A Stranger's Touch. Anne Herries

wish, Adam. What will you do next?’ Jacques asked. ‘You can stay here until you feel able to leave, but Michael would not be pleased to find you still here when he returns.’

      ‘Your elder brother is averse to strangers?’ The stranger looked up as Morwenna ladled stew into the bowl in front of him. ‘Thank you, mistress. I am sure it will taste as good as it smells.’

      ‘Morwenna is a good cook. She needs a husband, someone to keep her in the manner to which she is accustomed,’ Jacques quipped, but his smile faded as his sister glared at him. ‘Sorry, I know you shouldn’t be waiting on us the way you do. It was merely a jest, dear heart.’

      Morwenna made no reply. She finished serving the others and then took her own place at the far end of the table.

      ‘I think I shall find somewhere else to stay tomorrow,’ the stranger said. ‘I wonder if I should stay here in the cove for a while in case someone comes to look for me. News of the shipwreck will have reached London by now, I dare say, and my family—if I have one—may look for me here.’

      ‘What makes you think they will hear of the wreck? Do you come from London, then?’ Jacques asked, his gaze narrowed.

      ‘I do not know if I have a family, but I must have friends, people who know me. I think it is in London that ships are registered when they founder. I feel that I may have come from there—just as I feel I may be an artist. I cannot know anything for sure, which is why I perhaps ought to stay close until someone comes who can tell me who I am and whence I came.’

      ‘There is no need to leave for a few days. Michael will not return for a while. Stay here in case your fever returns. He has no need to leave, has he, Morwenna?’

      ‘He may stay until Michael returns if he pleases.’ She kept her gaze lowered. ‘It is no trouble to feed an extra man.’

      ‘That is kind. It would suit me to stay—if I may?’

      ‘We shall not hear of your leaving for a few days, until we are sure you have recovered,’ Jacques said. ‘‘Tis a pity the sea took your papers, for you might have known where to begin your search. If you feel you came from town, why not return to London when you are completely well and be seen there? If you are known, someone will hail you and you may find your family sooner.’

      ‘That was my first thought.’ The stranger glanced at Morwenna. ‘I feel I owe your family something, because your sister saved my life. Once I regain my memory I may be able to repay her in some way.’

      ‘Morwenna wants for nothing. She does not need your money, sir.’

      ‘Perhaps there are other things more important to Mistress Morgan. I may know people who would sponsor her in town so that she could find a husband best suited to her needs.’

      ‘She has a suitor if she wants one.’ Jacques threw him a challenging look. ‘Captain Bird would be happy to oblige, would he not, Morwenna?’

      ‘I will thank you not to discuss me at table—any of you.’ She glared at her brother and then at the stranger, surprising a look that might have been concern or sympathy in his eyes.

      ‘Help yourselves to bread and cheeses and the oatcakes. There’s honey if you want it, sir. I’m going up to my room. I’ll come back later to clear up, Bess.’

      She rose from her chair and walked from the room, her back very straight. Behind her there was silence until Jacques laughed.

      ‘I fear I have offended Morwenna,’ he said. ‘It was a mere jest, of course. Morwenna wouldn’t have that militiaman if he paid her his weight in gold.’

      Hearing the stranger laugh in response to Jacques, Morwenna smarted with anger and humiliation. How dared the brother she loved and trusted discuss her in front of a stranger? How dared the stranger suggest that if he regained his memory he might know someone who would sponsor her—as if she were in need of his pity or compassion!

      She had been shocked to learn that he planned to leave the next day and felt a sense of loss until Jacques invited him to stay—but after that remark she would be glad to see the last of him. The last thing she needed from anyone was pity!

      Turning away from the stairs, she went outside into the cold night air. She was suddenly weary of her life and the duties she performed every day, rebelling as she realised that nothing was likely to change for her unless she made it change herself.

      It seemed her only escape was to go to her aunt, but would it be a change for the better or would she be trapped in the house of a bitter old woman?

      Tears stinging behind her eyes, she walked up to the top of the cliff and stood looking out to sea. The wind tugged at her gown and pierced her shawl, making her shiver in the cool night air. Autumn would soon be gone and then the winter would be upon them and it would be too dangerous to stand at the edge of the cliffs lest the lashing rain had made the soil loose. For a moment her eyes were blinded with tears, but then she saw a light flash from somewhere out at sea. She thought someone must be signalling with a lantern. As she stood, her nerves tingling, she saw a light from the shore, which appeared to be answering the ship. Was it the stranger? Was he indeed a spy and was he signalling to the ship in the bay?

      Even as the thought came into her mind, she heard a sound behind her and turned to see a man walking towards her. It was the stranger and he did not carry a lantern. So it could not have been him on the beach.

      ‘I thought you would be here,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if what I said at table upset you, Mistress Morwenna.’

      ‘It wasn’t your fault. My brothers think it is a great joke because Captain Bird makes no secret of his hopes.’

      Since he wasn’t the one signalling to the ship, it must be someone else—and that person was likely to be Michael, who might not have gone abroad after all. If he was arranging for contraband to come ashore, it would be best the stranger did not see it. She moved towards him, pretending to trip and falling into his arms. He caught her and held her. She looked up at him and the heat in his eyes startled her. A fierce shaft of longing shot through her and she gasped. The next moment he had her pressed hard against his body and his arms were about her. She ought to push him away, but if she did not distract him he might notice the flashing lights.

      Now he was bending his head, and his mouth was on hers, taking possession of her lips, exploring her mouth with his tongue, sending little thrills of heat racing through her body. She moaned with pleasure, unable to pull away or tell him to stop. It was as if a sudden fire had begun inside her and she was burning up with the need to allow his kisses and so much more. She wanted him to hold her for ever, to take her down here on these cliffs and kiss her senseless. She wanted to love him, to stand by his side and keep the world at bay.

      No, how stupid of her. She was allowing her loneliness and her frustration to take over her mind. To lie with this stranger could lead to only one thing: her ruin. He did not feel as she did, even though his kiss had touched her soul. She must stop this now before it was too late.

      ‘No, you must not,’ she cried, though her heart rebelled and her senses screamed to be back in his arms. ‘I can’t … I can’t …’

      Wrenching away from him, she ran back down the path to her house, as sure footed in the dark as she was when it was light. She would be a fool to trust a man who claimed not to know his own name. Instinct told her that to let the stranger into her heart could only lead to sorrow.

      ‘Morwenna, please.’ She heard his shout, but dared not look back. If she did, she would end by giving in to the need inside her, the need of a lonely girl to be loved.

      Chapter Four

      ‘You look like a ghost,’ Bess muttered the next morning when Morwenna went into the kitchen. ‘Are you sickening for something?’

      ‘I didn’t sleep very well last night,’ she replied. ‘Where is Jacques?’

      ‘He went out this morning early. He didn’t tell me where he was going,