The Bride Wore Scandal. Helen Dickson

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СКАЧАТЬ a thin, crooked smile, revealing a lightning glimpse of very white teeth when he found her watching him warily, from her great, luminous, shadowed eyes. His own, boldly mocking and amused, did not waver. She gave him stare for stare, with a coquettishly raised brow of question.

      Christina felt a vague sense of recognition and finally realised it was the same man she had met yesterday in the woods, the man who had called himself Simon. Her face turned crimson with remembrance and shock—and more than a little embarrassment when she recalled their kiss and the intimate content of their conversation—bringing a smile to his lips, which closed like a fist about her heart and a leap of gladness almost bowled her over. Voices around her drifted away into the depths of her mind, hidden where no sound could reach it, muffled noises and feelings that drove all feelings from her.

      This man was a guest at Oakbridge and, despite his attraction, she had to mentally revile the air of authority he conveyed, which no doubt stemmed from a haughty attitude or perhaps a military rank. His imposing presence seemed highly inappropriate here at this time. She actually shivered as she saw him abandon his idle stance and come towards her.

      Much as she wanted to take to her heels and run, good manners and the need to look into his eyes once more obliged her not to turn away. With sudden realisation, she knew this must be Lord Rockley, and as she watched him come closer she knew by his look that he was thinking of their encounter in the woods. What had he been doing there? she wondered. He had told her he was a stranger to these parts and finding his way about. How long had he been there, how much did he know?

      Fear was heavy in her breast. Of what was he thinking when he looked at her? What was there in his eyes that made her feel afraid? His slow, appreciative smile made her feel somehow ashamed and alarmed, as though he were able to pierce through the bones of her skull and ferret out the secrets of her mind. She was uneasy—but why should she be? To his enemies … he is … more evil than the Devil himself … Her brother’s words came back to her and her legs trembled. Outwardly everything appeared normal. There was no reason for him to suspect anything untoward. He wasn’t remotely what she had expected. This man who had come here to seek out the highwaymen and destroy them was younger than she had thought, and unexpectedly handsome.

      ‘So, Miss Atherton—for it is Miss Christina Atherton, is it not? We meet again—under different circumstances,’ he said when he stood in front of her, politely inclining his head slightly without taking his eyes off hers. ‘I hardly hoped you would recall me.’

      At the sound of his deep, soft and mellifluous voice, Christina was transported and, for a moment, completely speechless. Try as she might, she could find no flaw in those wide shoulders, lean waist and long limbs. The impeccably tailored clothes were to be admired as much as the man who wore them. Yet on someone of less impressive stature, the froth of lace at throat and wrists, the waistcoat of ivory hue that matched his breeches beneath a midnight-blue coat might have lost much of their flair.

      Her confidence was slowly returning. Something in his look challenged her spirit and brought her strength back in a surge of excitement. Far from being overawed by this man’s presence and by the danger that lay in wait for her each moment, Christina was aware of release and a relaxation of tension in finding herself at last face to face with him. But she must not forget herself. She must be politeness personified with this particular gentleman.

      Finding her voice, she said, ‘I am Christina Atherton and I do remember you. How could I not? Our encounter was—momentous to say the least. How do you do?’

      His dark brows lifted a fraction and he smiled suddenly, a slow, startlingly glamorous white smile. The electric touch of his strong, bare fingers grasped hers warmly and for just a moment too long before raising them to his lips and releasing them.

      ‘Very well, Miss Atherton. It is a relief to know your name—although I did suspect who you were when I saw you receiving your guests. I am Lord Rockley—Simon Rockley.’

      ‘Yes, I thought you might be,’ she replied, ‘since you’re the only guest here I am not acquainted with—or should I say to whom I have not been properly introduced.’

      ‘I hope you don’t mind and that I will be forgiven if I have put you to any inconvenience.’

      Christina felt as if she were being manoeuvred into a series of uncomfortable corners. She would have to be careful what she said to him. ‘No, of course not. You are very welcome.’

      ‘I was watching you a few minutes ago. I saw your expression when you recognised me as being the man you met in the woods yesterday.’ Humour glinted in his eyes. ‘I’m happy to know you did not forget me.’

      Despite his open attitude, he was a guest in her home, and Christina was a little mortified that she’d let her feelings about him show so openly. Relying on the old adage that the best defence is a good offence, and determined to keep tight rein on controlling her attraction to this beautiful man, she said very firmly and politely, ‘I never forget a face, Lord Rockley.’

      ‘Neither do I—and not when a face is as lovely as yours. When I saw you, I was completely captivated by you.’

      ‘Really?’ she quipped. ‘I don’t see why. You are a guest in my home, Lord Rockley. If I have any kind of feelings about any guest, including you, you would never know it because I would never let them show.’

      ‘That’s very reassuring,’ he said softly. ‘But I wonder how long you could keep up the pretence.’

      ‘As to that, we will never know.’ In an attempt to still her rioting nerves, she smiled brightly. ‘You are most welcome at Oakbridge, Lord Rockley. We are honoured to have you as our guest. I hope you will be comfortable. You must forgive me if I seem surprised.’

      ‘I must?’ His face was no longer grave, but open and almost beguiling.

      ‘When my brother told me you were to stay the night with us, I must confess to thinking you would be quite different.’

      ‘But why should you have expected me to be anything but what I am?’

      ‘William told me you were a military man, so I imagined you to be much older.’

      His eyes sparked with amusement. ‘I assure you I am quite old—thirty-one, to be exact—which is a great age to a young woman of such tender years and must make me a veritable antique.’

      His words brought a reluctant smile to Christina’s lips. ‘No, indeed. My father always used to say that one is as old as one feels. You certainly don’t look like an antique—and I’m sure you don’t feel one.’ She glanced at him obliquely. ‘Your reputation precedes you, sir.’

      He arched a quizzical brow. ‘You have heard of me?’

      ‘Who has not? You are the terrifying spectre that people use to terrify their offspring from disobeying their elders,’ she said, a teasing gleam in her eyes.

      ‘The bogey man?’

      She laughed lightly. ‘Something like that—more myth than man.’

      His eyes narrowed on hers. ‘Let me assure you, Miss Atherton, that I am all man.’

      A crimson flush coloured her cheeks. ‘I will take your word for that, Lord Rockley. My brother and I are honoured that you chose to stay at Oakbridge, when there are so many other noble houses in the district at your disposal.’

      ‘It really doesn’t matter СКАЧАТЬ