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“Father died at the hand of soldiers in a case of mistaken justice. An English colonel wanted him dead, because it was his way of getting back at me for shunning his suit.” Ah, that, too, was only a half truth, since the colonel accused her father of abetting a convicted felon, her mother. Her lovely mouth tightened with repressed anger. “The colonel died at the hand of an assassin.”

The Cormac’s hung on every word Annemarie uttered, their faces rapt with wonder. “So, we have come full circle. It all started in England and now you have returned to your roots. It is so splendid to know that we have a great-grandchild.” Marry Cormac dabbed at her eyes with a now sodden lace handkerchief. “And to realize that she is within a reachable distance, it simply takes my breath. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.” She grasped Annemarie’s hand. “I mean tears of joy, darling.”

For a space of several minutes they all sat together in companionable silence, each caught up in their own thoughts. Marry was about to take another sip of her tea, when her eyes lit up.

“I just had the most wonderful idea. Why don’t you stay a few more days and we send a messenger to ask Stormy to join us?”

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“Oh, Marry, I think that is the best idea, yet, but it will all depend on Trevor’s family and whether they can spare a carriage and someone to accompany her here.” Annemarie leaned forward and lowered her voice.

“We haven’t told anyone, but we were held up by a highwayman on our way from Bristol to Emerald Hills. It cost Trevor a hefty purse, but we went unscathed.”

Marry’s hand flew to her mouth and her eyes widened. “I have heard of this menace.

Those kinds of criminals turn up every few years it seems, but the law eventually catches them and hangs them.” Nodding her head in righteous anger, she took another sip of tea.

“Well, I just want you to understand why we are concerned about Stormy’s escort.”

Annemarie rose from her chair. “If you don’t mind, I will pen a quick note to Thomas and ask him to indulge us. I will also tell him, if he can’t accompany Stormy, we’d rather she stayed there and we’ll make the trip to Bellingshire together.”

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The messenger from Bellingshire arrived shortly after breakfast. As soon as Stormy realized where the man hailed from, her heart started to beat in an erratic pattern of fear. Had something happened to her parents? Would she be punished that way for having acted the wanton?

She watched with growing unease as her Uncle Thomas read the note, not once, but twice. Pursing his lips, he looked at Stormy and shook his head. “Your parents would like you to join them at Bellingshire. It seems you also have grandparents there. Apparently, the Cormacs are related to you.”

Before he could go on, Stormy whooped her glee in a most un-English manner. She bunched up her skirts and would have been off to pack, if Uncle Thomas hadn’t stopped her.

“They asked that I should escort you there. And normally I would take them up on the invitation and take your aunt along, but as it is, I can’t. I have an important meeting with another breeder in Bristol and I aim to take your aunt with me. That would leave your cousins, but seeing to your safety would be too much of a responsibility.” He shrugged. “I am so sorry, Stormy, but I am afraid you will have to wait for your parents to come back.”

André strolled into the room just then and heard the last few words. He bowed. “Good morning.” His eyes cutting between Thomas and Stormy, he politely asked without much interest, “Is there a problem?”

Thomas’ eyes lit up with pleasure. “André you are the answer to my prayers. We need an escort to take Stormy to see her grandparents in Bellingshire”

“Grandparents? Not that I am privy to your brother’s affairs, but I had no idea that they had any other English ties except the ones to you.”

“From the note I just received, neither did they. I guess we’ll have to wait until their return to get the whole story.” Thomas quirked a dark brow at André. “However, they asked if we could bring my niece for a visit.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “There is no way I can get around my trip to Bristol, and the boys are too young to be entrusted with the safety of their cousin, since there are rumors about a highwayman. I wouldn’t ask you, but in view of my dilemma, could I impose upon you to escort my niece to Bellingshire? ”

André almost swallowed his tongue. Somehow Thomas’ alarm about the highwayman struck him as truly funny. It was like asking the fox to guard the henhouse. A sideways glance told him that Stormy was not keen on the idea of having him accompany her to her parents either. He suppressed the smile that threatened to erupt, when he tried to imagine what she would say once she found out that Thomas was worried about a holdup by the highwayman.

