Rescued By The Forbidden Rake

It was an imposing crenelated edifice flanked on either side by heavily timbered wings, extending like arms to embrace manicured lawns and parterres.

Determined not to be spotted dashing up to the front steps like a hoyden, Faye had kept to the shelter of the ancient limes. When so close to the manor’s huge oaken doors that she could feel a cool mist on her hot face she came to a standstill, catching her breath.

Leaning her back against the bole of the nearest tree, she watched the fountain droplets glistening with rainbow light as they sprayed high into the air. Her body was trembling with the exertion of running up hills and down dales, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She dried her perspiring hands on her skirts, then attempted smoothing her wild fair hair into the pins at her nape. Her bonnet had long ago loosened to drape down her back on its ribbons. She guessed she looked a fright, but something more important than that was bothering her. There was no sign of the doctor’s pony and trap in front of the house; she prayed she’d not had a wasted journey and that he had parked in the stable courtyard at the back of the building. With a deep inhalation she set off to find out because she had no intention of banging on Mr Kavanagh’s door for no reason.

‘Is it me you’re looking for, Miss Shawcross?’

Swinging about with a startled gasp, Faye stared up into a pair of the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen. For a moment she was tongue-tied, overwhelmed by the striking sight of him astride his magnificent horse. He was handsome...breathtakingly so...but it was the awful knowledge that he must have been watching her for some while that made colour flood her complexion. He had come up through the trees as she had and the blood pounding in her ears from running had deafened her to his approach. The idea that he’d seen her haring in and out of the woodland with her skirts lifted high about her knees was mortifying.

‘Do you want me?’

His lilting Irish accent was making his rephrased question seem more intimate than it was, Faye imagined as she felt her blush deepen.

‘I’m looking for the doctor, sir,’ she managed to utter crisply. ‘We were told he came here earlier. Is he inside?’ She skittered backwards as Mr Kavanagh dismounted and started towards her. ‘You should keep your distance, sir; I think my brother might have scarlatina. It spreads quickly, you know.’ She glanced at his house, wondering if those inside were under quarantine. ‘Has somebody here got scarlatina? Is that why you sent for Dr Reid?’

‘The physician was called to treat a groom who’d tumbled off a nag. There’s no infection that I know of.’ He plunged his hands into the pockets of his long leather coat, continuing to pace her way.

‘I see; is Dr Reid still here? I must speak to him urgently.’

‘He’s gone. I’ve just passed him on the road to Wilverton.’ He jerked his dark head towards the town.

Faye felt her heart sink. ‘Thank you, sir, for telling me.’ She gave a farewell nod, but it seemed he had no intention of letting her go yet and changed direction as she did.

She avoided him, feeling overpowered by his thrilling virility, but then swung about, angry at herself for allowing him to fluster her. She was a betrothed woman of twenty-five years, guardian to two children, not a green girl acting shy with a boy. ‘You should stay back from me, sir...scarlatina is a nasty illness,’ she said firmly.

‘I know it is. I had it when a lad and lived to tell the tale. It holds no fears for me now.’

‘You are indeed lucky, then. The idea of one of my family having the disease terrifies me.’ Faye sketched a little bob. ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you, sir.’ She set off again, walking, but intending to break into a run as soon as she was out of sight.

‘Are you going to Wilverton to find Reid?’

‘I’m heading home, sir.’ Faye sent that over a shoulder, then turned about, pacing backwards. ‘The doctor already has a message to come immediately to Mulberry House.’ Whichever way she stepped either his muscular body or that of his stallion seemed to be blocking her path, preventing her marching on.

‘I’ll give you a ride home on horseback. It’ll be quicker; you look too exhausted to run another step.’

‘No! That is, I thank you kindly for the offer, sir, but there is no need.’ Faye felt her face prickle in embarrassment; he had watched her haring about then.

‘Surely there is a need; you must be gravely concerned about your brother to risk visiting this den of iniquity in search of the physician.’

So he was aware the neighbourhood was agog with talk about his domestic arrangement. From the arrogant slant to his mouth Faye gathered he was quite impenitent about it.

‘My brother’s health is all I care about, sir; nothing else is of any consequence.’ Having piously implied uninterest in his affairs she felt a fraud; just a day or so ago she’d avidly listened to Holly describing Valeside Manor’s roguish new owner.

