her throat, so tenderly that it stole her breath away. “Forgive me, Faith.”
“I don’t—I can’t—” she panted out, not knowing what to say or think. Her mind whirled beneath the heat of his touch, which was somehow both wicked and wonderful. She felt as if she were spinning out of control, and the emotions he churned inside her turned unbearable—
“No!” She shoved away from him, her eyes blurring with anger and tears.
Desperate to get away, she scrambled to her feet and snatched up her bonnet, then hurried down the lane as fast as she could without breaking into a run. Her chest heaved in painful gasps as she struggled to catch back the breath he’d stolen.
She blinked rapidly. The devil take the man! What right did he have to come sweeping back into her life like this, to think he could pick up where he left off—kissing her, no less! As if he had the right to take kisses from her whenever he liked, then flatter her into doing his bidding.
Oh, he hadn’t changed at all! He was still the same scoundrel he’d always been.
He fell easily into step beside her, his horse clip-clopping along behind and the wolfhound following at her heels. Her stomach plummeted. Oh perfect! She’d created a parade, when all she wanted was to be left alone.
“You have no right to kiss me,” she scolded, her eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn’t deserve her attention, not even a glance! Besides, if she did look at him, she’d see those smooth cheekbones of his, that curly dark hair that was perfect for running fingers through, those sensuous lips— Drat him! Why on earth did he have to be so blasted attractive? And why, oh why, did he have to be a rake who knew how to kiss so well? “Certainly not to touch me like that.”
“None at all,” he agreed ruefully. “My apologies.”
That earned him an annoyed dart of her eyes. “Or to ask my forgiveness when you don’t deserve it.”
“I truly don’t.”
Another irritated flick of her gaze in his direction. “And do not assume that just because you came riding in like Horatio Nelson on horseback—”
“Admiral Nelson?”
“Yes—No!” Why did she lose the ability to think when she was around him? Oh bother! “You know what I mean. Just because you chased that man away doesn’t give you any claim to me.”
“None whatsoever,” he said in the same chagrinned tone as before, but Faith could have sworn she heard a deeper edge to his voice.
“Because you don’t.” The words tumbled from her as rapidly as her steps. “I believed you once before, you know. All those things you said, all the compliments you paid me…I believed that you cared about me, only to be hurt. Deeply hurt, Stephen.”
“That was my mistake,” he said softly.
That caught her off-guard, and she stumbled across a bump in the lane. He caught her arm to steady her but didn’t release her once she’d moved on.
Her heart somersaulted with a moment’s hope— Then the silly thing crashed down into the pit of her stomach because she knew he hadn’t changed at all. Feeling like a fool all over again, she yanked her arm away.
“You have no right to kiss me like that,” she admonished, “just because you wanted to.”
“I did want to,” he murmured, this time not at all remorseful. “I truly did.”
She ignored the knotting inside her belly. “We are only friends.”
“Friends who kissed,” he clarified. “With great passion.”
“There wasn’t any great passion,” she grated out the lie between clenched teeth, knowing exactly how passionate his kisses were but refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting that.
“There wasn’t? Then maybe we should try it again.”
The man was impossible! Her frustration with him—with herself—with all of it!—boiled to the surface. “We are friends, nothing more,” she asserted, knowing she had to acknowledge the truth behind that statement, no matter how painful. “That’s all we will ever be.”
He murmured, “I wouldn’t say ever...”
Her breath hitched at the soft promise behind his words, but she knew he wasn’t sincere. Painful experience had taught her well what to expect from him. She’d hardened her heart enough to keep him from ever breaking it again, although each heated glance, each breathtaking kiss, and each caressing touch sliced deeper than she wanted to admit.
But he’d played with her affections once. She refused to let him do it again.
“Dunwich and a Strathmore daughter? It’s expected.” She shook her head with a dismissive laugh and repeated his words from last night, “And you never do the expected.”
She darted a glance in his direction and found his eyes narrowed and fixed straight ahead, his shoulders stiff, and his jaw clenched tight. Oh, he was not happy that she’d laughed at him!
But it was nothing less than the rascal deserved. What had he expected, for heaven’s sake? Did he really expect her to take him seriously? Most likely he thought she’d fling herself into his arms and beg to be kissed, grateful for whatever scrap of attention he paid her.
She couldn’t blame him for thinking so. After all, she’d once done exactly that.
But never again.
A line of demarcation needed to be drawn. “You’re the same man you’ve always been, eschewing the expected in favor of the unpredicted. For example, kissing me back there,” she announced with a nonchalant wave of her hand, as if he hadn’t shaken her to her core and left her longing for more. “That was very unexpected.”
“Not for me,” he drawled. “I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I walked into the ball last night and saw you.”
His words sent heat twining down her spine. “Well, it was for me.” In more ways than she was willing to count. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Taking her shoulders, he stopped her and turned her to face him. “Why not?” His eyes gleamed, as if he wanted nothing more than to pull her back into his arms. “Didn’t you enjoy it?”
