A Shocking Proposition

Maddy halted the gig there, sheltered from the wind’s bite in the lee of the hedge. “I would invite you up, but it’s getting late. If you don’t turn back now—” She glanced up at the sky.

She was right, but the regret that shot through him was a complete surprise. He wanted to spend more time with her. Find out why she’d used that odd phrase—I still live there. His jaw tensed—find out why she feared Montfort. Did he own Haydon now? Somehow Ash didn’t much like the thought of that.

“Thank you, for accompanying me home,” she said, holding out her hand. “Not just because of Edward, but—” She stopped, her face flooding scarlet.

Because she had enjoyed his company? As much as he had enjoyed hers?

“I’ll see you in the summer if not before,” he said. And realized that he definitely didn’t want to wait that long. “You won’t mind my digging on Haydon land again?”

A queer expression crossed her face. Almost, he thought, it looked like guilt. “N-no. But we’ll need to discuss it.” She held out her hand.

“Of course,” he said. He leaned over to take her gloved hand, meaning only to say goodbye. For an instant her fingers clung and their eyes met. Slowly, giving her every chance to pull back, he turned her hand over, palm up. There, between glove and sleeve, was the merest strip of pale, tempting skin. Heat a swift rhythm in his blood, he raised her wrist to his mouth and brushed his lips over the place. Lord, she was soft. Tissue soft, silk soft. His lips lingered, and he breathed in a new world. Breathed in leather, wool, lavender and, beneath all that, the underlying fragrance of warm, sweet woman. For a fleeting instant there was madness, his fingers tightening involuntarily. And then his brain reengaged, banishing insanity. Reluctantly, rebellion pounding in every pulse of his blood, he obeyed its dictates and straightened, releasing her.

In the real world the earth and sky were, to his surprise, still in their proper relation, the one to the other. Somewhere a rook cawed lazily, a dog barked and the wind whipped at them. Nothing had changed. Except Maddy Kirkby was staring at him, green eyes wide, and her lips, that had sometime in the past several years become shockingly lush, slightly parted.

“You had better go,” he said, rather more roughly than he liked. But God help him if she continued to look at him like that. Her parted lips were giving him ideas. Ideas a gentleman who had taken self-righteous exception to another man’s behavior, was a complete hypocrite to be entertaining.

Her mouth closed and color flared in her cheeks, her chin lifting, as she gathered up the ribbons and set her mare in motion. Her eyes flashed a challenge. “I am not a toy for your amusement, Ash Ravensfell,” she said quietly. The mare’s breath huffed out on the cold air and they were trotting away up the lane.

He watched, even after the gig rounded the first bend, still able to see Maddy, spear straight, until she crested the rise and was gone.

Chapter Two

The horse, he was fairly sure it was his, although it was not in the least familiar, picked its steady way along a ridge. Despite the drifting mists, he knew precisely where he was—on Haydon land near Hadrian’s Wall. Somewhere in the whiteness ahead, he could hear the sound of stone scraping, tools being used on the Wall. He tried to push the horse faster, knowing that some vandal was dismantling part of the Wall for building stone, but the horse ignored his efforts. Wind swirled down out of the north, and on the Wall just ahead of him a figure became visible...a woman in a dark cloak, tawny hair tumbling about her shoulders in wild disarray, and witch-green eyes. Waiting for him. She held out her hand, either beseeching his aid, or offering her own. He tried to speak, but the Wall trembled and fell, and she was gone with it into the mist....

Ash woke to the sound of his curtains being drawn back and lay quietly. A better dream than most he’d had in the past eighteen months. At least he thought it was, already it was fading.... Had he really dreamed that Maddy Kirkby had been standing on Hadrian’s Wall begging him for help? Or had she been going to help him?

* * *

Ash looked disinterestedly at the solitary, unopened letter beside his breakfast plate and addressed himself halfheartedly to the very excellent ham and eggs on his plate. Opposite him his much elder half brother Gerald, Duke of Thirlmere, was going through his personal correspondence while munching toast and marmalade. Occasionally the ducal brows rose. Twice he snorted out a laugh and read something aloud to his duchess, Helen.

The duchess, glancing up from her own letters, smiled affectionately at her husband over the rim of her teacup. Both duke and duchess cast furtive glances at Ash.

