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Disgusted, Leona stood for a moment in the middle of the road, debating what to do.

She did not want to turn around and walk back to the inn.

The only thing for it was to continue on foot to the next village and obtain another horse there.

But it would be cruel to make this horse walk that far.

She sighed, looking around her. She was not far from the southeastern border of Squire Hembridge’s property.

If she recalled right, there was a gate into the pasture there.

Perhaps it would be best to turn the horse loose in there.

Squire Hembridge wouldn’t mind. She could send a note to Mr. Tubbs when she reached the next village, telling him where to find the horse.

She grabbed the reins and led the horse a half-mile farther on.

When she found the gate, she unbuckled her portmanteau from the saddle and then removed the saddle and bridle, hiding them among the bushes.

Satisfied that no likely harm would come to either horse or tack, she picked up her portmanteau and trudged down the road.

She wondered if the theft of the jewels had yet been discovered.

Probably. Whoever was the confederate in the household would undoubtedly waste no time in making that plain—and ensure that she was blamed!

Who could it be? Purboy? Mrs. Henry? Jason, the footman?

It didn’t make any sense! Worse still, at least she could offer up names for herself.

Who would she suggest wanted to harm little Chrissy?

Lady Christiana was well-loved—and well-spoiled—by all the staff.

She switched the portmanteau from her right hand to her left. Her shins throbbed where she whacked them with the case. No doubt they’d be black and blue by morning.

Had Deveraux yet discovered her absence?

Did he care? What was his reaction? Anger, certainly, for she had left without his permission.

Would he think she stole the jewels? Oh, what a ridiculous question.

How could he not? Would he hate her so much, or could sorrow perhaps temper that black emotion?

How difficult would he make things for her when she returned to Castle Marin?

Would he believe her or even give her a chance to speak? She prayed so.

She remembered his smile and his disheveled black hair.

He had the habit of running his fingers through his hair when he was frustrated or at a loss—a situation he’d fallen into frequently of late!

That little habit was one of the things that endeared him to her.

It stripped away his arrogance and his temper and brought out the boy’s soul that still resided within him.

He’d said he loved her. Loved her! Leona Clymene Leonard!

Not for rescuing Chrissy, for he called that foolish; not for her management of Lion’s Gate, for he thought that unsuitable; and not for her independence, for he railed against that!

How could he say he loved her when everything she did irritated him? What she did was what she was!

Or was it?

Her brow furrowed as she tried to puzzle out an answer. She kicked absently at a clod of dirt on the ground, watching it bounce and shatter into dust

Suddenly she was aware that more than just her clod of dirt hit the ground.

It was the sound of hoofbeats coming fast, hidden from sight by a thicket of beech, bushes, and a bend in the road.

If her mind had not been so occupied, doubtless she would have heard the approaching horse sooner.

She turned to run to the side of the road to hide.

The toe of one boot caught the lip of a rut in the road.

She fell facedown, dirt clogging her nose and mouth, stinging her eyes.

Panicked, she scrambled to her feet, grabbing for her portmanteau just as the horse and rider rounded the corner.

They were coming fast and coming straight for her!

Leona screamed and threw up her arm to shield her face as the rider belatedly reined in his mount. The big black horse neighed shrilly, its eyes rolling white as it reared, pawing the air inches from Leona’s head. The rider fought the horse, finally bringing him down, stiff-legged and sidling.

“Deveraux!” Leona cried in a thin voice. She sagged back to the ground, her body limp over her portmanteau.

Deveraux vaulted from Nuit’s back and ran to Leona.

Gathering her in his arms, he murmured her name over and over as he anxiously searched for any injury.

“My darling, my little love, are you all right? Speak to me, Leona! Oh, God, I’ve never been so frightened in all my life than to see your face inches from Nuit’s hooves! I shall have him shot!”

“No, no!” protested Leona weakly. She raised her hand to touch his lips, silencing him.

