Northumberland lay between the Tyne and the Tweed and on a tilt towards the North Sea. Its countryside was of rivers and forests, where the Celts, Romans and Normans had all left their own particular mark. From the south the traveller was able to take in the whole of the north borderland of England, mile after mile over fell and vale, across the long ridges to Cheviot and the Solway, where streams and burns meandered in timeless grace between the hills and centuries old deep clefts.
Kit and Serena had been travelling for five days, and the farther north they went the biting cold deepened. It was on one such night, at a busy hostelry in Teesdale, when Serena had her first alarming and embarrassing encounter with Kit. Retiring for the night, she was too exhausted to notice that she had drawn the attention of one of the patrons. With a keen interest the man had watched her eat her meal and say goodnight to her companion, taking particular note when he heard her say that she would see him in the morning.
Serena was deep in slumber when the knocking began on her door. Responding with an objectionable groan, she pulled the covers up over her head, too tired to acknowledge it. When it persisted, her eyes heavy with sleep, she padded across the floor, shivering when she felt the cold air assault her bare flesh. Clad only in a shift, it was in moments like these when she would have given anything for the protection of a robe.
Sounds of people still about drifted up to her from the ground floor of the inn, indicating that the hour could not be all that late. She yawned. It must be an important matter for Kit to feel the need to wake her—but, she thought with a feeling of annoyance, if it was his intention to share her bed, she would give him short shrift.
Suddenly the door was thrust open and she fell back with a gasp. In the dim light a man pushed past her and shut the door. It was difficult to see who it was, but of one thing she was quite certain: it wasn’t Kit. Suddenly she was wide awake, outraged at the man’s audacity to force his way into her room. Breathing heavily, he made a grab for her, but she evaded his groping hands.
‘Come now,’ the man hissed as she moved away from him, eyeing him warily. ‘I’ve had my eye on you ever since you entered the inn.’
‘Get out of my room before I scream,’ Serena ordered through gritted teeth.
‘Nay—be nice to me, now,’ the man crooned, his tongue sloppy with drink. ‘I saw you downstairs and right fetching you looked in those boy’s breeches. Let’s see what tasty bits they concealed, shall we?’
Breathing hard, the man lunged for her again. Anticipating his move, Serena made a dash for the door, but he reached out and grasped her hair, making her cry out in pain as he pulled her back, grabbing her round the waist, flinging her on to the bed and swooping down on her. A fierce struggle ensued between them. Serena lashed out and kicked him with all her strength, her stomach heaving at the stench of his sweat and the foul breath on her face.
With panic born out of desperation, she managed to reach out and grasp a candlestick standing on a table beside the bed. Raising her arm, she hit her assailant hard on the head with the heavy object with utter disregard to the consequences, hearing him grunt before going limp against her.
With her heart pounding and blood drumming in her ears, quickly Serena disentangled herself from his limbs and flew towards the door, pulling it open and dashing across the passageway to Kit’s room. Slipping inside, she pressed herself against the panels—and, at the sight that met her eyes, immediately wondered if she might not have jumped out of the pan into the fire by seeking this particular sanctuary.
Kit was stark naked, having just finished washing. The candles burning in the room cast a mellow light around him, and he turned on hearing the door open, far from disconcerted when he saw Serena. Her skimpy shift outlined her perfect shape. Pressed against the door she was breathing hard, her face flushed and her hair a wild tangle about her bare shoulders. Kit stared at her, his eyebrows arched in surprise. In embarrassed confusion Serena quickly turned her head to avoid looking at his nakedness, and with a soft chuckle of amusement and casual unconcern, Kit picked up a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
‘I—I’m so sorry,’ Serena gasped, flaming tides of hot colour sweeping over her face. ‘Please forgive my intrusion.’
‘I’m surprised that you of all people would enter a gentleman’s bedchamber without knocking,’ Kit drawled. ‘As you can see—I wasn’t expecting you.’
Serena didn’t want to see. She didn’t want to look at him at all, and she was thankful of the curtain of hair that hung down the side of her face, shielding her view. ‘There’s a man in my room,’ she blurted out. ‘When he knocked on my door I thought it was you.’
Kit frowned, no longer smiling. ‘So you let him in?’
