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‘Leave that,’ she ordered him. ‘You have done more than enough for me already. If you go now you can still reach the village while there is light enough to see your way.’
‘I am staying here.’
‘Thank you, Mr Stratton, but that is not necessary. I do not think those villains will be back tonight, and besides, I have my pistol. I shall reload it and be ready for them if they return. You need not stay on my account.’
‘If you think I intend to ride to the Rothermere Arms in wet clothes, then you are mistaken, madam. Nothing could be more uncomfortable. I shall dry them in front of the fire.’ He smiled at the look of alarm that flashed across her face. It was a relief to know that he was not the only one aware of their situation. ‘I do not intend to undress, they will dry just as well if I wear them.’ He added mischievously, ‘In fact, it is a common practice for gentlemen of fashion to damp their buckskins and let them shrink to fit.’
She laughed, blushed and shook her head.
‘Never let it be said that I stood in the way of fashion. But, seriously, sir, if you are determined to stay I cannot stop you.’ She paused, taking her full bottom lip between her white, even teeth. ‘I admit I shall be glad of your company.’
It was another hour before they could enjoy the fire, by which time the darkness was almost complete. The wagon had been moved off the road and the two horses tethered to the wheels, where they could be heard quietly snuffling and cropping at the short, sweet grass. Amber pulled a pair of shears from the cart and a roll of heavy woollen cloth, which she spread on the ground and proceeded to cut into lengths.
‘We can use this for bedding,’ she explained. ‘I have plenty more frieze at the warehouse so this can be easily replaced. It is such a balmy night that if we didn’t have wet cloth to dry I would not bother with a fire at all.’
Adam eased off his boots and stockings, placing them close to the fire to dry. Amber did the same, again displaying her shapely ankles. Adam did his best not to ogle. She touched his sleeve.
‘Your shirt is still damp, sir. Should you not remove that too?’ He hesitated and she said with a hint of impatience, ‘I have seen a man’s body, before, and I would rather you took it off than died of an inflammation of the lungs.’
He laughed.
‘Very well, madam, but you will not object if I spare my own blushes and keep my breeches!’
The shirt soon joined his jacket on a convenient bush. Adam threw a length of the frieze cloth around his shoulders and sat down by the fire. After a moment’s hesitation Amber came to sit beside him. She held up a leather bag.
‘I have wine, sir, and bread and cheese, if you would like some?’
‘Gladly, Mrs Hall, if you can spare a little.’
‘Of course. I packed it for my journey but have used none of it.’
She pulled packets, napkins and a flask from the bag and spread it all before them. She offered him the wine but he shook his head.
‘After you, madam.’
She uncorked the flask and lifted it to her lips. The firelight was playing on her face, accentuating the fine cheekbones, the short, straight little nose and those beautiful almond-shaped eyes. The smooth skin of her neck gleamed golden as she tilted back her head and drank. Adam watched, fascinated. He wanted to reach out to her, to place his lips on the elegant line of her throat and trail kisses down to the dip where the breastbone started, and then onwards—
‘Your turn.’
She was holding the flask out to him and he was staring at her like some besotted mooncalf. Adam cleared his throat awkwardly and reached for the flask, trying to ignore his mounting desire and the way it spiked through his blood as their fingers touched. He picked up a piece of bread. Perhaps he should eat something. Beside him, Amber seemed completely at ease. They shared the bread and cheese, washing it down with draughts of wine.
‘So who are you, Mrs Amber Hall?’ he asked her, breaking a chunk of bread into two and handing her a piece.
‘I am a clothier, a seller of cloth.’
‘An unusual trade for a woman.’
‘I inherited the business from my father, John Ripley.’
‘Ah, yes, I remember he owned a warehouse in Castonbury.’
‘Yes.’ She added, a touch of pride in her voice, ‘We have been selling cloth in Castonbury for twenty-seven years.’
‘That is very precise.’
‘It is easy to remember, my father established the business in the same year as I was born.’
Adam handed her the wine again.
‘And your husband?’
‘Bernard Hall, his business partner. He joined my father twelve years ago, and married me three years later. We had been married barely eighteen months when he died.’
‘I am sorry,’ he said softly. ‘You must have been distraught.’
He could not interpret the look she gave him. She took another sip of wine and after a brief pause she continued her story.
‘I convinced Papa not to look for another partner but to let me help him. I found I had a talent for the business. When my father died three years ago he left everything to me.’ He watched her, trying to understand her pensive look, the slight downward turn to her mouth that gave her a rather kittenish look. At last she gave herself a mental shake and turned to him again. ‘Enough of me. Tell me about you, now.’ She shot him another of those sideways glances. ‘You said your name was Stratton. Are you the housekeeper’s son, from Castonbury Park?’
‘I am.’
‘Then I know you, Adam Stratton.’ Her dark eyes gleamed. ‘We played together before you went off to become a hero at Trafalgar.’
‘Surely not, I would remember.’
