Runaway Lady

He gradually sensed she was nolonger completely asleep, but norwas she awake. She was lost in adreaming state between the two.

Her movements had the languor of sleep, but there was no doubt what she wanted when she searched for his mouth with hers. He took her head between his hands, meaning to ease her gently away, but in the end he was too weak-willed to do anything except help her find her target. So she kissed him again. Every part of his body thundered with arousal, but he allowed himself to respond with only the tenderest touch of his mouth against hers. He wanted to taste her. But she thought she was lying with her husband.

‘Saskia?’ he murmured, his voice tight with strain. Perhaps he could wake her just enough to get her safely back to her half of the cloak.

‘Harry?’

He went absolutely still. Her voice had been low and husky, but he was certain she’d called him by his real name. Surely her Dutch husband hadn’t also been called Harry?

Claire Thornton grew up in the Sussex countryside. Her love of history began as a child, when she imagined Roman soldiers marching along the route of the old Roman Road which runs straight through her village high street. It is also a family legend that her ancestors were involved in smuggling, which further stimulated her interest in how people lived in the past. She loves immersing herself in the historical background for her books, and taught herself bobbin lacemaking as part of her research. She enjoys handicrafts of all kinds, and regularly has her best ideas when she is working on a piece of cross-stitch. Claire has also written under the name of Alice Thornton. She can be contacted via her website at www.clairethornton.com.

RUNAWAY LADY features characters you will have already met in Claire Thornton’s City of Flames trilogy.

Novels by the same author:

RAVEN’S HONOUR

GIFFORD’S LADY MY LORD FOOTMAN

and in the City of Flames series:

THE DEFIANT MISTRESS

THE ABDUCTED HEIRESS THE VAGABOND DUCHESS

Claire Thornton

Chapter One

Cornwall—Sunday, 9 June 1667

The sound of footsteps on the gravel path six feet above her head was Saskia van Buren’s first warning that she and Anne were not the only ones taking advantage of the warm evening. Both women fell silent as the murmur of conversation grew louder. A few seconds later Saskia recognised the voices of her aunt and the man who’d been introduced to her as her aunt’s secretary. They were speaking softly, but the urgency in her aunt’s low voice demanded attention.

‘Now Saskia’s here we don’t have to wait. They can both die before the twenty-second of June,’ said Lady Abergrave.

‘It might be more discreet to continue with our original plan, my lady?’ Tancock suggested. ‘Wait for Mistress van Buren to return to Amsterdam before we act?’

‘No, this way is more certain. There is always the risk that Saskia might challenge any will Benjamin makes in my favour. It’s best for her to have a fatal accident now.’ Lady Abergrave’s voice was chillingly practical. ‘She said herself she means to revisit her childhood haunts. No one will be surprised if she falls on the rocks. And no one will be surprised if Benjamin, grief-stricken at the death of his sister, also has an accident. Such tragedies are not uncommon. Grief makes people careless of themselves.’

Shock held Saskia motionless as she listened to her aunt plot her death. Surely she’d misheard. But she saw horror dawning in Anne’s eyes, and knew she hadn’t misunderstood. She gripped the younger woman’s arm in warning and emphatically mouthed the word quiet. Anne nodded jerkily.

As long as they made no sound they should remain undetected by Lady Abergrave and Tancock. Trevithick House was built on an area of high ground that sloped steeply down to the river. The house and gardens were surrounded by a retaining wall of Cornish slatestone. Inside, the garden the wall was only four feet high, but it plunged down more than twelve feet on the side facing the river. Saskia and Anne were sitting on a bench cut into the foot of the wall on the river side. They’d only be discovered if Lady Abergrave or Tancock leaned over the wall to look straight down.

‘Particularly when the bereaved man already has a broken leg,’ Tancock said drily. ‘Sir Benjamin’s death will take a little more planning than Saskia’s, but it won’t be difficult. You will receive much sympathy from your friends at the loss of your only remaining blood relatives.’

Beneath her hand Saskia felt Anne begin to shake uncontrollably. She tightened her grip, willing Anne to remain silent. Her own emotions were already locked deep inside her in that place she sent them when disaster threatened.

‘Edmund’s death was a disaster.’ Lady Abergrave’s voice hardened with bitterness as she spoke of her dead son. ‘But these are necessary. You must do it yourself.’

‘Of course. There will be no mistakes.’

‘Good.’ Lady Abergrave’s tone softened into something almost coquettish. ‘You will be well rewarded… my friend.’

‘My sweet lady. My only ambition is to see you restored to your rightful position.’