One Snowy Night by Amanda Grange Page B

of her gown, it was bare. She felt a
shiver run up her arm and spread throughout her body. Instinctively she turned
to look at him, lips parted, and he, feeling her reaction to his touch, turned
towards her, eyes smouldering. There was a look of desire on his face that set
her pulses racing. A desire that, alarmingly, was matched by an equally fierce
desire of her own.
    How had it
happened? How had she found herself desiring the most stubborn man she had ever
met? The most ruthless and the most perverse? A man who would relegate her to
the fireside if she gave him a chance? Who would deny her the right to take an
interest in her inheritance? And who, as the final straw, expected her to enter
into a loveless marriage for the sake of her reputation? It was of all things
the most contrary.
    ‘ London grows more dangerous by
the day,’ sighed Hetty.
    Rebecca heard
the words through a haze. She could barely hear, let alone think, with Joshua
so close by. His presence seemed to be robbing her of an awareness of
everything but him: his strongly-moulded features, his mane of hair, his full
lips and his penetrating eyes.
    With an effort
she brought her wandering thoughts back under control.
    She could tell
that Joshua was making a similar effort. Although his eyes remained locked on
hers, he replied to Hetty’s remark.
    ‘These things
happen,’ he said.
    He had
obviously made an effort to speak lightly, but even so his voice came out
huskily. The sound of it made Rebecca feel weak.
    Making an
effort to control her powerful reactions to Joshua, she wrenched her eyes away
from his and fastened them once more on the street outside.
    ‘Do . . . ’ She stopped. Her voice was weak and
trembling. She tried once more. ‘Do you think it will happen again?’ This time,
her voice came out almost normally, with only the slightest hint of a quaver.
    ‘I hope not,’
said Hetty anxiously.
    Fortunately,
although she had looked at Rebecca sympathetically when Rebecca’s voice had
trembled, she seemed to think it was nervousness on Rebecca’s part because of
the stone flying through the window and nothing more.
    ‘But it might,’
said Joshua, who was once more in control of himself. Taking care not to touch
Rebecca, he guided her back to the table. ‘I suggest we stay away from the
windows,’ he said.
    Rebecca
nodded. It was a wise precaution, under the circumstances.
    Joshua turned
his attention to the table. Reaching out his hand he took the stone from his
half-eaten bowl of soup. The bowl had been cracked by the force of the stone,
and soup was seeping out onto the damask cloth.
    ‘Oh, no!’
exclaimed Hetty, suddenly noticing what a mess it was making.
    She rang the
bell, and a minute or two later she began directing the servants, instructing
them to sweep up the broken china and glass, for the table was covered in
fragments from the broken window.
    ‘The table
will have to be completely cleared,’ she told the servants as she superintended
their activities.
    Joshua turned
the stone in his hand, feeling the jagged edges.
    Rebecca looked
at the stone, then took it out of his hand. She shuddered. It was large and
heavy, and the edges were extremely sharp.
    Joshua
reclaimed it. ‘Better not to dwell on it,’ he said. ‘Come and sit by the fire.
You’ve had a shock.’
    ‘No,’ said
Rebecca, pulling her shawl more closely around her. ‘I must see if Hetty needs
any help.’
    ‘No, thank
you, my dear, the servants have everything well in hand,’ said Hetty. ‘Lay the
table in the parlour, if you please,’ she instructed the servants. ‘We will
finish our meal in the back of the house. And serve the soup again, if you
will. We have hardly had a chance to touch it.’
    At that moment
Charles walked back into the room.
    ‘Anything?’ asked
Joshua.
    ‘Nothing,’
said Charles, shaking his head. ‘Whoever it was has long gone. There was no
sign of them.’
    ‘I have
ordered the table laid in the parlour,’ said Hetty, in