The Foundling Bride. Helen Dickson

It shamed him to remember that the half formed young woman had aroused desires within him that, although perfectly natural, had made his sexual urge immense. But he was only human, after all, and a healthy and willing lover to any young girl.

      Of course her age had mattered back then, and because she was who she was, and because he had had Isabel’s affair with Edward occupying his thoughts, he would not have touched her. And Izzy would not have taken kindly to him toying with the girl who was as dear to her as her own daughters.

      Edward’s vitriolic insinuations and the dark shadow of the large part of Lowena’s life without him, which he knew nothing about, concerned Marcus more than he cared to admit. His heart twisted in fury at the image of her lying in his brother’s arms.

      In angry frustration he turned his mind from his tortured imaginings and tried concentrating on the joy of her instead, determined not to let Edward’s words sour his memories of her.

      When she appeared at the top of the stairs he found he had to test the accuracy of his memory. The sight of her stunned him. The young woman who descended, with her softly curving form, her glorious wealth of shining red-gold hair, its tendrils coiling like serpents down her spine, her stormy amber eyes shaded by long, curling lashes, and soft pink lips, possessed a full-blown beauty certainly more vivid and lively than he remembered.

      Lowena seemed to exude the very essence of vitality and life.

      * * *

      It had taken Lowena all of five minutes to dress and pack her few belongings into a bundle. She had paused for a moment at the top of the stairs to look down at the man pacing the hall with long, impatient strides before moving gracefully down the stairs.

      As she watched him she was conscious of a sudden tension and nervousness in her. Apart from their brief encounter earlier, she had not seen him for almost four years, and she did not know how to behave towards him.

      Suddenly he looked up and saw her. Her face, pale and tense, was exposed.

      She wasn’t to know about the acrimonious meeting he had had with his half-brother, but she sensed that he knew more about her involvement with what had happened in the cove earlier than she was comfortable with. Everything about him exuded an unbending will, and that in turn made Lowena feel even more wretched and helpless.

      Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she walked towards him. For an endless moment their gazes locked as they assessed one another. She looked at him with the same bright, intelligent gaze he remembered.

      ‘I apologise for waking you at this hour,’ he said, and there was a touch of irony in his tone. ‘After speaking to my brother and being made fully aware that you are the person I encountered on the cliff earlier, it has become my opinion that it is more appropriate for you to reside at the cottage. I trust you have no objections?’

      Even in her dazed state, having been woken and told to pack her things, Lowena was shaken to the core by the bewildering sensations racing through her body. Captain Carberry—Marcus—was home at last. Home and as handsome and strong as he had been when he’d gone away. She wasn’t sure why it mattered, but in the deep, unexplored places inside her she knew it did. She’d kept the image of him in her heart, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, and now she could open it and look at it once more.

      She lowered her eyes, but his extraordinary eyes drew her back. ‘None that I can think of,’ she replied, thankful that her voice was calm and did not betray her inner nervousness. ‘You must forgive me if I appear somewhat vague, but I am not used to being woken in the dead of night.’

      He lifted a well-defined black brow in question. ‘No? Not even when my brother requires your assistance on the cliff on certain nights? You little fool! I thought you would have more sense than to let him implicate you in his nefarious activities. It doesn’t matter how he persuaded you. The facts speak for themselves.’

      He noted her bewilderment and apprehension, the way she looked about her as if searching for a hole down which to disappear.

      ‘Never mind,’ he uttered crisply. ‘We will speak of it tomorrow.’

      ‘There is nothing for me to say,’ she said with underlying desperation. ‘Because of my situation, and with no family of my own to go to, I cannot afford to offend a man like your brother. He is my employer. It is impossible for me to disobey him. You have no idea what it has been like for me since Izzy died...’

      A smile of understanding tempted Marcus’s lips. ‘Maybe I should have, had I not been absent for so long, but I assure you, Lowena, that I have a good idea now.’

      Hearing the gentleness behind his words, she looked at him and felt her heart skip a beat. Her eyes devoured him, worshipped him—his hair, his eyes, his face were all more attractive than any she had ever seen, and if what she felt for him was love, then she loved him absolutely, devotedly. With a love that had bonded her to him when she had been sixteen years old and was stronger still now, even with no hope of ever having her love returned.

      She would be content to exist in the same space as he did.

      His eyes were on her face, gauging her, watching for every nuance of emotion in her. He could have no notion of her wayward thoughts.

      She flushed and drew herself up proudly. The spectre of his brother rose between them, intangible but strong, and an unexpected sense of pain filled Lowena’s heart that Marcus might have listened to his brother and judged her unfairly. Her heart beat a tattoo in her chest and she was afraid he would hear. There was still so much of the girl in her, at war with the young woman this man was capable of bringing to the surface.

      ‘All I ask is that, whatever Lord Carberry has told you, you do not judge me too harshly. Remember that I am not the girl I was when you went away.’

      ‘No, I realise that. If my brother’s words are to be believed, then I can only assume that your conduct has been reprehensible, that you haven’t an ounce of sense or propriety, and that your behaviour would have been an embarrassment to Izzy had she been alive.’

      The unfairness of his words brought a gasp to Lowena’s lips. ‘How dare you say that to me? I have never failed to respect Izzy—but I suppose if I hadn’t, the name I bear does not permit any offence to go unpunished,’ she bit back, bristling with indignation at being wrongfully accused. ‘You said if your brother’s words were to be believed. Do you believe them?’

      His eyes refused to relinquish their hold on hers as he sought the truth. ‘He implied that you and he are lovers.’ He arched a dark brow, his eyes quizzical, probing hers. ‘Should I believe him?’

      Lowena stared at him in stunned, hurt disbelief, and in a blinding flash of sick humiliation she saw he really did believe that his brother spoke the truth. Anger welled up in her heart, draining the blood from her face and bringing a furious sparkle to her eyes.

      ‘I should know better than to speak against Lord Carberry, who has the power to dismiss upon a whim, but I have the right to speak in my defence. Do you think I invited his attentions somehow? Do you think it has been my ploy to lure him in the hopes of gaining some special privileges for myself? If so, you do me an injustice. I work at Tregarrick because I have no choice. I am not intimidated by Lord Carberry, and nor am I awed by his attentions—which are most unwelcome.’

      ‘Are you telling me that I have misconstrued what he told me—that is if I believed it in the first place?’

      Forcing herself to remain calm, she raised her chin defensively. Her eyes were scornful and she spoke in a controlled voice. ‘Believe what you like. I do not feel that I have to justify myself to you or to anyone else, for that matter. Perhaps it would make you feel better if I admitted to everything your brother has said about me—regardless of the fact that it may not be true.’

      Marcus gazed at her from beneath his lowered eyes. He could see how tense she was, and that her eyes were shining with a pain he wondered at. He was touched, despite himself, by her youth—and also by some private scruples. Whatever the truth of the matter, she still had a virtuous innocence and a warm femininity