The Illegitimate Montague. Sarah Mallory

a frieze blanket pulled around her shoulders. She had pinned up her hair, but she looked so fragile, so forlorn, that it was as much as he could do not to run to her and fold her again in his arms. His voice was sharper than he anticipated when he asked her what was amiss.

      She jumped. The forlorn look was replaced by a bright smile as she held up a complicated tangle of pink ribbons and webbing.

      ‘I think I will need you to lace up my stays again.’

      His lips twitched.

      ‘That is not something I have ever done before.’

      ‘Then consider it part of your education, sir!’

      Amber placed the corset around her and presented her back to him. She bit her lip as she felt his hands against her spine, so close, so personal, but she must act as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, as if she was a woman of the world, used to a man’s touch.

      ‘There.’ He finished tying the laces and his hands moved to her shoulders, waking that traitorous demon of desire again.

      With a light laugh she slipped away from him.

      ‘Enjoyable as it would be to dally here with you all day, Mr Stratton, I have work to do.’

      She gave him an arch look and saw his frown, a quick contraction of his brow before he joined her in packing away the bolts of now dry cloth.

      Amber found it easier to be working, avoiding awkward questions, but she had to force herself not to flinch when their hands met accidentally, and she was careful to restrict any conversation to their current task.

      At last the final roll was packed and they set off, Adam riding beside the wagon. When they passed a field gate she lifted her whip and pointed.

      ‘You could reach Castonbury Park in half the time if you cut across country.’

      ‘Are you tired of me already, Mrs Hall?’

      His quizzing tone made her heart lurch, and it was a struggle to smile and respond airily.

      ‘I am, of course, grateful to you, but I have my business to attend to, and I have no wish to keep you from yours.’

      ‘I should like to see you again, before I leave Castonbury.’

      ‘Oh, that is quite unnecessary, Mr Stratton.’

      He shot a frowning look at her.

      ‘Have I offended you in some way?’

       Heavens, how difficult it was to do this.

      ‘My dear sir, of course not. You have been a perfect gentleman.’

      ‘Then why are you acting like this, as if … last night never happened?’

      ‘Last night was quite delightful, of course, but we both know it cannot be repeated. There is a naval term for it, I think … ships that pass in the night.’ She achieved a giggle. ‘Although we did not quite pass each other, did we?’

      His face took on a stony look.

      ‘Do you really think our meeting quite so insignificant?’

       Open your eyes at him, Amber. Give him that guileless expression of surprise.

      ‘Of course it was significant. Without you I would have lost a great deal of stock. I am very grateful to you.’

      He made her an elegant bow over Bosun’s neck, his voice and his manner thick with sarcasm.

      ‘I am glad to have been of service to you!’

      Inwardly she flinched, but she had wanted to put him at a distance, and seemed to have achieved her aims. Surprising, then, that she should feel like bursting into tears.

      She waited for him to turn his horse and gallop away, instead he continued to ride alongside her.

      ‘Much as I am eager to reach the Park,’ he said coolly, answering her unspoken question, ‘you pointed out to me last night that my coat is in need of a little attention. I shall stop off at the Rothermere Arms to see what can be done to repair the damage.’

      Amber’s conscience stabbed her.

      ‘You have lost two buttons. I do not think the inn will be able to help you there.’

      ‘Yesterday you said I deserved a new jacket,’ he reminded her.

      Those blue eyes threatened her defences again and she kept her gaze fixed on the road ahead.

      ‘Goodness, you do not suppose I remember every little word I say?’ she quipped. ‘You may come to the warehouse and I will mend your coat for you there, if you like. Or I could direct you to one of the seamstresses I know, although none of them live on this side of Castonbury.’

      ‘Thank you, madam. I have lost enough time already and have no wish to go chasing around the countryside! I will come to your warehouse. And if you could allow me the use of a mirror and some water, too, I would be obliged to you.’

      His clipped tones told her he was keeping his temper in check. Good. She did not want him to be kind to her, just as she was beginning to regain control over herself.

      It took them an hour to reach Castonbury. They saw no one on the road but all the same Amber was glad to have Adam’s company, the memory of yesterday’s assault still fresh in her mind. They said very little, but as they entered the village she pointed to a tall, stone building at the far end of the street.

      ‘There, that is my warehouse, with the shop built on the side. Ripley and Hall, cloth merchants.’

      Adam heard the note of pride in her voice as she read out the words on the sign. She followed it with a soft laugh.

      ‘Oh, dear. I do hope poor Fred isn’t laid low with worry about me!’

      Another surprise. From the moment he had first seen Amber Hall she had taken the wind out of his sails. When they had seen off those ruffians he had expected to find her shocked, tearful, even faint. Instead she had positively beamed at him, full of energy. The immediate and mutual attraction was undeniable, but he had tried to fight it, whereas Amber … He remembered that first, tentative kiss. Had she intended to seduce him? Looking back it seemed quite possible, especially when he thought of her behaviour this morning. He would not have been surprised to find her regretting their actions, afraid of what had occurred, but she had acted like a worldly-wise mistress, eager to move on. And now, just when he was beginning to think that she was nothing but a heartless strumpet, she knocked him off course with such warmth and concern in her voice as she spoke of ‘poor Fred.’

      He dropped back and followed as she guided the wagon through the double gates into the yard. Even before she pulled up a lanky youth and an old man came hurrying out.

      ‘Thank goodness you are here!’ The youth put up his hand to help her down.

      ‘Aye, we bin that worrit about thee,’ growled the old man, going to the horse’s head. ‘We was gonna get up a search party if you ‘adn’t shown up soon.’

      ‘Well, I am here now, and safe, as you see. And we have Mr Stratton to thank for that.’ She jumped down and turned to him, her smile lighting up the yard. ‘This is Frederick Aston, my clerk, and holding the horse is Jacob, who helps out in the warehouse.’

      Adam looked from the pale, thin youth to the gnarled old man holding on to the dray horse and realised why Amber had thought it necessary to fetch the cloth herself.

      ‘But what’s happened?’ cried Fred, looking in horror at the damaged bolts of cloth.

      ‘A few ruffians thought it would be a good joke to cast my load into the river,’ she replied. ‘If Mr Stratton had not come along, then it might all have been ruined. As it is, only those bolts on the top were soaked. They have dried out somewhat, but you had best put them to one side for laundering.’

      Frederick turned to her, his rather colourless