Page 11

T here was something not quite right about Lord Gray. Thea felt it in her bones. Granted, she always felt her ludicrous suspicions in her bones, but this time it was different. She had decided that after hours of tossing and turning as sleep eluded her and her mind circled around the words she had heard.

Shipments.

Excise Men.

Turning blind eyes.

It all pointed to something illegal—like smuggling. A topic which was particularly pertinent at the moment. The London papers were rife with terrifying stories of bloodthirsty cut-throats and traitors, all lured by the easy riches of free trading, and had been for months. Even in this quiet corner of rural Suffolk, the news had caused a stir. It was all anyone could talk about yesterday at the inn as Thea had choked down her luncheon, and it was a little too coincidental that she had overheard Gray talking about shipments on exactly the same day as a veritable battalion of Excise Men were crawling over the port of Ipswich, searching every boat with a fine-toothed comb.

His behaviour had been decidedly odd, too. He had looked uncomfortable. Guarded. The charming flirt had been missing for nearly all of their brief interaction, until he used it ruthlessly to prevent her from asking questions. It galled that, like a dolt, she had fallen for it. His touch had made her momentarily forget about his shady-looking companions and his unbelievable assertions that he was going to breed horses. That gentle, possessive brush of his fingers down her arm and bare hand had made her silly body want and her lips hungry for his kiss again. She had felt that touch everywhere, in places that shocked her, and the illicit memory could still conjure those same feelings of desire instantaneously even now.

Why was that, when she knew in her bones he was not at all who he pretended to be and not at all trustworthy? He was a gambler. A fortune hunter. Very probably a smuggler if his reference to the Excise Men was anything to go on and he had the charming, practised air of a skilled philanderer, too. She didn’t want to be drawn to him or feel how he made her body hum with excitement. And she certainly didn’t want to like him, spar or spend time with him. Or pathetically hope that all her suspicions about him were wrong so that they could continue from precisely where they had left off on the terrace after he had kissed her—and she had wantonly and greedily kissed him right back. Clearly Impetuous Thea was predisposed to be hopelessly attracted to scoundrels no matter how hard she tried not to be.

Horses!

There had been no sign of such an endeavour at Kirton House thus far. Of that she was in no doubt. She might well have been avoiding the scoundrel for the last week—but she had found her feet taking her within viewing distance of the house on more than one occasion and had, to her great shame, watched it quite intently for several minutes as she slowly strolled or rode past on the off-chance she might catch a glimpse of him.

At least today she was watching the house for quite different reasons. Today, Thea was on a mission. A dawn mission to ascertain exactly what was what and decide if her suspicions about the man were well founded. Thea knew horses. One couldn’t grow up in the countryside without a rudimentary knowledge of what such an endeavour would entail and she had significantly more than a rudimentary knowledge. Uncle Edward’s stable was the envy of the county. If her new neighbour was intent on breeding them, there would be signs. An exercise area. The stables would need to be readied for the stud and the brood mares. There would be hay. Lots and lots of hay. And those grooms would be busy. Although perhaps not this early in the morning. After a night of never-ending insomnia, she had flung herself out of bed as the sun had begun to rise and left the house as the clock struck five. By her calculations, she had a good half an hour to spy before the servants rose at six.

After checking the coast was clear, she risked leaving the dense bank of trees that shrouded the brook from the house and attempted to look nonchalant as she walked, clutching the basket she had brought by way of a disguise for all she was worth. If spotted, she reasoned she needed a good excuse to be out and as one of the local farmer’s wives was on the cusp of giving birth, the hastily wrapped bread, cheese and fruit cake she had grabbed from the pantry would look like the perfect, helpful gift from a thoughtful neighbour. All perfectly plausible.

She heard a bark and froze. Then in a panic dropped to the floor, hoping the patchy carpet of wild flowers would be enough to hide her. The dog barked again and didn’t stop, causing Thea to scramble on her hands and knees back to the cover of the trees, her eyes never leaving the house.

Thea had barely made it when to her horror the front door opened and the man himself, complete with bouncing hound, emerged into daylight. Dressed in just his shirt and breeches, he didn’t appear ready to be seen outside, but her eyes drank in the sight regardless as he stretched and flexed his arms. Magnificent arms aside, he wore those breeches well, too. Even from this distance, how well couldn’t be denied. Drat him.

He grinned down at his dog and ruffled Trefor’s black ears, then he appeared to prise something out of his mouth. She watched, fascinated, as he threw it, marvelling at how far those strong, muscled arms beneath that gloriously flimsy white linen could send it. The dog bounded after it, tail wagging, picked it up and began to run back to his master. But then he stopped, sat and pointed his nose skywards, sniffing the air.

What had possessed her to throw herself guiltily on the ground rather than shoot him a withering glare as she marched past? When she had every right to be striding across her uncle’s land no matter what time of day it happened to be! Now there was every chance he would find her if his dog was this curious.

Suddenly feeling very exposed and stupid crouched among the leaves, she held her breath for a full ten seconds, but it was too late. As if he sensed her, Trefor’s eyes locked with hers and he began to race towards the trees at speed. He barrelled through the undergrowth with what appeared to be a leather cricket ball in his mouth. He took one look at Thea and then deliriously nuzzled his head against her shoulder while his tail whizzed from side to side.

