Beth guided Snowy after Landry, and soon caught him up. They rode side by side through Haldane, causing quite a stir among those villagers who saw them. Within the hour news of Mr Haldane’s ride with Miss Mannacott would spread everywhere. Apart from the area around the green, the few village streets were winding and narrow, with old stone cottages, several small shops and two taverns. And there was a smithy that again brought Jake into Beth’s thoughts. She should have taken him into her confidence and told him she was leaving; it was the least he deserved. Now there were things she ought to say to Landry, but didn’t dare to. She was a thief living under a false name, and if caught might also be charged with Joshua’s murder. Common sense dictated she should keep herself to herself, and abandon all thought of taking this man, no matter how gallant and charming, as her lover. Far wiser to continue dreaming the impossible, that Guy was her devoted lover, and everything in her world was perfect.
Landry spoke. ‘A penny for your thoughts,’ he said, as they began to ride out of the village, past some fine new houses and a handsome classical villa that commanded panoramic views of the Bristol Channel.
She struggled to collect herself. ‘I – I was thinking that Haldane seems to be enjoying new popularity,’ she said, knowing how unconvincing it sounded. She gestured toward the villa.
‘It’s a new country home for the Dowager Lady Bettersden, an elderly lady who was my mother’s childhood friend. She has always resided in London, but is soon to come here instead. I think she grows tired of the glittering lives of the ton.’
‘Whose are the other new houses?’
‘Mine, to be let to those who appreciate natural and picturesque scenery.’
‘But excluding radical poets?’ she answered mischievously.
He answered with a laugh. ‘Especially not such alarming fellows!’ He kicked his heels to urge Rollo faster.
The valley undulated gently for two miles or so, descending gradually to low oak-clad cliffs around a rocky bay. Nothing was walled or cultivated now, there was just wild common land grazed by sheep and cattle. A hare bounded away from a tuft of heather, and a rare black adder basked on a flat, sunny rock. Blue butterflies fluttered over vivid yellow gorse, and grasshoppers sang all around. Thyme and heather flavoured the air, with the background freshness of the sea to invigorate the soul. Sandstone and shale boulders were scattered on the grass as if by a giant hand, while others were balanced on top of one another in strange natural formations. Stone rested upon stone, slab upon slab, rising in bare crags, pinnacles, towers and castellated turrets that resembled the ruins of a lost civilization. It was a dry and desolate place, yet so hauntingly beautiful and romantic that Beth could well imagine how it inspired poets like Shelley. Then she looked at the summit of Haldane Cliffs and saw wild goats. Surely not! But yes, there they were, billies, nannies and kids, all agile and surefooted in their precipitous surroundings. Astonished, she reined in. ‘Goats?’
Landry rode back to join her. ‘The scourge of Haldane. Seventy-five of their ancestors were recorded in the Domesday Book, and there are about that many here now, and they’re not well liked because their favourite sport is to butt unwary sheep off the cliffs. Not an endearing trait.’
They rode slowly on toward a higgledy-piggledy tower of massive rocks that rose like a huge crumbling lighthouse in the centre of the valley. A buzzard soared around the summit, its screeching cries echoing along the slopes. The horses slowed to a walk as they passed by, and Beth could hear the sea breeze playing among the rocks. Beyond, where the valley dipped again toward the rocky bay, they were confronted by the remains of an ancient stone circle, some of the sarsens still standing, others lying on the ground. Landry glanced at Beth. ‘This is claimed by some to be evidence of druidic occupation. There are supposed to have been pagan ceremonies here, with human sacrifices hurled from the cliffs.’
‘Death from the cliffs appears to be rather a risk hereabouts, what with goat-butted sheep, lovelorn maidens turning into mermaids and now human sacrifices.’
‘Dower House tenants are perfectly safe,’ he assured her.
‘I sincerely hope so.’
‘Well, what the circle may once have looked like is no longer known, because over the centuries it has been plundered of its stones. My family isn’t blameless. The two tallest sarsens were removed by my great-grandfather and used as gateposts at the original hall. That house didn’t meet with my grandfather’s aspirations, so he demolished it and built anew, keeping the old gates.’ He gathered the reins again. ‘Come on, we’ll ride to the top of Oak Bay, and then come back to take lunch. Well, more a picnic,’ he explained, ‘at a particular spot with matchless views over the sea. Up there.’ He pointed back toward the top of Haldane Cliffs.
Beth was a little alarmed. ‘Among those murderous goats?’
‘We’ll come to no harm.’