She gulped and nodded. ‘Yes. He—he is an ill-mannered oaf and quite drunk. He tried to force himself on me—and we—we fought.’
Kit immediately strode across to her and took her shoulders, gripping them hard, his expression grim. ‘Look at me, Serena,’ he demanded in a tone that prompted her obedience. Slowly she turned her head to look at him. ‘Did he hurt you?’
She shook her head, oddly touched by his concern. ‘No. But I think I may have hurt him. I only hope I haven’t killed him.’
Kit’s eyes narrowed speculatively. ‘Why? What have you done?’
‘I—I hit him on the head with a candlestick.’
At the vehemence with which she spoke, Kit had great difficulty in repressing a grin. ‘Poor man. Had he known he was about to face a voracious hawk instead of a docile, domestic dove, he would have avoided your door like he would a thousand plagues. Wait here. I’ll go and see.’
Drawing her to one side, he went out, just in time to see a man stumbling quickly away down the passageway groaning and holding his head as if all the serpents in hell had invaded his skull. Scowling, Kit watched the pathetic wretch go, sorely tempted to go after him and beat him to a bloody pulp for daring to lay hands on Serena, but he thought better of it. Nothing would be achieved by thrashing a drunken man and drawing attention to themselves.
Kit returned to find Serena standing with her arms crossed firmly over her chest. ‘Rest assured that you did the man no harm,’ he told her, going to the window to draw the curtains. ‘He’s already stumbling down the passageway in search of his own chamber. In the morning when he wakes he will be unable to remember what hit him.’
Unconsciously Serena’s eyes were drawn to Kit as he turned from her to pull at the curtains, her gaze settling on his back. She found herself admiring his wide shoulders and narrow hips with the towel draped snugly around them. The sight of his semi-nakedness caused her heart to quicken with excitement. The sinews of his bare back rippled as he moved, and there was a sensuality that sparked the hot blood within her. It was difficult for a young woman not to admire a man who was built with such perfect proportions as he was.
Kit turned and caught her watching him. Meeting his level gaze, she flushed crimson and turned her head away. Slowly he moved towards her with a lopsided smile on his lips and a purposeful gleam in his dark eyes.
‘I’m happy to learn you would be willing to open your door to me, Serena—should I come knocking in the middle of the night,’ he murmured huskily, his eyes burning into hers as he reached out and lightly brushed away some wisps of her hair that clung to her face. ‘And you cannot really blame the man—whoever he was—for seeking you out, looking as you do. I can well understand how he felt.’
‘There’s no excuse for his behaviour,’ Serena retorted hotly, doing her utmost to hold on to her crumbling composure and keep her eyes above Kit’s waist. ‘And I trust you will not have need to come knocking on my door in the middle of the night. If you have anything to say to me it can wait until morning.’
She walked past him towards the door, but suddenly Kit’s arm went round her and he pulled her back against his naked chest.
‘You don’t have to go,’ he said, his voice low and urgent.
‘I—I must.’
‘No, Serena,’ he murmured, turning her round to face him and slipping his fingers through the hair on either side of her face. ‘I have needs. I need you.’
‘Need!’ she gasped, seeing the workings of his mind and unable to say more, because at that moment he stopped her mouth with a kiss, shocking her senses alarmingly.
Kit’s lips moved hungrily over hers, bruising and demanding, warming her to the core of her being, and beneath the onslaught of his fervour she felt herself go limp against him, feeling her body’s betrayal as it began to respond shamelessly. She felt his hand boldly slipping inside the neck of her low bodice and lightly cup and caress her warm breast, feeling and teasing the hard nipple between his fingers. His mouth left hers and travelled down her throat, finally coming to that object which was giving him so much pleasure. His mouth sought and caressed it, the heat of his lips scalding her through the thin protection of cloth.
Again Kit found her lips, his hands moulding themselves to her buttocks and pressing her to him until she could no longer ignore the evidence of his burgeoning passion. The warmth of his naked flesh penetrated the delicate material of her shift, and as she felt his fingers grow bolder and begin raising the hem, she pulled back.
‘No, Kit,’ she gasped, her senses reeling. ‘It will serve no purpose.’
