‘Or I shall be obliged to demonstrate that I have not forgotten the manoeuvre you taught me to deal with libertines. It involves a sharp elbow in the stomach.’

Cory laughed and put one hand against the stable wall, trapping her with his body. ‘You would not do that to me, Rae. You like me too much.’

‘I can think of no one who deserves it more,’ Rachel said steadily. ‘You have behaved like the veriest rake towards me ever since you arrived in Midwinter.’

Cory drew in a sharp breath. This was upping the stakes indeed and he was happy to follow where she led. ‘Behaving like a rake,’ he said. ‘Do you think so?’ He paused for a heartbeat. ‘I can do far better than this, I assure you.’

‘I do not doubt it.’ There were sparks of gold reflected in Rachel’s hazel eyes, sparks of anger, amusement and challenge. ‘You will not practise on me, however.’

Cory raised a hand and moved the tendrils of hair gently away from her neck. Her skin was smooth and warm. He felt the tiny shiver that she repressed at his touch.

‘Shall I not?’ he said. ‘But then, perhaps I am not practising.’

He bent his head so that his lips took the place of his fingers at the curve of her neck. A sigh escaped her at the gentle abrasion of his stubble against the softness of her skin.

‘You have not shaved,’ she said. Her voice was very slightly unsteady.

‘Do you like it?’ Cory rubbed his chin experimentally against the line of her jaw and felt again the quiver that ran through her. Rachel’s eyes were almost closed, the lashes a shadow against her cheek. Cory looked at her and felt the slow, sensual pleasure build in his blood. This was explosive. She looked abandoned and beautiful and it threatened the iron control that he was exercising. He could not quite believe that she was letting him do this.

‘It…’ She sounded dreamy. ‘It is very pleasant. Like scouring…’

Cory laughed. ‘I confess that I had not thought of it in those terms before, but if it pleases you…’

A smile curved Rachel’s mouth. Cory could not resist. He touched his lips very lightly to hers in a shadow of a kiss that was as potent as it was brief. Heat ripped through him. He had to force himself not to pull her into his arms there and then and ravish her mouth as thoroughly as he wished to take her body.

Her eyelashes flickered. ‘You do not play fair.’

‘Did you expect me to?’

Her smile deepened. ‘I had not thought of it before but, no, I suppose not.’ Her eyes opened wide and at the same time she increased the pressure against his chest so that he had no doubt that she meant him to step back. ‘And nor do I, Cory Newlyn. It is time to end the game.’

Shock and strong admiration hit Cory in equal measure. He stared into her eyes with dawning incredulity.

‘You were pretending?’

‘I was. Weren’t you?’

Cory took her shoulders in a hard grip and stared into her eyes. She met his gaze defiantly but at the back of her eyes he could see the remains of sweet, drugging sensual pleasure. It gave him a grim satisfaction to know that she had had to work hard to overcome it. She was not as indifferent to his touch as she liked to pretend.

‘I do not believe you,’ he said.

Emotion flickered behind her defiant mask. ‘You had better believe me, Cory. Furthermore, I remembered one other precaution that you taught me.’

‘Which was?’

Rachel put one hand behind her and pushed the stable door. It swung open silently on to the yard and she stepped back, out of his grasp.

‘You taught me always to leave myself a means of escape,’ she said sweetly. ‘Goodnight, Cory.’

Cory waited until he heard the scrape of the front door closing, then waited again until he saw the flicker of candlelight behind the curtains of Rachel’s bedroom. She was safe back in her bed, having avoided all the perils that the night had to offer. Cory smiled slightly. The most dangerous of those perils had undoubtedly been himself. Yet Rachel had acquitted herself magnificently, playing against him with a coolness that he was obliged to admire.

It was not often that his advances were so thoroughly rejected, but Cory could accept it. Rachel’s undeniable response to him sweetened the bitter pill of her rebuff. For no matter that she denied it, he knew there had been a moment when her feelings had been as strong as his own. It roused all his predatory instincts and made him wish to pursue the game further. He had never imagined that crossing swords with someone who knew him so well could be so stimulating. Far from being predictable, it was incredibly exciting. They knew each other’s minds, knew each other’s reactions. It was like a game of chess where the stakes were high. He could make a mistake simply through assuming that he knew Rachel well enough to guess her response to him. Cory, who thrived on challenge, admitted wryly to himself that such a situation was extremely appealing to him.

