With Hope's arm tucked in his, they made for the supper room. It had taken all Huntley's self-control not to punch Oswald and the depth of his possessiveness shook him. Only now, at a safe distance from him, was blind jealousy loosening its grip. Huntley glanced at her shining face and his heart took flight. It seemed Hope had got under his skin. Compared to her, other women were insipid, vapid creatures. In her, he saw strength and integrity, and for once he didn't care so much what the world thought. The feeling was liberating.

They limped along. The supper room was located at the far end of the corridor, and as the pain grew worse, the distance felt like the ends of the earth. Then, without warning, his leg buckled. Hope held onto his arm and stopped him from falling but with each step, the pain grew more intense. Biting his tongue, they continued. He stumbled again, this time an occasional table broke his fall.

"Lean on me." Hope looped his arm around her shoulders, threading her other arm around his waist.

"Thank you."

"Quick. In here while no one's looking." Hope pushed opened a door. It was utter relief to tumble into what was a dimly-lit room. They both leant, panting, with the closed door to their backs. Huntley glanced around at was appeared to be a small library or study; book-lined walls and a globe beside an armchair. The light came from the full moon, spilling in through the open curtains.

"How are you feeling now?" Hope asked.

"Ashamed. Foolish. Useless."

Her gaze slid over him, her eyes large and luminous.

"You are none of those things-but brave, courageous and honorable."

He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss into her palm. A new pain a.s.saulted him, centred on his heart, and every bit as excruciating as physical pain. With regret, he released her hand.

"George?" She spoke his name with such tenderness, he was momentarily undone. The dome of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s strained against the low-cut bodice and did peculiar things to his sanity. She was sheer temptation-but one he would not yield to. With unintended gruffness he turned aside.

"We should go. To enter a private room together.... your reputation."

But Hope didn't move, instead he recognised the stubborn tilt of her chin which meant she was going nowhere.

"Not until you tell me what I've done wrong."

She continued to stare with wide, dark eyes which seared into his soul.

"Was it because I danced with Oswald?"

Huntley's heart twisted. "Well, it wasn't so much a dance, as a seduction."

Her brow shot upward. "I beg your pardon?"

"The way he looked at you was positively indecent."

With a glare Miss Tyler replied. "It wasn't my fault Mr. Oswald was attentive. In no way did I encourage him."

"But you danced with him all the same." He knew he was being childish but couldn't help it.

"But Lady Ryevale insisted! And, I refused a second dance!"

A slow look dawned across her face. "You aren't jealous, are you?"

George wanted so much to laugh, but instead the fight drained away. Denial was useless, his face told Hope everything she needed to know.

"Oh my!" Her hand covered her mouth.

"We should leave," he whispered, she nodded weakly but neither moved. Stillness settled around them. The world contracted to the s.p.a.ce between them, each conscious of the other's labored breathing. A wash of heat flooded Huntley's body and he tugged at his collar.

"By gads it's hot."

"Is it?" All innocence, Hope smiled. "Actually, it's a little chilly."

How could he not have noticed? She was shivering, gooseb.u.mps raised on her skin. He shook off his jacket, and with a tenderness he didn't know he possessed, placed it around her shoulders. Close enough now to smell her salty skin, he stood in front of her, pulling the coat closed. More than anything his lips craved the waiting warmness of hers, and he saw in her eyes she knew it.

"You would tempt a saint."

"And is that such a bad thing?"

"No," he sucked in a breath. "But I accuse you of loose morals, and then do the very thing I condemned you for."

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I have no right to expect you to trust me, but the truth is..." His throat constricted.

"Yes?" There in the window, her skin caressed by moonlight, and sadness filled her face. When she spoke, her words broke across him like ice water. "But you fear soiling your reputation because I am a b.a.s.t.a.r.d?"

His world spun. "No! It's not that at all!"

"Then what?"

"My dearest Hope. What I see is your honesty and integrity -the qualities I live my life by. I was a tongue-tied idiot, who could not admit to feeling ...jealous. There! I've said it. I saw you with Oswald and couldn't bear it, that's why I dragged you away and that's why I so badly want to kiss you."

"Darling man, I would like nothing better."

"What did you say?"

"I said I can think of nothing I want more than to be kissed by you."

A swooping, darting, sense of euphoria lit his face and yet still he made no move.

She took his hand in hers and pressed it to her lips, snuggling it against her cheek.

"Kiss me. Please."

Drawn to the tender plumpness of her lips, the air sang between them. Gentle as a dove he claimed her mouth, brushing and teasing until her lips parted. Trusting, she followed his lead, she mirrored the brush of tongue against delicate lip and his body started to melt.

