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‘No need to be. You know what it’s like growing up without a mother.’
‘Nevertheless, it must have been hard for you and your father.’
He nodded, his features becoming tense. ‘He took it badly—never really got over it. I was not enough to ease his pain.’
His tone held a hint of bitterness that did not go unnoticed by Amanda, and she wondered at its cause. ‘Do you have any siblings?’
‘No.’
‘And your father? Is he still alive?’
Kit’s eyes darkened with remembrance. ‘No.’
His reply was brusque, warning Amanda to pry no further, but she pressed on. ‘Will you not tell me about him, Kit?’
‘If you don’t mind, Amanda, I do not wish to discuss it. Ever.’
‘But why?’ Recalling the bitterness she had evoked when she had touched on his family’s honour on the day he had arrived at Eden Park, she was curious to know more.
‘I am not going to give you a blow-by-blow description of what my life was like before I went to America. It was my hatred of gossip and my need for privacy that drove me there. I told you. I will not discuss it.’ Striding to the water’s edge, he stood looking down, as if trying to rid himself of unpleasant thoughts. After a moment he came back to her, the harshness of a moment earlier having gone from his expression.
Amanda gazed at him. ‘It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it? Talking about your family, I mean—especially your father.’
‘Nothing makes me uncomfortable,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sorry, Amanda. Your questions were perfectly natural, only I would appreciate it if you would not mention my father again.’
‘I won’t,’ she replied quietly. ‘Not if you don’t want me to. It’s your own affair after all.’ She wondered what could have happened between Kit and his father that had made him go all the way to America in search of peace. Kit clearly prided himself on his control of his emotions. A man’s grief and pain should be a private matter, but if, as Kit insisted, they were to have any sort of life together, she would have to know some time.
Resuming his lounging stance with his shoulder propped against the tree and looking down at her, he said, ‘Tell me about Mr Quinn. How do you get on with him?’
Amanda looked at him, surprised by his question that seemed to come out of nowhere, and having a rather peculiar suspicion that this was what the conversation had been working up to. His features were closed, giving nothing away. ‘Mr Quinn? What makes you ask about him?’
‘Because he was with you in America.’
‘Yes, that’s right, he was. Why?’
‘What do you know of him?’
‘Not very much, really. He’s been with us for years, but I have no idea what he did before that.’ She looked at Kit sharply. ‘Why do you ask?’
He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘No particular reason. I am merely curious. Do you like him?’
‘No, not really. He’s a man of cold pride and duty—a quiet man, hard to get along with, although Father seems to manage well enough—and he likes to keep himself to himself. Father sets him various tasks, mainly in Manchester; sometimes he sends him to London. You must have come into contact with him?’
‘No. He’s been away from Eden Park on your father’s business, I believe, and since he doesn’t appear to have any interest in horses and my work is away from the house, it’s hardly surprising that we haven’t met.’
‘Well, I am surprised. No doubt Father will introduce the two of you eventually.’
‘Yes, no doubt.’
Feeling strangely uncomfortable about Kit’s interest in Mr Quinn and not wishing to discuss him—in fact, she’d prefer to forget all about him since that sordid incident between him and Sadie—Amanda stood and smoothed down her riding skirt. ‘I think I’d better be getting back. I’ve promised Caroline to help her write invitation cards for some of her forthcoming entertainments. She’ll think I’ve forgotten.’
Kit relinquished his stance against the tree and followed her to her horse, reluctant to end their time together in this secluded place and wanting to savour the delight of her company a little longer. He could not let her go. Not yet.
‘Amanda, wait. We must meet again. There are things that must be said—soon. On your ride tomorrow I shall accompany you. We will talk then.’
She turned away. ‘I do not think that would be appropriate. I would rather not—not yet.’
He moved closer, temptation getting the better of him, and the last thing he wanted was resistance. He knew he needed to entice her if he was to make her face up to the reality of their marriage. Reaching out, he gripped her upper arm and drew her back against him.
