Rogue in the Regency Ballroom. Helen Dickson
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she thought of him. Now his very name scalded her being with hot indignation, and she wanted to scream in utter rage. Of all the people her father could have hired to train his horses, why did it have to be him? She looked this way and that for a means of escape, but her father had seen her and was beckoning.
Reluctantly, her tension mounting, she walked towards them. Christopher climbed over the fence and stood beside her father, watching her approach, so sleek, so confident, so devilishly attractive in his riding jacket and breeches and tan leather boots. In fact, with his wicked smile and hair tumbling darkly about his face, all he needed was a ring in his ear to make him a handsome buccaneer. The man she had seen in prison in his shabby garb was gone for ever—metamorphosed into this taut and fine-drawn man of steel and iron.
Please, God, Amanda thought with a feeling of terror of what his appearance could mean for her, don’t let him have told Father who he is. What did he want? What was he doing here—with her father?
Wide awake to the implications of his reappearance into her life, she stopped in front of them. Her heart set up a wild beating as she looked up into her husband’s face. Something in his bold look challenged her spirit and increased her ire.
Taking her arm, her father drew her closer. ‘Amanda, it pleases me greatly to introduce to you Kit Benedict. He’s the man I told you about who’s to train my horses. Many of them are novices and need bringing on, so he’s going to have his work cut out.’
Yes, Amanda thought, he had told her how he had met someone at the sales who was more than willing to work for him, but she had only listened with half an ear. Now she looked at Kit directly, into his dark eyes set beneath sweeping brows. His look was in no way threatening, yet there was a sense of force distilled and harnessed in his stance. His lips curved as he bowed his head, his eyes never leaving hers.
To Kit at that moment, this woman, his wife, was the most ravishing beauty he had ever seen, and despite her delicate features and soft olive green eyes and the rosy softness of her full lips, there was a boldness and confidence about her look he well remembered from his prison cell. Her long hair hanging down her back was as straight as a horse’s tail and quite astonishing—a hundred different shades and dazzling lights, ever changing in the sun’s glow. He could not decide if it was wine red, claret or the deepest colour of burgundy.
‘I am honoured to meet you, Miss O’Connell.’
There was no denying the reality of that familiar deep voice. Her face expressionless, Amanda merely inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment.
‘Nay, not O’Connell, Kit. My daughter’s Mrs Claybourne—sadly a widow, but ‘tis not a permanent state, is it, daughter? Though you seem to be in no hurry to be acquiring another husband.’
Amanda looked at her father and her eyes flared. ‘It will be as permanent as I want it to be, Father. It is not that I oppose the institution, but I am in no hurry to relinquish my single state just yet.’
‘Aye, well—’ Henry chuckled in good humour, his nose red from the cold as he winked at Kit ‘—it becomes apparent to me that you’ve an error in your way of thinking. What say you, Kit?’
Kit seemed to digest his words with a certain amount of knowing amusement. The quirk in his lips deepened as he peered at Amanda enquiringly. ‘Perhaps your daughter’s experience of marriage was not to her liking and she is reluctant to repeat it.’
Amanda responded with a feigned smile. ‘My marriage did not last long enough for me to form an opinion of it one way or another, Mr—Benedict.’
Consulting the huge turnip-size watch he carried in his waistcoat, Henry frowned. ‘I must be getting back to the house. I’ve my lawyer coming from Manchester to talk over some affairs. He should be here any time so I’ll be off.’ He glanced at the two of them. ‘Stay and let Kit show you my latest acquisitions, Amanda,’ he said, beginning to walk off, ‘and you can give me your verdict over dinner.’
Watching her father’s retreating figure, Amanda was alone with her husband for the first time in seven months, alarmingly, nerve-rackingly alone. ‘Please tell me I’m not dreaming. I truly thought I would never see you again,’ she said, determined to speak to him with a calm maturity and not to let her anger and confused emotions get the better of her. It was important that she made it absolutely clear to him that she wanted no part of him, that she was not his responsibility. ‘I thought you were dead.’
‘As you see, my dear wife, I am very much alive.’ He cocked a handsome brow as he gave her a lengthy inspection, his teeth gleaming behind a lopsided grin. ‘Even the best-laid plans go astray. My reprieve came when Judd Freeman sailed into Charleston Harbour.’ His expression became serious. ‘I want to thank you for taking care of Sky. You did an excellent job and she speaks of you with affection.’
Mention of the little girl Amanda had missed after their parting caused her heart to stir. ‘I’m surprised she remembers me after all these months. How is she? Better now she has her father, I know.’
‘She is well—and happy with Victoria. Sky is a resilient child; apart from missing me, the removal from everything and everyone familiar to her has left her with no apparent ill effects.’
‘I’m happy to hear that. So what now? What are your plans?’
‘I’ve returned to England to reclaim the life I was raised to live—and to become reacquainted with my wife. I do not expect you to fling yourself into my arms and weep tears of joy on my return, but to hear you say that you are pleased to see me would have a nice ring to it.’
Amanda stiffened. ‘You speak as if you have already decided the course of our future.’
Christopher passed his hazel, dancing eyes over her face, heedful of the wrath gathering pace in her expression. ‘I have. You are my wife, after all.’ His voice was soft, though knowingly chiding.
As dearly as Amanda wished to fling an angry denial in his face, she could not. The truth of it stung, but she was determined she would have it otherwise. ‘In name only. You did me a great service in exchanging marriage vows and so making it possible for me to escape an intolerable situation at the time. I am grateful to you for that, but that is where it must end. I did as you asked and brought your child safely to England. Be content with that and let us put an end to the charade—the pretence that there can ever be anything between us.’
Kit’s hazel eyes were suddenly cold under the dark flare of his brows. ‘Believe me, Amanda, it is no pretence. We made a pact. Part of our bargain was that our marriage would be legal and binding for the time I have left to live—and I fully intend to be around until I’m ninety. On my reprieve I hoped I wasn’t mistaken in you, and that you were the type who would keep a bargain, who wouldn’t forget important promises, whose word when given meant something, which to me was as binding as the marriage vow itself. When I came back to England and thought of you and Sky waiting, I thought I had something to come home to. You promised me that if I succeeded in securing my freedom, you would acknowledge me as your husband and become my wife in truth. All this was in return for my name—my family name, a name I honour.’
‘Then do you set so little worth on your family’s honour that you will hold me to an arrangement made in desperation?’
‘My family’s honour!’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘If you knew anything about my family’s honour, you would close your mouth rather than ask such a damning question.’
Amanda was momentarily taken aback by the ferocity of his statement. She was curious as to where the remark had come from, but quickly thrust it from her mind. ‘I know nothing of your family and care not at all. I am only interested in putting an end to the arrangement we made.’
‘So you do not deny that we made a pact?’
‘No, that I cannot do,’ she lashed out in anger, with a thrust to her chin that told him she was ready to fight. ‘I know I am bound by my word, but it is hard for me.’
‘You belong to me, Amanda.’
‘That