Ravished

Chapter Four

Crane was sweating. There was a small fire on the library hearth to ward off the chill of the rain-drenched day, but Gideon knew that was not what was causing his steward to mop his brow.

Gideon casually turned a page in the ledger that lay open on the desk. There was little doubt but that he was being systematically cheated. Gideon knew he had no one to blame but himself. He had paid too little attention to the Hardcastle estates here in Upper Biddleton and he had, predictably enough, paid the price.

Gideon glanced down another long column of figures. It appeared that Crane, whom he had hired a year ago to manage his local estates, had raised the rents on many of the cottages. Crane had not bothered to pass the increase along to his employer, however. The steward had most likely pocketed the difference.

It was a common tale, of course, although not for Gideon. Many large landowners, entranced with the joys of life in London, left the management of their estates entirely to their stewards. As long as the money flowed freely, few examined the books closely. It was considered unfashionable to have an exact knowledge of just how much one was worth.

Gideon, however, was not interested in Town life or in being fashionable. In fact, for the past few years he had been interested in little else except his family's lands and he normally kept a very close watch on everything connected with them.

Except in Upper Biddleton.

Gideon had deliberately ignored the Hardcastle estates here in Upper Biddleton. It was difficult to take a great deal of personal interest in a place he hated. It was here that everything had gone wrong six years earlier.

Five years ago when his father had reluctantly turned responsibility for the far-flung Hardcastle estates over to him, Gideon had seized the opportunity. He had deliberately buried himself in the task of running his family's lands.

Work had become the drug he used to dampen the gnawing pain his loss of honor had caused him. He moved regularly from one estate to another, working tirelessly to repair cottages, introduce new farming techniques, and investigate the possibility of increasing mining and fishing production.

He hired only the best stewards and paid them well so that they would not be tempted to cheat. He went over the books personally. He listened to the suggestions and complaints of his tenants. He cultivated the company of engineers and inventors who could teach him new scientific methods for making the lands more productive.

But not here in Upper Biddleton.

As far as Gideon had been concerned, the Hardcastle lands in the vicinity of Upper Biddleton could rot.

By rights he should have sold them off long ago. He would have done so had it not been for the fact that his father would have been upset. The Upper Biddleton lands had belonged to the Earls of Hardcastle for five generations. They were the oldest of the family holdings and had served as the family seat until the scandal.

Gideon knew he could not sell them, so he had done the next best thing. He had ignored them.

As much as he hated these lands, Gideon discovered now that he hated being cheated even more. He looked up with a cool smile and found Crane watching him anxiously. The man was well named, Gideon reflected. Tall, loose-limbed, and thin, Crane looked rather like a large, long-legged bird.

"Well, Crane, it appears everything is quite in order." Gideon closed the ledger, aware of the steward's air of instant relief. "Very neatly kept accounts. Excellent job."

"Thank you, sir." Crane nervously ran a hand over his balding head. He appeared to relax somewhat in his chair. His bright birdlike eyes darted between the ledger and Gideon's scarred jaw. "I do my best, my lord. I only wish you had given us some notice of your arrival so that we could all have been better prepared."

Gideon was well aware that the household had been thrown into chaos by his unexpected appearance. The housekeeper was frantically hiring staff from the village to help her get Blackthorne Hall in order.

Out in the hall Gideon could hear people scurrying up and down the stairs. Provisions were being ordered. Dust covers were being yanked off furniture that had not been used in years. The smell of freshly applied polish seeped into the library.

There was not much that could be done on short notice for the gardens. Bleak and windswept, they reflected the neglect they had received under Crane's stewardship. His mother had always loved her gardens at Blackthorne Hall, Gideon reflected.

"My butler, Owl, who accompanies me everywhere, will be arriving this afternoon. He will take charge of the staff." Gideon watched Crane's eyes flit nervously to his scar. Few people could manage to politely ignore Gideon's ravaged face until they had gotten accustomed to the sight. Many people never got used to it.

