The Guardian by Carole Mortimer

Author:Carole Mortimer [Mortimer, Carole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781914336102
Publisher: Carole Mortimer

CHAPTER NINE

“I trust you are enjoying being reunited with your family?” Hunter prompted Paul Harker warmly when the two men met in the study at Lincoln Grange late the following morning. The first half of Hunter’s morning had been taken up with a meeting with Ben Watkins, his estate manager.

Hunter had spent the previous evening alone, both ladies, unsurprisingly, having sent their regrets with regard to joining him for dinner. He learned from the butler that the ladies had instead dined together in the small sitting room adjoining Evie’s bedchamber.

Nor had either of them joined him for breakfast this morning.

Making it more than clear that neither lady had yet forgiven him for his outrageous behavior the previous evening.

Hunter wasn’t sure he would ever forgive himself!

His night had been a series of short naps interspersed with waking up and remaining so for an hour or so at a time. His thoughts, awake or asleep, had all been of Evie and the unexpected depth of the pleasure the two of them had shared.

Hunter was still deeply disturbed this morning, and winced every time he thought of it, by his loss of control and the things he had demanded of Evie. A young lady, despite what Evie had later accused him of, he knew to be completely innocent of physical intimacies. Even if Evie had been so inclined—and Hunter had no reason to think that she had; the mere thought of her with another man caused a return of those possessive emotions from the previous night—Lady Margaret would never have allowed her charge to damage her reputation in that way.

A reputation that Hunter, as Evie had so succinctly reminded him, hadn’t given a second thought to as the two of them made love so loudly, the whole household must have been aware of it.

“I am, Ya Grace,” Paul Harker answered him. “But it’s like that sword in tha story. ’Angin’ over me ’ead it is,” he explained at Hunter’s questioning look. “I’m jus’ waitin’ fa it ta fall.”

“I’m sorry, I do not understand.” Hunter frowned his puzzlement. “What sword of Damocles do you have hanging over your head?”

“Well, Ya Grace—”

“Call me Hunter. Or Lincoln, if you prefer,” he added when the older man looked taken aback by the familiarity. “Or sir,” he accommodated dryly when Harker still looked uncomfortable.

The other man nodded. “Very well, sir. An’ tha sword I’m waiting ta fall is in the form o’ bein’ dragged in front of tha local magistrate after I’ve bin arrested for poachin’ and the kidnappin’ o’ Miss Evie.”

“Ah.” Hunter leaned back in his chair behind the desk. “There will be no dragging you in front of a magistrate nor accusations of poaching,” he assured the older man. “I am fully aware you were all doing what you had to in order to provide for your families. As for the kidnapping of my ward, any repercussions for that must be decided by Miss Gardener.” Although from the way Evie had championed these raggedly dressed and

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