‘No?’ he said, his voice oddly strained, unable to hide his annoyance on finding his lusts thwarted. Her nearness had aroused him to such a pitch that he had a sudden need to rearrange his towel.
Ignoring the plea in Kit’s dark, compelling eyes, Serena tore herself from him and returned to her room, locking the door and seeking the warm sanctuary of her bed once more. She struggled to blot all that had just happened from her mind—of the stranger’s pawing hands and the disgusting smell of him. But nothing could stop her thinking of Kit and how he had looked in his nakedness when she had entered his room. The magnificence of his masculine body had almost proved too much for her virgin eyes. His broad shoulders and muscular chest, his flat belly and his manhood, and every other disconcerting feature about his perfect body, had been scorched and were branded on her memory for all time
On what Kit hoped would be their last night on the road they spent at an inn close to the church and the market place in Corbridge, a bustling trading town on the southern border of Northumberland. The town, approached from the south, appeared as a compact huddle of stone houses and slate roofs above the banks of the River Tyne, but as they drew closer it became clear to Serena that it was an important commercial centre—its trade, Kit explained, mainly in leather, hides and iron.
Outside the inn Kit dismounted and helped Serena down. Usually when he offered his assistance she coolly and stubbornly rejected it, afraid of coming too close after that night in Teesdale. But this evening, having ridden farther than during any of the days they had been on the road, she was more fatigued than usual and almost fell into his arms in her eagerness to find a bed, where she might creep beneath the feather comforters and sleep until dawn.
The following morning Kit rose early and went to wake her, intending to make an early start. Usually she was up and ready to leave as soon as they had broken their fast, but this morning when he tapped on her door there was no answer. The door opened slightly at a push and he paused and looked inside, thinking she must have risen before him and gone downstairs, but the sight that greeted him made him catch his breath. Serena was only half dressed and humming a soft, lilting tune as she washed herself over a bowl.
Her arms and shoulders were bare, her thick auburn tresses fastened on her head in wild confusion. Rubbing soap on to her creamy skin, she was so absorbed in her task that she was unaware of Kit’s presence. Utterly bewitched and enchanted he stood perfectly still, unable to drag his eyes away from this treasure that was indeed a sight for sore eyes. Everything about her was untamed and passionate, and every move she made was a sensual invitation to his starved senses.
What little there was of her shift moulded itself to her body with endearing delight, and Kit’s eyes devoured the loveliness she displayed, every nerve in his body coming alive and responding to her as she leaned over the bowl to wash her face. His gaze followed tiny droplets of water as they trickled slowly down her throat and disappeared between the curves of her fully ripened breasts, their roundness and rosy peaks invitingly exposed and beckoning his hungry gaze as her skimpy white bodice scooped open to reveal all.
Remembering what it had been like to feel and kiss those exquisite orbs, Kit felt a rush of blood to his temples and his stomach quivered. Unaware of his quiet watchfulness, Serena reached for the towel and began rubbing herself dry, still humming softly to herself. Kit was tempted to rush inside and clasp her in a fierce embrace but, knowing she would explode in a storm of rage for daring to look at her in her state of undress, he smiled crookedly and stepped back.
Unwittingly, he must have made a sound or she sensed his presence, for with a gasp she turned towards the door, swiftly placing the towel in front of her to conceal her nakedness. Her eyes widened with furious rage when they went beyond the door and focused on Kit’s smiling, impertinent face. She flushed scarlet, but then her chin came up and she burst into life like an erupting volcano.
‘Kit Brodie!’ she lambasted. ‘Have you no manners at all that you must come prowling and spy on me like an impertinent sneak thief!’
Standing there half naked she tried to protect her modesty with a damp towel, finding it ironical that their roles should be reversed from the night she had come upon him stark naked in his chamber.
She looked so adorable and desirable to Kit that he could not resist taunting her. Brazenly he pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it behind him to protect her from the eyes of other patrons staying at the inn. He grinned, pure devilment dancing in his black eyes as they travelled from her flaming face to the towel she clutched to her bosom.
‘I did knock—which is more than can be said of you when you sought me out in my chamber,’ Kit reminded her, his eyes resting on her full, soft lips. ‘The door was off the latch so I thought I’d wake you. Recalling how fatigued you were last night, I thought perhaps you might need a little encouragement to get out of bed.’
