Chapter Two

"Lord, but that woman is a constant trial." Harriet got to her feet and hastened over to Mrs. Stone's side. She went down on her knees beside the fallen housekeeper. "She usually keeps her vinaigrette about her somewhere. Ah, here we are."

Harriet withdrew the tiny bottle from a voluminous pocket in Mrs. Stone's gray gown. She paused to look up at Gideon before holding the vinaigrette under the woman's nose. "Perhaps it would be best if you were not looming over her when she comes to her senses. The sight of you is apparently what set her off this time."

Gideon gazed grimly down at the housekeeper. "You are no doubt correct. I shall take my leave, Miss Pomeroy. Before I go, however, I will repeat what I was saying when we were interrupted. You are not to go near the cliff caves until I have sorted out this business of the thieves. Is that quite clear?"

"Quite clear," Harriet said impatiently, "but hardly a practical command. I must accompany you into the caves to show you the particular cavern that is being used for storing the loot. You are highly unlikely to discover it on your own. Indeed, you could wander alone for years searching for it. I have only just discovered it recently, myself."

"Miss Pomeroy—"

She saw the glint of determination in his tawny eyes and tried her most winning smile in an effort to overcome it. She reminded herself of how she had been accustomed to handling her father. It made her realize how long it had been since she had been obliged to deal with a man in the house. Men could be such stubborn creatures, she reflected. And this one appeared decidedly more inclined in that direction than most.

"Be reasonable, sir," Harriet said in deliberately soothing tones. "It is perfectly safe to go about on the beach during the day. The thieves come and go only late at night and only once or twice a month. The tides, you see. There is no risk involved in my simply pointing out the cavern to you tomorrow."

"You can draw me a map," Gideon retorted coolly.

The man was beginning to irritate Harriet. Did he really believe she was going to turn something this important entirely over to him? she wondered. Her precious fossils were at stake.

"I fear that although I can sketch quite well, I have absolutely no sense of direction," she said glibly. "Now, then, here is my plan. I shall take my usual morning walk along the beach tomorrow. You can arrange to walk out at the same time, can you not?"

"That is not the point."

"We shall meet in such a casual manner that anyone who saw us would believe it to be an accident. I shall show you the passageway in the cliffs that leads to the cavern the thieves are using. Then we can discuss how best to trap them. Now, if you will excuse me, I really must see to Mrs. Stone."

"Damnation, woman." Gideon's black brows drew together in a ferocious scowl. "You may be in the habit of ordering everyone else about, but you had better not take a notion to issue commands to me."

Mrs. Stone obligingly moaned at the moment. "Ooh. Oh, dear heaven. I feel quite ill." Her lashes flickered in a jerky fashion.

Harriet held the vinaigrette under her nose and shooed the viscount out the door. "Please go, my lord," she said over her shoulder. "I must insist. Mrs. Stone will surely have hysterics if you are still here when she opens her eyes. I shall meet you tomorrow morning around ten o'clock on the beach. It is the only way you will discover the proper cavern. You must believe me."

Gideon hesitated, clearly annoyed at finding himself forced to concede the obvious. He narrowed his gaze, half concealing his tawny eyes. "Very well. Tomorrow morning on the beach at ten. But that will be the end of your involvement in this matter, Miss Pomeroy. Do I make myself plain?"

"Quite plain, my lord."

His sidelong, assessing glance held deep suspicion. Perhaps he was not entirely convinced by her reassuring smile, Harriet thought. He stalked past her out of the study and into the hall.

"Good day, Miss Pomeroy." He clamped his hat very firmly down on his head.

"Good day, my lord," she called after him. "And thank you for coming so quickly in response to my letter. I really do appreciate your help in this business. I think you will work out quite well."

"I am delighted you have found me a suitable candidate for the position you evidently wished to fill," he growled. "We shall see how appreciative you are when I have completed my assignment and am ready to collect my pay."

Harriet winced at the chilling sarcasm. She watched as he went through the open door and out into the March sunshine. He did not give her a backward glance.

Harriet caught a brief glimpse of a giant bay stallion waiting patiently outside. The horse was a truly massive creature, not unlike its master, with huge feet, powerful muscles, and an obstinate curve of nose. There was nothing the least bit refined or elegant about the stallion. He looked big enough and mean enough to carry an old-fashioned knight in full armor into battle.

Harriet listened as the viscount rode off along the cliffs. For a long moment she remained very still on her knees beside the fallen housekeeper. The hall of the cottage seemed comfortably spacious once more. For a while there, with St. Justin standing in it, the hall had seemed quite cramped.

Harriet realized with a start that St. Justin's scarred, savage features had burned themselves into her brain. She had never encountered a man like him.

He was incredibly large. Like his horse, he was tall and solidly built, with broad, sleekly muscled shoulders and thighs. His hands were massive and so were his feet. Harriet wondered if St. Justin's glovemakers and bootmakers were obliged to charge extra for the additional materials that must have been required in every pair of gloves and boots.

Everything about St. Justin, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties, was hard and strong and potentially fierce.

His face reminded Harriet of the magnificent lion she had seen in Mr. Petersham's menagerie three years ago. Even his eyes recalled those of the wild beast. They were wonderful eyes, Harriet thought, tawny gold and filled with a compelling awareness and cool intelligence.

St. Justin's coal-black hair, broad cheekbones, bold nose, and forceful jaw added to the leonine look. The scar only served to heighten the impression of a powerful, predatory beast, a creature who was no stranger to violence.

Harriet wondered where and how St. Justin had acquired the wicked-looking scar that slashed across his jaw. It looked old. The terrible wound had probably been inflicted several years ago. He was fortunate it had not taken his eye.

Mrs. Stone stirred again and moaned. Harriet forced herself to pay attention to the immediate problem. She waved the little bottle under the woman's nose. "Can you hear me, Mrs. Stone?"

"What? Yes. Yes, I can hear you." Mrs. Stone opened her eyes and gazed up into Harriet's face. She frowned painfully. "What on earth? Oh, dear God. Now I remember. He was here, was he not? It was no nightmare. The Beast was here. In the flesh."

"Calm yourself, Mrs. Stone. He has taken himself off."

Mrs. Stone's eyes widened in renewed alarm. She clutched at Harriet's arm, her bony fingers closing like a vice around Harriet's wrist. "Be ye safe, Miss Harriet? Did that foul hellhound touch ye? I saw him looming over ye like a great monstrous serpent."

Harriet restrained her irritation. "There is absolutely no cause for concern, Mrs. Stone. He merely put his hand beneath my chin for the barest moment."

"Lord preserve us." Mrs. Stone's eyes fluttered shut again.

At that moment Harriet heard the clatter of shoes on the front step and an instant later the door, which had been so firmly closed by the departing viscount, opened to reveal Euphemia Pomeroy and Harriet's charmingly windblown sister, Felicity.