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André felt very pleased, when he ran his hand across his face some minutes later. He grinned. “Thank you, that is all for now. I am used to dressing myself.”

He shrugged into a fresh shirt and the broadcloth jacket the manservant had apparently brushed and hung on the armoire, while they had barely arrived.

Refreshed, he was shown into the solarium, where everyone else had already assembled.

Marry Cormac rose graciously from her chair and took his hand. “My dear Lord Villeneuve, come and sit by me, so I can thank you properly for bringing our granddaughter to us.”

André bowed over her hand, though his eyes sought out Stormy. Had her father told her about the obnoxious claims he had made about her? He shrugged mentally. He would never live them down, but then that might prove for the best.

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Stormy was still overwhelmed by the welcome she’d received at Bellingshire. And her heart had not stopped beating triple time since her great-grandmamma had told her that the estate would be all hers some day. She wanted to scream that she didn’t care about the mansion, but she carefully kept her thoughts to herself. Stormy was simply thrilled to have great-grandparents to call her own and she could tell that her mother was equally happy about it.

She would have dearly liked a moment to herself, to hug all this newfound love to her, but it was not to be. She took it in stride that she would have to sit through high tea before she would be able to escape to her rooms. So, she closed her eyes a moment and took a deep breath.

She opened her eyes just as André strolled into the solarium. His presence seemed to dwarf the place. She didn’t know what it was, but he exuded a strength he apparently had kept carefully hidden until now. His hooded gaze gave her the impression that he could see through her. Her heart palpitated with something akin to fear. She instinctively knew that he represented a danger to her, because he could make her forget propriety.

From beneath long lashes she followed his every move and she was glad when Marry patted the seat next to her to indicate that he should sit there. Well, there was a small reprieve if she ever saw one. That long carriage ride in his close proximity had set her nerves on edge, even if she pretended that she had control of her feelings.

She alternately felt hot and cold, but mostly hot. It had to be the tea and the excitement.

Good lord, she had to get away. Emitting a shaky, little laugh, she set down the delicate china cup with great care and rose from her chair.

“I think I need a bit of fresh air, grandmamma. I feel a bit overwhelmed and I am afraid, if I don’t collect my thoughts, I’ll get a pounding headache. Please indulge me for a few moments.” She hastily kissed Marry’s cheek and fled from the room.

André had accepted a cup of tea and had been reaching for a scone, when she rushed from the room. He frowned. Now what was that all about? He’d never heard Stormy speak so irresolutely. He had the urge to follow her, but it would pose neither rhyme nor reason to anyone in the room if he did that, so he steadfastly bit into the scone—that suddenly had the consistency of hay—and simply shrugged.

Stormy found herself in the back of the house amid a gorgeous garden and what appeared to be a maze. Intrigued, desperate for some diversion, she headed into the high box hedges. She picked up her skirt and ran. She paid little heed to where she was going. She just wanted to be alone. Panting, out of breath, she was glad when she came upon a stone bench near a small fountain.

She splashed some of the cool water on her wrists and face, then cupped her hands and drank from it. Feeling a little calmer, she sat on the bench and hugged herself. Her mind reeled.

What had just happened? She had never felt a smidgen of anything for André, why now? But deep down she knew she was lying.

She’d been fascinated by him when he had kissed her disguised as a highwayman. She had been so intrigued that she’d forgotten about the danger she was in. After all, when he snatched her from the coach, she didn’t know he meant her no harm. And when he’d kissed her STORMY HEIDE KATROS

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at the hunting lodge, she had been ready to—no, she would not dare think what would have happened, if André had not been the one to keep a cool head.

She closed her eyes. It was so peaceful in this maze. The drone of insects was so soothing. She reclined on her side and pillowed her head on her hands. Just a few moments and then she would return to the solarium.

* * * *

“She’s been gone over an hour. I am beginning to get worried. She is not familiar with the layout of the grounds at Bellingshire.” Annemarie trained worried eyes on her husband.

Trevor checked his pocket piece and nodded. “I believe we had better send someone after her. It gets dark in the country rather early.”

André stood. “If I may offer my services, sir? I am an expert tracker.”

Trevor almost snorted. How could a fop like him track anything? But then his eyes fell to André’s hands. They were well-shaped, long-fingered aristocratic hands, but upon closer inspection he noticed that they were neither pudgy nor soft.

“I thank you for the offer, André, but I think it is past the time where only one person goes to look for Stormy. I almost fear something happened to her.”

“In that case, let’s split up.”

“There is a maze in the garden out back,” Marry chimed in, her voice reedy with worry.

“I’ll look there first. I am familiar with the layout of these mazes. I have traversed enough to know my way around.”

André missed the hostile glance Trevor aimed in his direction. “If she isn’t there, I will report back. In fact, I suggest that Lady Mowbray stay with Lady Cormac and we all report back to them until we find her.”

André was off before anyone could say anything more. He loped straight for the maze, calling Stormy’s name as he entered the high hedges.

* * * *

Stormy rubbed her eyes and stretched to loosen her cramped muscles. Heavens, she had fallen asleep. Shadows loomed in several corners of her little niche. She had to get going before anyone missed her.

She heard her name called, muffled at first, then a little closer. She felt embarrassed, but oh so relieved that someone was looking for her.

“I’m over here.” She climbed to the top of the stone bench in hopes that she might be able to look over the top of the hedges. It was a quest of futility.

André found her standing on top of the bench and thought it utterly charming the way she tried to stretch and look. He waited until she turned his way.

“Oh.”

That single syllable carried so much emotion, so much innuendo. He took a tentative step in her direction. Spontaneously, he opened his arms, and just as artlessly she jumped into his embrace.