Deirdre, for example, had found Gideon's face repulsive. She was not the only one. How unfortunate, people often said, that the earl's second son had not been as handsome and refined as the first.

Everyone had felt extremely sorry for the Earl of Hardcastle when he had lost his firstborn son and found himself obliged to make due with a less than satisfactory heir. Gideon privately doubted that any man could have followed successfully in Randal's footsteps.

Randal had been the ideal son and heir, all any parent could wish for.

Just ask anyone.

Randal had been ten years older than Gideon, their parents' only child for years. His mother had doted on him and the earl had been proud of the handsome, cultivated, athletic, honorable young man who would be the next Earl of Hardcastle.

Randal had been groomed for the earldom from the cradle and he had met everyone's expectations. He had thrived in his role. His friends were legion, his athletic prowess respected, his honor unquestioned.

He had even been a fairly decent older brother, Gideon reflected. Not that he and Randal had been very close. The difference in their ages had resulted in a relationship between them that had resembled that of an uncle and a nephew.

Gideon had struggled to imitate his brother for years until he had finally realized it was impossible to copy Randal's natural style and flair. If Randal had lived, Gideon would no doubt have managed several of the Hardcastle estates for him. Randal had preferred life in Town to the work of overseeing his family lands.

Gideon had grieved when his brother had died. Not that anyone had noticed. Everyone had been too busy consoling his parents, who were inconsolable. Especially his mother. Many had feared the Countess of Hardcastle would never recover from her melancholy. And the earl had made it clear that his remaining heir could never compare to the one he had lost.

Crane cleared his throat. "I beg your pardon, my lord, but will you be staying in the vicinity for more than a few days? The housekeeper is concerned about laying in a proper amount of provisions and hiring sufficient staff, you see."

Gideon leaned back in his chair. He knew very well why Crane was asking about the length of his employer's stay. The steward was undoubtedly wondering if he should postpone a few plans of his own. Gideon did not know yet if Crane was involved with the thieves, as Harriet suspected, but he was taking no chances. He decided to make it plain that there was no point putting off any midnight rendezvous in the cliff caves.

"You may tell her to plan for an extended stay," Gideon said. "It has been some time since I spent any time here in Upper Biddleton and I find the sea air extremely pleasant. I expect I shall spend the spring here."

Crane's mouth fell open. He worked to close it. "The spring, my lord? The entire spring?"

"And perhaps the summer. As I recall, the seaside was always at its best in the summer. Odd. I had not realized how much I missed my family's lands here in Upper Biddleton."

"I see." Crane ran his finger around his high collar. "We are, of course, extremely pleased that you have found time in your busy schedule to visit."

"Plenty of time," Gideon assured him. He sat forward, picked up the ledger, and handed it to Crane. "You may go now. I have spent quite enough of the day on your excellently kept accounts. I find such petty details extremely tiresome."

Crane snatched up the ledger and smiled weakly as he got hastily to his feet. He passed his yellowed handkerchief over his damp forehead one last time. "Yes, my lord. I understand. Very few gentlemen are interested in that sort of thing."

"Precisely. That is why we hire men such as yourself. Good day, Mr. Crane."

"Good day, my lord." Crane hurried to the door and let himself out of the library.

Gideon waited, his gaze on the steady rain outside the window, until the door closed behind the steward. Then he rose and walked around the desk to the small table where the housekeeper had earlier placed a pot of tea.

Gideon poured himself a cup of the strong brew and sipped it slowly. He was in a strange mood and he knew it was because he was back at Hardcastle after so many years of self-imposed exile.

He had made none of the estates his permanent home. He did not feel comfortable at any of them. Instead he moved regularly from one to the other on the pretext of wanting to keep close watch on the lands. But the truth was, he simply needed to keep on the move. He needed to keep busy.

He knew who was to blame for disrupting the relentless round of mind-numbing duties he had assumed five years earlier.

