The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(121)

It was primarily a business trip in any event. They did not need dozens of people toadying to them when all Thomas really wanted to do was get home to Brimley before their first child, due in the late autumn, was born.



Elizabeth had found the little ruse regarding their identity most convenient. But now that she was at Ellesmere Manor, she had insisted they tell the truth, for one glimpse of the lovely old white house sparkling by the seaside as they had driven up the tree-lined drive which seemed to stretch for miles had been enough for her to decide that this was to be her new home.



The two loving couples didn't mean to make her feel left out, she knew. But it had to be hard for the Stones, especially with their two small children on the trip as well. She did as much as she could to help, but she always felt an intruder, slightly embarrassed, as if she had seen something she should not, though Clifford treated her with almost excessive deference.



Vanessa had given birth to their second child a several weeks before in Galway, another fine healthy baby boy, and she was blooming. If anything the couple looked as though they were well on their way to creating a third, Elizabeth thought with a blush.



Charlotte and Thomas were even more amorous now that she was rosily pregnant. Elizabeth had caught them several times in most torrid situations, and hardly dared enter a room without knocking and waiting at least five minutes.



Elizabeth again suppressed a twinge of envy for the two lucky young married women who seemed to have found heaven on earth with their most attentive spouses.



Elizabeth strode up the beach, enjoying the exercise, the glorious well-being of body, mind and spirit which only a day by the seaside could give. Feeling as light-hearted as a child, she stooped to take off her shoes and stockings, looking around on the beach to make sure no one saw her.



Her thin pale yellow muslin gown was one of her more sheer ones, cool and comfortable. She noted as she bent to untie her garters that it was almost see-through in the bright sunshine. But what did it matter, when she was alone, and the day so magnificent?



She pattered up and down in the cool sand first, and lifted her skirts up to her knees with one hand as she ventured into the surf. Just as she had thought. The bright sunshine was deceptive. This was the south of Ireland. The water was slightly warm, but not nearly as comfortable as a nice bath at home. Still, it was fun to kick, splash and run, playing tag with the tide as it roared in and the sun dipped lower toward the horizon.



The wind picked up, plastering the gown to her body. Gray storm clouds began to scud across the sky, dark, ominous. That was another thing about the south coast of Ireland-the sudden storms which could spring up out of the Atlantic like evil water sprites.



She looked up the beach again, right and left, this time seeking shelter. She knew the storm was going to descend in less than ten minutes. The house was at least fifteen minutes away up the strand, unless she ran like the wind. But then the tree-lined avenue might pose a danger of its own if this were a thunderstorm.



As if to answer her question, the ground trembled under her feet as the thunder rumbled. A fork of lightning flashed through the sky, causing her to start. She fell into the surf, saturating her clothes up to her waist.



Blast. It was bad enough getting soaked by a storm. Now she was drenched by frigid salt water, and her sopping skirts were only going to slow her down if she tried to make a run for Ellesmere Manor.



Elizabeth caught sight of a movement out of the corner of her eye. As she gazed hard at the cliffs opposite the sea, she thought she saw something dark and bright at the same time. A man?



She blinked again as the first huge drops began to plop down on her. No, a dark hole. A cave. Shelter.



Pushing herself off the sand, she lifted her dripping hem and began to run as fast as her long legs could carry her. The fierce wind tugged at her shawl and broad-brimmed sunbonnet like witch's fingers, sending them sailing up the beach. Elizabeth paused only an instant before pressing on. Losing a couple of garments was the least of her worries.



The lightning flashed jaggedly once again. The accompanying boom from the heavens would have been enough to strike fear into the soul of even the most rational of women. Young and alone as she was, Elizabeth could not help giving a start of fear. With a final spurt she charged the rest of the way up the beach, and crept into the low cave entrance.



She tried to straighten, but found herself pressed up hard against the front of a lean, solid masculine body. She gasped and would have turned to flee, but the deep voice in the darkness soothed, "It's all right. You're safe. I won't hurt you."



"Unhand me!" she said to the pitch darkness, trying to squirm away from the all too male presence.