Amanda moved as if to push his hand away, but it stilled in the air, hesitant. The unbelievable pleasure of his touch took her by surprise. The intimacy of his grip on her arm reached out to some unknown part of her, which she had not been aware she possessed. It touched and lightened some dark place she had not before now been aware of, but it was elusive and was soon gone when he removed his hand. But she did not move away from him or turn round.
Kit stood quite still, his body only inches from hers, studying the exposed flesh at the back of her neck and watching the dappled sunlight that filtered between the bare branches of a large beech tree bring out a multitude of glorious lights in her hair. Fashioned in intricate twists and curls, it was held in place by tiny, decorative tortoiseshell combs. He wanted to remove them so that her hair could fall free, so that he could run his fingers through the heavy mass. Placing his hands on both her arms, he pulled her against him.
To Amanda they were like tender manacles, drawing her back so that she could feel his body, his thighs, rock hard against her spine. His warm breath caressed the back of her neck, and then his lips trailed over her sensitive flesh to her ear, while she turned liquid inside.
‘Don’t,’ she breathed, shakily. ‘Kit, please don’t do this.’
Sliding his arms around her waist, he held her tighter, glad it was just her voice that resisted and not her body. ‘Are you certain you want me to stop?’ he murmured, blowing warm breath into her ear and flicking his tongue against her lobe.
Her body came alive with pleasure, unfolding like the petals of an exotic flower. Never in her imagination had she experienced anything so erotic as this. All her senses became heightened and focused on him and what he was doing until nothing else mattered. But she dare not turn round in his embrace—she dare not, otherwise, feeling as she did at that moment, she would submit to anything. She half-turned her face to his and he placed his lips on her cheek.
‘Yes, I want you to stop—please, you must not go on,’ she gasped, shaking her head lamely in a denial, wanting him to stop before she was consumed.
‘There will be many times in the future when I shall hold you this close—and for longer; each time you will welcome me, my sweet, I promise you.’ He smiled, content in his belief that he had measured the weakness of her character in the strength of her awakened passion.
With a soft chuckle he released her, and Amanda’s mind went spinning as he stepped back. Shaken to the core of her being, she could not turn round and meet his eyes. This sensual web he wove was insubstantial yet unbreakable. He moved to stand in front of her, his eyes roaming over her exquisite features and provocative figure, a mocking, knowing gleam in their dark depths. She could only stare at him, helplessly caught up in the web of her own desires. Nothing she could say could erase the look of wonder from her face, nor still the chaotic pounding of her heart.
Reaching out, he cupped her chin, tilting her head back to look deep into her eyes. ‘Be satisfied with your self-imposed chastity, Amanda, if you can. Or face the truth of what you really want. You will never be fulfilled, not until you become mine completely. You belong to me. From the first you have been mine. I shall try to restrain myself until you come to me of your own free will—and you will come. That I promise you also.’
Confused by her own emotions and feeling a terrible ache of vulnerability that was something quite new to her, Amanda, almost in a daze, watched him as he turned and strode towards the horses. She stared at his back, still feeling the tingle of his fingers on her chin. Slowly she followed him. After securing her hat, she placed her foot into his cupped hands and he raised her into the saddle. Arranging her skirts, she looked down at him. It was impossible not to respond to Kit as his masculine magnetism seemed to take precedence over the rugged landscape and dominate everything around him. The attraction between them was almost palpable. He stood watching her, his eyes alert, holding a challenging gleam, above the faintly smiling mouth.
‘You really are quite impossible, aren’t you, Kit? Conceited, too.’
‘Indeed I am, and you’ll see just how impossible I can be if you continue evading the issue that is important to us both.’
Uncomfortably aware of the man riding alongside her, Amanda kept her eyes directly in front of her, sitting stiff and erect. The memory of what had just happened between them made her plight more unbearable and she couldn’t wait to be rid of him. When she was with him she didn’t know herself. Dear Lord, what kind of sorcery did the man employ so that he could have this effect on her—on her of all people, who had always prided herself on being in control? She would like to believe she had not enjoyed what he had done to her, but that was not the case, and she feared that she was destined to remember his ardent embrace and would want for more.