‘As you can see I am wide awake and getting washed, so kindly have the decency to leave,’ she snapped. ‘How dare you intrude on my privacy? I’m sure you have seen enough to appease your ardour.’
Kit’s teeth flashed like a pirate’s in his swarthy face. Settling his hands on his hips, he slowly advanced towards her, the torment of wanting her almost unbearable. ‘Indeed, you are extremely fair to look upon, Serena. My eyes have not seen nearly enough and ache to see more.’
Something in his expression made Serena shrink back. She was conscious of his height and how his mere presence seemed to fill the small chamber. Because he was fully dressed in his black doublet and thigh-length boots, she was extremely conscious of her own state of undress, and she was also conscious and alarmed that she was stirred by his masculinity. But she refused to surrender to the call of her blood and crushed these treacherous feelings that threatened to weaken her. Glaring at him, her green eyes were vibrant and burning with ire and indignation.
‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on me, Kit Brodie. Come any nearer and I swear I shall scream the place down.’
Kit’s bold gaze continued to openly rake her body but, recognising the merits of restraint, he checked himself and advanced no farther. What had begun as teasing was in danger of turning to something more and getting completely out of hand if he touched her, because he knew if he did he would be unable to conquer his desire and would drag her on to the bed and make love to her. He chuckled and turned from her.
‘Fear not, Serena, I shall not abuse or take advantage of you in your moment of weakness. However,’ he murmured, turning and drinking his fill of her comely shape behind the towel once more, ‘I can only hope my act of mercy will in due course reap its own rewards.’
Serena recognised the meaning behind his words. ‘You beast!’ she flared. He was laughing as he moved towards the door and her lips formed every conceivable insult she could throw at him as she gave vent to her anger. Bending down, she picked up her boot, hurling it viciously at the door as he passed through. Unfortunately it missed and hit the wood instead with a resounding thud before falling to the floor, and still she could hear his laughter as he went along the passageway.
Kit derived immense pleasure from the memory he carried with him downstairs, and not even the landlord’s succulent breakfast could compete with the comeliness of Serena’s adorable assets. On a more serious note, he knew he must fight to keep tight rein on his desires where she was concerned. He was in no position to form a serious relationship with a woman of her background until he had cleared his name of the evil he had been unjustly accused of, and his property and titles had been restored.
But, he thought, smiling quietly to himself, there was no reason why the time they had to spend together could not be pleasurable.
After a long angry moment Serena calmed down enough to finish her toilet and dress for the day’s journey. Dreading the moment when she would have to face Kit, she was sorely tempted to leave him at the inn and find her way to the coast, despite having given him her word that she would do no such thing. But she knew she would get no farther than the end of the street before he discovered her absence and came after her.
The sky was heavy with snow as Kit and Serena continued northwards. Knowing there would be no inn in which they could spend the night, there was a need for haste. It was Kit’s intention to reach their destination before nightfall.
The countryside became wilder and more desolate. They followed drovers’ and packhorse tracks, tracks that had been followed for centuries. Serena was uneasy, certain they would lose their way and become lost—or worse. They might be set upon, robbed and murdered by thieves. But she found her fears easing gradually as they progressed, feeling a strange security in the presence of her companion—despite his conduct earlier. Kit knew the area well and, looking large and forbidding astride his large dappled brown horse, with a pistol at his belt and a sword hanging from his saddle, he would instil caution in the meanest robber.
A lightening of spirits seemed to come over them both. Perhaps it was because they were conscious of nearing their destination or because the place itself was weaving a spell around them but, whatever the reason, Serena felt a whole new world inviting her to explore, becoming pleasantly aware of the beauty and strangeness all around her, the smell of the crisp, cold air, the sodden grass and rich damp earth which, like a drug, all seeped into her skin.
Following Kit along the tracks, she listened in silent admiration as he ardently pointed out places of interest to her, enthusing at length about every one of them, telling her about the moorland ridges and the North Sea to the east, and the gently undulating Cheviots in the north. Serena saw her first shaggy cattle and black-faced sheep, and she laughed with Kit when they heard the chuckling grouse in the heather, watching in admiration as ptarmigan and wild duck took flight on being disturbed, and commented on the inquisitive black cock, whose sharp eyes would follow them until they were out of sight.
