Compromising Miss Milton. Michelle Styles

touched her shoulder and felt the black stuff give way under his touch and the warmth rise up from her. Her large grey-green eyes met his. A sense of satisfaction went through him.

      Her next move would be a few false pleas combined with batted lashes and a single tear down her face to elicit pity and to appeal to his better nature. But that nature had vanished seven years ago in India. He would discover which of his enemies had sent her. And then they would pay. Slowly.

      ‘Shall we begin?’ he asked. ‘And I want the truth.’

      She leant forwards, so that her mouth was inches from his. Her eyes danced with a sudden light. ‘Yes, let’s.’

      Her piercing shriek rose and echoed back from the rocks above the waterfall, paining his ears.

      He raised an eyebrow and glared up at her, concentrating on the few escaping tendrils of dark brown hair rather than the superior expression. ‘Did the scream make you feel better?’

      ‘Only if it hurt your ears. Like you, I keep my promises. I have been a governess for long enough to know how to handle awkward children.’

      ‘I am not a child. I am a grown man.’ The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He sounded like he was not yet in long trousers. He concentrated on keeping hold of her wrist.

      ‘Behave like one and let me go.’ Her eyes flashed, transforming her face and making him want to stare. There was something so alive about the woman. ‘Shall we repeat the exercise or do you release me?’

      Most women of his acquaintance would have fainted by now, or at the very least declared their intent to faint, but not this woman. She appeared positively triumphant in her scream.

      He cocked his head slightly, his body stilling. Adam’s fingers itched to shake her shoulders until she revealed everything, but he remained in control of his emotions and waited for her next move and to see what aid came to her rescue.

      The woods were silent. No one was coming. Was she innocent? Could he take the chance?

      ‘Are you always this stubborn? Who knows who you could have alerted?’

      Her chin tilted upwards. ‘It is my intention to alert someone. There are laws against this sort of behaviour. Molesting women.’

      ‘Someone? Someone in particular? Who?’

      ‘Does it matter?’ Her bonnet ribbons trembled slightly.

      ‘You can tell me. Who sent you? What secrets am I supposed to tell?’ He pulled her close, so that each one of her eyelashes was highlighted against her pale skin. Up close and unencumbered by the shadow of the bonnet, her face was striking—thin curved eyebrows, a straight nose and full lips that did more than hint at passion. ‘Give me his name. Who is your lover? Where does he hide? What does he want from me? What does he seek?’

      ‘I am unmarried, sir!’

      ‘Marriage has never been a requirement for taking a lover.’

      ‘It is with me.’ Her nostrils quivered with indignation and her cheeks flamed pink. ‘That is to say, I wish for no other lover than my eventual husband.’

      ‘And does he have a name? This fiancé of yours?’

      ‘I have no fiancé.’

      ‘No lover, no fiancé and no prospects. Is it any wonder you are a governess?’

      ‘I am a virtuous woman, whereas you are naught but a scoundrel and a rake.’

      ‘A woman of virtue! Truly a rare prize!’

      ‘My elbows are quite sharp.’ Her voice became shrill. ‘And I will not hesitate to use any means at my disposal to fight you. To the death if necessary. What is a woman when she has lost her virtue?’

      ‘What is she, indeed?’ Adam lifted his other hand and traced a finger down the rim of her bonnet. An errant curl brushed against it, surprising him with its softness. ‘More interesting? Yes, a woman who has lost her virtue is infinitely more intriguing.’

      ‘Let me go. I am…am not that sort of woman. Nor will I be—ever.’

      ‘Rest assured, ma’am, I have no designs on your virtue.’ He allowed his hand to drop. ‘But I will keep the suggestion under advisement.’

      The woman’s mouth opened and closed several times. ‘You are impossible.’

      ‘My nurse proclaimed me a devil at the tender age of two.’ Adam permitted a smile to cross his face. He leant forwards so his head touched the brim. ‘I have made no attempt to improve.’

      ‘I saved your life, sir! Do not ruin mine! Let me go and I will answer your questions.’

      The governess gave one last frantic tug and he let her go. She tumbled backwards and gave him a view of a neatly turned ankle, far neater than the dress suggested. The woman had something to hide. He could feel it in his bones. He would discover her secrets and destroy her if needs be.

      ‘Are you satisfied? You are free.’ He gathered his legs under him and wondered if they would have any power.

      She gave a loud disapproving sniff and scuttled backwards. ‘You did not have to let me go that quickly.’

      ‘A proper gentleman never refuses a lady’s reasonable request. My dear mama taught me that.’

      ‘Are you a gentleman?’ She tilted her head and then shook her head in wonderment.

      ‘I was born one.’

      ‘Then behave like one.’ Her eyes slid away from his. Almost imperceptibly she began to inch towards her basket, shuffling backwards on her hands. Her fingers reached out towards it and then hesitated as she saw his face. Her white teeth worried her bottom lip and her eyes slid between his face and the basket. Then she gave a small sigh. He realised with a start of surprise that she intended on keeping her promise. A woman of integrity. Most unexpected.

      ‘I will answer all your questions, but I can shed no light on why you are here,’ she said with quiet firmness.

      Adam frowned. He prided himself on being immune to feminine wiles. How many times had he seen the false pleas, the crocodile tears for yet another bauble? But this woman was sincere and willing to keep her promises. ‘You have no idea why I might have been attacked?’

      She nodded vigorously, sending her bonnet sliding to one side of her face. ‘I give you my word as a governess and a lady brought low by family circumstance.’

      The last words—family circumstance—hung in the air. Adam immediately recalled India. Then, too, Kamala had claimed to be a lady, brought low by family circumstance. She, too, had begged and pleaded with him to save her, but he had refused to act. Then he had taken her proof to his commander and had lost her for ever. Even now he heard Kamala’s voice whispering, begging him to forgive her. He refused to have another death on his conscience. The parade of ghosts was long enough already. He shook his head and willed those particular shades to go.

      Adam looked up at the sky. He attempted to regain his balance, his famous cool demeanour. The events seven years ago had nothing to do with today.

      What was it that was said about him in the clubs in London? Adam Ravensworth never loses his temper and always maintains control. Hah! Here he was attacking governesses, or whatever she was pretending to be. Had he fallen that far?

      ‘Why do you feel compelled to wear such ugly clothes? What are you attempting to conceal? Your magnificent figure?’

      Two bright spots appeared on her cheeks and her hands went to automatically smooth her skirts and straighten her bonnet, hiding the glorious gold-brown hair that had spilled free. ‘Are you always this rude?’

      ‘I ask the questions. You answer them. It was our bargain.’

      ‘Your question is…personal.’ Her hand plucked at her skirts. ‘I am a governess. I wear what I wear