‘That’s settled then; you’ve no time for gossip and I’ve the time to get you quickly back to your brother’s side.’

His velvety Gaelic drawl made goosebumps prickle on Faye’s nape; she couldn’t deny that the prospect of the three-mile hike, when she was already weary, was a daunting one.

When he beckoned she hesitated only fractionally before going to him, barely flinching as he touched her forearm and drew her closer. Now she couldn’t avoid looking at the expanse of tanned skin exposed by his loose shirt collar, or becoming aware of a pleasing male scent of leather and tobacco. Fleetingly she raised her eyes to the thin white line that crossed his cheek, marvelling that it was less of a disfigurement than an enhancement to his raffish character.

Two large hands abruptly girdled her waist, lifting her atop the stallion with such ease and speed that she gasped. Seconds later he’d swung up behind her and turned the mount’s head in the direction of her home.

Had she wanted to speak to him on the cross-country gallop that took them flying over streams and hillocks it would have been difficult with the breeze whipping the breath from her mouth. Her stiffly held torso gradually relaxed and she allowed herself to nestle against his chest with her bonnet brim protecting her face from the elements. She had never ridden on a horse capable of such acceleration and she felt in equal part terrified and exhilarated by the thrill of it. As though guessing her mixed emotions, he put a knuckle beneath her chin and tilted up her face, displaying a flash of white teeth in a smile as he read her expression. One strong arm came in front of her and encircled her shoulders in a way that was oddly possessive as well as protective.

Reining in the horse to a slower pace, he pointed to the east. The doctor’s pony and trap was on the skyline, heading in the direction of her home.

‘Take me to him, if you will, sir. Dr Reid will let me ride with him and save you the remainder of the journey,’ Faye said while constantly pulling strands of fair hair away from her face, whipped there by the wind.

‘You’re not a bother to me... I’ll gladly take you all the way...if you want...’ His lips were close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

Her hesitation was enough to make him spur the stallion to a trot. A short while later Mulberry House was visible and Faye felt a peculiar pang of sadness to be almost home.

‘Thank you for your assistance, sir.’

‘My pleasure...’

He reined in the coal-black stallion at the top of the garden and dismounted. Without warning he lifted her down, keeping his hands fastened on the tops of her arms.

Feeling awkward beneath his brooding stare, Faye managed a little bob, then wriggled free. His long fingers encircled her wrist, stopping her turning away.

‘Don’t believe all you hear about me, will you now, Miss Shawcross?’

‘How do you know my name, sir?’

‘I made it my business to find out.’

Faye moistened her lips with a tongue flick. He’d owned up to being inquisitive about her with a boldness born of arrogance, she imagined. It had been good of him to bring her home, saving her legs, but she knew nothing about him other than what two people she trusted had told her. According to Anne Holly and Mrs Gideon, Ryan Kavanagh was rumoured to be a shameless reprobate. And she would do well to remember it, Faye impressed upon herself. Handsome and charming he might be...but she should heed her housekeeper’s words and keep a safe distance from him. She certainly couldn’t trust Kavanagh. And neither should his young mistress. Fleetingly Faye met his dark blue gaze; the hint of sultriness that she’d heard in his voice was reflected at the backs of his eyes. He didn’t know her, yet he desired her, despite having his concubine waiting for him at the manor.

‘Thank you for bringing me home, sir,’ Faye said huskily then turned and walked quickly towards the house.

‘Miss Shawcross...’

Faye pivoted about.

‘Is your brother sporting a rash that he scratches?’

‘He is, sir...the rash on his chest drives him mad.’

‘There was ragwort growing around the fairground by the river.’

‘Ragwort?’ Faye echoed in confusion.

‘It irritates some people.’

Faye frowned and took a few paces towards him. ‘You think my brother’s ailment might be from a plant rather than from an infection? Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?’

He mounted the stallion, a private smile twisting his mouth. ‘You know now. If that’s what ails your brother, the Romanies will have a cure for it if your doctor doesn’t.’ He dipped his head and a moment later was galloping away.

Faye hurried into the house to find Mrs Gideon and Claire rushing to meet her.