It was clear to Serena how much Kit loved this country, that it was like wine to his soul, and how loath he must be to leave it for the south. They were in a valley sheltered from the buffeting wind that scudded the heavy snow clouds across the sky when they stopped for something to eat. A wide stream tumbled its way through the centre, in a hurry like themselves to reach its destination. Unfastening the bag containing the food they had purchased in Corbridge from Kit’s saddle, they left the horses to graze and found a secluded spot beneath some boulders.
Serena perched on a rock, munching her bread and cheese in silence. Appreciative of the view she gazed along the length of the valley. Enthralled, a feeling of peace engulfed her. Having lived all her life in a turmoil, the quiet was foreign to her. In a sense she became like someone who had fallen under some kind of enchantment. Unbeknown to her the wind had brought colour to her cheeks and her face had softened, her magnificent eyes glowing jewel bright.
‘It’s a magnificent view,’ she commented softly, turning to look at her companion, and when she caught his eye she sensed he was feeling exactly as she felt, that the place had cast its own special enchantment on him, too, but unlike her he was familiar to it.
Kit was sitting with his back against a rock watching her, an arm resting casually on his raised knee. Something in his expression made Serena’s breath catch in her throat and look away. A warm glow spread inside her and she felt a brazen longing to be close to him, a feeling not unknown to her, having experienced it before when they were together like this.
‘I have to agree with you, Serena,’ Kit replied, using her name easily now. It sounded so perfectly natural to Serena that she failed to notice it any more.
Kit tore a piece of bread from a loaf and began eating it slowly, contemplating her profile. For most of the time he had been purposely quiet and tolerant of Serena’s capricious moods, knowing the loss of her home and her father’s plight in the Low Countries were still very fresh in her mind. But she had withstood the long journey well. He would have expected her to look pale and drawn after the long days on the road, but amazingly she seemed to thrive on it.
Gazing at her in rueful reflection, he recalled how she had looked earlier when he found her half naked. The recollection stirred and raked the red-hot embers in his mind. She had been totally at ease and unaware of the watchful interest of his gaze. He recalled the moment when she had bent forward and the neckline of her bodice had gaped open to reveal the soft plumpness of her breasts and high peaks of the lustrous, rose-red nipples, hardened by the cold water she had splashed on her chest.
His eyes dark and brooding, leisurely he leaned back against the rock, his memory expanding, the vision bringing a smile to his lips and a narrowing to his eyes, and he could see in his mind’s eye the look on her face when she had turned on him, her eyes as vindictive and sharp as a snipe’s beak that could pick a man’s bones clean. But now he saw how soft and flushed her face was in repose, her thick lashes making soft shadows on her cheeks and her hair a glorious halo of auburn light.
‘What time do you think it is?’ Serena asked, breaking into his thoughts, mercifully unaware of the direction in which they were travelling.
‘Around noon, I imagine. Why do you ask?’
‘Will we be at our destination before dark?’
Kit frowned, glancing up at the leaden clouds hanging low over the hills and noting the strong, snow laden gusts of wind whipping across the landscape. He hoped the snow would hold off until they reached Addlington Hall, his grandmother’s old home. ‘Hopefully. If the snow holds off, that is. But the sky bodes ill. Eat as much as you can now because I don’t want to stop again.’
Prodigiously hungry, Serena was eager to comply and unashamedly cut herself another large hunk of bread and cheese. When she was replete she went to the stream, noting the ice-crusted edges as she scooped some of the freezing water into her hands and drank. With a ghost of a smile on his lips, Kit never took his eyes off her, silently admiring and contemplating her every move.
‘I’m impressed,’ Serena said, wiping the water from her chin with the back of her hand and resuming her perch on the boulder, a little smile dimpling her cheeks. ‘How could I ever have imagined we would become lost with you as our guide? You follow the tracks like a true native.’
Kit grinned. ‘That’s because I am. I was born and raised in Northumberland at Minton Hall—several miles south of Coldstream on the Scottish border.’
Serena was surprised, not realising until then that he came from the north. ‘And is that where we are going?’
