Admitting as much was tantamount to acknowledging that this bordered on the dangerous, that fate’s time-her boon-might already be running out. That if she wanted her heart to remain safe, untouched, untrammeled, then she should think of pulling back, of bringing this liaison to a close.
She shifted her gaze, looking past his shoulder to the open window beyond. To the night sky, still dark and heavy with cloud.
“I’ll leave before it’s light.” At his mumbled words, she glanced at him. He continued, his voice muffled by the pillow, “No one will see or know.”
She hesitated, then lifted one hand, set her palm to his shoulder, savored the width of the muscle, the latent strength, then slowly, following her hand with her gaze, she ran it down the long line of his back to his hip. “So… you’ll stay for a while?”
Her soft whisper hung in the night.
He shifted, rolled onto his side, caught her hand and lifted it to his lips to place a heated kiss in her palm. Through the shadows he met her eyes. “I’ll stay…for as long as there’s night.”
It was she who stretched and closed the distance to bring her lips to his; she who kissed him, then pushed him onto his back.
When she rose above him in the dark and impaled herself on his hard length, she sighed.
Dangerous it might be, but she knew she wouldn’t be giving up this pleasure, giving him up, anytime soon.
Not because she would have to battle to deny him, fight him for every inch of separation, not because avoiding him would be a social and logistical nightmare. Regardless of all else, as she rode him slowly, savoring the heat, the sweet build of passion, knowing the firestorm that would eventually come, feeling his hands close strongly about her waist, feeling the delicious tension rise…no matter the distraction, or perhaps because of it, one truth shone clearly in her mind.
She wouldn’t be curtailing their liaison because she didn’t want to.
Because she didn’t want to deny herself this pleasure.
Because she didn’t want to give up the feelings that along with the glory of satiation filled and swamped her heart.
The next morning they met as arranged near Tregoose, where the road from Coverack joined the road from Lizard Point. Madeline rode between Gervase and Harry as they continued past Helston and out onto the road to Penzance.
Breage was a small village north of the road about two miles west of Helston. The manor house they sought, however, lay to the south, between the road and the cliffs; they followed a narrow lane, then turned up a drive that ultimately led them to the front door.
No groom appeared to take their horses; looking around, they tied their reins to the low branches of a nearby tree. Then, with Gervase at her shoulder and Harry just behind, Madeline walked to the door.
Gervase’s sharp knock was eventually answered by an older middle-aged man, his neat clothes concealed behind a worn apron.
He looked from one to the other, then settled his gaze on Gervase. “How can I help you, sir?”
“Lord Crowhurst, Miss Gascoigne and Viscount Gascoigne to see Mr. Glendower.”
The man’s eyes widened; he recognized the names. He bobbed a bow. “I’m sure the master would be happy to see you, m’lords, ma’am, but he’s been called away. Urgent-like. He left early this morning.”
“Did he, indeed?”
Madeline glanced at Gervase; his eyes had narrowed. Summoning a smile, she took charge. “And you would be?”
The man responded to her smile with a grateful nod. “Gatting, ma’am. Me and the missus do for Mr. Glendower.”
“I confess we hadn’t realized until recently that he’d come to live in the district. How long has he been here?”
“Only a month or so, ma’am. He stayed at Helston at first, but then he said he fell in love with the manor and bought it, and got us in-we were living with my Elsie’s sister in Porthleven, but looking for a post just like this.”
Madeline smiled understandingly. “Hard to come by in the country.”
Gatting visibly thawed. “Indeed, ma’am. Is there anything I can do for you? Take a message for the master, perhaps?”
Brows rising, she exchanged a glance with Gervase, then shook her head. “Do you have any idea how long he’ll be away?”
A cloud passed over Gatting’s face. “No, ma’am. In his note he said he couldn’t say, but that we’d be kept on indefinitely. His London solicitor will send our wages.”
“Well, that’s good news then, at least on your account. How did you find Mr. Glendower to work for?”
Gatting waggled his head. “Gentry can be difficult, begging y’r pardon m’lords, ma’am, but Mr. Glendower was a pleasant gentleman-young, not much past his majority, I’d venture, but he was nice, unassuming, easy to do for. Never any fuss or bother. My Elsie was relieved we didn’t have to move on.”
Harry leaned around Madeline. “Did he say where he was going?” When Gatting looked at him, Harry tipped his head toward Gervase and her. “We might be going up to town, and if he’s there, we might look him up if you could give us his direction.”
“Indeed.” She nodded. “That would be the neighborly thing to do.” She looked inquiringly at Gatting.
Who grimaced. “Aye, he did say it was to London he was going, but he left no word of where. Said just to keep any letters that might come for him, although he didn’t expect any.”
“Did he have another man with him?” Gervase asked. “An agent, or a servant or groom?”
Gatting shook his head. “It was only him. Said he didn’t need any man’s help to get himself dressed or saddle his horse.”
“Did he have many callers?”
“No, m’lord, not a one as far as we know.” Gatting paused, then amended, “Well, Elsie did say he’d had a caller one day, while we were off down to Porthleven. Said there were two chairs in the parlor with cushions squashed. Course, he could have just sat in both himself, but she seemed to think it wasn’t so and someone had called. But howsoever, we didn’t ask.”
“Naturally not.” Madeline smiled benedictorially on Gatting. “Thank you, Gatting, you’ve been most helpful.”
Gatting bowed. “I’m only sorry the master wasn’t here to greet you, ma’am.”
With nods, they turned away.
They didn’t speak until they were back on the track; Gervase reined in just before the main road. “So, we’re left wondering whether our conjecture is correct, and Glendower, having bought two mining leases recently, is in truth our ‘London gentleman.’”
She grimaced. “No agent, or at least none sighted. And the Gattings don’t think Glendower is a wrong ’un.” She met Gervase’s eyes. “One thing I’ve learned is that staff generally know.”
He nodded.
“But,” Harry said, “if Glendower is our man, then if he’s left the area and returned to London the rumors and the offers for leases should cease.”
“True.” Gervase gathered his reins. “If they do, then he’s almost certainly the one behind them, but if he remains absent…”
“Then the problem he’s been causing in the district will simply go away.” Madeline glanced at him. “If he stays away and all our problems evaporate, there’s no reason we need to pursue him, is there?”
Gervase nodded, his expression a touch grim. “That would be my conclusion-and unless I miss my guess, that was his conclusion, too.”
She widened her eyes. “You think he realized we were about to descend on him?”
“Don’t ask me how, but his sudden departure at the crack of dawn seems a little too coincidental for my money.”
Madeline considered, then shrugged. “As long as he remains out of our hair, I’m content to leave him be.” Shaking her reins, she urged her chestnut forward.
As he held Crusader back to let her pass, Gervase’s gaze fell on the bright corona haloing her head; he
