The Abducted Bride. Anne Herries
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Название: The Abducted Bride

Автор: Anne Herries

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Историческая литература

Серия: Mills & Boon Historical

isbn: 9781472040466

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ we wish it—and my footman is close by.’ Deborah avoided looking at him. He was too sure of himself and her heart would not behave itself when she saw the way his eyes danced with laughter.

      ‘If Master Henderson puts his claim above mine I have no love for the rogue. I believe I shall call him out!’

      ‘Pray be serious, my lord.’ Deborah was beginning to remember this man’s reputation. She had been warned that he was not to be trusted. She ought to walk away at once, but her feet would not obey her. ‘Your levity does not become you.’

      ‘I fear you would like me even less if I were to show you my other side, lady.’

      ‘Yes, I do think you have a darkness in you,’ Deborah said with a considering look. There were two sides to this man, one charming and pleasant, the other dark and threatening. ‘I sensed it when we first met.’

      ‘Is that why you disliked me?’ Nicholas frowned. ‘You have no need to fear me, Mistress Stirling. I have never harmed a wench. It is true that I have a devil inside me, but it is for others to fear—not you.’

      ‘Do you speak of a Spanish gentleman, perchance?’

      ‘What have you heard of that accursed rogue?’ Nicholas’s eyes glittered with sudden anger, startling her. ‘I swear you will hear nothing to his good from me.’

      ‘They say you attack Don Manola’s ships—that you are little more than a pirate.’ Deborah tipped her head to gaze up at him defiantly. She did not know why she was pressing him like this, unless it was a perverse need in her to see his reaction. She would be a fool to let his charm sway her judgement of him. He was both a scoundrel and a thief.

      ‘Some would call me a privateer,’ Nicholas muttered, his mouth hard, features set into the harsh lines she had noticed before. ‘Know this of me, Mistress Stirling—I may be Le Diable to the Spaniard I attack, but I have never killed for pleasure.’ He touched his hat to her. ‘I bid you adieu, mistress.’

      For a moment Deborah was quite unable to speak. She wanted to cry out, to beg him to wait and explain his meaning, yet could not force the words from her lips.

      What could he have meant? Who killed for pleasure—Don Manola? It was what he had implied, yet it could not be. He was her father’s friend and Deborah would trust Sir Edward’s judgement above any other. He was considering a marriage between her and Don Miguel Cortes. Never would he think of entrusting her to the son of a man he did not admire or trust.

      Was it merely spite on the marquis’s part, then? She would not have thought it of the man. Surely a powerful man like that would have no need of petty lies and innuendo? His weapons would be sharper and more deadly.

      There was clearly some quarrel between Don Manola and the marquis. She imagined that the marquis truly believed his cause was just. Was it not always thus when men quarrelled? For herself she abhorred violence of any kind. It was surely wrong to attack another man’s ships? Men must be wounded or killed during the action. Yet seemingly the marquis believed he was behaving fairly. Why should that be?

      ‘Know this of me…I have never killed for pleasure.’

      Once again Deborah shivered as she felt the chill go through her. She sensed a dark shadow hanging over her, as she had after their first meeting at Whitehall. Yet what had she to fear from him? Her destiny was not to run with his. Sir Edward would never contemplate such a match—nor did she wish it!

      Deborah denied the prompting of an imp within her—a wicked voice that whispered she had never felt so challenged, so alive as when in the presence of the marquis. It was but a wayward thought that told her life had been almost too safe, too comfortable, that her true fulfilment as a woman would only come if she were brave enough to snatch at the burning brand this man offered.

      For there had been fire in her when she gazed into his eyes. She had known a restless longing for something—but she knew not what. It was surely not to be in the arms of that wicked rogue!

      Deborah shook her head. She was foolish to let him into her head. The Marquis de Vere was nothing to her, nor ever could be.

      Sarah turned to her as she approached, her eyes glowing with excitement. ‘Dearest Deborah,’ she cried. ‘You will never guess what has happened since you were gone.’

      ‘What is it, cousin?’

      Deborah was already certain that she knew. Master Henderson had spoken of his intentions. She smiled but held her peace. Let Sarah enjoy her moment of triumph to the full.

      ‘Master Henderson has gone to summon chairs for us, Debs—but that is not my news. I told him we were to leave London soon and he was devastated. He returns with us to the house and will beg my uncle for my hand in marriage.’ Sarah looked at her anxiously. ‘Do you think Sir Edward will look favourably on the match?’

      ‘Is it what you truly desire, Sarah?’

      ‘Yes, with all my heart.’

      ‘Then I am sure my father will consent. Master Henderson is of good family and, though not wealthy, will come into an estate on his father’s death. Besides, you have money lodged with the goldsmiths of London. Father placed it in safe keeping when your father’s house was sold. You will not go to your husband with empty coffers.’

      ‘Both you and my uncle have been so good to me,’ Sarah declared. ‘I shall be sad to leave you, Deborah—though I cannot wait to be Master Henderson’s true wife. He loves me with all his heart and I love him.’

      ‘Then you are fortunate, cousin.’

      ‘Yes, indeed I am.’ Sarah smiled as she saw her gallant returning with two sedan chairs and their bearers in tow. ‘Is he not handsome, Debs?’

      ‘Very handsome,’ Deborah agreed, though privately she thought the young man’s features a little weak. For herself she preferred stronger men like her father…and the marquis. ‘All I wish for is your happiness, cousin.’

      ‘And I yours,’ Sarah replied, her eyes curious as she looked at Deborah. ‘Have you found no one at Court who stirs your heart, Debs?’

      ‘No one,’ Deborah answered at once. She did not meet her cousin’s open gaze for she knew that she lied, and Sarah would see it in her face. One man had stirred forbidden feelings in her, but she would not admit it to anyone. ‘I have not been as fortunate as you, sweet Sarah.’

      ‘Mistress Stirling…’ Arriving breathless and anxious at that moment, the young man looked at her and then his beloved. ‘Mistress Palmer has spoken to you of my hopes?’

      ‘She has, sir—and I approve. I am certain Sir Edward can have no objection, though of course I may not speak for him.’

      ‘No, no, of course not. It was just that Sarah said he always does as you wish…’ Master Henderson flushed and looked awkward. ‘Forgive me. I did not mean to imply anything…’

      ‘I have taken no offence, sir. It is well known that my father indulges me. I am in favour of my cousin’s marriage to you—and I ask only that you treat her with kindness.’

      ‘I shall spend my life serving her,’ he avowed, a flush in his cheeks. ‘I live only for her.’

      ‘Then I may СКАЧАТЬ