At Last the Rogue Returns (Avenging Lords 1)
But Greystone had no intention of remaining in Cuckfield. A gentleman of such rich experience did not settle in a quaint village. The thrill of city life would lure him into its web and keep him there, trapped in a world of danger and sin.
Even so, he had not left for London yet.
Perhaps spending a few days in his company might help her understand these odd yet thrilling emotions. And she really ought to ensure he kept his promise to his tenants.
Arabella’s constant harping would prove frustrating. But Lydia could cope for a few more weeks. The woman’s threats were empty. Avoiding Lord Randall might be difficult. But what could he do? It was not as though he could force her to marry him.
Chapter Nine
Keen to avoid Lord Randall at all costs, Lydia decided against going downstairs for dinner.
While Arabella, Cecil and the dandy waited for her in the drawing room, she grabbed her blue cloak and snuck out through the servants’ quarters.
If Arabella wanted to be childish, Lydia would play her at her own game.
All three of them were too idle to come looking for her. Still, she headed for the one place they would never dare look. The one place that terrified those people with a fear of the unknown. The one place she always felt at peace. And so, lantern in hand, Lydia followed the woodland path and headed for the sacred stone circle.
The ancient monolithic structure had always held her fascination. Not only had it afforded her somewhere to hide from Arabella these last few years, but the stones possessed a certain mysticism that spoke to the romantic part of her nature.
As soon as Lydia entered the stone circle, she experienced the same prickle of awareness that always rippled down her spine whenever she came near. She moved towards the sacrificial altar, placed her lantern on the ground and laid her hands on the spot where she’d found Lord Greystone snoozing. Though cold and damp to the touch, the energy contained within the giant rock pulsated in her palms. The tingling sensation brought to mind the sight of the tempting rogue sprawled out in feigned slumber.
Even in sleep, Greystone looked devilishly handsome. The man possessed an inner strength that shone like the brightest flame. And like a mindless moth, Lydia could not help but feel an inner tug—a powerful pull of attraction.
The irony of the situation made her chuckle. Having spent two years hating the devil, now she had taken to daydreaming about his lips, the delightful cleft in his chin and those mesmerising green eyes that held her spellbound.
How odd that her feelings for him had changed so dramatically.
How wrong she had been to think the worst of him.
Greystone had acted with genuine benevolence when meeting his tenants. But heavens above, the lord was most certainly not weak. He had whipped the hammer from Mr Roberts’ grip with ease. The strange movements—twists and blocks with his hands and forearms—were unlike anything she had seen before. No doubt it was a skill mastered in an exotic country abroad.
The sudden hoot of an owl dragged Lydia out of her musings.
In a bid to banish all thoughts of her beguiling neighbour, she decided to climb onto the stone table and spend an hour watching the clouds drift across the charcoal sky. With the toe of her boot wedged into a tiny fissure, she was about to haul herself up when noises in the woods caught her attention.
Dead foliage crunched underfoot.
Twigs snapped.
Gathering her courage and her cloak more firmly, she turned and peered into the darkness. The low-lying fog rose like a ghostly mist, shrouding the tree trunks in a white, barely transparent veil. Ada would have a fit of apoplexy at the sight, imagining all the phantasmal creatures of her nightmares.
The owl hooted again.
Wind rustled in the trees.
A faint screech echoed in the distance—the bark of a deer—the shriek of a fox. She could not tell. Lydia wandered over to the outer circle and scanned the hazy black shadows. The crunching underfoot grew louder and was soon accompanied by the thud of footsteps pounding the ground.
Breathless pants filled the air.
Lydia shuffled backwards as a sudden sense of foreboding gripped her by the throat.
A figure appeared through the gloom. The tall man darted into the circle and hid behind a large vertical stone. His head lolled forward as he struggled to catch his breath.
Lydia froze.
The man straightened.
Their eyes locked.