Chapter Two

A man in his shirt sleeves stood in the doorway, his dark hair falling in untidy curls about his lean, bony face. His frowning face. Ellis tried to straighten up but lost her balance again when she put her weight on her foot, which she seemed to have twisted when the door opened. This time he took a firm grasp on her shoulders and steadied her. That was when she noticed that his hands were stained with blue ink.

"Please," she said, in a scratchy voice. "Please, let me inside. He will find me, and if he does it will be the end of me."

The words didn't make much sense, but perhaps her torn clothing and dishevelment, along with the stark terror in her eyes, were enough to convince him.

He stepped back and, with an arm about her to hold her up, ushered her inside. At the same time, he turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the dark expanse of the forest. "He?" he repeated.

There was a chair nearby and when she didn't answer he helped her into it. Then he closed the heavy door and threw the bolt.

It was the most comforting sound Ellis had ever heard.

The house was cool and almost as gloomy as the forest. Her brief inspection showed a long, narrow table upon which sat a bowl of flowers, their perfume scenting the air. Natural light came from an open door to her left, while stairs adorned with a red carpet runner led upward into the shadows. The patterned Turkish rug beneath her feet felt wonderfully soft on her abused flesh, and the chair was so comfortable she was tempted to close her eyes.

" Who is trying to find you?"

Startled, her attention returned to her rescuer. During her five years at Breamore, she had grown used to the musical Welsh accent. Most of the people on the estate were of local origin, and hearing that lilt in his voice now made her long to trust him, despite having no reason to do so.

But she didn't know him. What if he was one of Theo's allies, and handed her over as soon as she gave her name? She stared up into his bright, hazel eyes and knew she couldn't risk it.

He must have read her doubts in her face because he leaned toward her and said quietly, "You can trust me."

As she stared back, she reminded herself that trust was simply too dangerous. "My coach was waylaid," she said. "In the forest. Highwaymen. I ran away but I think they are following me. I can't let them find me."

"They can't hurt you here," he said in that reassuring voice. "This house has protected its inhabitants since the 1400s, so believe me when I tell you, you are safe at Hawthorne Lodge."

She very much wanted to believe it. To believe him . There was something genuine about him. Again she asked herself: Could she tell him the truth? But the thought had barely formed in her head when there came the pounding of a fist on the front door. Ellis gave a squeak and jumped violently, her hand pressed to her chest where her heart was trying to escape.

"Open up!" a voice growled, and she recognized one of Theo's minions.

The man with the hazel eyes already had her up out of her chair, his strong grip maneuvering her toward the room from which light spilled. "In here." The pounding came again, with more cries demanding he "Open up," but he paused long enough to stare down into her face and say, "Can you be as quiet as a mouse, cariad? "

He waited for her jerky nod before he closed her inside.

Frozen to the spot, Ellis listened to his footsteps move away and then the outer door opening. When she heard Theo's voice she gasped and sank to her knees on the floor. It took a moment for the pounding of her heart to quiet enough for her to hear properly again, but by then the conversation had dropped to a murmur. The lilting cadences of the man with the ink-stained hands soothed her despite her terror, but whatever he said did not please Theo, who began to argue. Words like "I demand" and "must find her" did not help her shaking hands as she pressed them to her mouth to stifle her cries.

And yet, despite her dread, Ellis did not want Theo to find her like this. On her knees as if she were pleading for her life. She had more pride than that. With the help of a chaise longue covered in red velvet, she pulled her aching body upright and stood. Her ankle and her head hurt but not too badly. If she had to then she would run again.

She moved toward the window and carefully peeped out. It overlooked the garden she had noticed earlier, and although it was empty apart from the peacock preening on the top of the wall, she could see across the fields to the edge of the forest where a small band of horsemen were gathered. Had Theo followed her from the coach? Or was he searching the general area in the hope of finding her?

If he forced his way into the house, she needed a way to escape him. The window was just large enough that she could climb through and out into the garden, but when she tried the latch, she found it was either locked or too stiff for her to move. Frustrated, she turned, searching for something to use to force it open.

Behind her was a large desk covered in a mess of papers. She took a step closer, thinking to search the drawers in case there was something she could use in there. If worst came to worst, she might find a weapon to use against Theo.

Instead, her eyes fixed on the papers, and her eyes widened.

Drawings. There were sketches everywhere. Some had been created using pencil or charcoal, while others were in ink. Quite a few of them had emphatic lines slashed through them, as if the artist did not think them good enough, while others had been spared. Her eyes widened even more as she took them in. She shuffled the pages about. They all depicted women. Women in various poses, some modest and others far from it. One rendition in ink caught her attention, and Ellis found she could not look away.

The woman was smiling coyly, and she was naked. At least she was naked from the waist up. That would not be so shocking, Ellis had seen many famous paintings of naked women. But they were not like this. She, the woman, had covered her full breasts with her hands, but not very well. Or at least... was she covering them or offering them to the artist, or whoever it was standing in front of her? Ellis realized then that the woman's smile wasn't just coy.

It was an invitation.

Did this explain the ink on her rescuer's fingers? Was he the artist? It seemed very likely that he had fashioned this erotic representation. Now she looked more closely she could see the care he had taken to capture the expression on the woman's face, and the shape and fullness of her breasts. The detail of a lock of hair curling over her shoulder.