‘No. I’m taking you to my maternal grandmother’s home, Addlington Hall, which is not quite as far north as that.’
‘Who lives there now?’
‘No one. Apart from a couple of servants my mother employs as caretakers, that is. Under the entailment and because there was no son, the house and land came to my mother on my grandmother’s death, which was quite recent.’
‘And will it be yours one day?’
Kit’s expression hardened. ‘In the event of recent happenings and my assumed involvement in the Gunpowder Plot, that depends on what happens to Thurlow and if the king sees fit to redeem it to me. It became forfeit to the Crown on my arrest. I inherited Thurlow when my cousin died. My father grew up there but, being the younger of two sons, he did not inherit the estate.’
‘Are the Brodies not a Scottish family?’
‘Yes. But it’s a large family and became scattered, some going south during my great-grandfather’s time. Thurlow came into the family about then.’
‘And is your mother Scottish?’
‘Like my father, she has an equal smattering of both English and Scottish blood. When my father married her, he was fortunate that her family held many properties in the north—one of them being Minton Hall, which was where they chose to live,’ Kit explained. ‘I was very close to my maternal grandmother and spent my youth between the two houses. But much as I love Northumberland, Thurlow was where I chose to live when I inherited it from my cousin.’
Serena looked at him curiously, realising that she did not know this man at all. He had looked so very much at home in Warwickshire that she’d imagined he’d spent all his life in the south and close to the court. Yet he seemed completely at home here in the wilds of Northumberland as well. She noted that a faraway look entered his eyes as his gaze swept down the valley.
‘Between a man’s intention and what actually happens, lies a distance that must be measured in fathoms,’ he said quietly, ‘which I have come to find out during these last weeks. I had planned to live each day at Thurlow in wedded bliss to Dorothea, but I soon found that this would be impossible. Events over the past weeks have prevented that.’
‘And if Thurlow is redeemed to you, what will become of your grandmother’s house? You cannot live in two places.’
‘I have a brother and a sister. Melissa is eighteen years old and lives with my mother in Edinburgh for most of the time. It’s possible that when she marries, she—or Paul, for that matter—might favour living at Addlington Hall. It depends on what my mother intends doing with the estate. I would like you to become acquainted with them while you are in the north—if it isn’t asking too much.’
‘No, not at all. Thank you. I would like that. And where is your brother?’
‘Paul is doing military service in the Low Countries.’
‘Like his brother before him. I can see that you love Northumberland, and I fail to understand how you can bear to leave it feeling as you do,’ said Serena, trying hard to understand, never having lived anywhere other than Dunedin Hall. Her face was puzzled. ‘How can you belong by blood to one place and yet feel at home in another? Evidently you have the ability to belong to wherever you happen to be.’
‘That is true. But here I can be myself.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I can see that.’
The intensity, the warmly intimate look in Kit’s dark eyes held Serena transfixed, its warmth igniting a flame within her blood. Her delicately beautiful face was framed by her halo of hair blowing in the restless wind, and the effect of Kit’s gaze was vibrant and alarmingly alive. She tried to imagine him as a boy riding these hills and fells, seeing him little different to how he looked now, with his unruly black hair blowing in the wind, riding his horse with nobility and pride, as rugged and hard as the landscape over which he rode.
‘No matter where I am I shall always regard Northumberland as my home,’ said Kit. Standing up and moving towards her, he grinned suddenly, sparkling devilment dancing in his eyes when he looked down into her upturned face, his heavy-lidded gaze speculative. ‘One day you will thank me for bringing you here and widening your horizons.’
Taking her hand, Kit drew her to her feet, keeping hold of it far too long for Serena’s comfort. His warm strong grip and probing dark gaze disturbed her, making it more difficult for her to regard him as an enemy, but the arrogant self-assurance of his expression made her suddenly wary of him and she bristled. His words reminded her with harsh clarity that he was the one responsible for preventing her from going to her father in Flanders, something which had momentarily slipped her mind. Resenting his easy dismissal of her grudge against him, she found it difficult to remain civil.
‘I could have widened my own horizons just as well in Flanders,’ she told him sharply, her eyes sparking as she tossed her head with a flippant air and snatched her hand from his grasp. ‘With people of my own choosing. You may yet live to rue the day you insisted I accompany you to Northumberland.’