Once again he recalled the scene in the cavern that morning. He pictured Harriet Pomeroy's face when he had withdrawn a fortune in gems from the sack of hidden loot. There had not been so much as a flicker of genuine interest in her eyes, let alone the lust he would have expected. Most women would have been riveted by the sight of a diamond and gold necklace.

Harriet's excitement had been reserved for a chunk of stone that contained a fossil tooth.

And for his kiss, Gideon reminded himself. A wave of heat seized him again, just as it had in the cavern. She had responded to his kiss with the same enthusiasm and sense of wonder that she had exhibited for that damn moldering tooth.

Gideon smiled wryly. He could not decide if he should be flattered or crushed at discovering that he compared favorably with an old fossil.

He started toward the window and paused when he caught sight of himself in the mirror that hung over the hearth. Normally he did not spend much time gazing at his own reflection. It was hardly an edifying sight.

But this afternoon he found himself deeply curious and not a little baffled by just what Harriet saw when she looked at him. Whatever it was, it had not put her off kissing him. And he knew she had not manufactured that sweet, innocent ardor. It had been utterly genuine.

No, for some unfathomable reason, she had not been repulsed by his face. It was his deliberate and ungentle-manly threat to strip her naked and take her there on the floor of the cave that had finally succeeded in making her wary.

Gideon winced at the recollection of his own outrageous behavior. Sometimes he could not help himself. Something within him occasionally drove him to live up to the worst that was expected of him.

Yet in his own way, he had been trying to warn her off, to protect her, although she probably did not comprehend that.

Because he had wanted her. Very badly.

He had probably been a fool to send her into full flight. He should have taken what she had to offer, and the hell with playing the gentleman. No one believed him to be one, so why, after all these years, was he still bothering to play the role in his own graceless fashion?

Gideon could not answer that question to his satisfaction. He called himself a fool one more time and then he forced himself to turn to more important matters. He had a ring of thieves that needed to be apprehended. If he did not attend to the business soon, Harriet would probably try her hand at the job.

At the very least, she would no doubt start nagging him to get on with the job.

The following evening Harriet surveyed the crowd of local country gentry who had gathered for the weekly assembly ball. She and Aunt Effie had been faithfully attending the assemblies for several months now with Felicity in tow. Harriet found them unutterably boring, for the most part.

It had been Aunt Effie's idea to give Felicity as much of a social polish as possible in the event the long-hoped-for invitation to London came from Aunt Adelaide. The local assemblies were the only opportunity provided locally to practice such fine arts as the proper use of the fan. Felicity had a talent for such skills.

Harriet always found her own fan to be a nuisance. It was always in the way.

Tonight's affair was no different from previous such events. Harriet understood the reason Aunt Effie insisted on attending, but she privately was not convinced Felicity was going to pick up a great deal of social polish here in Upper Biddleton.

There was no waltzing, for example. Everyone knew the waltz was now all the rage in London. But here in Upper Biddleton couples were still limited to dancing the cotillion and the quadrille and assorted country dances. The waltz was viewed as shocking by the local ladies of society.

"Quite a good crowd tonight, don't you think?" Aunt Effie fanned herself while she cast an assessing eye around the room. "And Felicity is looking quite the best of them all. She will no doubt dance every dance, as usual."

"No doubt," Harriet agreed. She was seated next to her aunt watching the dancers and she was already sneaking glances at the small watch pinned to her rather staid gown. She tried not to be obvious about it, however. Getting Felicity launched was an all-important task and she was as determined as Aunt Effie to be ready should Felicity's big chance arise.

"I must remind her to exhibit a bit less enthusiasm on the dance floor," Aunt Effie continued with a tiny frown. "One does not show quite so much emotion in Town. It is not done."

"You know how much Felicity enjoys dancing."

"All the same," Aunt Effie said, "she must start practicing a more restrained expression."

Harriet sighed inwardly and hoped the refreshments would be served soon. So far she had not danced once, which was not unusual, and she was looking forward to a break in the monotony. The tea and sandwiches served at the local assemblies were not particularly inspiring, but they did provide a small diversion.

