‘Guy?’ He looked up and saw her eyes were clou
ded with tears.
‘Sweetheart, I’ve hurt you, I’m sorry. And I dragged you out of there, frogmarched you down the drive, shouted at you.’
‘Hissed at me, you mean.’ She was smiling at him, rather mistily. ‘You didn’t hurt me, and I know why you were angry, it was the same reason I was so cross with you. We were frightened for each other, that was all.’
‘You were frightened for me’?’ Holding her wrists so her hands were kept free at her sides, he drew her towards him until he could bend his head to rest his forehead against hers. On the cold air she smelt faintly of her distinctive, mossy scent. ‘I love you, Hester.’
‘I love you too, Guy.’ The words escaped from her lips before she could recall them, before his declaration registered with her mind rather than her heart. ‘You said-you said that you love me?’
‘Yes. Love you, want you, desire you. I have been afraid to put it to the touch. Somehow I thought you regarded me more in the light of a friend than a husband.’ His lips pressed against her forehead, her eyelids, down to her mouth.
Husband? His kiss silenced her protest, making her head spin with a sensual onslaught even as she tried to be rational, tried to think. How was it possible to move from absolute happiness to despair in the flight of a second? Could she tell him about her mined reputation? Even if he believed her, would she ever be confident that he was not simply honouring his offer to marry her when, if he had known from the beginning, he would never have offered for her?
He must have sensed her inner turmoil, for he lifted his head, keeping her in his arms as he looked down into her face with a wry smile. ‘My poor darling. I must win some sort of prize for the most wretchedly timed proposal ever. You are cold, shaken, hurt and we are standing in a filthy barn at midnight. I think I must take you home, call again and attempt to do this once more in form.’
‘Guy, I cannot marry you.’ The words were forced from between stiff lips, but she had to try to convince him, not let him go through a night believing she would accept him.
‘I understand.’ He went to check Hector’s girth, then to hold the stirrup for her. ‘Come, up you get before you are too chilled to sit a horse. Do you need a leg up?’
‘No. What do you mean, you understand?’ Bemused, Hester took the reins, then winced.
‘Damn, I had forgotten your hands. Here.’ Guy removed two handkerchiefs from his coat pockets and wrapped them tenderly around each palm. ‘My valet believes a gentleman can never have too many clean handkerchiefs.’
Hester settled into the saddle and gathered the reins in her swathed hands. ‘You have not answered my question.’
Guy reached down, picked up the lantern, blew out the light and fixed it to his saddlebow. ‘I know why you feel you cannot marry me. It is of no matter; I do not regard it and neither should you. Now, come, home before Miss Prudhome sends the village constable and a search party.’
He knew? Hester rode automatically, her mind reeling. How could he know? Then she remembered him saying he would put investigations in train into the Nugents’ finances and debts. At the same time he must have had her own background looked into. So he had known for days about the scandal and her role in John’s life. But what did he know? The truth or the rumour?
Hester tried not to look at Guy’s shadowy figure as he rode, one hand relaxed on his thigh, his back erect, his breath clouding the freezing air. But she could not keep her eyes off him and the heat of his kisses glowed as though she had a hot brick snuggled under her shawl.
He loves me, he wants me, wants to marry me, even though he knows about John. Hector plodded on and Hester let herself slip into a sort of contented doze on his broad back. Where will we be married? Will his family like me? His sister sounds formidable. I will be a countess, of all the improbable things. A little gasp of laughter escaped Hester’s lips.
‘What are you laughing about, my love? You are home, come now, let me help you down.’ She let herself slip down into Guy’s arms. Her legs really did not want to support her, it was so safe and right to be held close against his chest. ‘Come on…’ she could hear the amusement in his voice ‘…you are asleep on your feet, but we need to get Jethro out here to look after Hector and I need to distract my footman who most certainly must not see you coming home at this hour wearing breeches!’
‘My lord, is she with you?’ The back door swung open and Jethro came out, lantern in hand. ‘There you are, Miss Hester! Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick, Miss Prudhome’s had the vapours and Susan was all set to send for the village constable.’
‘Miss Hester is quite safe, Ackland, although I think the sooner she’s in her bed the better. Where is my man?’
Hester found herself pushed gently into Susan’s arms as the maid appeared from behind Jethro, clucking with mingled anxiety and scolding. ‘You’re frozen, Miss Hester! You come along in, I’ve got the water on the range for a nice bath.’
Stumbling, Hester let herself be led inside, vaguely aware that Jethro was explaining that he’d sent a message to Parrott to keep the footman away. ‘Didn’t want him seeing Miss Hester coming back dressed like that, my lord.’
Susan pressed her down into a chair by the fire and went to heft a jug of water off the range. ‘You just sit there a minute while I fill your bath. I don’t know, what goings-on…’ she muttered on her way out into the hall. By the time she had lugged three jugs upstairs Hester was hearing the scolding through a warm mist of exhaustion, but she roused herself to smile sleepily at Guy when he came into the kitchen with Jethro on his heels.
He lifted her out of the chair as easily as though she were a child and carried her through the hall. ‘I seem to be making a habit of this, sweetheart,’ he murmured and she turned her head into the angle of his neck with a soft sigh of agreement. ‘And I have no doubt I’ll be chased out of your bedchamber just as briskly this time. Which is a pity.’ He lowered his voice and whispered, ‘Just when I would like to stay.’
Maria met them at the bedchamber door with the predicted outraged cluckings. ‘How could you allow her to do this sort of thing, my lord?’ she demanded.
Guy negotiated the steaming hip bath in the middle of the floor and lowered Hester on to the chaise. ‘If you have any suggestions for controlling Miss Lattimer, I would be most glad to hear them, ma’am. I have so far failed to discover anything that stops her doing precisely what she wants, the minute it occurs to her. Meanwhile, might I point out that her hands require cleaning and the application of some salve.’
Guy dropped to one knee beside Hester and took her hands gently in his. ‘I will send the footman over; they are overdue with the six roses.’
Hester shook her head. ‘No, they were here, propped against my door and tied with black ribbon. I have not had a chance to tell you.’
His lips set into a hard line and Hester shivered, grateful that she had not done anything to earn his enmity. ‘I must go tomorrow and collect my sister. I should be back by evening at the latest, my love.’ Heedless of the gasp of outrage from behind him, he kissed Hester rapidly on the lips, then stood. ‘Ladies, I bid you goodnight.’