So much more than I should have. She shook her head to fight back the rising blush. “It doesn’t matter if—”
“Because I certainly did.” He drove her to fresh distraction with the breathy purr of his voice. “A great deal.”
“That’s not the point,” she dodged.
“I think it’s a very important point.” He slid a heated gaze down at her mouth, and for a moment, she thought he might just kiss her. To prove his very important point. “Because you deserve to be kissed, Faith Westover,” he murmured, lowering his head until his breath shivered against her lips. So close to touching, yet so frustratingly far away...“You deserve to have a man hold you in his arms, to be touched and caressed. To be assured of how desirable you are, the kind of woman who invades a man’s thoughts and haunts his dreams.” His eyes darkened as he stared into hers. “To realize exactly how much power you hold over him, and how desperately he wants you.”
A longing flared hot inside her. “Oh,” she whispered breathlessly.
“Yes.” His lips curled into a crooked grin. “Oh.”
She held her breath, waiting for his mouth to seize hers in another gut-twisting kiss—
He suddenly released her shoulders. Turning away, he walked on down the lane, whistling to himself as he went, with the horse sauntering along behind.
Left standing in the middle of the lane, Faith blinked in utter bewilderment at the sting of not being kissed, even as confusion swirled inside her. Because she didn’t want to be kissed, certainly not in that scandalous way he’d suggested. In that wanton way that would make her feel beautiful and desired, an object of passion and love. That simply wonderful, thrillingly exciting way—
Oh, the devil take him!
She ran to catch up with him, then sniffed haughtily as she fell into step beside him, as if she wouldn’t deign even to give him the time of day except that they were walking in the same direction. As if her heart wasn’t slamming against her ribs with each pounding beat.
“You shouldn’t tease me like that.” But her scolding emerged as a throaty murmur.
“I’m not teasing, Faith. Far from it.” It wasn’t amusement that shone on his face. It was raw determination. “Every night during the past two years, I lay in bed and thought about you, wondering what I could do to make amends for the way I treated you. What it would feel like to kiss you again, to hold you...to hear you laugh or see one of your smiles. And every thought of you made me realize what a damned fool I was to leave you.”
She stopped in mid-step, so suddenly that the dog smacked into her legs. The hound fell back onto his haunches and looked up at her, shaking his head with dazed bewilderment. And she stared at Stephen, the same dazed bewilderment clouding her face.
*****
Stephen watched her curiously, waiting for her reply to that wholly improper confession that had left her momentarily speechless and charmingly flustered.
“I don’t believe you,” she finally said through her stunned surprise, which he was certain she’d meant to utter with all the frosty haughtiness of an octogenarian governess but which actually emerged as a husky purr. “You didn’t write, you didn’t say of word of this until now...”
“Because you weren’t ready to hear it.” He still wasn’t certain she was, even now.
She gaped at him silently for a long moment, as if she simply couldn’t fathom him. Then with an irritated scowl, she scurried away, the dog once more loping behind at her heels.
Stephen stared after her. So, he’d rattled her. And quite thoroughly, too, judging from the way she kept her back ramrod straight as she hurried away and refused to look back at him.
Good. Because she’d thoroughly rattled him.
He hadn’t meant to confess his attraction for her, and he certainly hadn’t meant to kiss her like that or touch her like that—although he found it difficult to regret holding her in his arms. Sweet Lucifer, how much he’d missed her! But now, there was more to her than just the innocent sweetness he remembered, because he’d tasted her desire for him.
If there had been any lingering doubts inside him that Faith wasn’t meant for him, her kisses had destroyed them all.
His long strides easily caught up with her shorter ones, made even more stunted because the mongrel at her heels kept getting under her feet in his determination to remain as close to her as possible. When he darted in front of her, she nearly tripped over him.
Stephen grabbed her arm to steady her, saying nothing when she yanked her arm away and kept right on stomping toward home, which now came into sight around a bend in the lane.
He tugged at his gloves to keep his hands busy so he wouldn’t make one last attempt to pull her into his arms again before they walked into view from the house. “You should also know that I’ve made plans for Mary and Jeremy to resettle by next month. Their stay at Elmhurst is only temporary.”
She gave a peeved sniff. “That is none of my concern.”
Oh yes, it was. Very much. The obstinate woman just didn’t know it yet. “Then the rumors about her will die down and—”
“And the others?”
He blinked, puzzled. “Pardon?”
“All the other rumors that have been circulating about you since your return, the ones which have nothing to do with Mary and her son,” she clipped out, nearly as quickly as her strides in her hurry to be away from him. “Will those die down, too?”
His chest tightened. “Those aren’t true.”
“So I’m to believe that you’ve given up drinking yourself into foxed fits of debauchery?” Accusation dripped from her voice, although he certainly deserved every bit of her displeasure. “That used to be your favorite pastime.”
