Deb gasped. ‘What happened?’

‘We had an almighty argument. I was so angry that I would have called him out if I could have done,’ Richard said ruefully, ‘but I soon saw the hard truth in what he said. He gave me back my sense of purpose.’

Deb stared up at the fluffy white cloud that had, for a brief moment, obscured the sun.

‘A sense of purpose…’ she murmured. ‘I have never felt the need for one of those.’

‘No?’ Richard’s voice was soft.

‘No.’ Deb stretched in the warmth as the sun came out again. ‘I live from day to day. It is enough for me to enjoy the peace of Midwinter and a quiet existence.’

‘You do not find it too quiet?’

Deb smiled a little. Nowhere could be too quiet to keep her secret. ‘It used to be a very slow place, but then you came…’

‘And are you sorry?’ Richard’s breath drifted across the soft skin of her throat, making her shiver a little.

‘No…’ Deb turned her head and looked at him. There was an expression in his eyes that made her a little breathless. ‘We grow melancholy with all this confession,’ she said, moving a little away from him and attempting to shake the sand out of her skirts. When she tried to dust it off, it clung stickily to the folds of her riding habit. ‘So that is why ladies are not encouraged to lie in the sand,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I knew that there would be a practical reason.’

Richard laughed. ‘I think it is more to do with the fact that lying down is in itself a rather dangerous occupation,’ he said, ‘particularly when there is a gentleman present as well.’

Deb eyed him cautiously. ‘That also makes a deal of sense, especially if the gentleman in question is a rake.’

Richard was laughing at her. ‘Do you not trust me, then?’

‘Can I?’

‘Of course. I promised that I would never do anything that you did not wish me to.’

‘So you did.’ Deb’s lips curved in a little smile. ‘I do not believe that that sets much of a limit on your actions.’

Richard laughed. ‘You are very honest, Deb.’

‘I cannot see any point in being otherwise,’ Deb admitted, ‘when I was the one who shamelessly propositioned you.’

‘You did not seem so sure last night.’

Deb gave a sigh. ‘Oh, I was sure. I merely had difficulty in admitting it in public.’

The heat of Richard’s gaze scorched her. ‘And now that we are in private?’

Deb’s pulse raced. ‘I am frightened.’

‘So you should be,’ Richard said.

He reached for her; before she had time to react, he had tumbled her into his arms. His lean features had hardened with purpose. This time he did not merely hold her close, but brushed his lips tantalisingly over hers. Deb arched against him and instantly his mouth firmed over hers, exerting pressure against her lips, which parted involuntarily to admit the thrust of his tongue.

Deb was lost. She felt hot and dizzy and adrift. Her breath caught and she instinctively tried to retreat as Richard’s masculinity threatened to overwhelm her. He showed no gentleness now and would not allow her to withdraw. His grip tightened, holding her fast as his mouth ravished hers with slow seduction.

‘I want you to know exactly what it is you have asked for…’ he murmured, when his lips left hers.

Deb made an incoherent little sound as his fingers skimmed her cheek and slid down her neck, gossamer light. Richard bent his head to tease the pulse that beat in the hollow of her throat and Deb’s entire body jerked with response. She felt heavy and languid, every inch of her skin vividly alive to his touch. His hand moved to the high neck of her riding habit, slipping the mother-of-pearl buttons from their loops one by one. His palm brushed the curve of her breast through the material of her gown, and then Deb felt his fingertips within the bodice, stroking lightly over the cotton of her chemise.

She had already been trembling at the unexpected contact but now intense shivers racked her whole body. Richard cupped her breast, taking the soft weight into his palm before continuing the caresses that were driving her to the edge of madness. She had never experienced anything like it. When Neil had touched her, clumsy and selfish in his pursuit of pleasure, she had frozen and felt nothing but revulsion. Under Richard’s gently stroking hands she felt as though she was melting with excitement and desire. And when he brought his lips back to hers, kissing her again with an imperious demand that drew a heated response from her, she forgot everything except the need to satisfy the glorious, painful claims of her own body.

Richard eased away. With his lips a bare inch away from hers he said, ‘As I said once before, anticipation provokes the greatest excitement of all…’

Deb groaned with frustration. She opened her eyes and slowly the blue sky and the puffy white clouds and the shifting leaves came back into focus.

