As she attempted to limp back to the curricle Hunter gripped her gently and scooped her into his arms. The contact between their two bodies was a welcome comfort for Rosa and she held on tightly to his shoulders. As she felt his firm body pressed against hers Rosa glanced up and caught him looking down at her. He could feel it, too, she was sure of it. That need for physical touch, that desire for intimacy. She told herself it was just the shock, the stressful situation they’d been through together, but as he held her a little tighter Rosa wondered if that was all it was.
She half-expected her body to tense, to remember the last time a man had held her so closely, encircled her with his arms, but instead she felt her breathing become more steady and her racing heart slow as she was reassured by Lord Hunter’s touch.
‘You let him go,’ she said as he placed her gently on the seat of the curricle.
‘I gave my word.’
‘You let all of them go.’
Hunter shrugged, but Rosa could see there had been a reason behind his decision. Most men would have inflicted maximum pain on bandits who threatened them and Lord Hunter had disarmed and bested them all without much effort. Rosa wouldn’t have blamed him if there were four dead bodies strewn on the road right now.
‘They would have killed us.’
Hunter chuckled. ‘Bloodthirsty wench, aren’t you?’
Rosa managed to smile.
‘I don’t think they would have killed us,’ Thomas said simply. ‘They were desperate, driven to do something terrible.’
‘How do you know they were desperate?’
‘Did you see the way they were dressed? How gaunt they were? These weren’t successful criminals. And none of them knew how to fight.’
Rosa fell silent, contemplating what Hunter had just said.
‘Circumstances can drive decent human beings to do almost anything,’ Hunter said, looking off into the distance. ‘And I suppose hunger is a real motivator.’
‘Surely there have got to be better ways to make money than stealing, though?’
Hunter shrugged. ‘Of course. But if you’ve been turned away from work, unable to provide food for your family, who knows what you might do.’
He moved away from her and began checking over the horses, murmuring soft words to soothe the skittish animals.
As she sat and watched him Rosa felt a new respect blossoming for the man who had saved her twice now. He might be a little arrogant and unapologetic at times, but there was something more to Lord Hunter. Rosa knew most men would have either panicked at being surrounded by bandits or become so furious they showed no compassion or mercy. It was rather refreshing to see a man think with his heart and not his fists.
‘Where did you learn to fight like that?’ she asked.
‘Here and there.’
‘In India?’
‘Amongst other places.’
She wondered why he was so reticent talking about where he learned to defend himself so effortlessly.
‘Ready?’ he asked as he vaulted back up beside her.
Rosa nodded. Although they had come out unscathed she felt more than a little shaken by the encounter and was keen to be on their way.
Lord Hunter urged the horses forward and soon they were gliding through the country lanes. As Rosa felt her anxiety levels begin to drop she began to relax into the man beside her. It felt good to have even the slight physical contact of thigh against thigh after her months of isolation.
As her thoughts started to run away from her, tentative hopes spiralling out of control, Rosa forced herself to pull away. She’d lost her virtue and her future to one man, she would not lose anything else to another.
‘Tell me about the father,’ Hunter said as he leaned back in his chair.
They were sitting on a terrace in the bustling village of Malcesine, sipping a rather delicious concoction of juices from tall glasses.
Rosa started in surprise at the bluntness of his question and coughed as the juice tickled her throat.
‘The father?’ she asked. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she couldn’t believe he’d asked the question so directly.
Hunter gestured to her abdomen and Rosa quickly laid a protective hand on the growing bump beneath her dress.
‘The father of your baby. Who is he?’
‘No one you would know.’
‘An unsuitable suitor? A dastardly married man? A dashing young footman?’
‘Shall we set about our enquiries?’ Rosa asked.
‘Sit back, relax. You’ve had a stressful morning. We can ask about a passage to England in an hour, nothing will change between then and now.’
‘Except my desire to murder you,’ Rosa muttered under her breath.
‘What was that?’
She smiled sweetly and took another sip of her juice. It really was delicious. She could taste orange and a hint of lemon, but there was something else there, too.
Rosa tried to ignore Hunter’s intense gaze as she drummed her fingers on the table, shifted in her chair and traced the condensation as it ran down the edge of the glass. He didn’t ask the question again, just sat watching her, as if he knew she would crack and tell him eventually.
‘What beautiful trees,’ Rosa said, gesturing to a cluster of short trees near the water’s edge.
Still Hunter said nothing, but that lazy smile she had begun to know well danced across his lips. She wondered how she could find a man so irritating, but still so attractive. It was his eyes, she pondered, you couldn’t stay annoyed at a man whose eyes sparkled and glimmered with amusement all day long.
Again she shifted, trying to focus on watching the locals strolling arm in arm along the waterfront. It was unnerving, having someone watch you for such a length of time, and Rosa felt her composure slowly beginning to slip.
‘Do you come here often?’ she asked, trying to force a response out of Hunter.
‘No.’
‘You should. It truly is a beautiful spot.’
Silence again.
‘Have you always been this annoying?’ she asked with a sigh.
‘My mother tells me I’m persistent.’ Hunter gave a small shrug.
‘That’s a nice way of putting it.’
‘Tell me about the father.’
‘Why do you want to know?’
Hunter shrugged again. ‘I’m interested. And it’ll take your mind off our encounter today.’
That was true, Rosa hadn’t thought of the bandits for a whole five minutes.
‘He’s our neighbour, a boy I grew up with.’
‘Boy?’
Rosa grimaced. ‘Man. He must be twenty-seven or twenty-eight by now, I suppose.’
‘Old enough to behave better.’
‘You don’t know how he behaved.’
‘You’re here in exile in Italy rather than happily married in some country house in England.’
It was the truth, but that didn’t