The effort of confession exhausted him. Leaning his head back against the desk he stared at the ceiling. Hope didn't seem to be laughing, so he hadn't made a total idiot of himself. Her stillness made him suspicious and he glanced across. Their eyes met-mesmerised, he was drowning in their opaline depths.

"I need you Hope Tyler."

"All you had to do was say." She whispered. "I thought you didn't care." Her chin trembled and slowly, oh so slowly, she leaned toward him. The movement once started could not be stopped and their lips touched. Heat rose from her skin, intoxicating with the aura of outdoors and he thirsted for more. Cupping her face, her eyes changed from green to black as his lips closed in on her lips. All fight gone, drawn from him by her softness, he placed his trust in her as he kissed her-the shock of her touch addictive and he craved more.

With his movement restricted, Hope pressed closer, relaxing into his embrace. He stroked her hair, marveling at its glossy softness. She was a wonder, with her perfect skin and gentle curves. She consumed all his senses and pain ebbed away as they kissed again, deeper and with more urgency. His heart thundered with a possessive emotion other than l.u.s.t "Please," she murmured against his chest, "I could not bear it if you hate me because of what the smugglers did. Tell me now if you do...and I will go."

"No, nothing could be further from the truth. I...I..." Shocked, Huntley bit his tongue. He froze-to consider this alien emotion. Was it love or l.u.s.t? Yes, he wanted her in his bed, but did he love her? The thought was sobering and with a groan he pushed her away.

Her hurt expression was more unbearable than being shot. But he armored himself lest he forget...life was complicated enough...without seducing his mother's companion, who also happened to be a smuggler. The pounding quieted in his ears, as with supreme effort he resumed a hardened expression.

"Don't mistake my intentions. That was just a kiss. I want you to stay...for Mother's's sake."

Her lip quivered. "And for that reason only?"

Huntley looked away. "What I did...just now...won't happen again."

Hope nodded gravely, dusted down her skirts and knelt. "It most a.s.suredly won't."

"But, you will stay...for Mother's's sake?" His words had come out as a command, as if she was one of his ratings...that had not been his intention, he'd meant to ask her humbly, with respect as she deserved.

He saw indecision on her face. d.a.m.n, he'd made thing a thousand times worse.

"If...if...I decide to stay, you behavior must change."

Heat washed up his neck.

"There can be no more stolen kisses....they are too...confusing"

"Absolutely. No more liberties."

"And I won't be barked at like a dog...I deserve some consideration."

"My thoughts entirely."

Bone-aching, heart-wrenching silence hung between them as he waited on her decision.

"Very well then...I agree to stay...for now. But I suggest we avoid one another."

Huntley's triumph was short-lived. Healing his bones was nothing, compared to protecting his heart. Just what had he done?

Chapter Twelve.

Clouds blocked out the sun and with so little warmth, the crops had grown poorly and predictions of a poor harvest came true. At The Grange, Hope was thankful for the money she sent home, praying her father would have the foresight to put some by for a hard winter. But that aside, Hope was too busy to worry for long. Captain Huntley's brothers had arrived two weeks earlier, having fled an unseasonal London fog. Their visit cheered George, and every day he seemed to grow stronger and was now able to hobble around, albeit slowly, with the aid of a crutch.

After that afternoon two months ago, Hope and the Captain had not been alone together. In company he treated her with respect, but always a remoteness, a degree of reserve which hurt deeply. She had only to hear his voice and a void opened, and she chastised her foolish imagination, telling herself again and again it was a mistake to believe he had feelings for her.

Weeks of correct and polite behavior pa.s.sed between them, and still his clear blue eyes had the power to leave her breathless, something she feared was all too obvious to his brothers. Which was why, as she hurried along the corridor with Lady Ryevale's shawl, she was dreading the next five minutes. Pausing outside the drawing room, she braced herself, listening to a volley of raucous laughter on the other side of the door.

First she picked out Charles' melodic drawl, and in answer, Jack's a.s.sured tone, and then finally the Captain with that deep, commanding voice which made her hollow inside. Hope swallowed. The trouble was, the Huntley men missed nothing, and she was finding it increasingly difficult to act normally around George. She glanced around, hoping a maid might be pa.s.sing to whom she could give Her Ladyship's shawl. But the corridor remained empty and so, squaring her shoulders, Hope opened the door.