Huntley was intoxicated, never before had a woman aroused this fearsome urge to possess and cherish. He needed Hope to be his. Until now his life had meant doing his best by King and country, but in that moment his focus shifted. The realisation was sobering.

"Until you, I hadn't met a real woman."

"What do you mean?"

"You are resourceful, intelligent and kind."

"Hmmm, you forgot beautiful and witty."

Huntley shook with laughter, "Neither did I mention modest."

As their laughter died, Hope smiled sheepishly. "When we leave this room, I won't hold you to anything."

"Do you regret our kiss?" A pulse hammered in his throat?

She took a shuddering breath, "If all I am to you is a dalliance, then forget everything. I will not make the same mistake as my mother."

Slowly Huntleys heart found a more regular rhythm. "Miss Tyler, if you permit..." A shout in the corridor disturbed him. Huntley c.o.c.ked his head.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?"

Some way down the corridor came another m.u.f.fled shout.

"Someone is calling a name...and it sounds like 'Huntley.'"

The voice grew louder. A look of comprehension dawned on George's face.

"What the..?"

Huntley recognised the voice-deep and rich male tones. The door opened and a man with a long nose set above a sullen mouth, glanced in.

"Oswald!"

His first instinct was to shield Hope, so he stood in front of her, but Oswald missed nothing. But then Huntley registered the distress on Oswald's face and his blood chilled.

"What is it? Has something happened?"

Out of breath, Oswald gabbled.

"Captain Huntley, thank goodness I've found you! Come at once, your mother has collapsed."

Hope's concern for Lady Ryevale was matched only by anguish for Captain Huntley. She knew that to be discovered in a compromising position would mean, as an honorable man, he would feel bound to offer for her-a proposal she would refuse. She wanted to marry for love, rather than be trapped by gossip.

"Come." Oswald urged Huntley, "Your mother is asking for you."

With a curt nod, George accepted Oswald's supportive hand on his elbow, while Hope followed close behind. Moving as swiftly as the Captain's leg allowed, they headed back along the corridor.

"How did you know where to look?" Huntley asked.

Oswald peered down his long nose. "I asked a footman. They see everything while saying nothing."

"Oh."

"Don't worry. I gave the man an inducement, to make sure he doesn't talk."

"That's very good of you. Thank you."

Hope reappraised her dislike of Oswald and offered up silent thanks.

"Where is Her Ladyship?"

"I had her moved to a side room." He indicated the next door on the left. "Here we are."

"Tell me what happened?" Huntley's voice caught.

"After you...err...went for refreshment, I was chatting to Her Ladyship when she started to complain of feeling unwell."

"Unwell? In what way?"

"Stomach cramps, and then a few minutes later, all but pa.s.sed out." He reached for the door k.n.o.b. "Now, shall we go in?"

Hope didn't think she could have felt any more wretched, that was, until they entered the small parlor and she saw Lady Ryevale.

Lying on a chaise longue, covered with a blanket, Her Ladyship was almost unrecognisable. In the past half hour she had aged twenty years; her complexion which had been soft and dewy, was now ashen and beaded with sweat. Her eyes were closed, sunken and hollow in her skull, her lips so pale as to be transparent. She lay unmoving, and except for the occasional groan, seemed unconscious.

George stood stock-still, too shocked to move. Hope pushed past him and ran to Her Ladyship's side.

"Lady Ryevale? Can you hear me?" Hope touched the older woman's hand, which felt clammy and cold. Fear gripped Hope. Her Ladyship looked so very ill...and so suddenly. She turned to George for rea.s.surance, only to see the same horror reflected on his face. Their eyes met and Hope willed him to react. Slowly, he seemed to rouse himself.

Captain Huntley cleared his throat. "We must take her home immediately. And send for Doctor Joseph."

A footman, who had been hovering in the shadows, stepped forward. "Captain?"

"With all haste have the Huntley couch brought around."

Oswald held up his hand. "Captain, I took the liberty of ordering my carriage. It is already waiting. Take it, and I will use yours."

"Thank you. Once more I'm in your debt."

"Think nothing of it."

Huntley stepped forward, leaning over his mother and made as if to lift her.

"d.a.m.n, this bad leg."

"Would you allow me to help?"

His face unreadable, George stepped back. "By all means."

In one swift motion, Oswald lifted Her Ladyship into his arms. The footman returned.

"This way, sirs. I've had the carriage brought to the closest entrance."

"Thank you, my man."