"Gracious, here comes Mr. Venable," Aunt Effie murmured. "Best prepare yourself, my dear."

Harriet glanced up to see an elderly man in an old-fashioned plum-colored jacket and green waistcoat lumbering across the room in her direction. Her eyes narrowed. "He'll want to interrogate me on my recent finds, I suppose."

"You need not chat with him, you know."

"I might as well. If he does not manage to corner me tonight, I shall probably find him waiting for me after church on Sunday. You know how persistent he is." Harriet smiled grimly at Mr. Venable, who smiled just as menacingly in return.

The two were old adversaries. Venable had been an avid fossil collector for years until an unfortunate accident in the caves had given him a fear of the cliff caverns.

He was obliged to limit his collecting to the beach these days and the truth was, he had made no major finds in years. That did not, however, prevent him from trying to convince Harriet that she needed him to oversee and direct her own work. Harriet was on to his tricks. Fossil hunters were a shameless lot and she was constantly on her guard around collectors such as Mr. Venable.

"Good evening, Miss Pomeroy." Mr. Venable bent stiffly over her hand. "I wonder if I might have the pleasure of procuring you a cup of tea."

"Thank you, sir, that would be lovely." Harriet rose to her feet and allowed Venable to lead her over to the refreshment table, where he promptly fetched her a cup of tea.

"How have you been, my dear?" Venable's smile was a trifle oily. "Hard at work in the caves, I presume?"

"I go into them when I have the time." Harriet smiled blandly. "You know how it is, sir. We have a busy household and my fossil collecting opportunities are rare these days."

Venable's eyes glittered. He knew she was lying, of course. This was an old game they had played for some time. "Did I tell you I am thinking of contacting a colleague of mine in the Royal Society about presenting a paper on our local fossils?"

Harriet blinked warily. "No, you did not. Are you planning to present a paper to the Society, sir?"

"I'll admit I have toyed with the notion. Very busy, of course." Venable swallowed a small sandwich in one gulp. "One needs time for that sort of thing."

"And a few interesting and unusual fossils," Harriet retorted coolly. "Have you found anything of note recently?"

"One or two items." Venable rocked on his heels and looked wise. "One or two. And you, my dear?"

Harriet smiled. "Why, nothing at all, I fear. As I said, I have so little time these days for collecting."

Venable was clearly searching for a way to probe further when a hush fell over the room. Harriet glanced around curiously. The music had just stopped, but that did not explain the sudden stillness that gripped the crowd. She realized all eyes were directed toward the door.

"Good God," Venable exclaimed in a startled tone. "It's St. Justin. What the devil is he doing here?"

Harriet's gaze flew to the entrance of the crowded room. Gideon stood there, a great predatory beast of the night that had wandered into a room full of prey.

He was dressed in stark black from his polished Hessians to his expertly tailored black jacket. Only his crisp, white cravat and white pleated shirt afforded relief from the overall impression of darkness. He swept the crowd with cold calculation.

"Haven't seen him in years," Venable muttered. "But I would recognize that hellacious scar anywhere. I had heard he was in the neighborhood. Damned great nerve to just drop in here tonight as if it were quite the ordinary thing."

Harriet got angry. "It is a public gathering," she said tartly. "And he is the largest landholder in the district. If you ask me, the local people should be proud and gratified to have him put in an appearance. Furthermore, I am astonished, sir, that you would make personal remarks about his scar. I do not find it the least offensive."

Venable scowled. "You're too kind, my dear. Comes of being reared as a rector's daughter, I imagine. St Justin's scar is indicative of his black character."

"Sir." Harriet was outraged.

"Forgot you wouldn't know the background. Just as well. The tale don't bear repeating to a young woman."

"Then I trust you will not repeat it," Harriet said repressively.

"Damnation, I believe St Justin is headed this way." Venable drew himself up and straightened his shoulders. "Have no fear, my dear."

