Married: The Virgin Widow. Deborah Hale
Kingsfold…Laura.” He found it impossible to say her name without his tongue caressing it.
Though her features betrayed no sign that she noticed or cared, the flame of the candle she held suddenly flickered out. “I must apologise for offering you such poor hospitality. If we had known you were coming, we would have contrived something better.”
The gall of the woman! Welcoming him into his own house when it was clear she considered him as welcome as the plague. No doubt she’d hoped he would stay half a world away so she could continue to play the lady of the manor at his expense.
“Perhaps you wish I had warned you of my arrival.” Ford spoke more sharply than he intended. “So you could have contrived to be elsewhere.”
“No, indeed!” A flash of distant lightning blazed in the summer sky of her eyes. It must vex her that he saw through her mask of courtesy to the disdain she truly felt for him. “Though I will admit, that is partly because I have nowhere else to go.”
“You cannot mean that.” Ford drew back abruptly and began to stalk around the room, circling her at a wary distance. “According to the solicitor’s letter, you inherited all my cousin’s personal assets, while the estate fell to me by entail. Surely a beautiful young widow possessed of such a fortune is at liberty to go wherever she wishes.”
Damn! He had not meant to call her beautiful, even if it was truer now than ever. From there it was but a short, treacherous step to admitting her beauty affected him.
Laura refused to acknowledge his compliment. “I assure you, what I inherited from your cousin was no fortune and now it is almost gone.”
Her words stopped Ford in his tracks. If she was telling the truth, what had become of his cousin’s money?
Chapter Two
So Ford thought she’d been living in luxury on his cousin’s fortune. Had he cultivated that belief to assuage any bothersome twinges of conscience over his past behaviour toward her?
Even from several feet away, Laura marked the sudden jump of his dark brows and the brief slackening of his tight-clenched jaw. This was not precisely the way she’d meant to surprise him. But it would do. Anything to jar him out of his frosty composure.
Perhaps then she might not feel quite so vulnerable in her own unsettled feelings. Her first glimpse of Ford Barrett after seven long years had flustered her even more than she’d expected. Not that he was the same ardent, charming young man she remembered. Time had changed him in many ways.
The pitiless Indian sun had darkened his skin to the color of a Barbary pirate’s. The wild black curls she had once loved to twine around her fingers had been cropped to short, severe stubble. His mouth, once so mobile, was now set in an unyielding line. The years had chiselled his features into a visage of stark, savage beauty. Eyes, once the warm, soft green of new moss, were now hard and cool as jade.
Had all those changes been wrought by the passing years and his experiences in the Orient? Or had he always been such a forceful, ruthless man, while she’d been too naïve to see it?
“My cousin’s fortune all gone?” Ford spoke in a bemused murmur. “How is that possible?”
His tone of disbelief galled her. Did he suppose she would continue to live in this decaying old mansion, crammed to the rafters with painful memories, if she’d possessed the means to go elsewhere? Did he imagine she would have stayed to be subjected to his mocking condescension?
Staring at him over the hump of a dustdraped chaise-longue, she refused to be cowed. “Losing money is a great deal easier than gaining it. Rising expenses. Bad investments. The years since the war have brought hardship to many in this country. Perhaps you were not aware of it, being so far away, in lands where luxuries are cheap and fortunes easily made.”
Harsh laughter burst from Ford. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”
His scathing tone reminded Laura so much of his cousin’s, it made the flesh on the back of her neck prickle. The deep timbre of his voice, once a mellow caress upon her ears, now had a hoarse, raspy edge.
“Those items you consider luxuries may be cheap in the East, on account of being so plentiful. If cinnamon came from the bark of elm trees or cloves from the buds of myrtle bushes, no one in England would think them such rare extravagances. In the Indies, items you might hold of little value—iron cooking pots, glassware, printed cotton—are the costly luxuries.”
Every word struck Laura like a stinging blow, driven by contempt and sharpened with ridicule. That Ford was correct in everything he said did not lessen the insult. That his handsome, arrogant presence overwhelmed her with such intense awareness made it ten times worse! She did not dare reply for fear of saying something so offensive he might take out his anger on her mother and sisters. She’d been relieved to discover he was wealthy, only because it meant he might not grudge her family houseroom.
Ford emerged from behind the draped chaise-longue and approached her with deliberate, intimidating steps. “As for my fortune being easily gained, you could not be more mistaken. There are opportunities in the East, but for a man to take full advantage of them, he must work hard, take risks and be ruthless when necessary.”
As each word brought him closer, Laura stood her ground against his steady, menacing approach. On no account must she let Ford see how his nearness affected her. And how was that, exactly?
It filled her with alarm, of course—a sensation no less distressing for being so familiar. Though her husband had been dead for more than two years, her throat still tightened and her insides knotted whenever a man came too close to her. The faint whiff of spices that hung about him made her mouth water, while his air of tightleashed power made her light-headed. When his glittering green gaze roved over her from head to toe, Laura’s flesh prickled as if responding to a feathery touch.
She managed to stand firm. But that owed less to her resolve than to being caught between two contrary inclinations. Part of her itched to turn and flee from this formidable man while another part felt irresistibly drawn toward him.
Willing her voice not to tremble, she replied, “No wonder you made such a success of your ventures. Two of the three necessary qualities come so naturally to you.”
Once he came toe to toe with her, Ford stopped, unable to advance further without knocking her down. As Laura glared up at him, he loomed over her, his gaze fixed upon her lips. Was it her imagination, or was he leaning toward her?
“Which two qualities might those be?” he demanded in a husky murmur.
Ford was leaning closer, inch by inch, forcing her to tilt her head back. If the candle in her hand had still been burning, its flame would have scorched the breast of his coat.
Her voice did not come out in the brisk snap she intended, but rather a breathless whisper. “Surely you can guess.”
As his lips bore down on hers, Laura opened her mouth to protest. But before she could speak, a volley of girlish giggles erupted from the doorway.
“Pray don’t let us interrupt!” cried her sister Belinda in a teasing voice.
“I believe we must interrupt,” chimed Susannah, the younger of the two, “for the sake of Laura’s reputation.”
As Ford jerked back from her and spun about to face her younger sisters, a wave of relief swamped Laura. But in its wake came a fleeting sting of frustration.
The sound of high, twittering laughter broke over Ford like a cold sea wave upon scorching sand. Jolted back to his senses, he shook off the bewitchment Laura had cast upon him. He turned toward her sisters with a vexing mixture of gratitude and annoyance.
“Who are you two snooping chits?” he demanded in a bantering tone. “And what have you done with the sweet little Penrose girls?”
His question was not altogether in jest. The sight of Belinda and Susannah