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‘I know, I am so very glad that you did.’ Her glowing look acted like a fever, turning his blood from ice to molten lava in an instant. ‘Together we sent them to the right-about, did we not?’ She leaned closer until he thought he might drown in her dark eyes. ‘I am so grateful to you. How can I ever thank you?’
He held her look, knowing what he would like from her, knowing equally well it was impossible, yet there was something in her eyes, some spark of recognition, as if she could read his thoughts. She put her hand on his shoulder and raised herself until she could touch his mouth with her lips. They were soft and warm and it took all his willpower not to respond.
‘Not in that way.’ His voice was gruff, barely audible even to himself, but perhaps that was because she was so close, her face only inches away, and his breathing was so constricted. ‘Madam—Amber, I … do not want … to … dishonour you, but … I am no … saint.’
Amber’s pulse was racing. She still felt exultant, powerful, after successfully repelling the attack and saving her precious cargo. She remembered something Bernard used to say about his friends, when they were hunting—’there was no stopping them when their blood is up.’ That was how she felt now, unable to stop. And she did not care.
‘I would not have you be one.’
The low words were no more than a whisper against Adam’s skin. She put her hand to his cheek and he responded to the pressure of her fingers to close the small distance between them. He slid his mouth across hers and as his kiss deepened she responded. His tongue touched her lips and they parted eagerly. She pushed the blanket from his shoulders and ran her hands over his bare back. Gently he eased her down to the ground, the blood pounding through him as her hands snaked around his neck and pulled him down with her. The buttons of her mannish jacket gave way easily to his fingers and soon he had pulled away the neck cloth and opened her shirt. When he placed his mouth on her throat it was every bit as soft and smooth as he had imagined. She trembled beneath him, sending his passion soaring out of control. His hand moved over the swell of her breast and she moaned softly, pushing against his fingers. She struggled to sit up and he released her immediately, trying to quell his disappointment, but she was not repulsing him. She dragged off her linen shirt and twisted round.
‘Unlace me.’
His fingers trembled on the laces. He bent to kiss her bare shoulder and her head fell back. She sighed, eyes closed, dark lashes fanned against her golden cheek. Hastily he dragged the laces free and the restricting corset fell away. He pulled her against him, cupping her breasts. They tensed beneath the thin cotton of her chemise. The next moment she was throwing off this last hindrance and turning back to face him.
A sudden stillness enveloped the little clearing, only the faint crackling of the fire disturbed the silence. Amber knelt before him, head bowed and that glorious hair cascading down over her shoulders. In the golden firelight she took his breath away. Gently, slowly, he reached out and pushed the hair back, his fingers caressing her neck, cupping her face, pulling her closer. Their kiss began tenderly enough, but he felt its latent power, like the rolling breakers he had seen on so many beautiful, dangerous shores, from Cornwall to Corunna. An inexorable force that carried all before it.
Amber gave him back kiss for kiss, dragging him down again onto their makeshift bed, her hands scrabbling to unfasten and remove his breeches. His skin was chill and slightly damp from the buckskin and she pressed herself against him. His reaction to her warm, shapely body was immediate, as was his gasp when her fingers closed about his erection. He had to force himself to ignore the havoc she was creating within him. The blood was pounding in his ears; he fought down the urge to satisfy his own need and concentrated on pleasuring her. He placed his mouth over one taut breast, his tongue circling, teasing, while she groaned beneath him. His hand swept over her hip, caressed the hinge of her thigh and moved on to where she was opening for him, inviting his touch. She writhed beneath his fingers. She was nearing the crest of her passion. He shifted his body and eased himself into her, stroking, caressing, containing his own excitement while she began to move wildly against him, her nails digging into his back.
‘Adam!’
The anguished cry broke from her. She quivered; he could feel her tensing around him, possessing him. There was nothing he wanted more than to remain inside her and complete their union, but that would be reckless, irresponsible. It took all his iron will to withdraw and make his own shattering ending against the soft skin of her belly.
A languid peace settled over them and they lay, sated and content, until the dying fire could no longer keep them warm. Amber wiped a napkin across her stomach, then tossed it aside and pulled the frieze blanket over them.
‘My dear—’
‘Shh.’ She pulled him into her arms. ‘Enough. Sleep now.’