"I don't." Harriet glanced across the room again and saw that Gideon was, indeed, making his way through the crowd to where she stood with Mr Venable.

The musicians hurriedly struck up another tune, effectively covering up the shocked murmurs of the crowd. Several young couples, including Felicity and a farmer's son, took to the floor.

Harriet smiled eagerly at Gideon as he made his way toward her. She could not wait to hear how he had dealt with his steward and to find out if he had contacted the Bow Street Runners yet. It was time they discussed plans for apprehending the thieves.

Gideon's dark brows rose at the sight of her cheerful smile. He came to a halt in front of her and inclined his head politely. His eyes gleamed in the light.

"Good evening, Miss Pomeroy. You are looking in very fine form tonight."

"Thank you, sir. It is a pleasure to see you again. I hope you are enjoying your stay in the neighborhood."

"As much as can be expected." Gideon glanced at Venable. "Hello, Venable. It's been a long time."

Venable frowned and edged closer to Harriet. "Evening, my lord. I had not realized you were acquainted with Miss Pomeroy."

"We've met," Gideon murmured. He turned his attention back to Harriet. "I wonder if I might have the pleasure of the next dance, Miss Pomeroy."

Harriet's eyes widened. "I am not an accomplished dancer, my lord."

"Neither am I. I have had very little practice in the past few years."

Harriet relaxed. "Oh, well, then, in that case, I should be delighted. Please excuse me, Mr Venable." She handed him her cup and saucer.

"Now, see here," Venable sputtered as he automatically accepted the dishes. "I am not at all certain your aunt would want you dancing without her permission, Miss Pomeroy."

"Nonsense." Harriet snapped her fan closed and put her fingertips on Gideon's sleeve. "My aunt will be positively thrilled to know that I managed to secure at least one dance this evening." She looked up at Gideon through her lashes. "Shall we, sir?"

"By all means, Miss Pomeroy." Gideon led her away from Venable.

"Where are we going?" Harriet demanded when she saw that he was drawing her toward the corner where the musicians were ensconced.

"To make a request." Gideon halted and leaned over to speak to the man who was wielding a violin. The musician nodded violently.

"At once, my lord. Immediately."

"Excellent. I know I may depend upon you." Gideon straightened and took Harriet's arm.

"Now what?" Harriet asked as he walked onto the floor.

"Now we dance, of course."

At that moment the country dance that the musicians had been playing came to an abrupt halt. The dancers stopped in their places and gazed at each other in bemusement.

A few seconds later the violin sounded a few experimental notes and then plunged into a full-blooded waltz. The rest of the small group of instruments followed.

The young people on the floor sent up a cheer and leaped into action before anyone could countermand St. Justin's orders. Couples swung eagerly into the previously forbidden dance. Their elders frowned sternly. All eyes went once more to Gideon.

Gideon's gaze was on Harriet, awaiting her reaction.

Uncertainty made Harriet's stomach tighten, but a throbbing excitement was pouring through her. She took a deep breath and stepped into Gideon's arms. He smiled with satisfaction and whirled her across the floor.

"I did not think you would back away from a challenge, Miss Pomeroy," Gideon said softly.

"Never, my lord." Harriet laughed. "I vow, you have created quite a stir tonight. Our poor country assemblies will never be the same after this. You have single-handedly brought the waltz to Upper Biddleton."

"I sense that in the minds of some of the good folk here tonight that is equivalent to having brought the plague to the village."

"They'll all survive the arrival of the waltz. And as for me, I am grateful."

"Are you, indeed, Miss Pomeroy?"

"Oh, yes. I have been worried about Felicity not having a chance to practice her steps before she goes to London. Now she will have the opportunity to do so."

"And what about you?" Gideon watched her closely as he spun her into a sweeping turn. "Are you glad of the chance to practice the waltz so that you will be prepared, in the event you get to London?"