‘Damnation, Richard,’ she said, her temper catching alight, ‘I would like to make you suffer the way that you do me.’

Richard’s smile was wry. ‘I think you will do exactly that, Deborah,’ he said. ‘In fact, you already do. Wanting you and yet not taking you plagues me like nothing I have ever experienced before.’

There was a heated silence.

Deb scrambled to her feet. ‘I can hear the servants coming back to tidy our picnic away,’ she said, her fingers slipping on her buttons in her haste to make her bodice respectable again. ‘I think that I shall walk down to the sea before…’

‘Before?’ Richard asked mockingly.

Deb did not reply. She could not.

The sun was starting to edge lower in the sky although the sand was still hot and threw back a warmth that scorched Deb’s face. She felt shaken and restless and unsatisfied, but beneath that was a still more disturbing and complex emotion. The day, with its confidences and its intimacy, had made her long for much more. She did not want this time together to end.

She was aware of Richard getting to his feet and following her and by the time she reached the water’s edge he was by her side. He took her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers and she could not prevent the little sigh that went through her. Richard felt it and stopped walking. He pulled her around to face him.

‘Deborah? What is the matter?’

Deb looked into his eyes. The sunlight off the sea was blinding and she could not read his expression.

‘I was thinking about you,’ she said honestly. ‘Worrying about you, truth to tell. You said that you joined the Navy because you were bored and it made me think that you must have taken up this spy catching for the same reason. And Ross says that you can be reckless.’

Richard laughed. Carefully, aware of the servants who scurried about tidying up the remnants of their picnic, he drew her into his arms for a brief embrace. This time his touch was gentle and tender, offering comfort, not passion.

‘Do not worry about me, sweetheart. I am always careful.’

Deb shook him slightly. Pressed close to his chest, she could smell the scent of his cologne mingled with the woodsy smell of the pines and the fresh salt air.

‘Must you always be like this?’ she demanded.

Richard’s lips brushed her hair. ‘Like what?’

Deb looked up, her eyes stormy. ‘So careless and nonchalant and…Oh, you know what I mean! You pretend that nothing is of importance to you.’

‘Some things matter to me a great deal,’ Richard said, and again Deb heard the deeper feeling in his voice. He released her and his tone was cool and his own once more.

‘Did you intend to go paddling in the sea or merely to get your riding boots wet?’

Deb looked down. The incoming tide was swirling about her ankles and had already splashed her boots and darkened the hem of her dress with patches of water. She gave an exclamation. ‘Oh! I would love to take my boots off and run through the surf, but-’

‘But?’ Richard queried, his brows quizzically raised.

‘But it is like lying in the sand-quite inappropriate for a lady!’

So saying, Deb bent and unbuttoned the boots, throwing them carelessly up the beach and, with a whoop of sheer excitement, ran into the waves.

The chill shock of the water brought her up short as it swirled about her knees and she gasped aloud. ‘It is so cold!’

Richard was almost doubled up with laughter. ‘Of course it is. Why do you think I did not venture in?’

In reply, Deb scooped up a handful of water and threw it at him. It missed him, but he set off down the beach towards her threateningly and with a squeal Deb ran, splashing through the water, her hair tumbling down her back. The sun was warm on her face, but the water was numbingly cold and her stockinged feet sank into the sand, slowing her progress. In the end she collapsed on a sand dune, out of breath, her skirts soaking and her face flushed.

Richard was still laughing as he joined her. ‘You, Mrs Stratton, are the most complete hoyden!’

‘I was never like this until I met you,’ Deb said pertly, squinting against the sun. ‘You are a bad influence, Lord Richard.’

Richard put a hand down and pulled her negligently to her feet and into his arms. Deb could feel the sea water soaking through her dress and into the crisp linen of his shirt. Her body warmed as it took heat from his and their blood beat together.

‘You were always like this underneath the surface,’ Richard said softly. ‘I knew it as soon as I met you.’

Deb’s breath caught. ‘I was trying to be as cool and composed as Olivia-’

Richard’s voice held a betraying tenderness. ‘Please do not. You have too much life and vitality to repress it beneath convention.’

The sun dipped behind the trees and Deb shivered a little. Her dress was sticking to her damp legs and her toes were cold. Richard tried to release her hands.

‘We should go back,’ he said.