It was more than erotic. It was intimate. A warm tremble started deep in her belly. Ellis might have been standing and observing the scene, but she realized she didn't just want to be an observer. She wanted to step into the picture. She wanted to be that fearless woman offering herself to the man who stood before her, invisible and out of sight.

Her distraction had only lasted a few moments, but now the voices beyond the room were suddenly louder. Her head jerked up, and she forgot the lascivious drawings and prepared herself for Theo bursting into the room to confront her. Ellis would protest, she would fight him, and she would continue to do so even as he dragged her outside and rode off with her.

Could she tell him she had changed her mind and would marry him after all? That would give her more time to plan another escape. Would he believe her though? Would Theo think it simpler and more practical to snuff out her life once and for all? Her chaotic thoughts raced around in her head like mice being chased by a cat, squeaking and squealing, running for their lives.

Outside there was an angry protest, and she stopped breathing. Any moment now, any moment.

But as the time ticked by, nothing more happened. The sounds beyond the room faded, and then she heard horses galloping away. A glance at the window showed the band of men she had seen earlier turning back into the forest.

Could they be . . . were they leaving?

Ellis's fingers ached as she clung to the edge of the desk just to keep herself upright, and it was only when her head began to spin that she remembered to take a breath. The door gave a soft click as it opened.

The man with the wild curls narrowed his hazel eyes when he saw her standing by his desk. She noticed how his gaze darted to the array of artwork before he spoke.

"You are safe. They're gone." He said it with an air of satisfaction.

"G-gone?"

"I convinced them you were not here. Or perhaps it was the mention of my uncle that persuaded them." He was watching her curiously. "They did not look like highwaymen. They said they were searching the area around the forest for a woman, but they would not say why or who she was. When I asked, they informed me it was none of my business."

Her head began to spin more than ever, darkness flickering at the edges of her vision, and the next thing she knew, she was lying prone on the red velvet chaise longue and he was stooped over her, chafing her cold hands in his. Dazedly her gaze slid over him, noting the way his shirt was untied at his throat, and how the white linen contrasted nicely with his olive skin. The sleeves were rolled up from lean forearms with a smattering of dark hair, and of course his ink-stained fingers holding hers.

He watched her carefully, his bright eyes seeming to catalogue her just as she was assessing him. "One of them was a gentleman, or what passes for it anyway. Will you tell me why you are running away from them?"

Could she tell him? She knew she had to tell him something, just enough to let him agree to allow her to stay here until it was safe to leave. For all she knew Theo might be outside, watching and waiting.

"I thought they were highwaymen. I'm s-sorry. I cannot think why anyone else would want to stop my coach. They had pistols and fired shots. My... my coachman ran away. I was on my way to my mother when I was set upon."

She tried not to think of Breamore and sweet, adorable Archie, her dear husband and her dear friend. Dead, while his love, Elijah, wept inconsolably at his bedside. At least Elijah was safe. She had sent him away, protesting, before Archie was cold. She had already known what Theo was planning. Greedy, ambitious Theodore, cousin to Archie, who wanted it all. And now the only thing standing in his way was Ellis.

How could she explain to this man, this stranger, the deal she had struck with Archie? No, the truth was not worth the risk.

"Where does your mother live?" he asked, still watching her with that penetrating gaze, as if he could draw the story out of her by sheer force of will.

"In London." That was true at least. "My father is dead."

"Your father?"

"He was a curate. He died when his horse fell." She did not have to pretend at the grief that stark statement brought with it. Ellis still missed him.

His nod was thoughtful as he processed the information. "London," he said with a frown. "Have you somewhere else you can go? Somewhere nearby?"

She shook her head. Her mother was in London and so was her sister Sophia. Her elder sister, Catherine, was widowed and living in a castle in the north. She supposed she could go to London, but the thought of setting out again, with Theo scouring the countryside for her, did not seem like a sensible plan. She needed somewhere safe to hide, until Theo had given up or gone away, and then she could make her way to the capital.

"I lost everything when my coach was stopped. I suppose I can write to my mother in London, and perhaps she will send me the fare for the journey?"

His thumbs were stroking the backs of her hands, and it felt calming. Mesmerizing. Her tense body began to relax. "That sounds like a good idea. In the meantime, you are welcome to stay here," he said. "My servants are away at the village fair, but they will return soon."

She swallowed. "Thank you."

A small smile flitted over his mouth and was gone. "I am not sure you have told me the entire truth, madam. Your ‘highwayman' may come back—he does not seem like the sort to give up easily—but if he does, I will send him off again. And remind him this is Wales, where one does not enter another man's home unless invited."

"I heard him shouting," she said.

He smiled. "Yes, he shouted and blustered, while I did my best impression of an arrogant lord interrupted from his work."

His work ? Her thoughts were diverted despite her fears. Were those saucy images his work? She wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't seem to matter. Ellis felt safe here, safer than she had felt since Theo had arrived at Breamore.

Suddenly she was so very tired, her escape through the forest and her wildly see-sawing emotions catching up with her. Her eyes began to close.

He squeezed her hands gently, his voice as soft as a lullaby. "Rest, cariad ," he said. "I will be here if you need me."