"I seriously doubt that I shall dance the waltz in Town. It is Felicity who is to have a Season, not me." Harriet smiled. "But I must say it is a very exciting dance, my lord, and you perform it very well. Of course, I am not surprised to find you are an excellent dancer. You move so soundlessly and so smoothly in every other way."

He lowered his lashes in surprise. "Thank you. As it has been six years since I last attempted to dance, I shall take that as a great compliment." Gideon guided her into another sweeping turn.

Harriet gave herself up to the music, deeply aware of the warmth and strength of Gideon's hand on the small of her back. It brought back heated memories of the kiss in the cave and she knew she was blushing. She prayed that everyone, including Gideon, would attribute the heat in her face to the warmth of the room and the energetic dancing.

"I am surprised to see you here tonight, my lord," Harriet said. She was trying to be blase about the fact that she was actually dancing the waltz. "I would not have thought our little assembly would interest you."

"It does not interest me. You interest me, Miss Pomeroy."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Me, my lord?"

"Yes, you."

"Oh." Then a thought struck her. She smiled brilliantly up at him. "Yes, of course, now I understand."

"Do you?" He gave her a strange glance. "I am certainly glad one of us does."

She ignored that cryptic comment as her brain finally took charge of her spinning emotions. "You no doubt want to inform me about your plans to catch the thieves. You knew it would be difficult to arrange another private meeting without causing comment, so you came here tonight in hopes of being able to speak to me under the guise of socializing."

"I congratulate you on your logical turn of mind, Miss Pomeroy."

"Well?" She looked up at him expectantly.

"Well, what?"

She gave a small, exasperated exclamation. "Tell me about your plans. Is everything arranged? Have you contacted the Bow Street Runners? How have you decided to handle Mr. Crane? I wish to know all the details."

Gideon eyed her for a few seconds. Then his mouth curved in a faint smile. "I have not revealed my true intentions to Crane thus far and I have sent word to Bow Street. The arrangements for removing the thieves from your caves are under way, Miss Pomeroy. I trust you will be satisfied with my performance."

"I am certain I shall be quite satisfied. Tell me the whole of it. What, precisely, will happen now?"

"You must leave that to me, Miss Pomeroy."

"But I wish to know how it will all work, sir," she said impatiently.

"You must trust me, Miss Pomeroy."

"That is not the point, my lord."

"I fear it is very much the point." Gideon's smile was unreadable. "Do you think you can manage to do that, Miss Pomeroy?"

"Do what? Trust you? Of course. I know you will do what you have promised to do. But I wish to know the details, sir. I am involved in this matter. Those are my caves, after all."

"Your caves?"

Harriet flushed and chewed briefly on her lower lip. "Very well, perhaps they do not exactly belong to me, but I am not about to let someone such as Mr. Venable claim them, either."

"Calm yourself, Miss Pomeroy. You have my word that you will have exclusive rights to dig up any old bones that may lie in those caves."

She smiled tentatively. "I have your word of honor on that, my lord?"

His tawny gold eyes glittered behind his dark lashes as he studied her upturned face. "Yes, Miss Pomeroy," Gideon said softly. "For what it's worth, you have my word of honor."

Harriet was delighted. "Thank you, sir. That takes a certain weight off my mind, I assure you. All the same, I really would like to know what you have planned."

"You must possess yourself in patience, Miss Pomeroy."

The music came to a halt with a flourish. Harriet was irritated because she wanted to argue her case further. "My lord, I believe I could be very helpful in this matter," she said urgently. "I know those caves better than anyone else and your man from Bow Street will surely want to discuss the layout of the caverns with me."

Gideon took her arm and interrupted her coolly. "I believe you will want to introduce me to your aunt and your sister now, Miss Pomeroy."

"I will?"

"Yes. I think it is appropriate under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Harriet saw the look of anxious expectation on Aunt Effie's face from halfway across the room.

"We have just danced the waltz, Miss Pomeroy. People will talk."

"Rubbish. I do not care what anyone says. You cannot possibly blacken my reputation by merely dancing once with me."

