Richard leaned back, regarding Mr. Terry with an indolent expression. Of the people in the room only I knew Richard was at his most dangerous when he seemed most languorous. “You seem to be sure. Can it be, sir, you know some of these villains?”

“No more than most people hereabouts,” said the gentleman.

Richard pursued the topic. “Most people hereabouts seem to know them. A great deal of the local wealth comes from smuggling, I think.”

“You may be right, sir.” Mr. Terry cleared his throat noisily.

Richard let the matter drop, but he was interested. Unlike the squire, Mr. Terry did let the smugglers run their goods through his land, and I thought he might have even turned his back a few times while his more outlying barns were used overnight to store contraband. He probably knew some of them, and where he could contact them.

James had always taken the view that the less he knew about it all the better, but others were not quite so sanguine. The squire took his position seriously and had always been concerned about the proliferation of smuggling. We received many goods from the Channel Islands, run across from France but I had never seen a run, and I never wanted to. We could make little difference. Richard was right. The matter needed addressing in Parliament.

Chapter Fourteen

It seemed an age until bedtime. I felt like a naughty child planning some clandestine activity such as raiding the pantry at midnight. I wondered if I had risked too much, if I was heading for a fall, even if Richard would come. Perhaps it had been a mere impulse, engendered by our unusual intimacy earlier in the day, but I didn’t think so. I had never known him so needy and vulnerable, and after telling me his secrets, perhaps Richard needed me as much as I needed him.

Richard seemed his usual self, unruffled and serene, but his eyes held an extra gleam. I decided to pay him back in his own coin.

For the rest of the day, every time I went close to him I touched him. Touched his hand, brushed my fingers against his cheek, then when he moved to kiss them, took them away. All without anyone seeing. When we went into dinner, I caressed his delicious backside, tucked my hand under his coat and brushed my fingers against it. I felt the flinch before I moved my hand away and heard his self-deprecating chuckle. “Take care, my lady. I shall throw you down on the dining table if you continue.”

I called his bluff. Throughout dinner I touched him when I didn’t need to, brushed my fingers against his when he handed me a glass of wine, smiled my thanks, taking too long. He knew. And I took care that no one else should.

He joined me in the drawing room almost immediately after the meal, and I soon found out why. He wanted to retaliate. Stretching his arm along the back of the sofa where I sat conversing with Ian, he tickled the back of my neck, lightly, warmly. I laughed at the wrong moment, and Ian frowned. I had to beg his pardon.

I got my own back when I stood to play for the family, and found the opportunity to trail my hand over his thigh. He leaned back, inviting the touch, raising an eyebrow in an unspoken challenge. For two pins I would have touched him further, but not under Martha’s censorious eye. This was as far as I wanted to go. Or dared, for that matter.

Playing the harpsichord kept me out of trouble. At least I thought so until Richard came up behind me to turn the pages of the music. As if by accident, his hand trailed over me when he leaned forward. Under the cover of the flaring skirts of his coat, he touched the upper part of my breast. Then he was gone.

There was only one thing left for me to do. I played for a while, and then got to my feet. Instead of getting off the stool towards the room, I got off towards him, and if by accident, moved too close. For a second, I touched the bulge on the front of his breeches, and heard his indrawn breath. “Your game,” he murmured to me, “but wait, just you wait.”

As a result, when eleven o’clock came and I could finally excuse myself, pleading tiredness, I was drawn as taut as a bowstring. The maid I shared with my sisters helped me get ready for bed, and then all I had to do was sit and wait, with the door slightly open so he wouldn’t have to knock.

I waited for some time. I’d been too eager to go, and the household had to retire before I could hope for him joining me. I thought of going to bed and getting some sleep, but decided I was too tense. Still it didn’t make sense to sit and wait, so I climbed into bed and lay down, thoughts racing through my head.

A breath on my ear woke me, and I spun around, startled awake. I sighed with relief when I saw who it was. “Richard.”

“Hush, love.”

I put my hand to my mouth, to quieten myself. He leaned across the bed to me. “Aren’t you going to ask me in?”

“Have you locked the door?”

“Naturellement.”

I threw back the covers, while he stripped off his robe and got in. He was naked, but he got into bed so quickly I didn’t see him properly. Immediately he drew me close, and I felt at