Rescued By The Forbidden Rake. Mary Brendan

consequence.’ Having piously implied uninterest in his affairs she felt a fraud; just a day or so ago she’d avidly listened to Holly describing Valeside Manor’s roguish new owner.

      ‘That’s settled then; you’ve no time for gossip and I’ve the time to get you quickly back to your brother’s side.’

      His velvety Gaelic drawl made goosebumps prickle on Faye’s nape; she couldn’t deny that the prospect of the three-mile hike, when she was already weary, was a daunting one.

      When he beckoned she hesitated only fractionally before going to him, barely flinching as he touched her forearm and drew her closer. Now she couldn’t avoid looking at the expanse of tanned skin exposed by his loose shirt collar, or becoming aware of a pleasing male scent of leather and tobacco. Fleetingly she raised her eyes to the thin white line that crossed his cheek, marvelling that it was less of a disfigurement than an enhancement to his raffish character.

      Two large hands abruptly girdled her waist, lifting her atop the stallion with such ease and speed that she gasped. Seconds later he’d swung up behind her and turned the mount’s head in the direction of her home.

      Had she wanted to speak to him on the cross-country gallop that took them flying over streams and hillocks it would have been difficult with the breeze whipping the breath from her mouth. Her stiffly held torso gradually relaxed and she allowed herself to nestle against his chest with her bonnet brim protecting her face from the elements. She had never ridden on a horse capable of such acceleration and she felt in equal part terrified and exhilarated by the thrill of it. As though guessing her mixed emotions, he put a knuckle beneath her chin and tilted up her face, displaying a flash of white teeth in a smile as he read her expression. One strong arm came in front of her and encircled her shoulders in a way that was oddly possessive as well as protective.

      Reining in the horse to a slower pace, he pointed to the east. The doctor’s pony and trap was on the skyline, heading in the direction of her home.

      ‘Take me to him, if you will, sir. Dr Reid will let me ride with him and save you the remainder of the journey,’ Faye said while constantly pulling strands of fair hair away from her face, whipped there by the wind.

      ‘You’re not a bother to me... I’ll gladly take you all the way...if you want...’ His lips were close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

      Her hesitation was enough to make him spur the stallion to a trot. A short while later Mulberry House was visible and Faye felt a peculiar pang of sadness to be almost home.

      ‘Thank you for your assistance, sir.’

      ‘My pleasure...’

      He reined in the coal-black stallion at the top of the garden and dismounted. Without warning he lifted her down, keeping his hands fastened on the tops of her arms.

      Feeling awkward beneath his brooding stare, Faye managed a little bob, then wriggled free. His long fingers encircled her wrist, stopping her turning away.

      ‘Don’t believe all you hear about me, will you now, Miss Shawcross?’

      ‘How do you know my name, sir?’

      ‘I made it my business to find out.’

      Faye moistened her lips with a tongue flick. He’d owned up to being inquisitive about her with a boldness born of arrogance, she imagined. It had been good of him to bring her home, saving her legs, but she knew nothing about him other than what two people she trusted had told her. According to Anne Holly and Mrs Gideon, Ryan Kavanagh was rumoured to be a shameless reprobate. And she would do well to remember it, Faye impressed upon herself. Handsome and charming he might be...but she should heed her housekeeper’s words and keep a safe distance from him. She certainly couldn’t trust Kavanagh. And neither should his young mistress. Fleetingly Faye met his dark blue gaze; the hint of sultriness that she’d heard in his voice was reflected at the backs of his eyes. He didn’t know her, yet he desired her, despite having his concubine waiting for him at the manor.

      ‘Thank you for bringing me home, sir,’ Faye said huskily then turned and walked quickly towards the house.

      ‘Miss Shawcross...’

      Faye pivoted about.

      ‘Is your brother sporting a rash that he scratches?’

      ‘He is, sir...the rash on his chest drives him mad.’

      ‘There was ragwort growing around the fairground by the river.’

      ‘Ragwort?’ Faye echoed in confusion.

      ‘It irritates some people.’

      Faye frowned and took a few paces towards him. ‘You think my brother’s ailment might be from a plant rather than from an infection? Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?’

      He mounted the stallion, a private smile twisting his mouth. ‘You know now. If that’s what ails your brother, the Romanies will have a cure for it if your doctor doesn’t.’ He dipped his head and a moment later was galloping away.

      Faye hurried into the house to find Mrs Gideon and Claire rushing to meet her.

      ‘Was that who I think it was?’ Mrs Gideon hissed in alarm, her hand pressed to her heaving bosom.

      Claire’s eyes were dancing in merriment. ‘Bad Mr Kavanagh gave you a ride home. Why didn’t you ask him in? I’d adore meeting him. How wicked is he?’ she demanded to know.

      ‘Is Michael any better?’ Faye asked, trying to still her racing heart following the excitement of her encounter with Kavanagh. She had vainly hoped that if he let her down at the top of the garden her return might go unnoticed. ‘The doctor will be here shortly, we spotted him on his way.’

      ‘Michael isn’t as feverish, but the rash still troubles him,’ Mrs Gideon informed her before resuming her interrogation. ‘Did that brute force you up on to that beast with him?’

      ‘Of course not! I was tired and Mr Kavanagh kindly offered to save me the walk home. By the time I arrived at the manor, Dr Reid had gone from there so it was a fool’s errand.’

      Faye started quickly up the stairs.

      ‘You’d best hope your fiancé never gets wind of you being so close to that wretch. He’ll jilt you for sure.’ Mrs Gideon followed her mistress up the treads, shaking her head.

      ‘Mr Kavanagh was simply making sure I didn’t fall off during the ride. He was a perfect gentleman and very obliging.’

      ‘I’ll bet he was...’ Mrs Gideon muttered.

      ‘He’s devilishly handsome,’ Claire chortled, skipping to keep up with them as they dashed along the landing.

      ‘Handsome is as handsome does,’ Nelly interjected with a finger wag.

      With a sigh Faye entered Michael’s chamber. Her brother indeed appeared brighter. She sat down on his bed, taking his hands in hers and giving them a squeeze. ‘You look a bit better now. Did you and your chums go down by the water at the fairground yesterday?’

      Michael nodded. ‘We were feeling hot so stripped off and went for a swim in the river.’

      ‘Did you lay on the grass afterwards?’

      ‘I had a fight with Edward.’ Michael cautiously mentioned Mrs Gideon’s nephew, known to be a bully.

      ‘What was the scallywag up to, then? I’ll have my brother speak to him. And Peggy’s no better. I’ve a mind to snub the lot of them, kin or no.’ Nelly looked grim.

      ‘If you did have a fight, it seems no harm’s done,’ Faye quickly interjected. Nelly’s comment about her niece had brought to mind the moment she’d seen Claire and Peggy creeping out of the copse at the fairground.

      ‘Doctor’s here,’ Mr Gideon called up the stairs, alerting them to the fellow’s arrival.

      ‘What’s this about, then?’ The physician