Heiress On The Run. Laura Martin

a little as she continued. It was the most animated she’d seen him.

      ‘I threatened to expose him as a scoundrel and a liar, empty words, but I think he had a new scheme afoot, some new girl he was trying to con, for he became enraged.’

      Amelia raised a hand to her cheek where McNair had left his mark.

      ‘He hit you?’

      She nodded. ‘He punched me, right on the cheek. He was livid, like a wild beast.’

      It was no excuse, not for what she’d done, but Amelia truly had been afraid for her life.

      ‘There was a fancy letter opener on his desk and I grabbed it, thinking to brandish it and warn him away, but he just laughed at my efforts and came at me again.’

      She closed her eyes as she relived the moment the blade had sunk into McNair’s flesh, the soft resistance, the warm trickle of blood that had flowed over her hand, McNair’s surprised exhalation before he collapsed on to the ground.

      ‘I stabbed him,’ she said so quietly she wasn’t sure Edward would hear her words.

      She couldn’t open her eyes, couldn’t bear to see what another person thought of her taking a man’s life and all because of a seduction gone wrong.

      ‘I stabbed him and I killed him.’

      Some men would come and take her hand, try to comfort her despite there being nothing that could change the fact she was a killer. Some men would chastise and condemn her, even restrain her until they could summon a magistrate. Edward did neither. He sat in the chair across from her in silence, giving her time to collect herself, to steady her nerves and to continue.

      ‘I fled, I ran as far as I could as fast as I could, then when I couldn’t run any more I kept walking.’

      ‘And that’s how you came to be here, on the night of the storm.’

      Amelia looked up at him, trying to read his expression, to garner exactly what he thought of her.

      ‘How long was this letter opener?’ he asked, taking her by surprise.

      She measured out a few inches with her fingers, trying to recall the look of the blade before it had been covered in blood.

      ‘And where did you stab him?’

      ‘What does it matter?’ she asked, feeling sick.

      ‘The blade was small. Unless you hit a vital organ I think it unlikely you killed the man.’

      She shook her head. She’d killed him. No one could bleed that much and not be dead.

      ‘He collapsed to the floor...there was blood everywhere.’

      ‘Did you check to see if he was breathing? If he had a pulse?’

      She hadn’t. In fact, she hadn’t been able to look at his body at all once the blood had started seeping from the wound around her fingers.

      ‘There was too much blood,’ she repeated.

      Edward fell silent, seeming to realise if he pushed her much further Amelia wouldn’t be able to keep her tenuous grip on her composure.

      ‘What do you want to happen now, Amelia?’ Edward asked.

      ‘I don’t want to hang.’

      A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Amelia watched as Edward fought it and returned his expression to the more familiar frown.

      ‘An admirable ambition. I don’t think any judge would hang you.’

      Amelia wasn’t sure. And even if she wasn’t sentenced to death, a long spell in one of the country’s notorious prisons was just about as bad as the noose.

      ‘It was self-defence. You’re a young woman of a good family and by all accounts McNair seems to be a known scoundrel.’

      It sounded as though Edward was justifying handing her over to the magistrate to face the penalty for what she’d done.

      ‘It’s up to you, of course, but if you run then you will spend your entire life looking over your shoulder, wondering whether this crime will catch up with you.’

      Amelia hadn’t thought of that. She’d been so preoccupied with the here and now, avoiding being apprehended for murder and getting as far away from the scene as possible, she hadn’t thought what her life would be like with this always hanging over her. She would always be a murderer. Even if she returned to India, to her father’s protection, she would never be able to undo what she had done.

      ‘I want to go home,’ Amelia said in a small voice.

      She wanted her father, with his gruff voice and stiff embraces. She wanted the rolling hills of Bombay with the humid heat and monsoon rains.

      ‘To India?’

      She nodded. He looked thoughtful.

      ‘You can stay a couple of days,’ he said eventually. ‘I will summon my steward and instruct him to make discreet enquiries, see what the state of affairs is with this McNair. We will make a further decision when we have all the facts.’

      She didn’t know how he could reduce her momentous revelation to such a cool, calculating plan, but as his words sunk in Amelia felt a surge of hope blossom inside her. He was going to help her and, more importantly, he was going to let her stay.

      With a yelp of relief Amelia sprang from her chair and launched herself across the room at Edward. He was stiff under her embrace and momentarily Amelia remembered how his body had moulded to hers the night before as she lay in bed shivering from the cold. He was capable of warmth and closeness, but he wasn’t comfortable with it.

      ‘There are conditions,’ Edward said quickly. ‘I don’t like to be disturbed. We shall take dinner together and nothing more. The rest of the time you may do as you please, but you will not venture into the East Wing. Is that clear?’

      Amelia nodded, willing to agree to anything if it meant she could stay. For a while at least she was safe. She would remain hidden in this strange, half-empty house until they could be sure exactly what the situation was with McNair’s death. It was a reprieve, the sanctuary she had hoped for during her mad dash over the Downs. Of course it wouldn’t bring McNair back to life, wouldn’t change the fact that she was a murderer, but for now she would have to be content with safety over absolution for her crime.

      Amelia pulled away, pausing as she got to arm’s length. Something made her stop, to hesitate. Her eyes met Edward’s and for a second there was a spark, a flare, between them. Amelia felt skin begin to tingle and her blood rushing around her body. She was aware of every tiny movement, every breath, every muscle. There was something captivating about this gruff, generous man, something not obvious at first glance, but hidden beneath his cool exterior.

      Then Edward shifted and the moment was lost. Amelia stood, turning away to cover her confusion. She wasn’t sure what had just passed between them, but she did know she had no right to experience whatever it was. Taking a deep breath, she forced a smile to her lips before turning back to face Edward.

       Chapter Five

      As Edward’s pencil danced over the paper he felt all the tension and worry from the last couple of days flow from his shoulders. Drawing preserved his sanity, it was a hobby that had become much more. In the last few years he had lost himself in his sketches, picking up his pencils whenever his grief or solitude threatened to overwhelm him. Sometimes he drew from memory, a person from his childhood or scene from the village. Often he would sketch faces, allowing his pencils to flow over the familiar lines of the faces of the people he had lost over the years.

      Today he was sitting by the window, drawing the view he could see. He’d needed this time alone, some space to regroup and sort through the events of the last couple of days. So he had retreated to his rooms