Page 8 of Avenging the Earl's Lady
Chapter 3
The rocks crunched under her boots and the damp breeze crept under her wrap as she hurried down the stone stairs at the side of the house.
Gorse Point Cottage perched on the cliff, four levels stacked up the hillside, with the ground floor kitchen opening into a stable yard that stretched on a small, flat plateau before the hill broke off again into boulders.
A soldier stood a weary duty in front of the stables, and one of Shaldon’s men circled the rock-bound yard, keeping an eye out for trouble.
They didn’t so much as acknowledge her.Each year she’d become less and less visible.She’d soon be able to walk through the world of men completely unseen.
No wonder she’d almost succumbed to the Earl’s attempt on her dubious virtue.
The road curved around boulders and gorse-thickened outcrops.Lady Perry had explained the layout and roads two nights ago.This lane would lead on until it reached a highway that led west to the Earl of Shaldon’s home at Cransdall, the grand country estate that she’d never visited.
Her own route up from London had skirted north past Scarborough on a different road.She’d traveled at all speed in Shaldon’s sleek chaise, days and nights of poor or no sleep and no thoughts but the need to preserve Lady Perry’s reputation, and then, when she’d arrived, no thought but to save Shaldon’s life.
And now, she had no thought but to steal from the man.
Rounding a bend, she reached a straight stretch, and the sight of it sent her heart pounding.The edge of the road sheered off from a path so narrow, if a wagon approached it might not be able to squeak by her.
Leagues below her, the wild North Sea waters crashed against jagged rocks, beating, withdrawing, regrouping, and coming back for more.Patient and persistent, for eons, the sea had chipped away at this coast.
It was much like the coastline near her father’s estate in Kent.The rocks poking up from below sent her head spinning, pushing the air from her lungs.
“Careful.”
She jumped, and a hand gripped her arm, steadying her.Shaldon’s dark gaze pierced her, sending heat sparking in waves.In spite of his age, in spite of the trials of the past two days, he was still virile, still vital.
What did he want with a middle-aged spinster like herself?He could go back to the marriage mart, catch a young girl’s eye, and start on another crop of handsome boys.
Hadn’t he once caught her own eye when she was a young girl in Kent?
How old would he be?He’d fathered his first child, an illegitimate son, in Ireland before reaching the age of twenty.Past fifty then, and yet only a bit of gray streaked over his ears.And he was still stealthy as a cat when he wanted to be.Not so much as a pebble had shifted under his boots when he’d crept up behind her.
She tucked the shawl tighter around her, shaking off his hand in the process.“It’s a grand view, isn’t it?”
“It’s perilous,” he said.“You shouldn’t be here.”
“You are right, of course,” she said.“Yet you did ask me to come.”
He sighed.“I meant, you shouldn’t be on this road.”
Her face heated.If she must hie off to Yorkshire at a moment’s notice, if she must stay and nurse his henchman, she’d walk where she wanted.
She strolled on, and he came up beside her.
“This is where my lady wife died.”
Pulse pounding, she stopped.It was naught but stone wall on one side and a rock ledge, and sheer cliff on the other.
“This very spot?”
“So I was told.”
“H-how?Did not Sir Richard murder her?”
“Yes.”
She let out a sharp breath.“She went over?”