He tried very hard not to notice and even harder not to grit his teeth. He knew they loved him, but he did wish they would stop worrying about him. But how did you explain to your brother, who was more like a father to you, and had never been anywhere near a battlefield in his life, and his even more sheltered wife, that there was nothing wrong? Nothing that complete loss of memory wouldn’t fix. At least he was sleeping better and the dreams, dreams that had woken him screaming, and in a cold sweat of fear, weren’t as frequent. In fact, he hadn’t had one for a couple of months. Although, he couldn’t say that he entirely liked the turn his dreams had taken last night. If he had dreamed about Maddy Kirkby. He wasn’t too sure now. Perhaps he had. He’d certainly spent enough time on the journey home yesterday thinking about her. Wondering if the rest of that milky, pale skin was as sweet and silken as her wrist? Or the wide, lush mouth as passionate as his imagination wanted it to be? Hell’s teeth! What was worse? Suffering nightmares, or indulging in erotic fantasies about a respectable young lady he hadn’t seen since she was fifteen?

Of course, girls grew up, and the discomfort of his saddle yesterday attested to the fact that Maddy had definitely grown up. He would see more of her in the summer if he excavated the fort on her land, so he’d better get over it.

Gerald having finished with his letters, removed his eyeglasses and smeared a vast amount of marmalade on another piece of toast. Helen was gazing thoughtfully at the teapot, clearly considering another cup, when she gave Ash another worried glance.

It had occurred to Ash in the past that if he just joined in with whatever passed for normal at any given time, his brother and sister-in-law seemed to worry less. In that spirit he picked up the letter beside his plate and broke the wafer. Accustomed to notice everything about him because his life and those of his men might depend on detail, he registered the fact that the wafer had been affixed with a plain seal and the paper was of rather poor quality. On the other hand, the writing was that of an educated...woman at a guess. His gaze flicked to the signature—M. Kirkby—and his pulse skipped a beat. He quelled it, and noted the address—Three Shepherds Inn, Newcastle—which explained the plain seal and cheap paper. It also explained what she’d been doing yesterday while he waited for her. But why the devil hadn’t she just told him whatever it was on the way out to Haydon?

He began to skim the letter, and then, wondering if perhaps he was still asleep and dreaming, went back and started reading again. Slowly. When he finished and was convinced he was actually awake, he read the letter again. Just in case he had missed something. He hadn’t. It said precisely what he’d thought it said, and it certainly made sense that she hadn’t quite liked to broach this subject face-to-face.

“Interesting letter, then, Ash?” said Gerald.

That was one way of putting it... Ash handed the letter over. “You tell me.”

Gerald stared at him, but put his eyeglasses back on and glanced at the letter. “Madeleine Kirkby? What’s she doing writing to you?” He began to read. “‘A business proposition to put to you... Grandfather’s will—’ heard something about that. Rather an awkward business with Montfort being so determined to take the estate back, very poor showing on his part, if you ask me...” He glanced up, frowning. “You didn’t say that you’d seen her at old Blakiston’s yesterday. Or that you’d had a run-in with Montfort. Fellow’s a blister. A complete wart.” Ash said nothing and Gerald fell silent again as he read on. “Good God!” He looked up, removed his eyeglasses, and stared at Ash.

Ash refilled his own coffee cup and leaned over to top up Gerald for good measure. “That’s what I thought.”

“About what?” demanded the duchess.

Gerald put the letter down, took a sizeable swig of coffee. “It’s a proposal.”

“Yes, dear.” Helen adopted the sort of patient tone that a wife of twenty-five years who wanted to stay sane had to perfect. “You mentioned a business proposal. What sort of business does Miss Kirkby have with Ash?”

“Marriage,” said Ash.

* * *

“I don’t quite see what’s bothering you about it,” Gerald said placidly as they rode. The day was surprisingly clear, a miracle in early December. Gerald said the weather would close in later and Ash agreed. But right now a pale sun filtered down, brightening the bleak fells with their dusting of snow.

“What?” Ash wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard correctly. Gerald had asked if he planned to accept Miss Kirkby’s offer and he’d answered that it probably wasn’t a good idea.

Apparently Gerald didn’t agree any more than his own unruly body had. The moment he had read Maddy’s marriage proposal his body had proclaimed it an excellent idea.

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