Page 7 of Ravished

"I am delighted you have found me a suitable candidate for the position you evidently wished to fill," he growled. "We shall see how appreciative you are when I have completed my assignment and am ready to collect my pay."

Harriet winced at the chilling sarcasm. She watched as he went through the open door and out into the March sunshine. He did not give her a backward glance.

Harriet caught a brief glimpse of a giant bay stallion waiting patiently outside. The horse was a truly massive creature, not unlike its master, with huge feet, powerful muscles, and an obstinate curve of nose. There was nothing the least bit refined or elegant about the stallion. He looked big enough and mean enough to carry an old-fashioned knight in full armor into battle.

Harriet listened as the viscount rode off along the cliffs. For a long moment she remained very still on her knees beside the fallen housekeeper. The hall of the cottage seemed comfortably spacious once more. For a while there, with St. Justin standing in it, the hall had seemed quite cramped.

Harriet realized with a start that St. Justin's scarred, savage features had burned themselves into her brain. She had never encountered a man like him.

He was incredibly large. Like his horse, he was tall and solidly built, with broad, sleekly muscled shoulders and thighs. His hands were massive and so were his feet. Harriet wondered if St. Justin's glovemakers and bootmakers were obliged to charge extra for the additional materials that must have been required in every pair of gloves and boots.

Everything about St. Justin, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, was hard and strong and potentially fierce.

His face reminded Harriet of the magnificent lion she had seen in Mr. Petersham's menagerie three years ago. Even his eyes recalled those of the wild beast. They were wonderful eyes, Harriet thought, tawny gold and filled with a compelling awareness and cool intelligence.

St. Justin's coal-black hair, broad cheekbones, bold nose, and forceful jaw added to the leonine look. The scar only served to heighten the impression of a powerful, predatory beast, a creature who was no stranger to violence.

Harriet wondered where and how St. Justin had acquired the wicked-looking scar that slashed across his jaw. It looked old. The terrible wound had probably been inflicted several years ago. He was fortunate it had not taken his eye.

Mrs. Stone stirred again and moaned. Harriet forced herself to pay attention to the immediate problem. She waved the little bottle under the woman's nose. "Can you hear me, Mrs. Stone?"

"What? Yes. Yes, I can hear you." Mrs. Stone opened her eyes and gazed up into Harriet's face. She frowned painfully. "What on earth? Oh, dear God. Now I remember.He was here, was he not? It was no nightmare. The Beast was here. In the flesh."

"Calm yourself, Mrs. Stone. He has taken himself off."

Mrs. Stone's eyes widened in renewed alarm. She clutched at Harriet's arm, her bony fingers closing like a vice around Harriet's wrist. "Be ye safe, Miss Harriet? Did that foul hellhound touch ye? I saw him looming over ye like a great monstrous serpent."

Harriet restrained her irritation. "There is absolutely no cause for concern, Mrs. Stone. He merely put his hand beneath my chin for the barest moment."

"Lord preserve us." Mrs. Stone's eyes fluttered shut again.

At that moment Harriet heard the clatter of shoes on the front step and an instant later the door, which had been so firmly closed by the departing viscount, opened to reveal Euphemia Pomeroy and Harriet's charmingly windblown sister, Felicity.

Felicity was acknowledged by everyone in the neighborhood of Upper Biddleton to be a spectacular beauty, and with good reason. In addition to being extraordinarily lovely, she had a natural air of style and elegance that shone even in the financially reduced circumstances the Pomeroy sisters were obliged to endure.

Today she was an enchantingly vivid sight in a flounced walking dress of bright green and white stripes. A dark green pelisse and a green, plumed bonnet completed her attire. She had light green eyes and golden blond hair, both of which she had inherited from her mother. The cut of her gown also underlined another asset that had been bequeathed by her maternal parent, a gloriously full bosom.

Euphemia Pomeroy Ashecombe stepped into the hall first, stripping off her gloves. She had been widowed just before the death of her brother, the Reverend Pomeroy, and had landed on her nieces' doorstep shortly thereafter. She was nearing fifty and had once been an acknowledged beauty herself. Harriet thought her still very attractive.

The silver in Aunt Effie's once dark hair was revealed as she removed her bonnet. The distinctive turquoise blue of the Pomeroy side of the family characterized her fine eyes, just as it did Harriet's.

Effie gazed at the fallen housekeeper with acute alarm. "Oh, dear. Not again."

Felicity came into the hall behind her aunt, closed the door, and glanced at Mrs. Stone. "Good heavens. Another bout of the vapors. What on earth caused it this time? Something more interesting than last time, I trust. On that occasion I believe she was felled by nothing more than the news that Lady Barker's oldest daughter had managed to secure herself a wealthy merchant for a husband."

"Well, he was in trade, after all," Aunt Effie reminded her. "You know very well that Mrs. Stone has a nice appreciation of the importance of maintaining one's proper station in life. Annabelle Barker descended from a very good family. Mrs. Stone was quite right to feel the girl could have done better for herself than to marry a cit."

"If you ask me, Annabelle did very well indeed," Felicity declared in her typically pragmatic manner. "Her husband dotes on her and has given her an unlimited allowance. They live in a fine house in London and have two carriages and lord only knows how many servants. Annabelle is set for life."

Harriet grinned as she held the vinaigrette under Mrs. Stone's nose again. "And in addition to all that, one hears that Annabelle is also madly in love with her rich merchant. I agree with you, Felicity. She has not done so badly. But do not expect Aunt Effie and our Mrs. Stone to ever see it from our point of view."

"No good will come of that alliance," Aunt Effie predicted. "It never pays to allow a young girl to follow her heart. Especially when it takes her straight down the social ladder."

"So you have frequently told us, Aunt Effie." Felicity considered Mrs. Stone. "Well, what did happen this time?"

Before Harriet could respond, Mrs. Stone blinked and sat up with a painful effort. "The Beast of Blackthorne Hall is back," she intoned.

"Good lord," Effie said, amazed. "What on earth is she talking about?"

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