Chapter Two
Amber drifted back to wakefulness, amazingly content and at peace, like a feather drifting gently back to earth after a great storm. It was almost dawn, a grey twilight hung over the clearing. She was lying in a man’s arms, their naked limbs fitting snugly together in the most natural way and she felt relaxed. More than that, she felt cherished. Loved. She had been an innocent maid when she had married Bernard, and he had been a selfish lover, their coupling had left her feeling lost and dissatisfied. At the time she had not known why but now, lying here with Adam, she understood.
Adam. She moved slightly, tentatively touching the lean body stretched beside her. They had not met since they were children, yet she had felt an immediate affinity with him. Perhaps it was because he had come to her rescue once again. She smiled in the darkness. It was more likely his magnificent physique. She recalled how she had reacted to the sight of his naked chest, when he had removed his wet shirt, the firelight glinting on his wide shoulders, the rippling muscles of his chest. Just the thought of it sent shafts of aching lust running through her again.
Reluctantly she moved away from his warmth and curled herself into a ball. How wanton he would think her. How shocked she was that she had thrown herself at him! Amber had no idea what had come over her. Could she blame it on the wine, perhaps, or on their situation, surrounded by the gently billowing fabrics, as if they were in some exotic pavilion? No, nothing could excuse her behaviour. She had thrown caution to the winds and given herself to Adam. Something within had taken over, compelled her to kiss him, and after that, she was lost.
Amber sat up, fear chilling her heart. She had never been so completely out of control before. Adam had withdrawn early, so there could be no baby, no lasting evidence of her weakness, but what if it happened again? She must make sure it did not, or she would risk losing everything she had worked so hard to achieve.
She had been a widow for more than seven years, in charge of her own life, and this sudden vulnerability was terrifying. She had known nothing like it before. Amber had been fifteen when her mother died and she had stepped into her shoes, taking over the accounts and running the shop. It had not been difficult; she loved the business and as a child she had spent all her spare time in the warehouse, learning about the different fabrics, talking to the customers and accompanying her father on his business trips. She had soon realised that while her father was an excellent salesman, it was her mother who knew which fabrics to buy and how much to spend to keep the finances in order.
Amber had inherited her mother’s natural flair for business and she had hoped that her father would listen to her advice, that with a little economy they could make the savings and investments needed to expand. Instead, without his wife’s moderating influence, he had spent his money foolishly and within the year it was clear that the business would need substantial investment if it was to continue. Bernard Hall had been a gentleman by birth and knew nothing about trade, but he had had a little money which he was willing to invest. Amber knew now that she had been the bargaining tool her father had used to entice Bernard into partnership. She had resisted his advances for three years, but at eighteen she had given in to the pressure from Bernard and her father and become Mrs Hall.
It had not been a happy time. They had needed Bernard’s added investment to continue, but his strong, bullying personality had dominated her father and Amber had been obliged to watch the business she loved sinking further into decline. She had thought that by marrying Bernard she might have more influence, instead she had merely become his chattel, to be used or ignored, and any remonstrance had been met with a swift and violent rebuttal. He had constantly belittled her; she had been reduced to the role of a servant. Amber could admit now her relief when Bernard had died less than two years after their marriage. By then her father was a broken man and she had taken up the reins of the business, dragged it back from the brink of disaster and with steady perseverance she had built it up.
It had taken her years to recover from Bernard’s constant bullying and at the same time she had struggled against prejudice, customers and suppliers who thought that because she was a woman alone they could cheat her—or seduce her. They did not succeed and over the years she had grown stronger, more confident. Independent. She would not allow anything or anyone to prejudice her position.
So what was she doing here, lying with a man she hardly knew?
Adam sighed and rolled over, slipping one hand around her hips. Immediately her body responded, relishing the contact, the way he moulded himself against her. Amber tensed, trying to ignore the siren call of her own desire.
She felt his breath on her thigh.
‘Is anything wrong?’
Something close to panic engulfed her. She must not give in. She must not allow these new and terrifying feelings to possess her, to swallow her up. This man was a danger to everything she had lived and worked for. If she allowed him to take her in his arms again she would be lost. He must be set at a distance. Like a drowning man she clutched at the only lifeline she could see.
Summoning every ounce of resolution, she gave a careless laugh.
‘Wrong? No, of course not. But I have to get on. There is a lot to do here.’
Immediately he released her and she could not ignore the little stab of disappointment that he did not argue. She said brightly, ‘I have my business to think of, and you will be returning to Lancashire very soon, will you not?’
