In a way, the experience down by the river should have prepared her for such an eventuality and yet it had not. In that moment it was as though a flame had been lit within her and it was utterly impossible for her to view Cory with the detached eye of the artist. Instead she was compelled to see him as clearly as she had seen him once before, strong, virile and devastatingly attractive. The knowledge was like a blow to the stomach, knocking all the breath out of her.
She looked down at her sketches and suddenly the idea of trying to humiliate Cory for his treatment of her seemed shabby and underhand and, above all, desperately sad. Rachel could see now that it had been a foolish idea from the very first, born of jealousy and frustration because she disliked the attentions that Cory was paying to other women. It was a mortifying thought and she understood neither why she should feel like that nor what she could do about it.
And whilst she sat there, frozen between shock and horror and desire, the breeze caught the edge of her sketch-pad, scattering the pages in all directions. She made an instinctive snatch for it and Cory glanced up from where he was working and looked directly at her. He grabbed his shirt in one hand and leapt out of the trench.
Rachel jumped to her feet, overcome by total panic. She did not know where to look or what to do first. The pages of the sketch-pad were dancing in the wind, evading her desperate attempts to gather them together. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cory shrug himself back into his shirt and heard the crunch of the sand under his boots as he came up the slope towards her. It was bad enough that he should have caught her watching him, but if he realised that she had been drawing him as well…Rachel grabbed at the nearest pieces of paper with trembling fingers, feeling slightly sick as she saw Cory bend to pick up a couple of the sheets and glance at them with a casual interest.
He joined her in the lee of the pines and held the pages out to her politely.
‘Hello, Rachel.’ He did not sound in the least bit out of breath from the climb up the slope.
Rachel, in contrast, found herself gasping for air. ‘Oh! Um…hello, Cory!’ She snatched the paper from him and pressed it against her chest. ‘Ah…thank you!’
‘My pleasure,’ Cory said. ‘It is a windy day for sketching.’
Rachel risked a quick look at the sheets he had found. They were the pictures of her parents. Thank God. That must mean that she had already scooped up the incriminating drawings of him and he need never see them.
Cory was looking her over with cool appraisal. Rachel was horribly aware that her face was flushed and she was almost certain that she was sweating. She crumpled the drawings viciously in her hand. The idea of sketching him had been a terrible mistake from the first, in so many ways. Until now she had not quite realised just what a mistake. She was never, ever going to attempt to draw Cory again. Lady Sally’s book of watercolours would simply have to do without him.
‘I didn’t realise that you were up here,’ Cory continued, his silver gaze still on her face. ‘Have you been here long?’
Rachel blushed harder. ‘Yes…no! That is, just long enough to do a few sketches…’ she gestured wildly ‘…of my parents, you know, and the scenery…’
‘The scenery,’ Cory repeated. A smile touched the corners of his mouth. ‘I see.’
Rachel felt a sudden dread that he had, in fact, seen one of the drawings of himself. She fought down the urge to uncrumple the paper and check again.
‘I apologise,’ Cory said slowly, ‘if you saw me without my shirt. I would not want to offend a lady. Not after the last time.’
Rachel’s throat was dry. She stared at him, remembering in vivid detail the hard muscle and smooth brown skin beneath the linen. Her fingers itched to touch him. ‘I…er…I was not offended,’ she said.
Cory raised a brow. ‘So you
Rachel swallowed hard. ‘I…I scarce noticed. I was busy drawing.’
Cory looked at her whilst the hot colour mounted into her face and her skin felt as though it was burning.
‘Well,’ he said, after a moment, ‘I am glad that I have seen you, Rae, because I wanted to speak to you about the ball. I am sorry I could not do so sooner, but I was called away at short notice.’
Rachel turned away. She did not want to prolong their meeting. She wanted nothing more than to escape. And though she had wanted Cory to apologise, she now found that she did not wish to talk about the ball. She was too embarrassed at the situation he had almost caught her in.
‘There is no need-’ she began.
Cory put his hand on her arm. ‘Please. There is a need. I was very discourteous to you, Rae, and I wish to apologise.’
Rachel paused on the edge of flight. ‘It does not matter, Cory. As you said, we are such old friends that I dare say we need not stand on ceremony with one another.’
Cory was watching her face. Now she saw the swift frown that darkened his own. ‘You sound very matter of fact, Rae,’ he said. ‘I had the impression that you were quite upset at the time.’
Rachel bit her lip. ‘I was. But I feel a lot better now.’ The edges of the papers bit into her palm, reminding her of the need to hurry away. ‘Excuse me, please. I…There are things that I must do. The man will be here to mend the clock soon. Papa took it apart to prove some ridiculous law of physics and now there is sand in the mechanism.’
Cory smiled at her and it felt like the sun coming out on a dark day. Rachel felt the helpless, strong attraction catch her as it had done when she was sketching, and she sought to cover it by bending to retrieve her pencil from the springy grass.
‘There is a card party at Mrs Stratton’s this evening,’ she said, a little at random. ‘Do you attend, Cory?’
‘Not tonight,’ Cory said. ‘Is James Kestrel escorting you?’
Rachel turned her head sharply. ‘No, he is not. Why do you ask?’
‘No particular reason.’ Cory thrust his hands moodily into the pockets of his trousers. ‘I hear that you have been out driving together? I am surprised that Kestrel would risk an activity as dangerous as taking out a team of horses. He might damage himself.’
Rachel tried not to smile. James Kestrel had, in fact, been a competent whip, but there was no doubt that he had been more concerned for his own comfort on the drive than that of his passenger.
‘Was this not how we started to quarrel last time, Cory?’ she enquired lightly. ‘There are certain topics that I feel we should avoid if we are to be comfortable together.’
Cory leant one hand against the trunk of the nearest pine tree and scrutinised her from top to toe. ‘Such as our choice of dancing, driving and flirting partners?’ he said softly.
‘Precisely.’ Rachel tilted up her chin with hauteur. ‘I shall not comment on your flirtations if you do not pass judgement on mine.’
Cory gave her his slow, wicked smile. ‘Why should we avoid discussing them, Rae,’ he challenged, ‘when we are good friends and claim to be able to talk about anything? Are we admitting that the nature of our friendship has changed?’
Rachel felt the colour creep into her cheeks. Her mind was split; half of it was concentrating fiercely on not letting go of the papers in her hand, and the other was wrestling with the difficulties of engaging with Cory on this particular topic. It was not that she felt she was about to quarrel with him again. Far from it. She felt in danger of an entirely different sort, disturbed, disquieted and disconcerted by her feelings for him. She stared at him, quite unable to formulate a suitable response.
The wind whipped the sheets of sketches out of her hand for a second time.
‘Careful,’ Cory said. He put his boot on one piece of paper and bent to pick it up, almost colliding with Rachel, who had pounced on it quickly. Her heart was beating as quick as a drum and she crumpled the pages into a tiny ball.
‘Excuse me, Cory,’ she said quickly. ‘I really must go and get ready.’
‘You are always rushing away from me,’ Cory said gently. He smiled and Rachel felt even more heated. ‘Some time soon, Rae, we must spend some time together.’
‘I…’ Rachel was not sure how she felt about that. Spending time with Cory now felt like inviting danger. She could not look at him. She felt edgy and nervous, and assured herself that it was entirely to do with the incriminating piece of paper screwed up in her hand rather than anything to do with Cory himself.
‘That would be pleasant,’ she said rapidly. ‘Excuse me, please…’ It came out like a plea.
Cory nodded slowly. He touched her cheek, his fingers cool against her hot skin, then turned on his heel and