Having roused the vixen he had come to know and love, a corner of Kit’s lips lifted roguishly and his eyes pinned hers until he saw a flush of ire mount her cheeks. ‘Why? Do I abuse you?’ he asked. ‘Is my treatment of you so agonising that you do not take stock of your surroundings and admire and glory in them. You must forgive me,’ he chuckled softly, ‘but I was of the opinion that you were beginning to enjoy seeing Northumberland almost as much as I do myself.’
‘Yes, you abuse me constantly and should die of shame for bringing me here against my will,’ Serena berated him angrily. ‘And despite the beauty of the place it does not compensate for the cold and damp that is beginning to seep into my bones, numbing my mind so I can scarcely think or feel anymore. Nor do I like the discomfort of riding mile upon mile along endless tracks, fit only for goats rather than men and horses, where we may be set upon at any time and rendered helpless by outlaws.’
‘My dear Serena, when were you ever helpless?’ Kit laughed. ‘And God help any outlaw if they should dare attack you.’
Anger choked any words Serena would have uttered and, turning from the amusement in his wickedly dancing dark eyes and infuriating grin, she flounced off to where they had left their horses, just as the first flurries of snow began to fall.
Dismayed to find their horses had wandered to the other side of the fiercely tumbling stream where they were contentedly nibbling at the grass, she looked down at the water, reluctant to wade across. It was deep in places and would be sure to come over the tops of her boots, and she had no wish to continue the rest of the journey with wet feet. Calling to Polly to come back, the usually obedient horse merely glanced at her and carried on munching the grass, infuriating her further.
Having noted that Kit’s skittish, high-spirited stallion had whickered and pranced and courted her beautiful Polly since the moment they had first become acquainted—and that the stallion’s behaviour bore an uncanny resemblance to its master—she was certain that the wicked beast had something to do with her docile mare’s change of temperament and disobedience.
Having collected the remnants of their meal and placed it back in the bag, Kit threw it over his shoulder and came to stand behind her.
‘Allow me. Let me assist you. I think we will have to go to them,’ and without further ado and before Serena could object, he caught her up, placing one arm beneath her knees and the other round her back, holding her so close she could feel the hard rack of his muscular chest, and the firm-as-a-rock steadiness of his arms.
But placing his booted feet on the rocky bed of the stream, Kit slipped—whether accidentally or on purpose Serena had no way of knowing, but she gasped, fully expecting to find herself immersed in the cold tumbling water. To her relief he regained his footing.
‘Put me down,’ she demanded. ‘I can make my own way across.’
Kit laughed, having no intention of relinquishing his hold on this delectable baggage when he’d managed to draw her close at last. ‘Just bear with me and cease struggling. I should hate to drench us both.’
Realising her arms had locked themselves about his neck, and having closed her eyes in panic the moment he had slipped, Serena now opened them cautiously, finding his face so very close to her own, his eyes staring into hers, plumbing their emerald depths with a leisured thoroughness as he splashed through the water.
Serena felt warmth spread unbidden over her face beneath his close perusal, embarrassed at finding herself held so close. They reached the other side of the stream and, after what she thought was an unnecessarily prolonged moment that set her teeth on edge, Kit lowered her to the ground, sliding her body down his slowly, determined to play his act of possession out to the very end.
Serena turned slightly, catching her breath in surprise when she felt the light touch of his hand against her breast. The contact sent a rush of excitement crashing through her, and it was somewhat surprising to realise that her breathing and her heartbeat were affected by his touch. She had only ever skirted on the fringes of sensual awareness, and it was astounding how quickly her body could respond.
Beneath her clothes her breasts became warm, pleasurably so, she was ashamed to realise, as her gaze fastened on Kit’s. The glow of his dark eyes probed deep into hers, penetrating and questioning. They stood quite still, their gazes arrested, magnetised in the silent communication of sexual attraction, which was unlike anything Serena had experienced before. Her breath became snared in her throat, for she was absolutely astounded that he had the ability to scatter her wits and dismantle her defences so easily. The heat of a flush suffused her, her face becoming the colour of crimson. Again she met Kit’s dark, warm eyes filled with challenging amusement, daring her to accuse him of any misdeed. But she knew he had a propensity for being mischievous and did not like being made sport of.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly, regaining her aloofness and stepping back. ‘But whatever it is you have in mind where I am concerned, I would advise you not to trifle with me. Unlike Dorothea, I am not as easily taken in by a man who takes her fancy—although it is clear to me that you do not grieve over her loss.’