The barrage of masculinity hit her like a wall. Each brother was breathtaking in his own way, but it was only George who befuddled her senses. All three were tall, well-built men and strikingly handsome, who filled the parlor with their energy and high spirits.

Tentatively, trying not to attract attention, she slipped inside. It was like stepping into a lion's den when she was supper. First there was Charles, lounging in that dissolute way with his long limbs thrown over the chair arm as if posing for a picture. Then Jack with his dark hair and strong jaw, so similar in looks to George and yet more urbane and polished. And then George, listless as a caged animal...

Hope clutched the shawl to her chest and made for Her Ladyship. George saw her first and, reaching for his crutch, made to stand.

"No, please don't get up, not on my account." She said, touched by his gallantry.

The remaining two Huntley males stared simultaneously. With uncharacteristic shyness, Hope hurried to Her Ladyship's side.

"Thank you, dear." Lady Ryevale placed the shawl over her shoulders. "Why, only just now Eulogy was saying what a help you are."

"Miss Tyler, I do hope you don't think I was gossiping, merely reflecting on how invaluable you are." Eulogy, Jack Huntley's wife, smiled trying to put her at ease. But Hope felt dowdy beside Eulogy's natural beauty, with her glossy chestnut hair, sweetheart face and large brown eyes. No wonder Jack seemed utterly smitten as he placed a solicitous arm around his wife's shoulders.

"My dear, you look tired. Perhaps you should rest, this week we have a long journey ahead of us."

Eulogy rolled her eyes and placed a hand on the gently rounded swell of her belly. "Honestly, you don't need to fuss so."

"That's what I keep saying, but no one takes the blindest bit of notice." George interjected.

Good-natured laughter rolled around the room.

"Lady Ryevale, Mrs Huntley, sirs." Hope inclined her head and made to leave.

"Oh, but do stay, Miss Tyler, or Mrs Huntley and I will be outnumbered."

Heart pounding, Hope hesitated. "I don't want to intrude."

"Nonsense, we want you to stay, don't we George?"

Captain Huntley looked nonplussed. "Of course."

Hope glanced around for a seat. Jack and Eulogy occupied one settle, Lady Ryevale was stretched across the chaise longue, Charles in the armchair, which left George occupying half of a settle. With a sinking sensation, Hope hesitated at the prospect of sitting so close to him. George's face a stiff mask, he inclined his head.

"Don't be bashful, Miss Tyler, you can sit beside me, I don't bite."

She glared back-a look not lost on his brothers.

"If you need lessons in charm, little brother, you only have to ask." Charles fanned his fingers, inspecting his manicured nails with fascination.

"I most certainly do not."

"He's doing well enough as he is." Jack winked at Eulogy, who frowned back.

"Ssssh. Let it go." Eulogy elbowed her husband.

Her cheeks burning and acutely aware of the muscular bulk by her side, Miss Tyler trembled.

"All I'm saying," Jack plunged on, with the good humor of a man hopelessly in love "is once I was like him and couldn't admit my feelings."

"Hush, dear, you're embarra.s.sing your brother."

"I don't know what you mean." George growled.

"I too was blind," Jack plunged on, with the smugness of a reformed sinner "I denied my feelings because I was scared."

"I've never been scared in my life."

"...oh hush, George, and take a brotherly hint. Marrying Eulogy was the best thing I ever did. No one thinks less of you for having feelings."

Hope squirmed in her seat. At her side, George grew tense as a volcano about to erupt.

"I can a.s.sure you, whatever foolish imaginings you have concocted, nothing could be further from the truth."

Charles stretched languidly. "Perchance you protest too much."

"Brother, I know you are merely trying to provoke a reaction... it's not going to work. You're flogging a dead horse."

Hope stared helplessly from one to the other, wishing they would stop.

"Now, now boys," Lady Ryevale interjected. "Let's not spoil these last few days together by sc.r.a.pping."

"Yes, Mother." Her boys muttered more or less in unison.