Henry, in fine fettle as usual, beamed when the two of them rode into the stableyard together. ‘I see you’ve been taking care of my daughter, Kit.’
‘Merely looking after her welfare, Henry,’ Kit replied, swinging down from his horse and going to assist Amanda, who gracelessly shoved away his hand and slid off herself, which brought an exasperated frown to his handsome face. ‘She should not be riding about the moors alone. There are dangers aplenty, without going looking for it. Should she take a tumble, she could come to grief.’
Listening to the sense of what Kit was saying, Henry gave his daughter a reproachful glance. All her life she had been given free rein to do as she pleased, but there were times when she went too far and in this instance Kit was right. ‘I confess I haven’t given much thought to it, but I have to agree with Kit. See you take a groom with you next time—unless Kit’s exercising one of the mounts, then you can go with him.’
Amanda merely looked from one to the other, her eyes hurling daggers at Kit, the determined gleam in their olive-green depths telling him she would as soon ride with the devil as repeat today’s episode. Bidding him a haughty but polite good day, she turned on her heel.
A half smile quirked Kit’s mouth as he watched the tantalising twitch of her skirts as she stalked off. There was something so richly provocatively pagan about her—her vivid colouring, and the swift animal grace with which she tossed her head. ‘And a good day to you too, Mrs Claybourne.’ He chuckled softly. ‘You’ve bred a firebrand there, Henry. Lord, what a handful.’
Henry gave him a long-suffering look. ‘More than a handful. You’ll have to excuse my daughter, Kit. Volatile and high spirited, she has an aversion to being told what to do. Excuse me. I’ll walk with her back to the house. Maybe a few well-chosen words of tact will placate her.’
‘So, Amanda, it’s happy I am to see the two of you getting on,’ Henry said when he caught up with his daughter. ‘I knew you’d get to liking Kit when you became better acquainted.’
‘We met on the moor, Father, and he rode back with me, that’s all. It doesn’t mean to say I’ve changed my opinion of Mr Benedict in the slightest.’
‘Ah, but you will. Mark my words, you will. He’s an excellent man,’ he said, casting his daughter a twinkling look, ‘good looking, too—and don’t be telling me you haven’t noticed.’
‘It’s only because he has a knack with horses that you are biased in his favour,’ she retorted sourly.
Henry glanced at her sharply. ‘You’ve not been having a difference of opinion with him now, have you?’
‘No, of course not. What makes you say that?’
‘It was just a thought. I sense an unease whenever you are together—a constraint, as if you had quarrelled.’
‘Not at all,’ she said. ‘I do admire his skill with horses, but you are right. There is some constraint between us which I can only put down to our being too much alike. We grind together like a couple of rusty old cogs.’
‘Aye, well, there’s no denying that he’s a catch all right and any young woman would be proud to be seen walking out with Kit Benedict. Mark my words, Amanda, he’ll not be a widower ere the year is out.’ He levelled a meaningful gaze at his offspring, reminding her of her single state, seeming to have forgotten her widowhood.
‘Don’t despair, Father. You will see me wed again, I promise you—though whether you will consider it a suitable match remains to be seen. But for the time being I shall strive to behave as a widow should—properly.’ She glanced at him as he strode beside her. His shifts of opinions were so unpredictable that Amanda had wearied of ever trying to understand him. ‘Tell me, Father, are you saying that you have changed your mind and would approve of me marrying someone of Mr Benedict’s station in life, after all your blusterings about suitability, titles and how important it is for the man to have the right connections?’
‘Aye, lass, I am that—though ‘tis not easy for a man like me to make a climb down. These past months married to Caroline have taught me what marriage is all about, and it’s about being happy with the right one. You are my darling girl and I want only the best for you, you know that. When you meet the right man you will know it, and, no matter what his station in life, accept him as a man, if not your peer.’
