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She didn’t spare a second thought, but dressed as quickly as she could. Tiptoeing across the plank floor, she went to the front door and opened it with great care. The first steaks of dawn were coloring the sky and the rain had stopped. Stormy stepped outside and closed the door quietly behind her.

Holding to the hem of her skirt, she circled the hunting lodge in search of the stable that had to be there. She missed the entrance twice.

The door to the stable was cleverly concealed behind a stand of thick bushes. Pleased with herself, Stormy slipped inside. It was very dark inside, but the light coming through the open door revealed Rebel, who was stabled in the stall near the door. She heard the stomping of other horses’ hooves and felt her way along the wall in hopes that Sugarplum had found his way here.

Her breath caught, when she recognized the big black stallion. If she had harbored any doubts about André’s identity, they would have been dispelled now.

Reaching for a carrot from a nearby bucket, she offered it to the stallion, who eyed her suspiciously before he gingerly accepted the treat with his lips. Unafraid, Stormy patted his velvety nose. “You are beautiful, and I almost have a mind to steal you. Damn Sugarplum, why did he just run off? I’ll have the devil of a time explaining why I am coming back at this hour alone and with Rebel.”

With a last pat and a second carrot offering, she headed for the next stable and gave Rebel a treat as well. The saddle proved heavier than the one she used back home, but she managed to throw it over Rebel’s back and cinch it securely.

She tiptoed from the stable, leading the horse by its reins, until she was sure they had gone far enough from the hunting lodge so no one would hear the jingle of the harness or the creak of the saddle. She mounted without difficulty, but it took some time before she found her way through the thicket and back to the open country.

She arrived at Emerald Hills long before the sun had come fully up over the horizon. No one was about except the servants. A quick peek at a nearby stable assured her that Sugarplum had made it back. Relieved, Stormy handed Rebel to a sleepy groom and mumbled something about having been caught in a rainstorm and waiting it out in a shelter. The young man pulled his forelock and led the horse away to rub him down.

Stormy raced up the stairs and slipped quietly into her room. Shaking from a case of nerves, she stripped out of the clothing and hung them over the back of a chair. Within another hour any dampness would be gone. Dragging her nightgown over her head, she slid under the covers and hugged them to her.

Staring up at the ceiling, reality started to sink it. A sudden chill skittered along her spine like icy little fingers. What in God’s name had she done? Would André play along with her game or would he expose her? Could they pull their escapade off without arousing suspicion?

Lord, she didn’t want to be tied to a roué like André Despard… and her heart cried Liar!

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André awoke to the distinct feeling of doom. He’d only fallen asleep just before dawn, partially because his conscience played games with his mind and partially, because Stuart’s snoring went on unabated and he knew he could not escape to the main room.

Now fully awake, that thought brought him to a sitting position with the suddenness as if he’d been bitten by a poisonous spider. He threw back the fur covering him and jumped from the bed. Stuart remained blissfully snoring.

He raked both hands through his hair in an attempt at grooming and quickly dunked his face into a pitcher of cold water standing on a small table nearby. Grabbing a linen cloth, he rubbed his face dry, even as he walked to the door. He tossed the damp linen across the room and opened the door with an abrupt jerk.

Shocked, his eyes scanned the empty room. Stormy was gone. Bloody hell, now what?

No longer bothering to be quiet, he shouted, “Stuart, wake up, Stormy is gone.”

Stuart jerked from a deep sleep, still drugged by a complex dream that had him running for his life. He ground both fists into his eye sockets and yawned hugely, before he swung his long legs to the floor.

“Maybe you should pack it in and flee to France. You have some holdings there. It’s not as if you needed Greenbriar to survive. Better yet, you could marry advantageously and forget all about the estate.”

André snorted. “Do you hear yourself? I can’t just leave. I need to get my hands on the original documents, so I can go to court and reclaim what’s rightfully mine, with or without my solicitor’s testimony. Greenbriar is a part of my mother’s heritage and I feel honor bound to wrest it back from that bastard Snowden. There is no way in hell that Aunt Victoria sold him the estate as he claims.”

“All right, calm yourself. This is getting us nowhere. Better tell me what you aim to do about the young lady?”

“I intend to ride to Emerald Hills and play it by ear. If her parents demand that I marry the chit, I will do so.” He raked his hand through his hair once again and reached for his cape. “I will be back and apprise you of the situation as soon as I can.”

André walked back into the bedroom moments later, his lips compressed into an angry white line. “She’s taken Rebel. I can’t take Noir or I will give myself away. I guess I have no other choice, but to walk to Emerald Hills.”

Stuart bit back a guffaw of amusement when he caught sight of André’s expression of abject misery. “It’s only a few miles. The fresh air will do you good and clear the cobwebs from your mind. Maybe the walk will produce a scheme for a way out of your predicament.”

André simply snorted his displeasure, turned on his heel and left.

Stormy would have liked to linger in bed, but she knew she would have to face the music sometime. She washed, then braided her hair into a simple crown atop her head. Taking a peek at herself in the cheval glass standing in the corner, she nodded with satisfaction. The braids lent her the look of innocence and simplicity she had hoped to achieve. She donned her least favorite STORMY HEIDE KATROS

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morning gown, a pale green muslin with a scooped neckline, in which she felt as dowdy as a milkmaid.

So fortified, she came downstairs and entered the breakfast room. She hesitated at the entrance, surprised that neither of her parents was present. She bit her lip in confusion.

“Good morning, Uncle Thomas, Aunt Emmaline. Good morning, cousins.” Her greeting ended in a tone of discomfiture that did not go unnoticed. She quickly took her usual seat and hoped someone would apprise her why her parents were not having breakfast with them before she would have to ask.

A servant quickly appeared at her side and poured her a cup of strong tea. As she stirred honey into her tea, her answer came without her having to ask the question.