Since Thomas knew nothing about his night activity, but thought him to be more a gentleman of leisure, he knew he could scarcely refuse his friend’s request. “If the lady will entrust herself to me, I guess I can hardly say no.” Secretly, he hoped Stormy would refuse. His hope was short-lived, because the prospect of having grandparents and meeting them outweighed her qualms about traveling in André’s company.

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Less than an hour later, Stormy sat next to André in an elegant two-seater, drawn by a pair of spirited roan geldings. Thanks to Thomas’ warning he was armed to the teeth, much to his and Stormy’s amusement. The messenger from Bellingshire rode ahead.

André tried hard not to think about Stormy’s proximity. Much to his chagrin and discomfort, he felt her thigh brush against his at regular intervals. Bloody hell, he had not considered that distraction, when he took on this task.

Cutting her a sidelong glance, he drawled, “Madam, do you realize that I am here to keep you safe from a notorious highwayman?” He chuckled, but when Stormy started to giggle, they both guffawed with mirth until tears streamed down their cheeks.

Until that moment, Stormy had hardly felt relaxed. André’s nearness caused her heart to flutter and her insides to curl with tension. She had no idea how long the ride to Bellingshire would take, but it already seemed far too long.

She shifted uncomfortably on her seat, unaware that André held his breath, because her breast had brushed his arm and the contact fired his imagination.

Stormy mistook his sharp intake of breath. “This is not the most comfortable carriage, is it?”

André rolled his eyes without looking her way. The chit certainly had a way with words.

“No, this kind of carriage is actually designed for short jaunts and speed.”

“Well, you don’t have to snap at me. How am I supposed to know that? At home we rarely take the carriage, and our landau is well upholstered and has deep springs.”

“In other words, you don’t go out much?” He quirked a dark brow at her.

“Is that a snide way of referring to us as colonials?” She snorted delicately. “I’ll have you know that we have lots of balls and Charlestown is not all that far away. We usually ride into town, since we keep a house there. There is a widow’s walk on top of the house that affords you an unimpeded view of the countryside and the river below.” She looked up just as he looked her way and their eyes locked for a brief, intense moment.

“We really only spend the winters there, because the summers are cooler in the country.

Besides, we have a small pond there, where we can go swimming, when it gets too hot.”

“You swim?” André was scandalized. He didn’t know of any English misses, who could swim.

Stormy grinned. The set of his chin and the tightness of his sensual mouth amused her.

And here they were called colonials in such a way as to infer that they were backward. Hm, André’s reaction to her admission certainly came unexpectedly. Oh, this was going to be such fun and she wasn’t done yet.

“Well, of course I swim. There is this little hidden cove, where I can take off all my clothes.” She almost laughed out loud when she realized that André could hardly breathe. It took an all out effort to keep a straight face, but she did. Looking at him with affected innocence, making sure he looked at her, she rolled her eyes heavenward. “It’s lovely to have the warm water caress your bare skin.”

“Stormy!” André almost strangled when speaking her name. He felt no longer scandalized, but more uncomfortable than ever, because a vision of her naked got him hard. He dared not look her way, shocked over how easily she could shake his self-control.

“You can’t be serious.” Of course, she was serious. Didn’t she fence in men’s breeches?

And at any other time, with any other woman, he would have rejoiced at her lack of inhibition.

But with Stormy, this revelation only angered him. Merde, he didn’t even have an inkling why it should.

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“Ladies don’t swim. Bon Dieu, especially not in a state of undress.” He blew out an agitated breath, because heat crawled up his neck. Sacré, this ride was proving to be more of a challenge than he would ever have imagined. He shifted his legs to hide his burgeoning manhood. “It’s just not done in polite society and I give you fair warning that you would never be accepted by the ton, if they found out about these foibles of yours.”

