His Makeshift Wife. ANNE ASHLEY

me assure you I have no intention of attempting to do so,’ she declared with feeling. ‘I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time I rode one of your precious horses.’

      He was totally bewildered, and it clearly showed. ‘Pray refresh my memory! What did happen?’

      ‘You tossed me in the lily pond upon my return to the Manor!’

      Ben Carey’s shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter only served to ignite one of his master’s occasional lapses into devilment. ‘Upon my word! All I can say is I must have been in a rare good humour that day. You wouldn’t get off so lightly if you attempt the like again!’

      This was hardly destined to act as a salve on a young woman’s bruised ego and it didn’t. Nor did the servant’s sudden loud guffaws help to lessen the feelings of ill usage she’d experienced all those many years ago.

      A descendent of the famed Celtic warrior queen herself could not have looked more determined in her resolve. ‘You ever lay violent hands upon me again, Luke Kingsley,’ she warned, hands on hips and swinging round to face him squarely, ‘and I would strongly advise you not to sleep in your bed at night without securely locking both doors.’

      Once again those white teeth flashed in the most infuriatingly goading smile. ‘Do I infer correctly from that that I might expect a visit from you, my love, should I attempt to play the heavy-handed husband?’ he enquired in an undertone, so that only she could hear. ‘Would that, perchance, lead to a better understanding between us and a—er—more pleasurable way of passing the night hours than in sleep? What a tease you are, to be sure! And after last night’s rejection, too!’ he declared, much to her further combined chagrin and acute embarrassment. ‘But then, I have ever heard it remarked upon that females are fickle and have a tendency to change their minds quite often.’

      ‘Well, this one does not!’ she hissed through clenched teeth, and swung away in high dudgeon, only to be caught the instant she had set foot outside the stable.

      She refused to demean herself by attempting an undignified struggle and merely glanced down at the shapely hand that retained a firm grasp of her upper arm. ‘Unhand me at once, sir!’ She stared up at him, the look in her eyes clearly a challenge. ‘Or are you to prove once again that you are not a man of your word? You swore you would not come near me unless bidden to do so.’

      He released her at once, letting his hand drop to his side, almost in a gesture of reluctant acceptance, or even defeat. He even sounded slightly despondent as he said, ‘I admit last night was a grave mistake on my part and I assure you it will never occur again. You’ve decided we’ll not be lovers and I shall respect that decision. But does that mean we may not at least be friends? The next six months shall be bleak, indeed, if we remain aloof strangers.’

      All at once she felt ashamed of herself for overreacting to what had been nothing more than, she now felt sure, a bit of ribald teasing on his part. She wasn’t some pampered child who couldn’t take a little playful tormenting from time to time. She’d always prided herself on her sense of humour, for heaven’s sake! So why on earth did she react so negatively to this man’s gentle goading?

      ‘I—I see no reason why we cannot become … friends,’ she returned softly, and was rewarded with one of his most beguiling smiles. He really was the most attractive man, she decided, most especially when his waving brown hair flopped casually over his forehead, as now, and he was dressed for riding, clothes that suited his muscular frame so admirably.

      ‘Good. And you can prove you mean what you say by accompanying me to the local town. I need to engage some tradesmen to make necessary repairs to the lodge. Besides which, it will do no harm at all for the locals to see us about together.’ He cast a disapproving glance down at her attire. ‘But I have no intention of taking you about dressed in widow’s weeds.’