The Many Sins of Cris De Feaux (Lords of Disgrace 3)

A raking hunter emerged from the gate further up the lane. There was no one at its head, but when Cris whistled and walked out on to the track it trotted down and butted him in the chest with its big head. ‘This is Jackdaw.’

‘Because he is black?’

‘And wicked and thieving,’ Cris said, as he swung up into the saddle. ‘Stop that.’ The black tossed its head as though in denial that it had even thought about taking a chunk out of Gabriel Stone’s bay. ‘You are old enough to know better.’

‘But not very old.’ Tamsyn edged Foxy closer and Jackdaw snorted and rolled his eye.

‘He’s just four.’

‘And not English, I think.’ There was something about the powerful rump and the set of the animal’s head that seemed different.

‘Danish,’ Cris said shortly and moved off after the sedan chair.

‘Denmark?’ Tamsyn said out loud. She had never encountered anything Danish before.

‘He shipped him back.’ Gabriel Stone brought his bay alongside Foxy. ‘It’s a nice beast and worth the effort and the cost.’

‘You mean Cris…Mr Defoe, has been to Denmark?’

‘Oh, yes, last mission he was on.’ Gabriel said it vaguely, as though he was not creating even more mysteries. She had a very strong suspicion he knew exactly what he was doing. Stirring the pot, Mr Stone? Cris reined in and joined them again, presumably wary of what his friend was saying about him.

‘Mission?’ she asked, obediently playing Gabriel’s game.

‘Diplomatic.’ Cris’s expression did not change, but Jackdaw sidled across the lane uneasily. ‘I occasionally help out.’ He managed to make it sound as though he handed the drinks round at embassy parties.

‘Help who out? The government, you mean?’ She dropped her hands without meaning to and Foxy broke into a trot, jolting her inelegantly for half-a-dozen strides until she got control.

‘The Foreign Office. When they want someone who isn’t, shall we say, a fixture in the diplomatic circles I drop in on…situations. Help out.’

Do you indeed? She was beginning to wonder just who this man was. The government used him as a part-time diplomat, and, she suspected, in tricky circumstances. He was tough, fit and capable of disarming the dangerous-looking Mr Stone, he could afford to import horses from the Continent and he had time to spend on a little local difficulty in a remote Devon hamlet.

Tamsyn tried to think of a question that did not sound like the bare-faced curiosity that it was. The trouble was, she found the mystery only added to the attraction, which was a dangerous state to be in.

Infatuated, she told herself severely. That’s what you are. You should settle for a nice, ordinary man, like Dr Tregarth. He is pleasant-looking, intelligent, hard-working, respectable, stands up for himself…

He might even be willing to accept her the way she was. At least he would understand it was not her fault.

She lectured herself all the way up to Stibworthy and had just reached the conclusion that she did not fall for men like the doctor because they obviously did not find her attractive enough to show any interest, when the little procession met him striding down the street.

‘Why are you blushing like a rose?’ Cris enquired, his voice carrying to Gabriel Stone, who twisted in the saddle, grinned at her and only made things worse.

‘Shh! Good day, Dr Tregarth.’ She waved, but he was by the sedan chair, smiling and nodding approval to Aunt Rosie while the chairmen set down their burden and stretched.

‘Good chap, but too staid for you.’ Cris moderated his voice, just a little, but he was still speaking loudly enough for Mr Stone to hear, judging by his expression. ‘If he doesn’t notice that you blush when you catch sight of him, well, one despairs of the fellow.’

‘I am not blushing over Doc…over anyone. I am just a little windblown, that is all. I should have worn a veil.’

‘Do you own one?’ Cris enquired, all innocence.

Tamsyn brought Foxy tight up against Jackdaw and muttered, ‘Do stop teasing me, you provoking man.’

‘But I like it when you blush. It makes me wonder what I must do to provoke that pretty colour when we are alone.’ His voice had dropped to an intimate murmur. ‘Ah, so that’s the trick

of it,’ he said, his eyes laughing at her as the heat flooded her cheeks.

She was saved from having to reply by the chairmen lifting their burden again and the party setting off once more.

‘Where are we going?’ Gabriel Stone reined back to ask.