A Companion Of Quality. Nicola Cornick

shift his grip a little so that he could pull her into his arms. This had to be the first time that she had made such an error of judgement, and she was not the only one.

      “You are making a mistake—” Her words were lost as she found herself being thoroughly kissed. The roughness of his cheek brushed hers; he smelled of leather and fresh air and lemon cologne. It was delicious and she was utterly shocked with herself for even thinking so.

      “You were saying?”

      The gentleman had let her go sufficiently to look down into her face. Caroline saw his eyes sweep appreciatively over her chestnut curls and linger on the red evening gown. And no wonder. It was cut low and she could feel the sting of the cold air against her bare skin. Drawing her cloak closely about her, Caroline glared at him.

      “I was trying to tell you that you were making a mistake…” The words came out with considerably less than her usual authoritative ring. She cleared her throat and frowned slightly. He was watching her with the same lazy mockery that she had heard in his voice and it distracted her.

      “What I mean is…You should not…I am not—”

      “I would hate you to think that I had kissed you by mistake, ma’am,” the gentleman said politely, and it seemed to Caroline that he was wilfully misunderstanding her. “I cannot possibly let you go under such a misapprehension. Allow me…”

      Caroline gave a little squeak of dismay as he pulled her close again. This was a deeper kiss. Her lips parted under the skilful pressure of his. He tasted cold. Sensation swept through Caroline and left her shivering. She could not believe what was happening to her and could not begin to understand why she was letting it happen. With a supreme effort of will she tried to free herself again, and he let her go immediately.

      “Listen to me.” She put a hand out as though to ward him off, although he had made no further move towards her. “I am trying to explain to you that you are making a serious error, sir! I am not what you think me, and you, sir—” She broke off, unusually lost for words as she considered his face.

      She had been wrong to think his looks fine-drawn. On a woman, the high cheekbones and chiselled features might have appeared delicate, but there was too much authority and determination in his face to give any hint of weakness. Those blue eyes held a disconcerting look of appraisal and the thick fair hair that Caroline had wanted to touch…She cleared her throat self-consciously, aware that he was still watching her.

      “I believe that you must be Captain Brabant,” she said, with as much composure as she could muster. “I am Caroline Whiston. I am staying at the Manor.”

      A frown had come into the gentleman’s eyes, replacing the look of appreciative amusement that had lingered there. This time when his gaze considered her it held no warmth. Caroline drew herself up a little. She dared not think what she looked like, her hair all tousled and her lips rosy from his kisses.

      “I beg your pardon, ma’am,” he said slowly, “but are we acquainted? Or do you include clairvoyance in your gifts, that you already know my name?”

      It was on the tip of Caroline’s tongue to say that she felt he had treated her as rather more than an acquaintance already, but she knew that there was no point in provoking further trouble. There was no doubt that this could only be Lewis Brabant and she cursed herself that she had not recognised him from the start. His resemblance to his sister was sufficiently strong that she should have guessed his identity straight away, rather than realising only when he was at close quarters. Very close quarters, she amended. And now she was well and truly in the suds, since this man was heir to Hewly Manor and, more to the point, Julia’s former fiancé…

      She realised that Captain Brabant was still awaiting her response and dropped a slight curtsey.

      “No, sir, we have not met,” she said, with tolerable composure, “but you have a great look of your sister about you so it is small wonder that I recognised you. The household has been expecting you home this se’ennight and more.”

      “I see,” Captain Brabant said, and Caroline had the disconcerting feeling that he saw more than was comfortable. She reflected ruefully that she felt much as the cabin boy must have done when Captain Brabant was inspecting his crew on the quarterdeck. Those blue eyes were disturbingly perceptive.

      “Forgive me, Miss Whiston,” he said, “but when you said that you were a guest at the Manor—”

      Caroline felt a blush rising. “You misunderstand me, sir,” she said hastily. “I am not a guest of your father’s but companion to your cousin…to Mrs Chessford.”

      “Julia’s companion? You?” Captain Brabant took a step towards her and Caroline backed away from him instinctively. One brow arched in ironic amusement as he saw her withdraw. “My dear Miss Whiston, pray do not be alarmed! You have nothing to fear from me! But—a companion! How very inappropriate!”

      “I do not know how you could be a judge of such matters, sir!” Caroline snapped, forgetting that he was to all intents and purposes her host, and giving in to her indignation. “Upon my word, you have a strange concept of appropriate behaviour! What is appropriate about accosting respectable ladies as they take a walk in the woods? I believe that you must have been away at sea so long that you forget your manners!”

      She saw him grin. It seemed an unacceptable response to her annoyance.

      “Maybe that accounts for it,” he murmured. “Deprived of the improving company of the fair sex…Indeed, ma’am, I think you must be right!”

      “Fustian, sir!” Caroline retorted, the colour flaring in her face. “I do not believe that you have been deprived of female companionship! Such freedom of manner argues that the reverse is true—” She broke off, realising that this exasperating man had driven her to express views that should have remained private. Severe Miss Whiston never normally allowed herself a vulgar display of opinion. It was not at all proper for a governess companion.

      She bit back her words, trying to ignore the Captain’s infuriating smile. “Well, that is nothing to the purpose!” she finished sharply. “Good day, sir! I shall leave you to complete your journey alone.”

      “That seems rather pointless when we are both travelling in the same direction,” the Captain said politely. “Permit me to escort you back, Miss Whiston! We may become better acquainted!”

      Caroline gritted her teeth. That was the last thing she wanted, and if Julia should witness Captain Brabant’s arrival at the Manor with her in attendance…Well, it did not really bear thinking about.

      “No, indeed—”

      “Perhaps you could explain why you were running away from me,” the Captain continued affably, as though she had not spoken. “After all, it was your own behaviour that sparked the whole incident!”

      Caroline blushed. She knew that he was right, but felt it was not gallant of him to remind her. “I apologise, sir,” she said tightly. “I fear I was nervous. You must think it quite odd in me—”

      “I do! To startle my horse and then to run off as though you were a miscreant! What was I to do?”

      “You cannot truly have thought me a poacher, sir—” Caroline stopped, realising that she was once again being drawn into a ridiculous conversation.

      “Not once I had caught you, of course,” Captain Brabant said, with a quirk of his brows. “When I was holding you, I thought—”

      “Thank you, sir, it is best forgotten, I think!”

      The Captain seemed undiscouraged. “This must be yours, I think, ma’am.” He was holding out her book of sonnets to her. “Shakespeare? Do you also read the romantic poets?”

      Caroline practically snatched the book from his hand, thrusting it back into her pocket. Why must the man insist on making conversation?

      “I have little time,” she said crossly.

      “For poetry or