“It’s a shame about your book,” Ned said to Cecilia as they drove from the woods into the sumptuous golden glory of sunset over East Devon. “I don’t think stuffing its pages down the throat of that brigand chief was likely to make him more eloquent.”

“One can only try,” Cecilia replied. “Besides, it was just Wordsworth.”

“Ah, no great loss, then. Although I should give the man some credit, he did compose the beautiful line ‘I wandered lonely as a cloud.’”

“Unless you believe the rumor that he actually wrote ‘lonely as a cow’ and his sister made him change it.”

They shared an amused glance, and suddenly Cecilia wondered what it would be like to be friendly with him. Chat lightly. Shake his hand. Have him reach out, take hold of her chin, and kiss her until she could no longer see straight. The thought shocked a hot blush through her, and she looked away in haste. Oblivious, Ned flicked the horses’ reins gently.

“You’re being too rough with them,” Cecilia snapped.

“They’re fine,” Ned answered.

“They’re noble beasts who don’t deserve whipping.”

“It’s a light touch of the reins. I do know how to handle horses.”

“I’m not so sure. I’m only allowing you to have a turn because there are no cliffs hereabouts that you can drive us over.”

“Ha ha. I must remind you, madam, that you are in my custody. I am the one who will do any allowing, should it be required.”

“It is endearing how you delude yourself.”

“I can tie you up if you’d like, to prove the point.”

“You can try.”

He gave her a speculative look, and again Cecilia imagined their conversation turning more direct. Would he have gentle lips? Or would he kiss her with a bruising passion, his hand tangling in her hair, his tongue tangling in—

She choked on her breath, and Ned grinned as if he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

There followed a taut silence, during which no glancing at each other (and no kissing) took place. Eventually Ned frowned at the darkening horizon.

“We’ll have to find a place to stop soon.”

“We can drive right through the night,” Cecilia argued.

“The horses need rest.”

“We’ll steal new horses.”

“We need rest.”

She frowned at him, but he looked back quite seriously. Cecilia had not imagined he could appear so cool-eyed and sober. A thrill sparked her blood—the effects of a sudden cold breeze, she decided, and wished she’d not left her coat with Pleasance.

Dear, mad Pleasance, who had predicted events correctly after all. What would she make of Northangerland Abbey’s bloodthirsty ghosts? How long before she was gibbering their bleak memories and wind-like moans?

“I cannot rest,” she said. “I must rush to their aid as fast as I’m able.”

“But you don’t want to be exhausted when you face Lady Armitage,” Ned argued. “And certainly not when you get to Northangerland Abbey. You wouldn’t take a blunt sword into battle, would you? It’s the same with your own body.”