"You would be astonished at how easily I can destroy a woman's reputation, Miss Pomeroy. Let us undo what damage we can tonight by means of a proper introduction to your family."

Harriet groaned. "Oh, very well. But I would really much rather discuss the plans for catching the thieves."

Gideon smiled his brief, fleeting smile. "Yes, I imagine you would. But, as I said, you must trust me to deal with the matter."

Harriet awoke the next morning shortly before dawn. She lay in bed for a while, reliving the events of the previous evening. Aunt Effie had been both thrilled and horrified to find herself being introduced to the notorious Viscount St. Justin.

Effie had handled the situation with admirable poise, however. She had betrayed very little of her flustered condition. Felicity had been her usual straightforward, pragmatic self. She had accepted the introduction with charming grace.

Gideon had managed to compound the effects of his outrageous behavior at the ball by leaving as soon as he had met Effie and Felicity.

The moment he disappeared into the night the entire room full of people had erupted into excited conversation. Harriet was well aware that she had been the focus of several pairs of curious eyes.

On the way home in the carriage Effie had not stopped talking about the incident.

"The local people are quite right to call him a strange and unpredictable man," she said for the hundredth time. "Just imagine ordering up a waltz without so much as a by-your-leave and then singling you out, Harriet. Thank heaven he did not choose Felicity. She cannot afford to have her name coupled with his before she goes to London."

"Actually," Felicity said, "I was quite grateful to him. Now that the waltz has been introduced to Upper Biddleton we shall no doubt be able to dance it again at the next assembly. And it is all the rage in London, Aunt Effie. You told me so yourself."

"That is beside the point," Effie retorted. "I am convinced Mrs. Stone and the others are correct. The man is dangerous. He even looks dangerous. You are both to be extremely cautious around him, do you understand?"

Harriet yawned. "What is this, Aunt Effie? Some concern for my reputation at last? I thought you felt I was safe due to my advanced years."

"Something tells me no woman is safe in that man's presence," Effie said darkly. "Mrs. Stone calls him a beast and I am not at all certain but that she may be right."

"I felt quite safe with him," Harriet declared. "Even when we danced the waltz."

But she had lied to her aunt, Harriet knew. She had not felt safe at all in Gideon's arms. Just the opposite, in fact. And she had enjoyed every dangerous thrill that had shot through her when he had whirled her about on the dance floor.

Harriet knew she was not going to go back to sleep and it was much too early for anyone else in the household to be awake. She pushed back the covers and got out of bed. She would get dressed and go downstairs to make herself a pot of tea. Mrs. Stone would probably not approve. She was a great believer in ladies maintaining their standards, but that was too bad. Harriet had no intention of waking the housekeeper at this early hour and she was quite able to prepare her own tea.

The bedchamber was chilled from the long, cold night. Harriet dressed quickly in a faded, long-sleeved wool gown and pinned a muslin cap on her springy hair.

She passed the window on her way to the door and automatically glanced out to observe the dawn light as it struck the sea. The tide was out and it would have been an excellent hour to hunt fossils. It was too bad Gideon had forbidden her to go near the caves until after the thieves were caught.

Out of the corner of her eye Harriet saw a figure on the beach below her window. She halted abruptly and leaned out to get a better look. Perhaps it was a fisherman, she reassured herself.

But a moment later the figure scuttled, back into view for a few seconds and Harriet knew at once it was no fisherman. The man was wearing a coat and a rather squashed-looking, low-crowned hat pulled down over his ears. She could not see his face, but she saw at once that the man was making his way along the beach toward the entrance to her precious cave.

Harriet did not hesitate. This was an alarming occurrence and needed immediate investigation. The man below was obviously not one of the thieves. They appeared only in the middle of the night.

That left one other all too likely possibility. The man was very likely another fossil collector who was attempting to sneak into her caves.

Harriet knew she had to get down to the beach at once to see what the intruder intended.