"What can be done, Benjamin?" she asked softly.
Carefully, he peered both ways down the muddy road. "Best for me to go for help, Miss Juliana. Axle done for." He looked at her from under his thick, sandy eyebrows. "Be you all right? Young Ben will stand guard … Lad!" he bellowed and Ben ran forward, his face as red as the thatch of hair sticking out in a profusion of cowlicks all over his small head. "Be you on watch while I go for help." He placed a heavy hand on his son's slim shoulder. "Can you do it, lad?"
"I ain't afrait!" Young Ben lifted his chin, gazing solemnly at his father. "You go on, Pa. I'll take care of Miss Juliana."
Although the throbbing at her temple caused her to feel light-headed and nausea sat heavily in her stomach, Juliana forced a smile, placing a caressing hand on ten-year-old Ben's unruly curls. "Yes, you must go, Benjamin. We shall be fine here until you return."
Benjamin nodded, swinging himself upon the untethered chestnut, and cast a last stern look at his son before turning and galloping down the road.
Ben looked up at her, his toothy grin causing her to feel a great rush of affection. "This be a great adventure, ain't it, Miss Juliana?"
She hugged his thin, wiry body to her side, then glanced to where Sophia sat fanning herself, and finally down into Ben's excited face. The peacefulness of Wentworth Park seemed very far away and, at this moment, very, very dear indeed.
The sun was just beginning to invade the small square of shade where they rested when a glistening curricle drawn by a pair of matched grays swept past them. Juliana lifted her hand, shading her eyes, to watch the driver bring the team to a neat halt, expertly turn them, and drive back to where they sat. Whoever he was, Juliana couldn't help but admire his superb driving skill.
Ben, however, was not lost in admiration. He leapt to his feet, taking a firm grip on the large stick with which he had been idly digging pictures in the mud.
She rose to put her hands on his rigidly held shoulders. "You needn't worry, Ben. These gentlemen appear quite harmless."
The gentlemen looked just as occupants of such a racy curricle ought. The shorter of the two walked toward them, his black Hessians gleaming, his bottlegreen jacket fitting his wide shoulders to perfection.
Pausing beside his horses, the driver's face was lost in the glare of the sun. "Here, lad, attend to the team!" he demanded.
His voice held such a note of authority that Ben did not hesitate for a moment. He ran to do as he was bidden, the stick forgotten in the dirt.
Juliana knew someone had to hold the horses, but the driver's autocratic manner struck her as a bit arrogant. He has no right to order Ben! He may be rescuing us, but he needn't be so overbearing. She took a sudden dislike to the faceless stranger and thrust up her chin. Making a point of ignoring the driver, she turned back to her aunt.
The shorter gentleman with the wide, cheerful face and the light, fluffy brown curls had knelt beside Aunt Sophia.
"May I be of service?" he asked, his hazel eyes round with concern. "I'm Lord Freddie Liscombe, and this is the Marquis of Aubrey," he said, glancing over his shoulder at the driver, who finally relinquished the reins to Ben.
Although she pretended to pay the Marquis of Aubrey no heed, she did steal a peek from beneath her lashes to watch him walk toward them, but all she could see were his Hessians, only slightly smudged from the muddy road.
Finally she decided to acknowledge him. Tilting her head, she slowly looked up and her eyes widened. She had never been a great worshiper of male beauty, not even as a very young girl, but the marquis possessed a face so arresting that he could be called beautiful in a uniquely male way. She felt a confusing blend of fear and delight that so startled her, she literally ceased breathing for an instant. He was above medium height, his dark chocolate velvet jacket fit smoothly over broad shoulders, revealing hard, flowing muscles that rippled across his back when he bent over her aunt. His burnished head turned a dozen shades of gold in the sunlight, his long, firm mouth turned up at the corners, a dimple appeared in his chin, and his heavy cornflower blue eyes, spaciously set, looked straight into hers.
Good God, she was staring at him! The throbbing at her temples increased so that she had to close her eyes for a moment against the bright sun as the terrible dizziness assailed her again. A pair of light, strong hands steadied her, but released her when her lids flew open and she stepped away.
"Are you all right?" asked the Marquis of Aubrey, his wonderful face radiating sympathy.
Juliana only nodded, confused by this show of concern after his autocratic commands only a moment before, attempting to recover her wits and find her tongue, which seemed to be tied. She stood like a ninny staring at the marquis.
"I'm Mrs. Sophia Thatcher and this is my niece, Juliana. As you can see, we've suffered a mishap."
Juliana went limp with relief when Sophia's voice broke the silence. Both gentlemen performed neat bows and, the spell broken, Juliana took a shuddering breath as the Marquis of Aubrey turned to their ruined carriage.
Lord Liscombe shook his head. "By jove, it's really done for!" he said with a grimace before joining in a swift inspection of the broken axle wheel and their once fashionable coach now resting deeply in the mire.
Juliana's head started to ache again, deep throbs pounding up the back of her neck. Feeling too weak to stand and face the marquis as she longed to-on equal territory-she sunk slowly to the ground.
Her usually pleasant countenance creased in a small frown, Sophia reached out to touch Juliana's hands. "Are you all right, love? You look pale."
"I'm quite well," she murmured softly, disciplining herself not to show in any way that the pain throbbing in her head was nearly unbearable. "I only wish Benjamin would hurry."
Her words were caught by the marquis. "Your coachman has gone to the Blue Boar for help?"
"If that is the nearest inn, yes, my lord, he has," she answered with a firmness she just mustered, priding herself on how smoothly she rose to her feet.
She lifted her chin, unaware that her three companions could plainly see the discomfort marring her flushed face. The marquis's eyes remained fixed on her and her spine tingled when his gaze flickered over her, so she held her shoulders unnaturally straight, concentrating on the pain throbbing at her temples, willing it to go away. Instead the darkening world pitched and spun, and for the first time in her life she fell into a dead faint.
Juliana felt warm and very secure. She attempted to open her eyes, but failed for her lids were too heavy. Rather desperately she fought the languishing stupor of her body, to concentrate on bringing herself into a more stable orbit. Her lashes lifted slowly and her world was filled with deep, rich chocolate velvet much like the jacket the marquis had been wearing. Tilting her head just the tiniest bit, her world expanded to include cornflower blue.
"How beautiful your eyes are," she heard herself whisper. His thick, silky lashes lazily flickered and his eyes seemed to expand and lighten, but she closed her lids against their brilliance, for the dark mist was again swirling at the edges of her consciousness. Tucking her cheek back onto that one certain spot felt so right, she sighed deeply and once more let the mist of darkness envelop her.
Chapter 2
Surprise stilled Dominic's hand as he reached for the half-empty tankard of ale. Surprise at the depth of feeling he'd experienced carrying Juliana when he had held countless beautiful women in his arms and felt nothing. When she had opened her eyes, whispered to him, and then snuggled again trustingly into his arms, he had been shocked by the rush of tenderness he'd felt. Women usually were not so trusting around the Marquis of Aubrey. Arch, yes. Coy, definitely. Calculating. He had learned to deal with women who always seemed to want something from him. But this was different. This young woman had not expected anything, instead she had given her trust to a stranger.
Dominic wondered at his reluctance to move away after laying her on the feather quilt in the bright chamber upstairs. Finally he had removed his arms and backed slowly until he reached the door, wanting her to open those luminous green eyes again-to be sure that the trusting innocence would still be there. But Mrs. Forbes, the innkeeper's grandmother, had firmly shut the door on him. He'd walked down to the taproom, careful to stay within call should he be needed.