‘Trefor!’ At Gray’s shout from behind the screen of trees, the animal froze momentarily before continuing his worship of Thea. ‘Come on, boy! How can we play catch if you’ve run off with the ball?’ There was a pause, as if he had stopped walking and was listening, then he spoke again. ‘Fetch the ball, Trefor! Fetch the ball!’

Realising he had no idea she was here and was probably content to walk on by, she felt no compunction to apprise him of her presence—or allow his dog to. With minimal movement, she prised the soggy ball out of Trefor’s jaws and tossed it in the direction of both the trees and his master. Immediately, the animal bounded after it, rummaged and then proudly held it aloft in his mouth as Gray called him again.

‘Come on, Trefor! Do you want me to throw it again or not? Fetch the damn ball!’

Bizarrely, Thea got the distinct impression the dog knew exactly what his master was saying, because he dithered for a moment as if torn. Then he decided to bring the dratted thing back to her, dropping it in her lap and then eyeing it expectantly as if it was the only thing in the world that truly mattered. She tossed the surprisingly heavy ball again as if it were something offensive and whispered to the dog, ‘Go! Shoo!’ Her arms gesticulated wildly, but silently, in the direction of the man she very definitely did not want to see while she mimicked his instructions in a whisper. ‘Fetch the ball, Trefor. Fetch it for Gray !’

Fetch was clearly the magic word because the dog was off like a shot, another thing Thea was determined to mimic. She scrabbled to stand, simultaneously snatching up her basket, before darting to the bank of trees in the opposite direction and escape. She hadn’t moved two yards before the dog followed. He did a quick circle of her legs before dropping the dreaded ball at her feet again. It clipped her toe and made her wince, but self-preservation made her bite back the instinctual cry of pain.

Fearing imminent discovery, she grabbed it and threw it again, though this time she put all her weight behind it. The ball flew beyond the canopy to the meadow beyond. There was a dull thud, then a yelp, and Thea realised she had managed to hit him in her panic.

Good heavens, what disaster!

To compound her misery and despite her spirited throw, the dog had stubbornly chosen to stay put at her feet and helpfully decided to bark in case his master was left in any doubt of her location. ‘Shh!’ A command which apparently made him bark louder as he proceeded to follow, then hamper her hasty dash for freedom. Inevitably, and to her complete mortification, the shambles continued.

‘Were you attempting to kill me or simply knock me out?’ He emerged through the branches, rubbing his temple, typically handsome and windswept—the wretch.

‘If I had been attempting either I would have succeeded, believe me. I dare say it’s no less than you deserve.’

‘For kissing you?’

And just like that she felt the power of that kiss all over again. ‘For being a scoundrel! I am on to you, Lord Gray.’

‘On to me?’ While his face was expressionless, his wolf-like eyes were amused. ‘I see you are still obsessed with my being a chancer and...’ He snapped his fingers as if searching for the right word. ‘What was it again? A ne’er-do-well?’ He stopped dead and stood on the bank a few feet away from her, his hands on his hips as he glanced around, taking in the basket, her dishevelled appearance and then smiling knowingly as his eyes finally rested on the brook. ‘In view of your apparent vehement dislike of me, this is in an interesting venue to choose this morning. The original scene of the crime...’

Foolishly, she allowed her gaze to follow his to the water and immediately pictured him in it. Naked. Shameless. Then the splendid kissing sprang to mind and, to her mortification, a ferocious blush began to creep up her neck. ‘Crime is an interesting choice of word!’ Before he mentioned how naked he had been that fateful morning, Thea decided to vent her suspicions openly to detract him from the blush. People went red with anger, too, although perhaps not in quite the same way. ‘Especially when one is a criminal, Lord Gray!’

‘It’s just Gray—and what the blazes are you talking about?’

‘Horse-breeding indeed? Do I strike you as daft, Lord Gray? Kirton House is not ready for horses and I heard you yesterday! Excise Men turning a blind eye to shipments! Six thousand pounds of ill-gotten gains! You are worse than a ne’er-do-well. It wouldn’t surprise me if you were a smuggler!’

He was silent for the longest time before he threw his dark head back and roared with laughter. ‘A smuggler! That is priceless. I believe Lady Crudgington’s assessment of you is spot on. Your imagination is as vivid as your hair, Thea!’

‘I know what I heard. I have excellent ears.’

‘I know. I nibbled one of them. Sensitive, too. You moaned, if I recall, the second my lips found it.’

‘Stop it!’

‘You’re the one who brought up your ears.’ Those unusual silvery eyes were dancing as he slowly edged towards her. ‘Now I can’t stop thinking about them.’ Nor could she stop her stupid ears tingling with the memory. She had moaned when his lips had found them. Moaned loudly and writhed shamelessly against him. That was mortifying.

‘And stop right there!’ Thea held her hand outstretched, palm out in warning. ‘I will not allow your incessant flirting to succeed in scaring me off or distracting me from saying what you do not want to hear this time! I heard you. Clear as crystal. Discussing an illegal shipment with Lord Fennimore and all those strange men—illegal shipments worth six thousand pounds.’

‘That’s right. I was.’ He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her levelly. ‘It was all anyone could talk about at that inn in Ipswich. Although surely you must have seen the Excise Men yourself swarming along the river that day, too? They were very hard to miss and the subject of much speculation from the locals. By all accounts, the free traders sailed it all into the city as bold as brass only that morning. Although I dare say you can read a better summary in the newspaper if you’ve a mind to? Even in the wilds of Suffolk smuggling is big news. Especially nowadays. After that big trial in the capital a few weeks ago...’