The Gamekeeper's Lady by Ann Lethbridge

kept his hands off her up on the hill yesterday. A bit of a surprise, since he’d never been attracted to innocents. She was the kind of female men married, whereas he preferred high flyers or a merry widow. The lass was good at her drawings, though. Odd sort of occupation for a gently bred girl. It would all come to an end when she found herself married and raising a passel of children.
    A husband with the right to caress her slender body, to palm her small breasts, to stroke those boyishly slim hips.
    Desire jolted through him, hardening his body, quickening his blood.
    What the hell was her family thinking, allowing her to roam the estate without an escort? A prime target for men like him. Or, worse yet, men without a shred of honour. They were out there. She would be an easy target.
    What the hell. It wasn’t his business what the wench did. He had his work and his prospects to worry about and that was enough for any man. He picked up the next verse.
He said: Lonely Nancy, may I come to bed you, She smiled and replied, John you’ll undo me, With your long fol-the-riddle-i-do right down to your knee.
    That wasn’t going to happen. He was likely going to be spending a great many nights alone. He shivered at a sudden chill running down his spine.
    He stopped dead, his mouth open at the sight of a shadow huddled against his front door.
    The shadow rose like a wraith. ‘Mr Deveril?’
    ‘Miss Bracewell?’ Well, how about that. He just had to think about her and she appeared—or was it a beer-induced vision?
    He shook his head to clear his sight.
    She lifted a hand. ‘I need your help.’
    He knew the kind of help he wanted to provide and it involved helping her between his sheets. He wrestled his evil thought to the ground and his body under control. ‘At this time of night? Are you mad?’
    Her eyes looked huge in the light of the lantern. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll go.’
    ‘Good Lord, how long have you been waiting?’
    ‘I d-didn’t expect you to be out.’
    If he had one scrap of sense, a smidgeon of honour, he would turn her around and send her straight home. And let her freeze to the bone? A few minutes while she warmed up wouldn’t hurt. He might a libertine, but he wasn’t a debaucher of innocents, no matter how badly they behaved.
    ‘Come inside before you catch your death of cold.’ He grabbed her elbow. Beneath his fingers, he felt a shudder rack her fragile body. He cursed under his breath and urged her through the door. It took only moments to coax the banked fire into a crackling blaze with a fresh log. A sudden gust down the chimney blew smoke into his face. He coughed.
    She laughed, a low smoky chuckle, and his body tightened at the seductive sound.
    He shook his head. ‘Did no one ever tell you it’s not appropriate to visit a man in his house alone, late at night?’ He tossed another log on the fire and poked at the embers. ‘Why are you here?’
    No answer. The door latch clicked. He leaped forwards and caught the door before she opened it enough to slip out. A blade of cold air cut through the room.
    Rigid, she stared at the rough wood inches from her nose. ‘I apologise for m-my intrusion. R-release the door.’
    The raw hurt in her voice tore at his defences. He enfolded her fine-boned fingers in his. Ice cold. ‘Come back to the fire. I’m sorry if I sounded harsh—my concern is for your reputation.’
    She snatched her hand out of his.
    ‘Is it not mine to r-r—’ she took a ragged breath ‘—risk?’ Despite the defiance in her gaze, she let him lead her back to the glow of the fire.
    He shrugged. ‘Then think about my position.’
    Her shoulders slumped. She raised her lashes, eyes dark with regret and something else he couldn’t make out. He could not read this woman. It was an odd feeling when most of them had been an open book.
    Her soft mouth trembled. ‘I am s-sorry. You are right. I should not have troubled you.’
    Right now, looking into those fathomless eyes