‘My father used to take me to the house, sometimes, when he was delivering cloth. I remember Mrs Stratton asked you to take me away and amuse me.’ He shook his head and she laughed. ‘Do not look so uncomfortable, I would not expect you to remember. You were, what … ten, eleven years old? You probably found a seven-year-old girl a blasted nuisance.’
‘I do remember now. You were a scrawny little thing, but useful for fetching and carrying. As I recall I treated you as my very own servant! Outrageous. Did you not mind?’
She shook her head. ‘Not at all, I enjoyed fetching and carrying for you. Besides, you looked after me. One occasion in particular I remember, when the Montague children came out and began to tease me. You drove them away.’
He grinned. ‘Well, it is all very well for me to mistreat you, but I was not going to let anyone else do so!’
A slight frown creased her brow, as if she was looking into the past. ‘Did they ever tease you, the Montagues? Because your mama …’
She broke off and he took pity on her confusion, saying quickly, ‘Because I had no father? No. Lord James was a year or two younger than I. I suppose I should be thankful that both he and Lord Giles saw me as a playmate rather than the housekeeper’s son, but perhaps that was because … well, never mind that. Suffice to say we thought well enough of one another.’
‘I am glad,’ she said warmly. ‘And I thought you were quite … wonderful.’ A faint colour tinged her cheek and for a moment she looked a little self-conscious. ‘You were very kind to me, you see. And now you have saved me once more.’
Her very own hero.
Amber drew up her knees and clasped her arms around them, as if hugging her memories. That explained the attraction she had felt for him as soon as he had appeared. It was not merely that he had come to her aid, but a half-acknowledged memory. He was the hero she had dreamed of since she was seven years old. Looking back, she supposed that the children at Castonbury Park had not intended to be cruel, but their teasing had frightened her, until Adam had arrived and sent them away. He had seemed to her the embodiment of those princes she read about in fairy tales, tall, strong and oh-so-handsome, protecting the maiden in distress. She had carried that early memory of him with her throughout her childhood and hoped, prayed, he would return one day.
He never had, of course. Once he went to naval college she never saw him again and when she was eighteen she put aside her childish dreams and gave in to her father’s demands that she should marry his partner, Bernard Hall. It was a business decision. It did not matter to her father that Bernard was twenty years older, that she found his bad breath and wandering hands repulsive, a marriage would secure the future of Ripley and Hall.
Bernard Hall had never awoken in her any spark. Unlike the man sitting beside her now. When she had looked into Adam’s eyes for the first time that day it was as if someone had applied bellows to a smouldering fire. She had burned, really burned, with a desire so strong she had almost thrown herself upon him.
Thankfully he had not noticed, merely staring at her, clearly shocked at her dishevelled appearance. She had brazened it out, of course, and she was thankful that he had stayed to help her. She was grateful, too, that he showed no sign of wanting to ravish her. Wasn’t she? Amber had to admit that his patent lack of interest piqued her. He was once again her hero, her knight in shining armour, but he clearly did not see her as his princess.
They sat in silence, consuming their simple meal. The cloth hanging around them was billowing gently in the breeze, washed in the golden glow of the fire.
‘What will you do with the damaged cloth?’ he asked.
‘I will rescue what I can. The linens and cottons can be laundered and should be almost as good as new. The rest I hope to sell off cheaply to the villagers. What is left I will take to the vicarage to give to the poor. I am sure Reverend Seagrove will find a good home for any cloth I cannot sell. I will have to order replacements for some things. I have to fulfil an order for Castonbury Park, you see. New curtains and bed-hangings, as well as livery for the servants. They will need the fabrics as soon as may be for the wedding—but you will know that, of course.’
‘Er, no.’
‘Surely your mother will have told you in her letters that Lord Giles is to be married?’
‘We have not been in touch.’ He could not meet her eyes and it was a struggle to explain. ‘When I was last here we argued. No.’ He had to be honest with her. ‘My mother never said a harsh word to me. It was all my doing.’
She touched his arm.
‘Will you tell me?’ she asked gently.
Adam hesitated. There was nothing but kindness in her manner, and suddenly he wanted to talk about it.
‘It was ten years ago. I came to tell her that I had quit the navy, that I was going to try my hand at business. She was shocked. Disappointed, I suppose, that I was giving up a promising career and uncertain that I would make a go of it.’ He sighed. ‘I was young, impatient. I had been given my own ship to command at twenty and that went to my head, I thought I could do anything. My mother was less certain.’
‘I am sure she only wanted what was best for you.’
‘I know you are right, but at the time I saw it as a slur, a lack of confidence in my abilities.’
He looked up at the sky, his jaw tightening. It had also brought back his own lack of confidence in his birth. Away from Castonbury Park he was Captain Adam Stratton, hero of Trafalgar, a clever and courageous sailor. Here, he would always be known as the duke’s bastard. Oh, no one said as much to his face, but he had heard the whispers, the gossip. His mother never spoke of her husband, there were no portraits of “Mr Stratton” in the housekeeper’s quarters at Castonbury Park. As a very young boy his questions had been met with evasion, and when he grew older Adam stopped asking about his father, afraid of what the answer might be. Then, when he had quit the navy and come back to Castonbury Park, full of plans for the future, he had asked the question one more time. He gave himself a mental shake. No need to go into that now. Taking a breath he continued.