They rode on toward the bay, where waves broke around the rocks below, and excited gulls swooped upon hovering kestrels. There were sails out on the water, and across the channel they could see the crowns of the Brecon Beacons shimmering amid the inland heat haze of Wales. After pausing for a while to rest the horses, Landry grinned at Beth. ‘The time is right for a cool white Chablis from a crystal glass. Come, let me lead you to my lair.’ Returning past the stone circle and tower of rocks, he turned Rollo toward the foot of the slope behind Haldane Cliffs, and reined in by a knot of golden gorse bushes around a rock-shaded dip. Beth expected this to be where they would eat, but when Landry dismounted and came around to help her down as well, she realized there was no hamper or any sign of the promised refreshment. He indicated a narrow path that led up toward the cliff top. ‘Our feast waits up there, where there is a secret little nook to which I have been coming since I was a child. It is perfect for a picnic, and you will be the first person I have ever taken there.’
‘I’m honoured.’
‘Indeed so, Beth, because you are very special.’ He held his arms up, and she slid down into them. She was in his embrace for a second, alive to the contours of his body, and the fact that his lips were close enough to kiss. So much had happened to her since her father died, and she’d only felt safe and loved in Jake’s arms. She needed to be loved, both physically and mentally, and Landry Haldane was here, now, with desire in his eyes. Would there really be any harm done if he were her lover?
He took her hand to help her up the slope, and they were almost halfway when she saw an antler lying under a clump of bright mauve heather. Landry smiled as she bent to retrieve it. ‘Now you’ll have good luck, for they are considered very fortunate. Let me carry it for you.’ They reached the top to find the Bristol Channel spread matchlessly before them. The cliff fell sheer to the water some 600 feet below, so Landry made sure Beth kept well back from the edge as he guided her between two lichen-covered rocks. Then she saw the secret place, a small grassy hollow that was open to the sea, but otherwise protected by the cliff. From it one could look right across to Wales, as well as south-west along the edge of the cliffs toward Oak Bay, which was hidden by a small bluff. Beth sat down and made herself comfortable against a rock, and as she gazed over the sea, it was as if she were flying.
Landry was so relaxed with her that he took off his coat, undid his neck cloth and unbuttoned his brocade waistcoat, which flouted etiquette. But then so did an intimate picnic à deux. ‘I came up here at dawn to prepare everything,’ he explained, indicating a hamper tucked carefully in the shade, and the bottle of Chablis submerged in a little mossy pool of rainwater and dew beneath an overhanging tuft of thick grass and heather. He grinned sheepishly. ‘You see, I schemed to be alone with you like this.’
Their gaze met, and the air became charged again. She was aware of the paler skin where he’d shaved off his moustache and side-whiskers, of the sunlight casting shadows through his eyelashes, and vulnerability of his throat; he was aware of her dainty beauty, the sweetness of her mouth, the mystery in her eyes, and the allure that seemed to pervade the very air around her. He wanted her so much that his body threatened to make his desire embarrassingly clear.
‘This is happening too quickly,’ she breathed, unable to look away from him.
He smiled. ‘I’ve been waiting for you all my life, Beth, but you have my word that I will not do anything you do not wish.’ But she wished so much, and couldn’t trust herself to be strong. Or sensible. He took two stemmed glasses from the hamper, retrieved the wine bottle and set about opening it. Within moments he’d handed her a full glass. ‘I’ll wager wine will never have tasted as good before,’ he said, sitting next to her.
No wine could be as good as a glass of Moselle handed to her by Sir Guy Valmer. She raised her glass. ‘Your health.’
‘To us.’
Their eyes met again, and she smiled. It was a signal and she knew it, but she had already slipped beyond the point of no return. Let fate take its course. As she sipped the wine, he dragged the hamper close and opened it. Suddenly she found herself back in Guy’s carriage again. The illusion was gone in a moment, but not before she’d heard his voice. Eat, I beg you, for I cannot bear the thought of your hunger.
The cook at the hall had prepared an excellent picnic of ham, salad and some slices of pork pie, to be followed by fresh apricot tart. There was also a selection of delicious fruit, including a pineapple from the hall’s pinery. They applied themselves to the picnic, talking idly of this and that, and then Landry poured their second glass of wine. ‘Well, you know my shocking past, Beth,’ he observed, leaning back again, ‘but I know nothing of yours, not even where you lived before coming to the Dower House.’ He smiled. ‘I want to know all about you, you see.’
‘I came originally from Gloucestershire.’
