The Tantalizing Miss Coale

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A look of pain flitted across her face. She put her hand up defensively. ‘If I hurt you I am very sorry for it.’

‘Sorry? How magnanimous—I still bear the scars!’

‘I told you at the time I had mistaken my feelings for you.’

‘Only a desperate flirt would lead a man on in that way.’

He watched the long lashes sweep down.

‘Then that is what I must be.’

The words were no louder than the breeze stirring the leaves.

He pulled her closer, using his anger to subdue the treacherous desire that threatened to overpower him.

‘I worshipped you, do you remember? We were going to be married. Can you deny you wanted me then? But I held back, I resisted the temptation, although you were warm and eager in my arms. I dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, when I could take you to my bed and make love to you— ‘

‘Stop it!’ The distress in her voice was too much for him and he released her. As soon as he loosened his grip she turned away. ‘It was not to be.’

‘Your father thought I was not good enough,’ he said bitterly. ‘I was always aware of that, from the first time I visited Markham.’

‘Then you were my brothers’ school friend,’ she retorted. ‘As long as you remained only that you were to be tolerated. As a suitor you were...unacceptable.’

Ben put his hands on her shoulders.

‘I urged you to fly with me—I would have married you, risked his anger.’

‘You do not understand.’

He gave her a little shake.

‘Then explain it to me, Sal. Explain why it was necessary for you to lead me on, only to dismiss me so cruelly.’

She gave a little cry.

‘Do you think you are the only one who suffered? I loved you, too!’

‘Hah! You expect me to believe that?’ His hands tightened. ‘But you are here now, and as tempting as ever, so perhaps you will make good your promises.’

He pulled her close and kissed her, a savage, bruising kiss that was meant to convey his anger and fury at her betrayal. She did not resist him but when she fluttered in his arms he was lost. Every hurt, every injury was forgotten, replaced by a sudden rush of desire. Her fingers clutched at his coat, she was kissing him back, hungrily returning his embrace. She sighed when his mouth slid away to kiss her jaw, her throat, the spot beneath her ear where the pulse beat rapidly beneath his lips.

‘Tell me now that you don’t want me!’ He muttered the words against her skin.

‘I c-can’t, Henry— ‘

In the heat of desire he had forgotten her husband, forgotten everything save the sweet taste of her. Now the reality hit him and with it disappointment, bitter as gall.

‘He’ll not stop me taking what is mine.’

With a sob she pushed him away.

‘Is that all I am to you, a conquest?’

‘What more can you ever be, now you have married that dolt?’

‘This is not you, Ben. You were never cruel.’

The moonlight glinted on her tears but this time he hardened his heart.

‘I am what you have made me, sweetheart.’

Sally shuddered at his harsh retort. She had thought for a moment that she might be able to explain, to make him understand, but it was too late, he hated her too much. He reached for her again but with a sob she tore herself away dashed back towards the inn, the sound of his angry laughter following her through the darkness.

* * *

She did not stop until she had reached the safety of her bedchamber. She curled up on the bed, hugging the pillow. That she still loved Ben Hensley was painfully apparent, but he hated her. Their meeting in the orchard was nothing more than moonlight madness. For the past two years she had lived with her father’s constant taunts that any man worth the name would not have walked away so easily. Of course, Papa never knew what she had said, how she had laughed at Ben and persuaded him that she had been merely amusing herself at his expense. She had done her best to hurt and humiliate him and she had succeeded only too well. Could any man worth the name still love her after that? She thought not. It would be best for everyone if they never met again.

* * *

When she emerged from her room the next morning she found Henry at the little writing desk in the corner of the room. He jumped up when he saw her.

‘Overslept did you, m’dear? Yesterday was a tiring day, but we shall journey in easy stages from here.’

‘I beg your pardon, Henry. Why did you not wake me?’

‘I thought it best not to disturb you.’

‘But surely we should have been on the road over an hour ago.’

‘No need to be in a spin over it. I’ve told my coachman to be ready to move at noon.’

‘Noon! But what if Papa should catch up with us?’

‘No fear of that, my love.’

She clasped her hands, trying to fight down her panic.

‘But you know he will be furious when he finds me gone, he will send his people out immediately to fetch me back.’

‘But this is hardly the sort of place he will look for us,’ he said comfortably. ‘Now come and sit down and break your fast.’ He pushed a plate towards her. ‘I have already done so and can recommend the ham, it is very good with a little mustard. And while you do that, I will finish my letter. Just a note to my steward, don’t you know, with a few little instructions for him.’

Sally was surprised at Henry’s nonchalance but she thought perhaps he was trying to put her at her ease, so she said no more. He bustled around, leaving Sally to enjoy her coffee and her thoughts, until he had finished his letter.

‘There, all done. Now, I had best go downstairs and find a servant to take it to the post. Then I think I shall take a little air. Will you come with me?’

She glanced out at the sunshine but refused, reluctantly. She would have liked to go outside, but she did not know if Ben was still at the inn and she would not risk another meeting. With that thought in mind she locked the door behind Henry, just in case, then prowled restlessly about the room. At the writing desk she stopped, looking at the sheets of writing paper in disarray. Her eye was caught by one sheet which bore several lines of writing. Dear Henry, had be missed a page of his letter? She picked up the paper, but what she saw there made her blood run cold.

* * *

Unusually, Ben slept late, his slumbers disturbed by images of Serena Coale. It would have been better if he had ignored her, rather than stirring up memories best left alone. After a hasty breakfast he walked out to the stable to collect Morgan, the huge roan gelding that had carried him faithfully for so many miles. A little rain had fallen in the early hours but the sky was clear and as he trotted out onto the road he hoped for a dry journey to York.