‘I stormed out, vowing that I would not return, would not contact her, until I had made my way in the world.’
‘And is that why you are back, because you have now … “made your way in the world”? You are perhaps a wealthy man,’ she added after a slight hesitation, ‘with a wife and family …?’
He shook his head. ‘No, no wife. No family.’
He thought of the fair-haired beauties he had met on his travels. Many of them were ladies of noble birth, eager to know more of him. After all, a captain in the king’s navy was a romantic, heroic figure. Several of them had thrown out lures, making it quite plain that they would welcome his addresses, but he had resisted them all. He might tell himself that he was his own man, but at that stage the question of his birth still rankled, and he was determined to make a name for himself before taking a wife. And he had done so. He was now a mill owner, a captain of industry, but he had soon discovered that those well-bred families wanted nothing to do with trade. Only his fortune made him acceptable to them, and perversely, he did not want anyone to marry him for his fortune. He wanted to find a woman who would marry him for himself alone.
Amber’s thoughtful brown eyes were fixed on him, waiting for him to continue. He kept his tone matter-of-fact.
‘I promised I would not return until I could provide her with a house of her own. Looking back, it seems so petty, so very arrogant and foolish, but I held to my vow while I toiled to achieve my goals. I was determined to be successful, no debts and money in the bank, before I contacted my mother again. It was hard work, but I achieved it. I owe no man anything. But at what cost?’ He sighed. ‘I am ashamed to say I have not written, have had no news of my mother, for ten years. It is no fault of hers,’ he added quickly. ‘I left no forwarding address. I severed all links with her. In fact, until you told me last night, I did not even know if she was still at Castonbury Park.’
‘And, is that why you are back now? Do you have a house for her?’
‘Yes, I have a house now. In Lancashire.’
‘And what is this … business that you are engaged in, Mr Adam Stratton?’
‘Oh, this and that.’ He waved one dismissive hand. ‘I have several ventures ongoing, they are all of them more or less successful.’
‘Then your mother will be very proud of you.’
‘That is not what I deserve. She should berate me for the fool that I have been. A damned stubborn-headed fool! I only hope that she will receive me.’
Adam tried to keep the uncertainty from his voice but he was sure she heard it, for she hastened to reassure him.
‘From what I know of Mrs Stratton I am sure she will be overjoyed to see you. Any mother would be.’ A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ‘But perhaps you should tidy yourself up a little before you see her.’
Adam glanced across at his damaged coat.
‘I fear you are right. I shall be turned away as a common beggar if I arrive on the doorstep like this!’ He ran his hand over his chin. ‘And without a looking glass I dare not shave in the morning.’
She laughed.
‘Come to my shop with me and we will see what we can do for you!’
Amber gave her attention to her food again, surprised by how readily she had issued the invitation. He was little more than a stranger, after all, even if he had come to her rescue in the most dramatic way. Perhaps it was the knowledge that they had known each other as children. She felt at ease, comfortable to be sitting beside him. If she were fanciful, she could believe they were in some different world, one where the constraints and dangers of real life did not exist.
‘You are very pensive,’ he said at last. ‘What are you thinking?’
‘I feel like I am in a fairy tale,’ she said, smiling. ‘We might be in an Oriental pavilion with sumptuous fabrics decorating its walls.’ She chuckled. ‘Not that there is anything very sumptuous about block-printed cotton!’
‘This is no fairy tale, madam.’ His voice was stern. ‘Far from it. I cannot think what possessed you to be moving such a valuable cargo on your own.’
‘Normally I would not do so, but I had no driver and I needed to fetch in these supplies urgently.’
‘You could have hired a carrier.’
She shook her head.
‘Not in time. There is no one in Castonbury who would take the risk.’
‘Risk?’
She crumbled a piece of cheese between her fingers, searching for words.
‘Things have been … happening recently. The carrier was attacked on his last run and decided he dare not take out another wagon for me. He has a family, you see—’
‘Wait.’ Adam stopped her. ‘Do you mean to say someone threatened him?’
She nodded.
‘It cannot be proved, of course, but …’ She hesitated, wondering if she dare tell him her suspicions. She said in a rush, ‘I think it is Matthew Parwich. He is a rival cloth merchant from Hatherton and he would be glad to take over my business. I am sure it was Parwich who sent those ruffians to waylay me. They did not want to harm me, only to ruin my stock.’
‘You knew this might happen and still you set out alone?’
His angry tone flayed her. She had been afraid he would laugh at her suspicions, think her fanciful. Instead he thought her foolish. She spread her hands.
‘Frederick had to stay at the warehouse. And I didn’t really think I would be attacked.’ The excitement was still bubbling through her veins, making her reckless. She put up her chin, giving him a challenging look. ‘Besides, I had my pistol and I did wing one of them.’
Adam’s blood chilled at the thought of what might have happened. He rammed the stopper back into the wine flask with unwonted force.
‘That’s as may be, but if I hadn’t come along—’