It was her uncle, who spoke. “You looked surprised, when you came in. Don’t you remember that your parents intended to take a quick side trip to Bellingshire to visit some friends? Your father mentioned that he had bought his plantation from them. Of course, they were supposed to be back late last evening. Instead they sent a messenger that they’d be staying another day.” He shot her a quick grin. “I guess your parents know that you are in good hands here.”

Stormy raised her cup and smiled insipidly in order to hide her discomfort, took a sip of hot tea and promptly burned her tongue. God’s wrath follows on the heels of the sinner, she thought, as tears sprang to her eyes. “Papa did mention that they were going to visit to the Cormacs. And he did say that they might extend the visit to an overnight stay. I guess I forgot.”

Geez, and here she had worried unnecessarily. Still, her deception did not sit well with her, since she had promised to behave herself. Papa would be scandalized, if he ever found out that she had spent the night under the same roof as André and without a chaperone. Of course, nothing happened. Even as she tried to justify the situation, she felt a frisson of heat course through her. She had acted the wanton, had allowed André to kiss her and now that she thought back, she remembered the warmth of his hand stealing along her leg. Swallowing against her guilty feelings, she turned her full attention back to Uncle Thomas.

She looked just in time to see Uncle Thomas wave his hand through the air. “I think you should be glad you didn’t have to accompany your parents. They said something that these people were quite old and they thought you would have a better time in younger company.

Speaking of which, how did that ride with André turn out?”

Stormy pretended to concentrate spreading jam on her scone. “André proved to be a very good guide. I was impressed with the beauty of the country.” God, she could hardly believe her own ears that she could lie so easily.

Uncle Thomas literally preened under the compliment about the countryside. “Well, I knew André would show you a good time.”

Her heart squeezed. She felt like a regular Jezebel and would have liked nothing better than to be able to get up and leave the table. Under the pretense of eating her breakfast, she kept her gaze on her plate, hoping she didn’t look as guilty as she felt. She didn’t breathe easy again until Uncle Thomas scraped back his chair and announced he and Emmaline had business in town.

Stormy waited only long enough for him to walk out, before she jumped up and ran out the back door.

By the time André marched into the foyer of Emerald Hills, everyone had already left the morning room to attend to their chores for the day. After the forced walk and the self recrimination he had put himself through, he was in none too good a mood.

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He handed his cape and gloves to the butler, who asked politely if he would care for something to eat. “The family has already finished, but it wouldn’t be any trouble to have cook prepare something for you, my lord.”

André thanked him politely and told him he had no appetite. How could he eat when he would be facing Stormy’s parents? Trevor and Annemarie would give him the third degree about their daughter, and as things stood he would have no valid defense. He would have to marry the chit, but damn, he wouldn’t have to put up with her.

Giving himself a mental shake, he straightened his shoulder and entered the room, only to find it empty. He exhaled surreptitiously, appreciating the reprieve. With a shrug he turned to the butler and snorted in self-contempt.

“I guess I needed to see for myself. Do you have any idea where everyone has gone?”

“The master and mistress had some business in town, my lord. The young gentlemen intended to hunt some grouse for supper and Lady Annabelle was sent to her rooms to catch up on her ciphering.”

The butler inclined his head and made to leave, when André stopped him. “What about the guests? Have they gone on errands, too?” It was an innocuous question, but he needed to find out and he didn’t want to sound too interested.

“Ah, last I saw Lady Michaella she was headed out back toward the gardens. The lady’s parents have not returned from yesterday’s jaunt.”

André pursed his lips and nodded his thanks. Well, apparently, fate had dealt him a second reprieve on the same day. He would first speak to Stormy and gauge her mood. Bloody hell, he didn’t need any additional problems. His gaze fell on the silver tea service and he touched a questing hand to the outside. Satisfied that the urn was still hot, he poured a cup of strong tea and snatched a couple of leftover scones that had not been cleared from the sideboard yet.

Leaning a hip against the sideboard, he drank slowly and chewed even slower. Anything to protract the inevitable. Merde, what would he say to her? He really felt like taking her over his knee and giving her a good spanking for leaving as she did.

Why did he continue to torture himself with images of her delicious little rear? It brought him nothing but more misery when he imagined how she would squirm on his lap. He felt himself harden. Annoyed with his reaction, he quickly swallowed the last bite of scone, took a deep breath, and headed for the gardens.

André had been about to give up finding her, when he spotted a bit of pale green cloth moving next to a large oak. When he came closer, he found her sitting with her face buried in her hands, though she didn’t seem to be crying. For some reason her apparent misery dissolved some of the anger he felt toward her for leaving him in a lurch this morning. Merde, what was he to think when he found her gone? And to leave him without his horse was tantamount to an insult to his person.

He watched her for a long moment, enjoying the elegant line of her slender back and the graceful curve of her neck. Finally, he could contain himself no longer. He had to confront her and offer her marriage and by damn she had better accept.

He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat to give her fair warning of his presence.

Stormy’s head snapped up when she realized she was no longer alone. She looked around in panic, sorry that she had wandered so far from the house. And then he stepped into her line of vision and her eyes clouded with defiance.

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“What do you want?” She knew the abrupt question sounded ungracious, but she couldn’t help it. André brought out the worst in her and she had no clue why that was.

“We need to talk.” His voice was rough with emotion. How could she sit there and ask him what he wanted and look so damnably adorable at the same time? Of course, the crown of braids atop her head didn’t help him feel any better. She looked the innocent she was and he wanted her just as badly as he wanted her the day he decided to kidnap her against his better judgment.

By damn, he had started this nightmare. How could he even for a moment accuse her of having had any part in it? He was a cad.

Sitting up straighter and lifting her chin at a mutinous angle, she looked daggers at him.