His lips twisted ruefully. That was a very apt description of the shiftless man she’d once known him to be. “Yes, I’ve given it up.”
“Fraternizing with actresses and singers in smoky backrooms of Covent Garden hells?”
“I haven’t been to London since my return.” He slid her a suspicious glance. How did she know what went on in those rooms?
“And when you do travel there eventually?” she pressed. Now that they’d reached the small meadow behind the Hartsfield stables, her pace quickened, as if she couldn’t be away from him soon enough. And the uncertain furrow in her brow that he’d put there seemed to deepen with each step. “Am I to believe that you won’t spend all your time wagering at the clubs and gaming tables?”
“Believe it,” he answered calmly. “Because I plan on spending all my time with you, Faith.”
She halted and stared at him as if he’d just sprouted a second head. Her green eyes widened, and her pink lips formed a surprised O.
He took a single step closer to her, coming as close as he’d dared with the stables only a few yards away. “I’ll ask you again,” he said quietly, his voice low. “Will you give me a second chance?”
She swallowed, hard. So hard that the urge to place his lips right there against her throat and feel the soft movement for himself hit him so intensely that he shuddered.
“And the gossip about the other women, Stephen?” she whispered. Her words were barely more than a breath, but their indictment was piercing. “All the wives and widows you’re...intimate with?”
“There are no other women.” He stared into her eyes, trying to make her understand how much she meant to him. “I’m not the same man who left England, no matter what the gossips say.”
Doubt glistened in her eyes. “Am I truly to believe that?”
“Yes.” That single word was spoken with all the resolve he could muster, and every bit of his tarnished soul.
A peculiar look darkened her face, one he couldn’t quite decipher, as she stared at him silently, as if she couldn’t find the words to put voice to the emotions swirling inside her. “Stephen...”
But they were unable to say anything more because a groom hurried from the stable to take his horse, ending all further conversation. As he gave instructions for the gelding’s care, she backed away to put several feet between them, the rescued hound still at her heels.
“I have to see to the dog,” she explained, her fingers twisting nervously in her bonnet’s ribbons. “Thank you for the walk.”
She turned before he could stop her and practically ran toward the stables to flee from him.
“Faith?” he called out.
Reluctantly, she stopped, and her shoulders stiffened as she turned to face him.
“I want you to be able to trust me.”
Her face melted into an expression of deep sadness. “I don’t know if that’s possible anymore.”
Then she hurried toward the stable door, calling to the dog to follow her. But the animal wouldn’t have strayed from her side if someone had waved a boiled chicken before its nose for all that he’d latched so possessively onto her. Stephen couldn’t blame him. He wanted nothing more himself than to be by her side, now and for the rest of his life. Although he suspected she would have come after him with a club herself if he suggested such a thing to her now.
He had changed, damn it, but she wasn’t willing to believe it. And he’d never have a chance with her until he proved it.
But for God’s sake, how did a man prove what he wasn’t?
Muttering a curse beneath his breath, he yanked off his gloves and slapped them against his thigh as he started forward toward the stables after her. He couldn’t help himself. He was just as besotted as the dog.
As he reached the stable door, Edward Westover stepped out from the stall where he’d been inspecting a horse. His dark gaze met Stephen’s. “Dunwich.”
He stopped, his spine straightening. “Strathmore.”
The duke turned to glance down the wide aisle at Faith as she gave rapid instructions to one of the stable boys about the dog’s care. The shaggy beast sat at her feet and scratched a hind foot behind his ear. When he switched legs, he forgot to put the first one down and fell forward onto his nose. Immediately, she knelt down and pulled the dog into her arms, fussing over him even as he joyfully slobbered wet licks across her face.
Stephen shook his head. Christ. He was jealous of a damned dog.
“Where did she find this one?” Strathmore asked. The two men were far enough away that she couldn’t overhear.
“In the lane near the river. Rescued it from a man who was beating it.”
Her father nodded with a heavy sigh. “She’s always bringing home one kind of stray or another. And speaking of strays...” He slid Stephen a sideways glance. “She’s happy to have you back in England. We all are.”
Stephen didn’t believe that for a second, but his lips twisted wryly as he answered, “Thank you, sir.”
“The duchess and I have always thought well of you, and we’ve been honored to be your godparents. You were named after my late brother, you know.” He smacked his riding crop against the sole of his boot to dislodge a piece of straw clinging to the heel. “We’ve cared about you as if you were one of our own.”
“Yes, sir.” His gaze returned to Faith. “And I’m grateful for—”
“Stay away from my daughter.”
Stephen slowly turned his head and found Strathmore’s dark eyes boring into him. “I would never do anything to harm Faith,” he assured him. And meant every word.
“Good to hear it.” Strathmore smiled and slapped him good-naturedly on the back. “Because it would be a shame if I had to shoot you.”
He walked away toward Faith, who greeted her father with a kiss to his cheek.
Stephen arched a brow. A damned shame, indeed.