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D iana took Harrington’s advice and started arming herself and taking Inge with her whenever she left the cottage.

She continued to see the man in the wide-brimmed hat around the village. As before, he managed to melt into the forest or disappear behind a corner each time she spotted him.

But the following Sunday, things finally came to a head.

The morning service at Christ Church had just concluded. As she and Harrington stepped outside, she spotted the familiar floppy hat across the churchyard.

Harrington was bent over, busy unknotting Inge’s leash from the small tree to which they had secured it.

Diana crept up behind him. “Don’t look. But he’s here.”

He stiffened, then slowly straightened, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “The man who’s been following you?”

Diana gave a tiny nod. “He’s standing just behind the steeple. Don’t look ,” she emphasized as Harrington started to do just that.

He swallowed. “What would you suggest?”

Frankly, Diana was sick of this nonsense. She wanted to feel safe when she left her home, wanted the feelings of lightness and ease she had experienced in her first days in Bandon.

She wanted this to be over. Which meant catching whoever this man was in the act.

“Round up a dozen or so soldiers,” she said. “I want to set a trap.”

She and Harrington made a great show of lingering in the churchyard, chatting with their friends, never glancing toward the steeple.

At last, Harrington bent his head to her ear. “Everything’s ready. We’re going to walk toward the market and see if we can get him to follow. A half-dozen men will be waiting for us there. Another half-dozen will follow at a discreet distance. Let’s see if we can get him to take the bait.”

Diana took Inge’s leash in her left hand and looped her right arm through Harrington’s. She was careful not to look toward the steeple as they exited the churchyard. “I appreciate you arranging this.”

He patted her arm. “Of course. Hopefully, we’ll end this today.”

As they walked through the village, Harrington kept up a flow of chatter, insisting that it would look more natural than walking in tense silence.

Diana knew he was right but struggled to attend to the conversation with the confrontation looming ahead.

What if this man was violent? Just because they would have him outnumbered twenty to one didn’t mean he couldn’t cause significant damage.

What if he had a gun? What if he shot someone?

What if the person he shot was Harrington?

The thought was too terrible to even contemplate, like a black pit of despair gaping before her. It was a strange thing, but the thought of losing him was worse than the possibility of being shot herself…

“Diana? Diana, are you ready?”

She blinked. They were crossing the bridge over the River Bandon. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

He inclined his head toward the market stalls just ahead. “This is where we’ll lay our trap. The soldiers will be waiting to box him in. Let’s see if he’ll take the bait.”

Diana nodded, and Harrington turned, leading her down a narrow alley between the empty market stalls. Her heart was pounding, and the smile she forced to her lips felt tight, and?—

Just then, Inge stopped short, yanking the leash from Diana’s hand and running back the way they’d come. “Inge!” she cried. “ Hier !” But the usually obedient dog ignored her.

That was when she saw the stranger, or at least his floppy hat, lurking between two market stalls. Diana’s heart seized. Was her usually unflappable dog going to lunge for the man’s throat?

Instead, Inge padded up to him, her demeanor strangely cheerful. Diana narrowed her eyes as she watched the pointer lick the man’s hand.

She froze. The man’s hand was immaculately manicured and bore a gold signet ring.

A familiar gold signet ring.

Scowling, she stormed down the row of stalls.

“Diana!” Harrington shouted. “Stay behind me. He could be dangerous!” He gave chase, but she was already upon the stranger.

She ripped the floppy hat off his head, revealing a glossy head of pale blond hair. “Marcus!” she snapped. “What the devil are you doing here?”