What she said was true. Dorothea had become just a pale shadow of Kit’s past. ‘It’s unfortunate that our plans went awry, but I do not grieve for her. I was fond of your cousin but nothing more,’ Kit readily admitted, secretly grateful to Lord Carberry for disclaiming his suit in the light of the Gunpowder Plot. If he hadn’t done so, Kit wouldn’t be here in total isolation with Serena.
Despite their differences and her determination to stand against him at every turn, even when she was enraged and taunted and goaded him in a way no one had dared to do before, Kit enjoyed being with her more than with any woman he had known. He was intrigued by every aspect of her. Never had he met a woman who could match her for fire and spirit, and if ever she opened her arms to him he would be hard pressed to remember any of them who had gone before.
Serena’s mere presence could tantalise and awaken his lusting desires to the point of madness, while she was absolutely oblivious to what she did. She was too innocent and unworldly to realise she had been born with the wiles of a temptress.
‘Weren’t you a lovesmitten young woman once—when you fell prey to Blackwell’s charms?’ he taunted.
The emerald green eyes flashed with sparks of indignation. ‘What my feelings were for that reprobate is none of your business, and I would be grateful if you would refrain from mentioning his name to me ever again.’
She turned from him and was about to move towards Polly when, suddenly, long fingers closed tightly upon her upper arms and Kit pulled her back against his hard chest, his breath warm on her cheek when he spoke, his lips so close to her ear that it set her body trembling in alarm. Without turning, she knew that his face had become warm and sensual.
‘Please let me go,’ she begged, her voice quavering, shock and surprise stiffening her body, anticipation of what was to come slamming against the self-control she was fighting to keep intact. She tried to struggle, but he held her firm.
‘I will,’ he murmured behind her, his voice deep and husky, teasing her ear with his lips, the touch so light she could have imagined it. ‘I will respect your request, Serena, and I can only rejoice that you did not reject my touch as violently as you did Blackwell’s.’
‘Dear Lord,’ Serena whispered in alarm, closing her eyes and leaning helplessly against her tormentor, feeling that it was like falling into the open jaws of a mantrap which would snap shut at any moment. ‘Please don’t do this to me. I want none of this.’
‘I think it’s a little late to start praying,’ Kit teased huskily. ‘Do not deny what you feel or try to forestall what your heart knows to be the inevitable. There may be conspiracies at work in the political sphere, Serena, but there is another kind of conspiracy working between us, between our hearts, that neither of us will be able to escape when it reaches its height.’
‘How can you know my emotions when I have not expressed them to you?’
‘I am attuned to what a woman thinks. I know perfectly well the effect it had on you when you felt my hands slide slowly down your body when I set you on the ground. It was my pleasure, Serena, I do assure you,’ Kit said, his voice as seductive and soft as thick velvet. ‘I look forward to the day when I will break the bonds of restraint which bind you—so for mercy’s sake, do not fight me as you did Blackwell.’
Serena felt his lips drag themselves across her cheek when she pulled away from him. Without turning and quite perplexed, she moved towards Polly with wooden legs as she struggled to regain her composure, piece by shattered piece, feeling his eyes on her all the while.
What was happening to her? she asked herself, cursing the lure she had felt in the strength of Kit’s arms, dauntingly aware that she would be unable to fight the desires his touch had aroused in her if they were to remain alone for much longer. How could her treacherous heart have betrayed her so readily—and with a man she told herself she had no particular liking for? The resentment and dislike she felt for him would need careful nurturing if they were to survive.
Trembling in every limb, she mounted her horse. As she began to ride on she tried not to look at Kit again, but she found it impossible not to, having to pass where he was waiting for her on his horse to cross to the other side of the stream. The cold stare she intended to fix on him melted when she faced him once more, and though she searched his face to find something there that would stir her resentment, there was nothing but a strange tenderness in the dark depths of his eyes.