Heiress On The Run. Laura Martin

fires laid before—even in India they had needed fires in the kitchen and sometimes in monsoon season a fire would be lit to help dry out the clothes—but she’d never actually taken much notice of what the servants were doing. Hesitantly she piled some wood in the grate, ensuring there were some small pieces at the top, and then she set to work on the tinder box.

      * * *

      Fifteen minutes later and she was just about ready to throw the infuriating little box across the room. Her fingers were aching from trying to strike up a spark into the tinder and she had begun to shiver almost uncontrollably, which didn’t help with the delicate manoeuvres needed. With a growl of frustration she struck the steel against the flint one last time and almost cried with relief as a few sparks flew out and ignited the tinder. Carefully she fanned the flames, blowing softly, then touched the sulphur match to ignite it, before lighting the taper. With delicate movements Amelia knelt down in front of the fireplace and set about coaxing the wood to begin burning, feeling an unparalleled sense of satisfaction as slowly the wood began to blacken and the flames danced brightly in the grate.

      Amelia almost flopped to the floor in exhaustion. The last few days had taken their toll on her not only physically but emotionally, and all she wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but she knew she would be at risk of a fever if she didn’t get herself out of her wet clothes. With tired fingers she fumbled at the fastenings of her dress, wriggling and stretching to undo the buttons at the back. Finally she felt the heavy material drop to the floor and she was left standing in her long chemise and petticoat, with her mud-covered stockings on her legs.

      She let out a gasp of horror as she looked down. The blood that had stained her dress had soaked all the way through to her undergarments and there were hideous pink patches covering her chemise and petticoats. Amelia felt momentarily sick and had to reach out to the mantelpiece to steady herself. For a few seconds she was back in Captain McNair’s study, brandishing the letter opener that had slipped so easily into his soft flesh. Amelia heard a sob escape her lips at the thought of what she’d done, at the image of his bright red blood seeping through his shirt and the knowledge that she had committed the ultimate sin. For two days she had been running, desperate to get away from that cursed room, and she hadn’t stopped long enough to allow herself to think. Until now. Here, with the heat of the fire finally warming her skin, Amelia knew her life would never be the same again.

      * * *

      Edward woke with a start. He had always been a light sleeper and any noise, even an animal call from half a mile away, was enough to rouse him from his dreams. For a moment he lay still, not moving a single muscle, but it only took a few seconds for him to be sure: there was someone in the house. He could hear them moving around downstairs, soft footsteps and the swish of material. Within seconds he was on his feet and felt a low growl issuing from his throat at the thought of an interloper in his domain. The cool night air hit his body, making him shiver, and a surge of irritation welled up inside him.

      Swiftly he strode across the room, threw on a dressing gown and grabbed the poker from the fireplace in the place of a more conventional weapon. Despite his years of living alone Edward was confident of his ability to defeat any intruder even if they were armed. He wasn’t a violent person and much preferred his books and his sketches, but at just over six foot tall he had a commanding presence.

      Edward moved quietly, hoping to surprise the intruder before they had a chance to find a weapon of their own, making his way down the main staircase and pausing outside the sitting room.

      The sight that met his eyes as he pushed open the door was not what he expected at all. Standing in front of the fire was a young woman in the process of undressing. Edward swallowed. She had already shed her dress and petticoat and was now clad in just her chemise and stockings. Both items of clothing were soaked with rainwater and the chemise clung to her body in a scandalous fashion, revealing much more than it was designed to.

      As he watched her chemise slipped from one shoulder, revealing the creamy white skin beneath. The young woman then bent down and started to unroll her stockings, sighing with pleasure as she peeled the wet material from her legs.

      Edward knew he had already been watching for far too long to be considered a gentleman, but later he would tell himself it was the shock of finding a half-naked woman in his sitting room. Long-forgotten emotions were beginning to stir in his body and as he watched the mystery woman arch her back and let her head drop backwards Edward felt a surge of desire. He wanted to scoop her into his arms, peel the remainder of her wet clothes from her body and lay her down in front of the fire.

      Immediately Edward felt guilty for the thoughts. He loved his wife, missed her every day, but it was a long time since he’d had any human contact.

      Just as he made to clear his throat he paused and frowned. He hadn’t taken much notice of the state of the woman’s clothes before, more surprised at her degree of undress than what she was actually wearing, but he now noticed the pink stains on her chemise and on the discarded dress that was draped over a chair. If he wasn’t very much mistaken she was covered in blood and it didn’t look as though it was her own.

      Edward cleared his throat. The young woman turned round, her eyes widened and she screamed. It was an ear-piercing sound that bore right through Edward’s skull and irritated him immensely.

      ‘Will you be quiet?’ he bellowed.

      Immediately the young woman clamped her lips together. She started to back away from him, fear etched on her face, and Edward sighed. He wished he was back upstairs in bed instead of dealing with this melodrama.

      He wanted to order this young woman out of his house, push her and her problems out of the door and forget she had ever been there.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, grimacing as the words came out more as a growl than a question.

      ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she stuttered.

      ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said, in the friendliest voice he could muster. He tried to smile, but the baring of his teeth just seemed to make her cower away more and whimper with terror.

      Abruptly he pressed his lips together and took a couple of short steps across the room. He needed this young woman to be conscious and coherent if he was to have any chance of getting his solitude back as soon as possible. As he approached she backed away and Edward saw her sway slightly on her feet. For a terrible moment he thought she might faint, leaving him to deal with an even bigger problem, but at the last moment she seemed to rally.

      ‘What are you doing here?’ Edward repeated, more softly this time. He tried to remember how he’d interacted with people in the days when he’d run a successful and thriving estate and slowly opened his hands, palms outwards to show he wasn’t a threat, and made eye contact with the shivering young woman.

      As he looked into her eyes he saw her relax just a little and Edward felt a spark of curiosity about the woman standing in front of him. Now he was closer he could see what a state she was in—not only was her chemise covered in blood, but her entire body was caked in mud and grime. Her legs had a myriad of scratches and bruises on them and he had to wonder what trouble she was running from.

      ‘I needed a place to rest for the night, somewhere to shelter from the storm,’ she said quietly.

      Instinctively Edward knew there was so much more to it than that. A well-bred young lady did not wander the hills of Sussex all by herself covered in blood and soaked to the bone. He opened his mouth to press her further and then thought better of it. Whatever drama this young woman was mixed up in, whatever it was she was running from, he didn’t want to know. He wanted his house back to himself and he wanted her gone.

      ‘I thought the house was empty,’ she continued after a few seconds. As she spoke her teeth chattered together and gave her voice a juddering quality.

      ‘It just looks empty,’ he said a little gruffly. ‘You should go home.’

      Quickly her frightened eyes darted to meet his and he saw a flash of desperation in them.

      ‘I can’t go home.’

      ‘Then