He let himself out of the stable yard and set off down the tree-lined drive to the road. The breeze on his face was pleasant and light and he welcomed its refreshing coolness. He found himself in something of a dilemma. He wanted Rachel Odell and had wanted her for some considerable time now. Tonight had only emphasised that. But this was no light flirtation to pass the summer and then be forgotten. He could not simply seduce the childhood friend that he loved, the daughter of a man who was his respected mentor. If he took the step of paying court to Rachel, then it would be irrevocable. He would have to persuade her to marry him. He would have to persuade her to put aside all the things that she wanted-a settled life, peace and tranquillity, a stable home-and convince her that they were as nothing compared to what he could offer her.

Cory was not at all sure that he had the right to even try. He was not in the least certain of success. On the other hand, failure was not an option. If he failed, not only would he lose Rachel, he would lose her friendship and would never regain it.

Cory was used to making decisions in seconds that would take other men days or even weeks. He was an adventurer, accustomed to risk. This felt like the biggest risk that he would ever take in his entire life.

He knew that his decision was already made, but he also knew that he had to be careful. He had to woo Miss Rachel Odell, his dearest and closest friend. And he had to do it in a manner that would not startle or scare her, a manner so subtle that she would not notice until it was too late and she felt as strongly for him as he did for her.

A sound from behind him interrupted his thoughts and caused him to pause and glance over his shoulder. The road stretched behind him like a silver ribbon on the moonlight. It was empty. Nevertheless, he thought he heard the patter of footsteps. He started walking again. The steps seemed to echo his. He paused again. There was silence. Cory reached very quietly for the pistol at his belt.

He started walking again, softly, carefully. The footsteps followed him. He could almost feel eyes on his back. Yet he knew that if he turned, there would be no one there.

The attack came with a silent uprush of shadows. There was the sound of running feet and then a bullet whistled past his ear, so close that Cory felt the breeze of its passing. He flung himself down into the ditch and drew his own pistol in one movement, firing by the same instinct that had prompted him to dive for cover and thus save his life. He heard a muffled cry. Hauling himself out of the ditch, he was just in time to see a shadowy figure leap over a farm gate and head towards a covert of trees some fifty yards distant. In the faint moonlight it looked insubstantial, a wraith of a creature yet one capable of murder.

The urge to pursue was a strong one, but a cool head and tactical thought overrode Cory’s natural instinct. He was alone, he did not know the terrain and his assailant had a lead of twenty or so yards. He doubted very much that the attacker would return to take another shot.

Cory let his breath out in a long sigh. ‘I am not so easy to dispose of as Jeffrey Maskelyne,’ he muttered grimly as he stowed the pistol back in his belt. Doubtless his assassin would have been surprised to find that he was armed. He guessed that they had planned to bring him down with one shot and follow it up with a second from close quarters. And he had given them the perfect chance by electing to walk back on his own. They had come very close and only his instinct for danger had saved him. He could feel the cold sweat trickling from his brow now.

A carriage rounded the corner behind him, lamps blazing, and drew to a stop beside him on the road. The door swung open.

‘Can I offer you a lift?’ Richard Kestrel’s voice said wryly.

Cory had never been so glad to see anyone in his life. He swung up into the carriage and closed the door behind him with a decisive click.

Once he was seated on the thick red cushions with the Richard Kestrel looking at him with quizzical amusement, he felt rather a fool.

‘Everything all right, old fellow?’ Richard asked. ‘You did not have any trouble at Midwinter Royal, did you?’

Cory shook his head. Rachel Odell was trouble, but of an entirely different sort.

‘Someone had been there before me,’ he said. ‘The books had all been ripped apart. If Maskelyne had used them for concealment, then the secret is lost.’

There was a silence. ‘Someone else knew about them,’ Richard said slowly.

‘It would appear that way, certainly.’

Richard eyed him closely. ‘Was that all that happened? I thought you were in better shape than to get in a sweat over a walk home!’

Cory rubbed his sleeve across his forehead. ‘Did you see anyone on the road?’ he asked.

Richard’s eyes sharpened in interest. He shook his head slowly. ‘Not a soul,’ he said. ‘I’ve driven back from Midwinter Marney. Ross Marney and I went from dinner to what passes for a club in this godforsaken spot-’ He broke off, eyeing Cory closely. ‘But I do not believe you want to hear my social engagements, old chap. What happened to you?’