‘I know the county a little. Where in particular?’
‘Nowhere in particular, various places,’ she replied vaguely, and then headed him off. ‘How much are you asking for Snowy?’
He smiled at the change of subject. ‘Keep him for a while, and we’ll discuss prices later if he pleases you.’ He sipped the wine and studied the view for a moment before looking at her again. ‘Beth, something must be fixed for you to meet local society. Believe me, they’ll be as curious about you as you must be about them.’
Her vulnerability returned. ‘I’d rather not. I don’t care for the social whirl.’
‘We don’t whirl hereabouts,’ he said with a grin, ‘rather do we turn a little now and then, and that with rustic simplicity.’
She had to laugh. ‘What a picture you paint.’
‘Beth, if you don’t appear in society, it will be talked of.’
‘I know.’ She sighed.
‘You’re not alone; you have me, and Harriet will be to hand as well.’
‘There’ll certainly be talk if you escort me,’ she reminded him.
‘Then I will see to it that you are chaperoned by Harriet and her father. Nothing could be more proper than that.’ His gaze was lazy upon her. ‘You fobbed me off earlier when I asked about Gloucestershire, but I refuse to be left in complete ignorance. Beth, you must at least tell me something about yourself.’
‘There is nothing to tell.’ There’s nothing I dare tell.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘That cannot be so. Forgive me, Beth, but I’m consumed with uncertainty. You assured me you have no husband, but is there is someone else?’
‘No, there isn’t.’
‘But there has been?’ he pressed.
‘Why do you think that?’
‘Beth, you are a beautiful woman, and, forgive me again, you are at ease in male company in a way that tells me you’ve been admitted to the great secret.’
‘Secret?’
‘You’ve made love. You still have an innocence, Beth, a delightful air of not yet having been brought to full life by shared passion, but you are no longer a virgin either.’
Colour suffused her cheeks. How well he described her, she thought, astonished that he’d perceived so much. ‘Will you think less of me if I admit it to be so?’ she asked, almost wishing he would recoil, and give her a reason to depart in high dudgeon and thus save herself from her desires.
‘So there has been someone?’ he pressed.
‘Yes.’ Jake smiled in her memory, but Guy could not be denied either.
‘Does he still matter to you?’
She shook her head dishonestly. ‘It’s all in the past.’
‘Is that the truth?’
‘Were you truthful when you said you no longer visit Carrie Markham?’
He smiled. ‘Yes. And I know you do the same.’ He set his glass aside, and then leaned across the hamper to take hers as well. When both were safely propped on the grass, he pushed the hamper away and pulled her down on to the mossy ground. Still holding her hands, he leaned over her. ‘Look at me, Beth.’ She obeyed, tingles of pleasure dancing through her as his thumbs caressed her palms. ‘I don’t care what is in your past,’ he said, ‘provided there is no one who can return to your life and take you from me.’
‘There isn’t anyone,’ she insisted.
‘If you wish me to stop now, you have only to say,’ he whispered, gathering her gently to him.
Stop? No, she wanted to plunge over the precipice into carnal bliss. A heady blend of excitement and apprehension consumed her, and her flesh and senses thrilled almost unbearably as she raised her parted lips. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her long and slow. His mouth was strong and yet pliant, commanding and yet teasing, and moved richly to and fro over hers. Her skin quivered as his thumbs caressed, persuaded and tempted her with sexual promise and, as she felt control slipping away from her, she made no effort to call it back. She wanted desire to carry her away with utter and complete gratification, so she returned his kiss with a fire that seemed to burn white-hot within her. The taste of his mouth was ambrosia, the food of the gods, and his body was strong and vibrant. He smelled of the moors and the ocean, of heather and the onshore breeze, and tasted as sweet and fresh as sun-warmed strawberries. She exulted in his weight and hard contours pressing against her, and remembered rhythms returned as she undulated erotically against his arousal. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, and the knowledge intensified her craving. She felt wild and uninhibited, an untamed she-creature that must mate at the height of the sun or the full of the moon. The stone circles in the valley behind them seemed to whisper to her, urging her on, denying her the wit or will to call a halt to what was happening. Her pent-up sexual craving now found release in a savage coupling that was the swiftest route to ecstasy.
