LITMIR.BIZ

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chewing dangling. A pair of small boys stopped chasing the chickens and gawped. Marcus turned in the saddle to see what was entertaining them, took a long, hard look and closed his eyes as though in pain.

      ‘I came for a ride,’ Nell said, a strange, unfamiliar feeling building painfully in her chest, threatening to bubble up, overcome her. Then she realized, as the hat finally won over the hat pin and slid off, bouncing from her mud-spattered skirts to the cobbles, what it was. Laughter.

      She wanted to laugh. How long had it been since she had felt like doing that? Giving way to unrestrained, joyous laughter? Not a polite smile, not a social gesture, but real laughter?

      Too long, Nell thought, her lips twitching as she watched Marcus open his eyes. He sat there on the raking hunter, immaculate, elegant even in country buckskins and plain coat, and there she was, panting, dishevelled, muddy and unrepentant—and the masterful Lord Stanegate had not a clue what to do with her.

      She doubled up over the pommel, gasping, her eyes blurring with tears of sheer amusement and laughed until her stomach ached.

      Chapter Eleven

      ‘Nell?’

      ‘Yes?’ she managed.

      His lordship had dismounted and was standing by her side, hand on the reins, lips compressed. ‘Why are you having hysterics on that horse?’

      ‘Because it is funny?’ she ventured, hiccupping faintly. ‘You looking so—’ She waved a hand about, searching for the right word and failed, so wiped her eyes with it instead. ‘And me so—’

      ‘Quite. I certainly cannot find the mot juste for your appearance,’ he remarked severely. And then she saw the sparkle in his eyes and the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, despite his struggle to repress it. ‘I am afraid Verity’s mare has got away from you. I had no idea it was such a spirited animal.’

      ‘Or I such a poor rider,’ she said ruefully, lifting her leg over the pommel and allowing herself to be helped to the ground. Marcus seemed to find her no weight at all, which either meant he was as strong as he appeared or that she was thinner than she should be.

      Somehow, he acquired a private parlour and got her into it before they both gave way to their mirth. ‘Oh, Nell.’ Marcus sank down in the nearest chair, buried his face in his hands and choked with laughter. ‘You look as though you have been through a hedge backwards. And that ridiculous hat!’

      ‘That is Honoria’s,’ Nell said in alarm, looking round for it.

      ‘Beyond help, I fear.’ Marcus looked up at her and she could not help smiling back. ‘I will buy her another, don’t worry. But what on earth possessed you to think you could ride? And how did you get that horse out of the stables?’

      ‘I can ride,’ Nell said with dignity. ‘Only I haven’t for a very long time. And Verity and Honoria thought I should ride with you. It has certainly cleared my headache,’ she discovered in surprise, pressing the sore lump above her ear with caution.

      Marcus came and hitched one hip onto the table beside her. ‘And how does a milliner learn to ride?’

      ‘It was a long time ago, when we had a little money. We all rode, dreadful job horses, of course.’ She hesitated. ‘I did not always have to work for my living, Mama had a few savings.’

      ‘I have not asked you about your father.’ Marcus’s voice was gentle, still husky from the laughter.

      ‘Oh, he died some time ago.’ Her stomach swooped down sickeningly. ‘Before…before things got so bad.’ There was no reason to suppose he would question it; such stories were commonplace. ‘He managed land,’ she added, grasping for something near the truth.

      Sometimes she thought she could recall the broad parkland, the groves of trees, the fallow deer. Sometimes she was certain the scent of roses on a hot June day was a memory and not a dream of a paradise lost.

      ‘I am sorry, Nell.’

      She looked up, wondering how those hard grey eyes could look so kind, how that strong, sensual mouth be so gentle. ‘I—’ Somehow she was holding out her hand to him, somehow he had pulled her into his arms, to stand between his thighs.

      ‘Sweet Nell.’ And the huskiness in his voice was no longer from the laughter as he bent his head and found her lips. Slow, oh so slow, the caress of his mouth on hers. And so fast the shock of sensual longing that made her limbs heavy, her blood race, sent that strange hot pulse beating deep and low inside her.

      She quivered, would have moved closer, but his hands cupped her shoulders, held her still, and he made no move to touch any other part of her, only her mouth, his own asking questions that she only half understood.

      When he lifted his head, she was as breathless as she had been after her ride. ‘I wanted to talk to you,’ she managed, before she lost what nerve she had left. ‘I wanted to say about last night. I am sorry, I know I placed you in a difficult position. I need you to know that I would never presume upon that…I do not want you to think that I expect anything. Anything at all.’ Only he had just kissed her. What did that mean?

      ‘No,’ Marcus said, standing up, lifting the weight of her loosened hair in his hands for a moment before letting it drop. ‘I know that. I recognise innocence when I see it.’

      ‘I am not innocent,’ she began. Harris had taken that from her.

      ‘Innocence,’ he repeated. ‘Other people’s actions do not count, Nell.’

      ‘You believe me, then?’

      ‘I acquit you of throwing out lures, of being any man’s mistress. I believe you did not let Salterton in last night.’ He smiled at her a little ruefully and ran his finger down her cheek. ‘But I know you still have secrets.’

      ‘Oh.’ The impulse to confide in Lord Narborough had not survived the night and she felt none to confess now. ‘I am sure you have too. Everyone has secrets.’ She had to ask. ‘Marcus, why did you kiss me just now?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ he said, getting up abruptly. ‘Insanity, probably. I suppose you have lost all your hair pins?’

      The abrupt turn of topic back to the banal braced her. ‘All of them. I will tie it into a tail with my pocket handkerchief. There was a spotted mirror over the fireplace. Nell turned to it, feeling the physical separation as she moved away from Marcus. She raked her fingers through the tangled mass, trying not to meet his eyes in the glass.

      At least he was honest with her; he knew she was hiding something. And he kissed her and did not know why? She would not have thought that Marcus Carlow had any impulses he could not account for. Perhaps it was simply lust and he did not want to frighten her with the truth. But whatever the reality, that morning’s coolness had gone and with it the weight of unhappiness that had balled into her stomach.

      ‘How is your head? I should have asked sooner, but the sight of you on that mare quite drove it out of my mind.’ He made no move to approach her.

      ‘Sore when I touch it, that is all. There, that will have to do.’ She looked a raggle-taggle Gypsy.

      ‘Are you tired of riding?’ Marcus asked.

      ‘I suspect I am going to be very stiff tomorrow,’ Nell acknowledged ruefully. ‘But no, I am not tired.’

      ‘We can go the long way home,’ he offered. ‘Through the woods and up over Beacon Hill at a nice sedate pace. You will like the view.’

      She led Firefly to the mounting block herself before he could help her, gathering up her mired skirts and settling into the saddle. The mare, now she was in company, was behaving as though an out-of-control gallop through the meadows would never occur to her.

      ‘We are very respectable now,’ she observed as they walked out of the yard onto the road.

      ‘I am,’ Marcus retorted. ‘I am also

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