Fury and humiliation engulfed her. It made her wrap her arms tighter about herself and snap out, albeit it tremulously, ‘I asked you who you are and what you are doing here.’
The raven-haired man shoved himself away from the ancient oak then and walked the few paces to the pond. ‘Are you intending to stay in there?’ That deep, sardonic voice caused Rebecca to involuntarily shiver and take a step back. She attempted to dart a glance past him, desperate to see Lucy’s continuing safety from his companion.
‘I asked you who you are.’ She challenged in a fierce shaky whisper.
Her simultaneous fear and courage erased his amusement. ‘Well, why don’t you come here and perhaps I’ll tell you,’ he cut soothingly into her unsteady speech. He extended a lean, tanned hand towards her. When she still didn’t move but merely stared at it, he beckoned peremptorily.
Remaining there like a fool to defy him was, she knew, ridiculous. She forced her boneless legs forward but chose to ignore his offer of aid. She scrambled up the bank, slithering a little as her sodden skirt hampered her, and belatedly, gratefully, sought his hand, preventing herself sliding back.
A warm, firm grip pulled her to within a few inches of his tall, spare body and she could feel the heat of him warming her chilled form. Without meeting his eyes, she quickly disengaged her hand, mumbled her thanks and then felt churlish and cowardly. Besides, she wanted so much to look at him more closely. She drew a silent, steeling breath and forced herself to slowly raise her damp gold head in a semblance of pride and confidence.
Turquoise eyes fused with dark brown for a timeless moment. She wasn’t mistaken. He was as exceptionally handsome as she had thought. No warts, moles or pockmarks to mar the lightly bronzed angular planes of his face. His hair was as glossy and pitch black as it had seemed when he lounged beneath the shading oak. A small crescent-shaped scar by one thick dark brow was an imperfection yet it only served to enhance the beautifully piratical air about him.
‘Thank you for your aid, sir,’ she said, striving to casually modulate her tone. But she knew she had failed miserably when one side of his sculpted, narrow mouth lifted in a vestige of returning amusement.
‘Do you often wade fully clothed into woodland ponds? Is it a local custom of sorts?’ he teased, the humour in his eyes strengthening as they roved her damp and tousled dark honey hair.
Rebecca raised an impulsive hand to her unruly locks, realising just what a fright she must look. She stepped away from him hurriedly, aware that his outstanding attractiveness made her feel even more bedraggled than she probably was. She averted her crimsoning face from sepia-coloured eyes knowing she could do nothing to conceal her accentuated silhouette from his heavy-lidded scrutiny. She hastened towards Lucy who stood idly sliding bold glances at his companion from beneath moisture-spiky lashes.
Rebecca hastily grabbed up Lucy’s carpet bag from the ground and with shaking fingers pulled the clasp apart. She grabbed at the dry garments within and brusquely shook them out. She thrust a plain lemon day dress at Lucy, snapping in a vehement undertone, ‘Hold this in front of you.’ The undiluted anger in Rebecca’s voice and the icy sparks in her turquoise eyes made Lucy wordlessly do as she was bid. Removing a dress in the same way from her own carpet bag, Rebecca finally spun back towards the two men. She gulped another calming breath and even managed a wavering smile.
‘Thank you once more for your aid. But if you would now be so kind…my pupil and I need to dry ourselves after our mishap. I’m sure you wouldn’t want either of us to take a chill…’ Her voice trailed off as she watched a tanned, squarish jaw set as he realised he was being summarily dismissed.
‘I thought you were keen to know who I am,’ he drily reminded her.
‘It matters little,’ Rebecca rebuffed him, nevertheless managing a small, conciliatory smile. She was quite astonishing herself, accomplishing this sham composure. It disintegrated with equally astounding ease as he commenced strolling towards them. She spontaneously stepped protectively in front of Lucy, and her dress, gripped in white-knuckled hands, was raised a little.
He hesitated and seemed momentarily undecided before changing direction, gathering the reins of his grazing horse, and mounting the beast in a swift athletic movement. He sat thoughtfully considering her before suggesting soothingly, ‘Perhaps you’d care to tell me who you are then, as you appear to have lost interest in my identity…Miss…?’
‘Certainly, sir,’ Rebecca agreed, compelling herself to sound polite and confident. ‘My name is Nash…Rebecca Nash. And this is Miss Mayhew…a pupil from my school at the Summer House Lodge. We are returning there directly. It is barely a few minutes’ walk away,’ she lied for good measure, ‘on Lord Ramsden’s estate.’
His eyes narrowed instantly at this information and she caught the younger man darting a swift, searching look at him.
‘I should warn you,’ Rebecca informed helpfully, when he made no move to depart, ‘that Lord Ramsden prosecutes all trespassers. He has a reputation for dealing harshly with all such. You really should leave now before his gamekeeper happens upon you.’ She seized upon the idea at once, a relieved breath breaking from between her bloodless, trembling lips. ‘The gamekeeper…keepers, for there are several,’ she lied again, ‘scour these woods ceaselessly for poachers…’
His spontaneous smile at this local news made her blush hotly. She was sure he was about to call her bluff.
‘You think I’m a poacher?’ he enquired softly. ‘Do I look like a poacher?’
‘It matters not how you look,’ she countered sharply. ‘Williams is apt to shoot first and examine you later.’
‘Williams?’ he mildly queried.
‘Lord Ramsden’s gamekeeper,’ she explained. ‘Please, sir. If you and your companion would be so kind…’ She snatched a searching glance at Lucy who was shivering and now looking as though one of her dejected moods was taking a grip. ‘My pupil needs to dry herself and you should make haste to depart. Believe me when I say if you are discovered you will be prosecuted.’
‘And what do you suppose…’ he paused ‘…Lord Ramsden’s reaction is to you trespassing in his pond?’ he persisted silkily, as he controlled his restless mount with a cursory flick of the hand.
Rebecca gave a short, dismissive laugh. ‘Lord Ramsden and I are well acquainted,’ she informed him with a deal of satisfaction. ‘I have no fears on that score.’
This confident declaration drew an amused snort from the younger man. He appeared about to speak but a swift, silencing gesture from his darker companion made him simply shake his head disbelievingly and examine the leaves that sighed above him.
‘Lord Ramsden doesn’t frighten you?’ the dark man suggested with a half-smile as he nudged the horse slowly forward.
‘Not at all,’ Rebecca confirmed, shifting slowly to keep him in sight and Lucy positioned behind her, as he approached. She sensed a new, disturbing undercurrent to their exchange.
‘Good,’ was his brief, dulcet response as he reined in close and looked down at her in the same thoughtfully amused way.
He extended a dark hand towards her in the gesture of one wishing to shake hands before departing. Clutching her shielding garment in front of her in one, she politely offered her other pale, slender hand to him.
‘Luke Trelawney and my brother Ross…at your service,’ he introduced them both as his warm fingers retained her cool ones in his firm grip. A dark thumb traced the delicate skin of her palm in a careful, camouflaged caress as he reluctantly relinquished it.
‘Mr. Trelawney…’ Rebecca courteously acknowledged, with a small dip of her head, as his horse passed her. She nodded civilly to Ross also as he followed Luke.
Rebecca’s eyes stayed unwaveringly with them until they had