Landry’s ardour was spurred on by the intensity of her response. She neither gave him the chance to be gentle nor invited such consideration. If he was shocked by the eager fury of her lovemaking, he gave no sign. He matched her kiss for kiss, intimate caress for intimate caress, fumbling with her jacket buttons in order to reach the soft mounds of breasts that waited to be freed so that he could draw her hardened nipples into his mouth. She shivered as delicious sensations quivered through her, and her body stretched up beneath him. Her hands roamed over his back. How strong and warm he was through the rich silk of his shirt, and how exciting. Then her hands moved down his back, and for a moment she held his buttocks, pulling his hips against her. Shivers of joy scattered over her as she felt the urgent outline of his masculinity, hard and potent, kept from her only by the few layers of their clothes. How soon it would be released now, and at last she would feel the most vital part of a man within her. She kissed his hair as he nuzzled her breasts. He raised his head and kissed her on the mouth. His face was flushed, his eyes dark with desire, and his hair dishevelled by her caresses. He was ready to take her, his excitement such that it strained the front of his breeches to a peak. He rolled aside to undo the falls, but her impatience was too great and she did it for him, in order to fondle him before he entered her. His erect member sprang out the moment the breeches were undone, and she groaned with delight at its hardness. He was so ready for her that he might explode at any moment. As she smoothed her palm over the tip, he gasped and rolled to straddle her again. Her thighs parted eagerly, and her riding habit skirt opened as if designed for just this. Slowly he lowered himself between her legs, and electric sensations engulfed her as she felt him at the entrance to her body. He slid forward, pushing in until he filled her completely. Rapture overwhelmed her, and she sucked in her breath to prolong the moment. This was what she wanted so much, what she needed so much. Ever since that last time with Jake, she had become prey to these yearnings. Now she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time, but most of all she wanted him to raise her to the heights of utter elation. But it was Guy who held her. Reality disappeared, and she was dreaming once more. With Guy. Guy.
She was a wild being again, writhing beneath him, clenching him within her, sucking and nibbling whatever part of him she could reach. His strokes were long and deliberate, but he thrust harder and harder as all control left them both. He drove himself in with a force that shook them. She clawed his back, squirming against him, kissing his throat, his neck and his shoulder. Torrents of ravishment began to flood through her, melting her flesh and burning her soul. She could feel him coming too, and as they became weightless she almost cried out Guy’s name. They clung together as they rode the tide, and when the waves washed them ashore, they lay together as the pounding of their united hearts gradually subsided.
I’ll find you again, Beth Tremoille, I’ll find you! Guy’s voice spoke within her, like a distant church bell through an autumn mist, and with it came not only guilt that she had used Landry to quench the power of her desire for Guy, but that she had done so with such animal abandonment. She hadn’t merely surrendered to Landry’s advances, she’d been so ferocious, intense and unstoppable that she’d displayed all the talents of a whore. Where now Miss Mannacott, lady tenant of the Dower House?
Landry drew out of her, and rolled on to his back. He smiled and reached for her hand. ‘Beth, I didn’t know a woman could be so—’
‘Depraved?’ she finished for him. Her face was now branded with mortification. How could she have been so licentious? So utterly unprincipled and immoral? What did he really think now? How could he possibly respect a woman who behaved as she had? One kiss and she had become a wanton slut.
‘No, Beth, not depraved,’ he answered, his fingers tightening over hers, but she pulled her hand away and scrambled to her feet. She was shaking so much she could barely button up her jacket, but somehow she managed. ‘Beth, for pity’s sake!’ Realizing she was going to flee, he got up as well, pushing himself back into his breeches and trying to straighten his clothes.
She hesitated agitatedly, the tears now wet on her cheeks. ‘I’ve just allowed myself to behave so appallingly that I cannot even look you in the eyes.’
‘Please, Beth, there is no need for this.’
‘There is every need if I am ever to hold my head up again.’ She retrieved her hat and pinned it back into place on her untidy but still netted curls.
‘Please don’t run away,’ he begged, but she started to make her way out of the little hollow. She was silhouetted briefly against the sky, and then had gone. Landry breathed in deeply, and then exhaled, trying to collect his thoughts. ‘Oh, Beth,’ he whispered. All he’d been trying to say was that he hadn’t realized a woman could enjoy the sexual act to such a degree. He had just experienced the most magnificent lovemaking of his life. Her eagerness had released something in him, and the satisfaction was such that it had been like his first time. Perhaps it was his first time; everything that had gone before was a sorry imitation of what he had with Beth Mannacott. She had electrified his life, transformed it, set him so by the ears that he hardly knew himself. But it was already finished.
His glance fell on the antler, which was still propped against the rock. Luck? With a curse he hurled it over the cliff into the sea far below.