He clasped her to his chest and she clung to him, suddenly sobbing. She knew she had no conceivable reason to cry, but she could not help herself. She never wanted to be anywhere STORMY HEIDE KATROS

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other than André’s arms. But how could she admit to that. He certainly had never spoken a word of endearment and thought her spoiled and shallow.

That thought made her cry even harder.

“Stormy.” He peered into her tear stained face, trying to fathom what had brought on that crying jag. “Are you hurt?”

She only shook her head, but the tears refused to stop.

Bloody hell, she looked like a scared cherub, her mouth a budding rose, her long lashes spiked with teardrops that looked in the fading light like tiny diamonds. He did the only thing he could.

He bent his head and kissed her tears away. He meant to make a little game of it, tease her out of her sadness. But when his lips touched hers, he was lost.

His mouth caressed her lips with tiny kisses, then he nipped ever so softly at her lower lip, and when she sighed her contentment, he slipped his tongue inside.

It was all as he remembered. All honey and innocence. And he knew he had made a grave mistake. She aroused him like no other woman ever had. He was hard in an instant. And she was so willing to follow his lead. Her hands roamed his chest in ever widening circles. She even found her way inside his shirt.

Oh, God help him, but he could not stop her. Did not want to stop her. And the bench behind her would be the perfect prop for what he had in mind.

Kissing her wildly now, he backed her up against the stone bench; every gentlemanly thought driven from his mind by the unbridled desire that raged like a fever in his brain.

Stormy was lost in his kisses. She could not get enough of them. Her whole body craved to be kissed, and something deep inside her wanted to find gratification.

She felt the stone bench bite into the backs of her knees, felt herself gently lowered to it and marveled at André’s power to keep himself above her without their bodies touching. Her eyes gazed deeply into his. They were almost midnight blue--the thought popped into her mind without true awareness--all that was missing were the stars.

She smiled up at him and offered her mouth for more kisses.

It was such an innocent smile, so full of trust; it cut André to his soul. God’s blood, what was he doing? Stormy was not some little tramp he could lose himself in for a few blissful moments. She was a lady and without a doubt an innocent.

He righted himself and pulled her gently up with him. “We need to get back. They are worried about you back at the house.” His voice sounded strangled to his ears, rough with unrequited passion, but he was glad he had come to his senses in time.

Stormy looked up at him, bewilderment in her eyes that had turned the color of a churning sea.

What had just happened? Had she done something wrong? She had thought for a brief moment that he really liked her, but seeing the frown furrowing his brow and the firm set of his mouth, she knew she had only deluded herself. He’d only kissed her to make her feel better, like you kissed a small child, who had fallen and scraped its knee.

Squaring her shoulders, she inhaled deeply and tossed her head. “In that case we had better hurry. I hope you know the way out of this miserable maze. Why the English even design them escapes my understanding.” Oh, she sounded waspish and she was unfair and petty, but she felt she had every right to feeling peeved.

“Lead the way, André.” It was said as imperiously as if she were a Royal, giving orders to some lackey.

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Normally, André might have been irked under the same circumstances, but seeing her angry made him feel better. He’d almost gotten carried away with lust. He could not afford to—

he shook his head like a wet dog—he had to regain his estate and bring the crooked sheriff to justice. His priorities were set, and Stormy was not included in the list.

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André arrived downstairs at breakfast time, dressed for travel. After wishing everyone a good morning, he walked to Marry’s chair. Taking her hand, he cut her an elegant bow, his eyes intent on hers. “Lady Cormac, you have been a wonderful hostess and I wish I could tarry longer. However, I’ve been remiss in remembering the date. I need to return to Emerald Hills to attend to some urgent business. I tender my sincere apologies for having to cut this visit short.”

He acknowledged Annemarie with a nod of his head. “I’ll be seeing you, Lady Mowbray, when you return to Emerald Hills, I am sure. Enjoy your visit to the fullest.”

“But won’t you have a bite of breakfast before you leave?”

“I really need to leave. Lord Cormac was kind enough to loan me one of his mounts. I’ll have it returned posthaste by my manservant Stuart and he can retrieve the carriage at the same time.”

Marry knew there were no inns between here and Emerald Hills. Wringing her hands, she bestowed a motherly look upon André. “At least let cook pack you something to eat along the way.”

He would have refused, but his belly grumbled at the thought that it would have to go without, so he graciously accepted.

Cook hurried to pack a small basket of food and a flask of wine.

He thanked Marry and William Cormac again for their hospitality, shook hands with Trevor and gave only the slightest bow to Stormy, before he strode from the room.

Trevor looked after his retreating figure with a thoughtful frown. “That certainly came as a surprise. I didn’t think the man had any business to attend to except to turn ladies’ heads.”

Annemarie exchanged a knowing look with Marry and they tittered their amusement.

“Methinks someone’s hackles are up, because he feels protective toward a certain young lady.”

Trevor whirled around. “I heard that remark. And yes, it’s true. I don’t like that fop mincing around Stormy.”

“Father. André has always been a consummate gentleman when we were together.

Don’t forget he found me and saw me safely out of the maze yesterday.” She crossed her fingers behind her back, since that statement wasn’t quite the truth. But she felt she had to defend him, though she still smarted from the knowledge that she was smitten with the man, who had dismissed her in such an abrupt, curt manner yesterday.

“I am glad to hear that, Stormy. He could have fooled me. I caught him staring at you several times and–never mind.” He turned away and busied himself with ladling kidneys and scones onto his plate. He couldn’t very well tell his child that André’s stares had been heated and fraught with desire.

* * * *

André sighed in relief once he left Bellingshire behind. He’d been painfully aware of Trevor’s reproachful glares, and he could hardly blame the man. It had been deuced difficult to keep his desire in check. Several times he’d been partially aroused, despite his best efforts.

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