“No. No other horse could have responded as quickly to your commands. I am at fault for freezing like a rabbit caught in an open field instead of running to the side of the road. Gracious, I shouldn’t have even been in the middle of the road! Truly my mind was wandering.”

He grabbed her hand, bringing her palm to his lips to kiss.

Then he got to his feet, pulling her up with him.

“Can you stand? Are you all right?” He led her over to the grassy verge on the side of the road, leaving her to sit with her back against a venerable old beech as he gathered her portmanteau and the horse.

He set the case down on one side of her, then sat down on the other, pulling her into his arms until she sat on his lap, her head on his shoulder.

“Isn’t this a rather public road for this?” she asked with laughter in her voice, muffled against the fine wool of his coat.

“Hmmm, yes. However, if it were anymore private, I should be tempted to do other things.”

“Oh, like what?” she asked innocently, looking up into his cornflower blue eyes.

His eyes narrowed. “Like give you the beating you so richly deserve!” he said with feeling, his grip tightening on her to prevent her leaping away.

“Deveraux! You wouldn’t!” she protested.

“Oh, wouldn’t I? Just what do you mean hurrying off at dawn without a word to me?—”

“I wrote you a note from Axminster.”

“Yes, and a more mealy-mouthed missive I have never read.”

“Mealy-mouthed?!”

“Mealy-mouthed. Rambling on about duty and understanding. I have only one question for you.”

“Yes?” she timidly asked as she played with the top button of his coat.

“Do you wish for true understanding between us?” he asked lightly, though the slight tremor in the hand that stroked a stray lock of hair out of her face told of deeper feelings.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. Her smile began slowly, lifting the corners of her mouth then spreading her lips wide and gently apart as its radiance increased, springing as it did from the depths of her soul.

Her eyes glowed from the light of that inner luminosity, and a delicate pink color rose in her cheeks.

“More than life,” she whispered, lifting her head, her eyes slowly closing as she invited his kiss.

He groaned somewhere deep in his throat, and his lips covered hers.

Her body trembled, but she clung to him, edging her hand up his arm to his neck.

Her lips parted, slowly, tentatively, but there was nothing slow or tentative about his response, his tongue tangling with hers, searching, demanding to know all her secrets.

She opened to him like a flower to the spring sun.

He raised his head, leaning it back against the tree. “My God, woman, what do you do to me?” he asked huskily, his breathing harsh and ragged.

A cry of dismay welled in Leona’s throat, fighting with the sudden tears forming. She struggled to get off his lap, but he held her fast.

“Would you stop belittling yourself! Stop being so prickly!”

She looked at him uncertainly but stopped struggling. He ran his hand through his hair, leaving some standing on end. She smiled.

He looked at her uncertainly, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because your hair is a mess.”

“What?”

“Whenever you are particularly frustrated, you run your hand through your hair and mess it up.”

He laughed. “Well, it is certainly true I am frustrated at the moment and in more ways than one!” he said, shifting her slightly so she could feel the evidence of his arousal.

“Oh,” she said meekly, blushing.

He grinned at her expression and relaxed. He touched the tip of her nose. ‘Tell me, my brave lioness, why did you leave?”

“You mean, you don’t know about the jewels?” she asked, sliding off his lap to kneel next to him.

“That the Nevin heirloom suite is missing? Yes, I know about that,” he said irritably, “but what has that to do with you?” He tried to pull her back onto his lap, but she resisted.

“You don’t think I stole the jewels?” Her eyes were wide, and an eager excitement gleamed in their mottled green and brown depths.

“Leona, despite our continual failure to understand each other properly, I do know one thing. You’re no thief!”

“Oh, Nigel, you do love me!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him with all her strength.

“Of course, I do. Haven’t I said so before? Hey—easy, Leona, you’re choking me! . . . What does this have to do with the jewels? How do you even know about them?”

She rocked back on her heels and beamed at him. “Because, dearest love of my heart, I do have them!”