Lifting her chin, she clicked her tongue. “Where did you ever get the idea that I wanted to be accepted by the ton? I love my life in the Americas. Trust me, we do have our stuffy neighbors and newcomers, but luckily, we can live and breathe as we like at Dreamscape.”

Her unintended insinuation to allude to him as stuffy, helped André to regain a little of his self-control. Pretending that the horses needed all his attention, he clamped his mouth shut and prayed that they would arrive soon. If not, he might just be forced to halt the carriage and show her how wrong she was about his being stuffy.

The messenger, who had been riding ahead suddenly reined his mount in and pulled his forelock as he approached the vehicle. “My Lord, we are within a mile of Bellingshire. Would it please you if I rode ahead and announced your imminent arrival?”

André inclined his head. “That would be splendid. And I believe we will be just in time for tea.”

He sighed in relief when they finally drove into the porte cochère. Trevor, Annemarie and the Cormacs awaited them on the wide steps, all smiles. Exuberant as ever, Stormy jumped from the carriage and ran into the open arms of her parents.

He stood politely aside, leaning negligently against the side of the carriage, while Stormy was introduced to her grandparents. He wished he could light a cheroot and calm his nerves.

Now that he was here, the qualms he’d harbored about the trip worsened. He could tell by Trevor’s piercing look that the man was not happy that he was the one who brought his precious daughter.

André didn’t have long to wait. He’d barely shaken hands with his hosts, when they excused themselves to usher Stormy inside amid a babble of questions and happy tears. He made to follow, when he felt Trevor’s arm on his sleeve.

“A word, André?”

André stopped in mid-stride. He regarded Trevor with a haughty stare, fully aware of the other man’s agitation. Pretending a relaxation he was far from feeling, he allowed his mouth to quirk upward on one side in a rather reckless grin. His eyes had narrowed and he waited in silence for Trevor to continue.

Damn the man didn’t make this any easier, but he needed to know why he had brought Stormy instead of his brother.

Trevor’s hands clenched at his sides, and it didn’t sit well with him that he had to tilt his head in order to look into André’s face. And a far too handsome face it was in his opinion.

“I must confess that I am a bit surprised that you have brought Stormy rather than my brother. I would like to know why.”

“Sir, if you allude to my status as a bachelor, I can allay your misgivings. I have no interest in Lady Michaella whatsoever, even if I regarded her as anything other than a willful, spoiled child.

“Trust me. If I didn’t owe Thomas several favors, I would have never made this tedious trip.” He bowed formally. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to avail myself of Lady Cormac’s hospitality and freshen up before tea is served.” He turned on his booted heel and walked further into the foyer, where he collared a footman and asked to be shown to his rooms.

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Once left alone, André collapsed to the counterpane of the four poster bed and closed his eyes. Bloody hell, what had gotten into him to act so rudely and lie so outrageously? If he were given half a chance, he would bed Stormy in a heartbeat. There was nothing childish about her, unless you could call innocence childish.

A grin stole over his face. Oh, she was willful all right and certainly a tad spoiled. But that added to her artless charm. Exhaling in frustration, he pushed up from the bed and surveyed his rooms.

His satchel had been brought up and unpacked, with his straight razor and comb neatly laid out on a very masculine dresser. An ewer with warm water was waiting. He stripped out of his travel worn shirt, dunked his head into the water and quickly washed his hands and face, rubbing experimentally over his chin to check for stubble.

A knock on the door interrupted his musings and he strode across the room to answer. A servant stood outside. He bowed. “My Lord, may I be of assistance to you?”

André contemplated the idea for a moment, then stepped aside and allowed the man in.

“I would appreciate it, if you could shave me.” He wasted no time to sit on a chair, facing the window.

The servant expertly whipped up some soap into foam and slathered it across his face, then ran the razor across the strop to sharpen it. He did it with a minimum of movements and a great deal of efficiency.