He reached down and picked it up and presented it to her with a formal bow.
“Thank you. I am returning to the inn now. I think you should finish your business with Mr. Jensen, and then we can all ride back to Abbey Thorne Manor.”
“When your grandmother hears what has happened—”
She sighed, and then she smiled. Then she came up to him, stood on her toes, and kissed his lips, gently, without any trace of their earlier passion. “Don’t be so foolish, Valentine.”
And then she walked away.
Marissa could feel his eyes on her, puzzled, angry, probably wishing he could strangle her and hide her body in the long grass. Everything was a mess, but she could hardly blame Valentine for that. She had played a big part in the wild encounter they’d just shared.
She needed time to think, to order her scattered thoughts, and to work out exactly what she was going to do to make things right.
Chapter 9
Moodily, Valentine watched her go. She appeared to be unaffected by what they’d just done. The fact that his body was still agonizingly hard didn’t help. He’d given her a climax she wouldn’t soon forget—he’d wager the first she’d ever had—and now he had to suffer in solitary frustration.
Well, it was his fault. He didn’t blame her for what had happened. He’d let her innocent dimpled smiles and her clear dark gaze, not to mention her luscious figure, confuse and bamboozle him, and before he knew it he was in too deep. And then, despite it being the very last thing he wanted, he’d done the only thing an honorable gentleman could do. He’d gritted his teeth and put his own feelings to one side and had been about to propose to her.
She’d refused him.
He supposed he should be relieved he had been rejected. Instead he was uneasy and not a little depressed. In their world, marriage was really the only option in such circumstances, unless one was a complete bounder, but despite her lack of experience, she’d rejected any thought of marrying him. And that could only be because the thought of tying herself to him was so appalling she’d rather be ruined than contemplate it.
You are a beast, Valentine.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and mooched through the long grass toward his tethered horse.
One thing he knew for sure, if she asked him if
she could touch him again he was definitely going to say no!
By the time Valentine returned to the inn Marissa was settled calmly in the room with Jasper and Lady Bethany. He glanced at her, noting her serene expression, and that her hair was once more neatly fastened up beneath her hat. In every way she was the perfectly innocent young lady. In fact, if he hadn’t seen her with his own eyes, half-naked and gasping with the pleasure he was giving her, he wouldn’t have believed it.
The beautiful minx.
Jasper was explaining how the local constable had visited them for an explanation of the shooting at the church, and Valentine forced himself to concentrate. He found if he turned his back slightly to Marissa and couldn’t see her then it was easier to put her out of his mind. Jasper went on to say he’d had no choice but to tell the truth, the vicar knew anyway, but it seemed as if there was little that could be done unless Von Hautt was found.
“Not much chance of that,” Valentine said. “He’s vanished back into whatever bolt-hole he came out of.”
He then gave them a shortened version of his visit to Mr. Jensen, and what the local historian was able to tell him.
“The Montfitchets died out in the sixteenth century and the castle was sold. Eventually it was abandoned.”
“So no good news,” Jasper muttered, sinking back against his pillows with a dispirited air.
“There was one thing. Jensen knew another of the names on the list. Henry Fortescue. The Fortescues still live in the village of Magna Midcombe…in some form or another.”
“That sounds very mysterious,” Lady Bethany said.
“Well, Mr. Jensen did warn me they are no longer of the same social station as they once were.”
“And Von Hautt?” Jasper demanded. “Has he seen anything of him?”
“No sign of him, yet. But I did warn Jensen to keep this new information to himself. Besides, now the constable is looking for him he’ll be afraid to show his face in Montfitchet again.”
“Baron Von Hautt doesn’t seem to be afraid of much,” Marissa said thoughtfully.
Valentine met her eyes and she stared back, a faint flush in her cheeks. He was glad when there was no return of his wild, reckless lust. Perhaps he had given himself such a fright that he was already cured? He hoped so. He knew one thing for certain, he was going to stick to his roses from now on and leave women to his brother, George.