Amanda’s heart warmed to him and with a laugh and a lightening of her spirits, she linked her arm through his and hugged it close. ‘Now why would I be wanting a husband when I have you, Father? Have I not told you time and time again that you are the only man in my life and I want no other—besides, there is no other who could measure up to you.’
With an acute sense of pride, Henry beamed at her and patted her hand. She was the light of his life—a bonny lass, wonderful to listen to, wonderful in her laughter that made people want to look at her and to smile and want to know her better. She was alive with hope and a fervent belief that life was for living, for love, marriage and children. One day he knew all that would be hers.
Amanda kept out of Kit’s way as best she could after that incident on the moors, but, try as she might, she could not get him out of her mind. She wanted him more than she had ever wanted a man before, a feeling so unexpected given the way she strove to avoid all contact between them.
At a weekend house party in March, when Amanda joined her father and Caroline and the thirty assembled guests in the long library for drinks before dinner, where a string quartet was playing Bach, she was surprised to find another visitor, one who immediately set her emotions tumbling.
When she first saw Kit standing alone by the hearth, looking at the gathering with amused indolence—tall, slender hipped and broad shouldered and so sickeningly attractive and sure of himself, he looked so much a part of some of the landed gentry present that he could be mistaken for one of them.
His manner bore an odd sense of boldness. He appeared to set himself apart from everyone in the room, and yet by his mere presence dominated the scene around him. Anger and resentment welled inside her at his audacity to appear among her father’s friends. Even though she knew her father would have invited him, he could have refused.
In an attempt to regain some of her composure that had dropped a notch on seeing Kit, exhaling a slow, steadying breath and taking a glass of wine from a salver being carried by a servant, she moved farther into the room, greeting people on her way. Resplendent in a beaded deep-rose satin gown and every inch the competent hostess, Caroline found her way to her side. Her eyes were alight with pleasure at the way the party was progressing.
‘Everything seems to be going well, don’t you think?’ she remarked quietly.
‘You’ve surpassed yourself, Caroline.’
‘With your help.’
‘I made a few suggestions, that is all.’ Amanda smiled. ‘And you look lovely, Caroline—the perfect hostess. Father must be feeling immensely proud of you tonight.’
Caroline returned her smile fondly. ‘Thank you, dear, and I must compliment you on your gown. That colour is so becoming on you,’ she said, looking with admiration at her stepdaughter’s cream watered-silk gown, its sheath-like style so in vogue. The front fitted perfectly into the waist and over the bodice, the back drawn back over a crinolette in a series of short flounces cascading down to the hem. The gown shimmered in the light and brought out the rich, deep tones in Amanda’s hair.
‘I am so glad you’ve decided to come out of mourning at last—and I know Henry is relieved. You’re far too young to be wearing such drab colours. Now come and circulate.’ Caroline took Amanda by the arm as her eyes did a quick scan of the room, coming to rest on Kit. ‘Although I think Kit could do with some company. He isn’t acquainted with many of the guests. Why don’t you go and have a word with him?’
Amanda held back, regarding Kit with a sceptical frown. ‘Must I? I really don’t know why he was invited.’
‘Why on earth shouldn’t he be? Everyone is intrigued by Henry’s new horse trainer, so your father thought it only right that he attend tonight. He is much talked about in the area—far more than anyone else. The way he keeps himself to himself, never joining the hunt or partaking of any of the social events in the neighbourhood. Yes, he is a man of great mystery is our Mr Benedict.’
‘Considering he spends all his waking hours training Father’s horses, I don’t suppose he has time for anything else. I still say he should not have been invited.’
Wide eyed, Caroline looked at her for a moment. What on earth could have prompted Amanda to speak in such a fashion? It was most unlike her. Kit had truly gotten under her skin and she wondered how this unexpected animosity had come about. Amanda had developed an unfair impression. It puzzled Caroline and one way or another she was determined to get to the bottom of it. Where she was concerned she could see nothing wrong with him. When Henry had first introduced them, she had been immediately struck by his immense personal attraction. There was a warmth about him and humour in his smile, and yet his mouth was hard and firm with a twist to his lips that said he was not a man to be trifled with.
