Kitabı oku: «One Reckless Night»

Chapter Two

It was almost dark and the first heavy raindrops began to fall as she approached Fryston Grange. The house was set well back from the road and surrounded by trees, the rain isolating it in a dark grey pall. No lights shone from the windows. Approaching it from the back, she paused to listen, unable to hear anything above the wind and the creaking limbs of the trees.

Suddenly a shape carrying a lantern came out of the stable. She stayed rooted to the spot, her eyes fixed on the figure. Whoever it was had seen her and the tall, cloaked form was approaching with long, purposeful strides. She gasped, clutching a hand to her throat in sudden dread.

When he stood in front of her the man raised the lantern to see her face, the light illuminating his own beneath his dripping hat. He looked puzzled for a moment, then he recognized her.

‘Hester!’

She caught her breath, and her trepidations rapidly vanished. For a moment the two of them were immovable, facing each other, straining through time, and across a divide too deep, too impenetrable to cross.

Lucas Fryston stiffened, his whole body tensing into rigid lines. His eyes actually widened on meeting hers, then narrowed with fury. He stared at her for a moment, his jaw tight and hard, then he turned away from her. In a paralysis of fear Hester waited, before he turned back.

‘You must forgive me if I seem surprised,’ he said coldly. ‘You are the last person I would expect to come calling.’

‘I thought the Grange would be empty. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come had I known…’

‘What? That I would be here? Sorry to disappoint you, Hester,’ he drawled. ‘I’ve come back to sell the Grange, then I shall return to America for good.’

Tears sprung to her eyes. She couldn’t shape a single thought, nor speak. She was aware only of sensations of the most agonizing pain. Lucas was reluctant to come near her because even now, after two years, he had not forgiven her for refusing to become his wife and go with him to America. She felt a wisp of sorrow. Seeing him gave rise to thoughts she’d been valiantly struggling to put behind her, thoughts of what her life might have been, what it should have been, a full and happy life with a good man and a family of her own.

‘I apologize for disturbing you, Lucas. I see it was a mistake to come

here. I won’t bother you further.’

When she turned and retraced her steps across the yard, Lucas dropped any pretence of ignoring her, yet only the jagged pulse that had leaped to life in his throat attested to his own disquiet as he stared after her with mingled feelings of regret and concern.

‘Hester, wait.’ Striding after her he took her arm and turned her to face him, noting that she was shivering in her wet clothes. ‘Look at you. You’re dripping wet. You’d better come inside.’

Hester followed him to the house. Holding the lantern high, he gestured her inside. She shivered as she peered past the beacon toward the interior.

‘Unfortunately I cannot offer you much in the way of hospitality. In its present state the house is devoid of home comforts. I’ll light the fire.’

After several minutes he’d lit candles and set light to the fire in the oak-panelled hall. Hester held out her hands to feel its warmth. Having removed his cloak and hat, Lucas came to stand beside her. His hair was raven black, thick and gently curling to his shoulders. Looking up at him she saw those beautiful warm amber eyes, like his whole being, still blazing with raw emotion. His gaze never left her face.

‘You look tired,’ he remarked. ‘How are things at home? How are your sisters?’

‘To the best of my knowledge they are well, thank you. And you, Lucas?’

‘As you see I have survived without you very well,’ he replied, his voice heavily laced with irony.

And he had—or he thought he had, until now. A long time ago, before England had been torn apart by the Civil War, Lucas had been destined for a wonderful future. He had wealth, influence and raffish good looks to accompany undeniable and winning charm. For all his sophistication and urbanity, though, he had later turned to putty under the assault of a pair of light blue eyes. At just sixteen years old, despite being the daughter of Jacob Atkins, a man locked in bitter rivalry with his own father, Hester had captured him completely. He loved her smile, her sincerity, her goodness and her touch that set his heart thudding like that of a callow youth. But the relationship had soured under the possessive bullying of her father.

While Atkins presented himself as an upstanding pillar of the community, he hid behind a mask of wickedness—the better to wage his shadow war on Lucas’s father. Atkins had deeply resented his success and, driven by an endless lust for power, both in his military life and his private life, he had used every dubious means at his disposal to ruin him.

Lucas was away at war when his father had died, and he was certain his inability to meet his debts and his death had more to do with Atkins’s persecution than his failed heart. When it had come to wanting to wed Hester, Atkins had told him he would see her dead first.

Hester had refused to disobey her father. With no way to douse the rage that had burned inside him like an inferno, Lucas had left England, determined to conquer his passion, but he had failed miserably. He’d been powerless to staunch the outflow of love he felt for her. And now he had come back to her, back to the woman he had tried so hard to deny.