‘Tomorrow, if matters work out well for me.’
Amber nodded. How right she was to distance herself from him! Adam threw back the covers and got up.
‘Where are you going?’
He turned back to look down at her, a rueful smile quirking his mouth and setting loose a net full of butterflies in her stomach.
‘To get dressed. I cannot lie with you naked beside me and not make love to you. I think that would be beyond any man.’
She blushed. ‘No, of course.’
She watched him walk away to gather up his clothes and pick up his saddlebag. He moved gracefully; his naked body was lean and lithe in the morning light, like any hero should be. She was grateful he had been hers, if only for one night.
‘I will take myself over there,’ he said, pointing to a clump of bushes, ‘and allow you to dress here undisturbed.’
He disappeared into the green undergrowth and Amber hunted for her own garments. The sight of them scattered around reminded her of the passion that had made it necessary to divest herself of them so haphazardly last night. Her blood heated at the very thought of what they had done, but almost immediately she shivered.
Such wanton, abandoned behaviour was quite shocking. If anyone learned of it her reputation would be lost and her business would almost certainly be ruined. She did not think Adam would speak of it to anyone. She trusted him, even more than she trusted herself. Hurriedly she picked up her chemise and scrambled into it.
Adam shook out his clothes and sighed. They were dry, but sadly crumpled and muddy from their time in the river. He had a clean shirt and neck cloth in his saddlebag, but had not thought to pack anything else.
A rueful smile touched his lips. He had not expected to rescue a damsel in distress and get a soaking for his troubles! However, the night that had followed had been more than ample reward. His mind drifted to lying beneath the stars with Amber in his arms. His lack of control troubled him. It could only be the consequence of the fight: he knew from experience how one’s senses were heightened by a battle. The exhilaration of victory made men reckless. That would account for the immediate, overwhelming attraction he had felt for her. It was completely foreign to him, but then all his other battles had taken place at sea and by the time they had reached port his euphoria had died and the harlots on the quay had held no appeal for him. He told himself it would be no different with Mrs Amber Hall, in the light of a new day. They could go their separate ways and think no more of each other. Thank goodness he had withdrawn in time, and there could be no risk of an unwanted child to complicate matters.
He shrugged on his jacket and raked his fingers through his hair one final time. No, she would be dressed by now, that luscious dark hair scraped back into some semblance of order, and they would be able to treat each other as polite, distant acquaintances.
Unfortunately fate had one more joke to play on him. When Adam stepped back into the clearing he found Amber dressed only in her chemise and stockings, a frieze blanket pulled around her shoulders. She had pinned up her hair, but she looked so fragile, so forlorn, that it was as much as he could do not to run to her and fold her again in his arms. His voice was sharper than he anticipated when he asked her what was amiss.
She jumped. The forlorn look was replaced by a bright smile as she held up a complicated tangle of pink ribbons and webbing.
‘I think I will need you to lace up my stays again.’
His lips twitched.
‘That is not something I have ever done before.’
‘Then consider it part of your education, sir!’
Amber placed the corset around her and presented her back to him. She bit her lip as she felt his hands against her spine, so close, so personal, but she must act as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, as if she was a woman of the world, used to a man’s touch.
‘There.’ He finished tying the laces and his hands moved to her shoulders, waking that traitorous demon of desire again.
With a light laugh she slipped away from him.
‘Enjoyable as it would be to dally here with you all day, Mr Stratton, I have work to do.’
She gave him an arch look and saw his frown, a quick contraction of his brow before he joined her in packing away the bolts of now dry cloth.
Amber found it easier to be working, avoiding awkward questions, but she had to force herself not to flinch when their hands met accidentally, and she was careful to restrict any conversation to their current task.
At last the final roll was packed and they set off, Adam riding beside the wagon. When they passed a field gate she lifted her whip and pointed.
‘You could reach Castonbury Park in half the time if you cut across country.’
‘Are you tired of me already, Mrs Hall?’
His quizzing tone made her heart lurch, and it was a struggle to smile and respond airily.
‘I am, of course, grateful to you, but I have my business to attend to, and I have no wish to keep you from yours.’
‘I should like to see you again, before I leave Castonbury.’
‘Oh, that is quite unnecessary, Mr Stratton.’
He shot a frowning look at her.
‘Have I offended you in some way?’
Heavens, how difficult it was to do this.