‘Kit comports himself with as much dignity and propriety as anyone present.’ Caroline placed her head close to Amanda, speaking softly. ‘I must say that he cuts a dashing figure and is by far the most handsome man here. There is more than one unattached young lady just dying to make his acquaintance.’
‘Then perhaps you should introduce them and spare me the trouble of having to converse with him,’ Amanda suggested ungraciously, looking around and seeing the reaction of several young girls practically melting into the floor as they gazed at him. No doubt he was accustomed to this kind of feminine reaction, she thought crossly.
Caroline glanced at Amanda, puzzled as to her apparent dislike of Kit when Henry thought the sun rose and set with him, and she was utterly charmed by him. ‘I know you don’t have a very high opinion of Kit, Amanda—and heaven knows why—but I do wish you would try to get on with him—for Henry’s sake, if nothing else.’
‘I have no opinion of him one way or another, Caroline. It’s just that I hardly know him and he failed to make a favourable impression on me when we first met.’ When Caroline shot her a pleading look, she smiled and nodded in acquiescence. ‘Oh, very well. To please you I’ll go and talk to him.’
Kit was eyeing the company with a great deal of disdain. It was peculiar indeed that here, after all these years of being apart from it, surrounded by the society into which he had been born, the society he now eschewed, it was one of the few places he least wanted to be.
He had seen Amanda the instant she entered the room. Sparkling and gleaming beneath the crystal chandelier, she looked like a shimmering butterfly, bright and beguiling, the exposed flesh of her arms and shoulders soft and inviting. The effect of seeing her, the visceral tug and the sense of possessiveness surprised him. He watched her pause in the doorway, her large green eyes scanning the room before moving farther in, dispensing smiles and laughter upon the guests, her laughter reaching him with a sweet seduction. After conversing with Caroline, when she looked his way and began walking towards him, his cynically amused mask was in place.
‘Thank you for taking pity on me,’ he said when she stood in front of him.
‘Caroline told me to. I could hardly refuse now, could I? What are you doing here?’
He grinned infuriatingly. ‘Trying damned hard to seduce my wife.’ Laughing softly when she shot him a look of ire, he said, ‘Set aside your fears, my love. I would not be here if it were not to please your father and to see you. I would rather not attend these occasions, but seeing you amid so many people is better than not seeing you at all.’
‘Why? So you can remind me of our bargain?’ she snapped.
‘There is that—and stop glowering, my dear wife. Your stepmother is watching us.’
Immediately Amanda pinned a smile on her face while her eyes glared at him. ‘I am not your dear wife,’ she whispered. ‘And please keep your voice down. Someone might hear. Had I known Father had invited you, I would have pleaded a headache and stayed in my room.’
‘You mean you haven’t fallen madly in love with me yet?’ he asked with a broad grin.
‘You conceited ass. I will never do that. We are incompatible. In fact, I think you exist only to antagonise me. Why don’t you go away?’ Her rebuke only seemed to amuse him further, for his grin deepened, making her doubt if she would ever be effective in making him disappear.
‘What, and leave you to the wolves I see devouring you at every turn?’ he retorted, his eyes doing a quick sweep of the unattached males hovering on the sidelines like the aforesaid animals ready to pounce the instant they parted.
Amanda stared at him, searching his handsome visage, taken aback by his nerve. ‘What are you now? My protector—as you tried to be out on the moor?’
‘No. Your husband. You belong to me and I choose to safeguard against those who try to get too close to you.’
Irate sparks flashed in her eyes. ‘Your persistence astounds me.’
‘I simply know what I want. You are a married woman. Please behave as such.’
‘How dare you?’ she gritted.
‘And such a proud one,’ he chuckled. ‘A lovely one at that. I am happy to see you out of those dreadful mourning clothes. They were most unbecoming on you, my love.’
‘Please be quiet.’
