A Dangerous Courtship
A Dangerous Courtship
To Woo an Heiress
Book Three
by
Lindsay Randall
A DANGEROUS COURTSHIP
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"Ms. Randall captures the Gothic ambiance and sends eerie shivers up and down your spine."
~Romantic Times Book Reviews
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Chapter 1
Midsummer's Eve Yorkshire
Julian Masters stood near the crumbling edges of a once-strong ledge, his black gaze centered on a beautiful female far below as she cautiously surveyed the vast and ghostly ruins he'd reluctantly come to call home.
He heard nothing as he watched the young lady pick a path, urging her mount closer to the unroofed and uncared-for abbey. He heard not the ever-present wind, not the sounds of the River Skell that emptied the wide valley spreading out in all directions around them, heard not even the sounds of his own breathing that grew faster with every pace she marked off.
But even though he could not hear,
he felt everything:
felt the lady's fear, the trepidation that clearly churned deep within her daring soul... and felt, most especially of all, her desperation.
Here
,
Julian thought to himself
,
is a female on a mission
.
But for what and for why... and above all
, for whom?
Julian's black gaze narrowed as he leaned slightly forward, having to stretch and straighten his muscular body to get a clearer view as the lady moved directly beneath him, guiding her mount to the very lip of an opened archway far below.
He noted the stylish cut and expensive fabric of her riding habit, the richly dyed plumes of the hat situated atop her inky locks, and he admired the lean, powerful haunches of the pricey horseflesh she sat atop so regally.
No milkmaid was this. No farmer's daughter or rector's ward, but a lady born and bred. Perhaps she was the daughter of a duke or a marquess....
Whatever her blue-blooded lineage, she'd obviously been bold enough to steal away from any chaperon and had clearly chosen to invade Julian's domain.
His gut clenched at that latter thought and at the sight of the lady now sliding down off the saddle of her mare.
She clearly had no clue she was being watched, and just as obviously hoped she
wasn't
being watched. Her violet eyes scanning the area behind her, she looped the reins of her mount about an outcropping of ancient stonework, took a deep breath, then was lost to view as she entered beneath the archway.
Julian silently moved to the opposite side of the small expanse he stood atop just as the lady stepped carefully into the huge inner expanse of the abbey below. There was no ceiling above her, no doors or windowpanes—all had been carted away centuries ago, along with the riches this once-wealthy abbey had housed.
There was now just a lace of intricate, dove-gray wall surrounding her, punctuated by more than a dozen massive pillars and huge arches cracked and crumbling with age.
She came to a standstill, sucking in a breath, those stunning violet eyes growing wide. By degrees, she forced herself to relax, to become accustomed to the vastness of the old abbey, and to the somber grayness of the walls that now held little more than weeds and memories and traces of the mist that would soon creep down in earnest from the heather heights of the far-flung moors.
Julian watched. He waited.
Was she friend or foe? Did her presence here signal danger... or was she merely some lovely sprite of the coming evening who'd lost her way?
Whatever or whoever she was, Julian thought her exquisite. Tall and slender, with midnight hair that could rival any night sky, she was beauty personified. The violet of her eyes matched the color of her superb riding habit, and her hands, encased in what looked to be the softest of kid, were finely shaped.
Julian let forth a long-held breath. It had been an age and longer since he'd espied such comeliness. The past ten months had been filled with little more than mere surviving and dealing with the oppressive silence that banged about in his mind.
This female's unexpected presence was like a burst of wondrous sound in his ears. Though her appearance at the abbey could doubtless pose a threat to him, it proved at the moment to be like a much-needed rain atop the barren desert his soul had become.
Julian wanted to dash down from the ledge he stood atop, wanted to enter into the area where she now stood.
Reason forbade such an action, of course. He had not stayed alive—albeit just a mere shell of the man he once was—for these many months by being careless. He needed to remain hidden and not make any rash decisions.
He backed away from the edge of the ledge, letting the slanting shadows of the setting sun swallow him, content for the moment to just watch the woman from his vantage point.
Her nervousness evident in the sweep of her gaze, in the quick, jerky turn of her head at something—some sound perhaps?—she once again took a steadying breath, then began a search of the abbey's ruins.
She navigated her way to the crumbling wall nearest her and meticulously examined every crook and crevice, getting down on bended knee to dig her gloved hands through the fallen masonry, then reaching high on tiptoe to do the same farther up the wall.
Not finding what she sought, she moved to the next section of the wall, and several minutes later to the next. Julian saw her frown when she came up empty-handed once again. Instead of the lady being deterred, however, her resolution seemed to increase tenfold. With determination, she continued her bottom-to-top search.