‘My dear sir, of course not. You have been a perfect gentleman.’
‘Then why are you acting like this, as if … last night never happened?’
‘Last night was quite delightful, of course, but we both know it cannot be repeated. There is a naval term for it, I think … ships that pass in the night.’ She achieved a giggle. ‘Although we did not quite pass each other, did we?’
His face took on a stony look.
‘Do you really think our meeting quite so insignificant?’
Open your eyes at him, Amber. Give him that guileless expression of surprise.
‘Of course it was significant. Without you I would have lost a great deal of stock. I am very grateful to you.’
He made her an elegant bow over Bosun’s neck, his voice and his manner thick with sarcasm.
‘I am glad to have been of service to you!’
Inwardly she flinched, but she had wanted to put him at a distance, and seemed to have achieved her aims. Surprising, then, that she should feel like bursting into tears.
She waited for him to turn his horse and gallop away, instead he continued to ride alongside her.
‘Much as I am eager to reach the Park,’ he said coolly, answering her unspoken question, ‘you pointed out to me last night that my coat is in need of a little attention. I shall stop off at the Rothermere Arms to see what can be done to repair the damage.’
Amber’s conscience stabbed her.
‘You have lost two buttons. I do not think the inn will be able to help you there.’
‘Yesterday you said I deserved a new jacket,’ he reminded her.
Those blue eyes threatened her defences again and she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead.
‘Goodness, you do not suppose I remember every little word I say?’ she quipped. ‘You may come to the warehouse and I will mend your coat for you there, if you like. Or I could direct you to one of the seamstresses I know, although none of them live on this side of Castonbury.’
‘Thank you, madam. I have lost enough time already and have no wish to go chasing around the countryside! I will come to your warehouse. And if you could allow me the use of a mirror and some water, too, I would be obliged to you.’
His clipped tones told her he was keeping his temper in check. Good. She did not want him to be kind to her, just as she was beginning to regain control over herself.
It took them an hour to reach Castonbury. They saw no one on the road but all the same Amber was glad to have Adam’s company, the memory of yesterday’s assault still fresh in her mind. They said very little, but as they entered the village she pointed to a tall, stone building at the far end of the street.
‘There, that is my warehouse, with the shop built on the side. Ripley and Hall, cloth merchants.’
Adam heard the note of pride in her voice as she read out the words on the sign. She followed it with a soft laugh.
‘Oh, dear. I do hope poor Fred isn’t laid low with worry about me!’
Another surprise. From the moment he had first seen Amber Hall she had taken the wind out of his sails. When they had seen off those ruffians he had expected to find her shocked, tearful, even faint. Instead she had positively beamed at him, full of energy. The immediate and mutual attraction was undeniable, but he had tried to fight it, whereas Amber … He remembered that first, tentative kiss. Had she intended to seduce him? Looking back it seemed quite possible, especially when he thought of her behaviour this morning. He would not have been surprised to find her regretting their actions, afraid of what had occurred, but she had acted like a worldly-wise mistress, eager to move on. And now, just when he was beginning to think that she was nothing but a heartless strumpet, she knocked him off course with such warmth and concern in her voice as she spoke of ‘poor Fred.’
He dropped back and followed as she guided the wagon through the double gates into the yard. Even before she pulled up a lanky youth and an old man came hurrying out.
‘Thank goodness you are here!’ The youth put up his hand to help her down.
‘Aye, we bin that worrit about thee,’ growled the old man, going to the horse’s head. ‘We was gonna get up a search party if you ‘adn’t shown up soon.’
‘Well, I am here now, and safe, as you see. And we have Mr Stratton to thank for that.’ She jumped down and turned to him, her smile lighting up the yard. ‘This is Frederick Aston, my clerk, and holding the horse is Jacob, who helps out in the warehouse.’
Adam looked from the pale, thin youth to the gnarled old man holding on to the dray horse and realised why Amber had thought it necessary to fetch the cloth herself.
‘But what’s happened?’ cried Fred, looking in horror at the damaged bolts of cloth.
‘A few ruffians thought it would be a good joke to cast my load into the river,’ she replied. ‘If Mr Stratton had not come along, then it might all have been ruined. As it is, only those bolts on the top were soaked. They have dried out somewhat, but you had best put them to one side for laundering.’
Frederick turned to her, his rather colourless eyes filled with anguish.
‘Oh, Mrs Hall, if only you had let me come with you—’