"Besides, Hope's arrival is most timely," Her Ladyship continued brightly, "because, Charles, you were about to tell me about the Castelle's. I'm sure Hope will be intrigued to hear what you have to say"

Dumbfounded, Hope's jaw dropped. A blush heated her cheeks as the morning went from bad to worse.

"Mother? You are up to something." Charles looked mildly amused. "I can't imagine what interest the Castelle's could be to either you or Miss Tyler. Apparently they withdrew from society almost twenty years ago."

Hope sat rigid in her seat, silently fuming; whatever she had told Lady Ryevale about her mother had been under the influence of laudanum. However much Her Ladyship had done for her, didn't give her the right to go delving into her past.

"No particular reason. It's just I was recently reminded of a contemporary of mine, Emma Castelle, and it put me in mind of her family."

"Most unlike you, Mother, to want to know about the ton. I do believe you're plotting! How intriguing." Charles turned his velvet-brown eyes full square on Hope.

Hope suppressed the urge to bolt from the room and felt George stir beside her.

"Heavens! Is that the time?" George stood and teetered alarmingly. "Miss Tyler, my crutch if you would be so good."

As she pa.s.sed it over, but one moment the crutch was in his hand, the next it had slipped and somehow shot under the settle.

"How clumsy of me." George wobbled on his feet. In the commotion, Jack jumped forward and grabbed his arm to steady him. By the time the Captain was safely seated and the crutch retrieved, Eulogy had changed the topic of conversation. Hope fished the stick out from under the seat, and still sick with humiliation, handed it over.

"Thank you, Miss Tyler." For a moment, George's hand rested on hers and he gave it a squeeze. There was a look in his eyes which made her heart race, and left her wondering if the Captain hadn't dropped the crutch on purpose.

Despite their intimidating presence, as Jack and Charles prepared for their return to London, Hope found herself regretting their departure. On the last morning together even Charles, usually a late riser, made the effort to join his family for breakfast.

"The birds are so d.a.m.ned noisy." He yawned and stretched. "That's the trouble with the country, can't sleep for all the noise."

Jack and Eulogy also had dark circles under their eyes, but for a different reason. During the night Eulogy had been struck by a sudden craving for pickled herrings, and had woken her husband to go and find some. But now, in the morning light, Eulogy looked distinctly queasy, half-heartedly nibbling on a corner of toast. Lady Ryevale regarded her daughter-in-law with sympathy.

"You must be carrying a boy, my dear. When expecting my boys, I felt uncommonly ill of a morning."

Charles rolled his eyes with feigned distress. "Pray Mother, do not regale us with more tales from our childhood."

Closest to the window, George rose unsteadily to his feet and insisted on opening it. "Fresh air, that's what you need, Eulogy."

Jack shook his head. "Brother, you have a lot to learn about women. Isn't that right, Miss Tyler?"

The withering look George threw at his younger sibling was not lost on Hope.

In truth, Hope would have felt more comfortable eating in the kitchen. It was at Her Ladyship's insistence she now joined the family for meals.

"Now this is nice, having everyone together like this. I was wondering if you might not be able to stay an extra few days."

"Mother, why do I not like that look?"

"Don't be silly, Charles. It's just we've all been invited to the Wainwright's ball."

The three brothers groaned simultaneously as their mother continued.

"It would be lovely, for old time's sake, if we could go as a group."

"I'd love to..." Charles arched a haughty brow, "but London calls, been too long away already, irons in the fire and all that."

"Same here." Jack added quickly. "I can't impose on Chaucer's good nature any longer. He needs me back at The Gallery."

"Such a shame. Well, I suppose I shall have George and Miss Tyler for company. We shall just have to make the best of it."

It was George's turn to look wary. "I'm really not sure, Mother. I never was one for b.a.l.l.s. And besides, I can barely walk, let alone dance."

"Oh come now. You've been closeted away for far too long. You're going and there's an end to it. Isn't that right, Miss Tyler?"

Startled, Hope dropped her knife. "My going wouldn't feel right, Lady Ryevale."

"Nonsense. You will come as my companion. I'll need someone to talk to while George mixes. Conversation closed."

That, it seemed, was that.