Lady Mary and Anna had walked to the village from the Abbey, Lady Mary noting the pleasant spring weather and the need for both of them to stretch their legs after a morning filled with answering wedding correspondence and organizing gifts. The wedding was seven weeks away, so Mary's days were filled with planning, organizing, and daydreaming. So much had changed since last January, the fateful month that changed her future from one of a tension-filled life with Sir Richard to one of joy with Matthew. For reasons unknown to her, Sir Richard had not published the Pamuk story, but even if he had, she knew she had Matthew's love and support. That was all she needed because his strength sustained her. She could not wait to become his wife. Matthew was the first, and only, man who treated her as something other than an object. She had been pawned off on Patrick, ruined by Kemal, and misused by Richard—even her papa at one time considered her a means to an end. Only Matthew truly valued her, and she relished the idea of spending the rest of her life with him. And she knew he was the only man she would ever love.
Mary was overjoyed to find herself now bound to someone she loved beyond all measure. She knew it was a miracle, one that she never thought possible. Her experience with Pamuk aside, she knew little about the mechanics of love, but being with Matthew kindled passion in her that was both thrilling and, if she were truly honest, a little frightening. They seldom had a chance to be alone, but when they were, their ache for one another almost was excruciating. Holding hands inevitably led to caresses; caresses led to embraces; embraces led to kisses that were so powerful both of them were left weak. Keeping the promise not to consummate their relationship until their wedding night became more and more difficult as their wedding day approached. And how they enjoyed each other's company! Laughing came easily to them, and they held spirited debates on all sorts of topics, each one appreciating the other's quick wit and clever banter. Oh, how she looked forward to the future!
As Anna walked out of the village bakery, she was startled when she saw Lady Mary entering the back seat of a silver Rolls Royce she didn't recognize. Mary had sent Anna to the bakery for fresh scones and had told her she would meet her in front of the post office when she finished her own errands. Then Lady Mary planned to walk to Crawley House where Mr. Crawley and his mother expected her for tea, and Anna would return to the abbey. She knew Lady Mary would not change their plans without letting her know, so Anna shivered with anxiety and hurried to Crawley House to let Mr. Crawley know about Lady Mary's strange disappearance.
When Mary was waiting for Anna on the sidewalk in front of the post office, she noticed a silver Rolls Royce approach slowly. She was not familiar with that particular vehicle although she knew Sir Anthony Strallan had a fondness for Rolls Royces and purchased new ones on a fairly regular basis. Goodness. How many toys does that man have? As it pulled up alongside her, she was shocked to see Sir Richard in the backseat. She hadn't seen him since January although she had heard he visited the village occasionally because he continued to make improvements to Haxby Park. Until now she never had occasion to run into him. After breaking their engagement, she had no desire to deal with his anger. His possessiveness led more than once to arguments that resulted in her being bruised and desperately unhappy. The suave man she first met at Cliveden had transformed into someone she feared and loathed, so ending their engagement was a great relief. Concerned that Richard's obsession with her hadn't ended, Matthew had told her to let him know if Richard contacted her. Thankfully, he had not.
What Mary and Matthew did not know was Richard had kept up with her whereabouts and wedding news through his newspaper contacts and through local villagers he had paid to keep him apprised of her activities. He'd had Matthew followed, too, although the bastard figured out what he was doing, so he had to call off that particular activity. Nevertheless, he bided his time until he could set a plan into motion that would bring Mary back to him. Haxby was the key, of course. He had to have a place worthy of her ready for them to live in, so now that the renovations were complete, he could begin. It might take some convincing on his part, but he knew eventually she would come around. The broken engagement was simply a hitch in his plans. She obviously didn't know her own mind. That blond charlatan with the flashing blue eyes had bewitched her. Richard had to have her back. They were made for each other, weren't they?—both of them intelligent, fiery, and sensual. She would bring him into the heart of the aristocracy that he so coveted. With her on his arm, all doors would be open to him. But that wasn't the sole reason for his determination to possess her. For months, he had fantasized about her glistening skin writhing passionately under his hands and mouth and her legs and mouth parting eagerly to receive him. He wondered what she had learned from the Turk. When he would inevitably lose his erection during these fantasies, he'd imagine tying her spread eagle on the four-poster bed he had purchased for their bedroom and using his cat-o'-nine tails on her luminescent, white flesh while she pleaded for more. Or he would picture her body secured with silken ropes and doubled over the velvet-upholstered settee he had designed for the express purpose of taking her from behind. This erotic vision almost always did the trick.
"Lady Mary, I'm delighted to see you." His voice positively oozed with what she was sure he considered charm. It made her shiver. What an odious man. He's absolutely serpentine. "It's been a long time. How are your wedding preparations coming along?" Richard's eyes narrowed, and his mouth curled. Looking at her made him recall the fantasies he had engaged in the previous evening. He couldn't wait to act on them.
Mary almost ignored his question, but chose to acknowledge his presence by replying curtly, "Sir Richard. Things are fine. Thank you for asking." She knew he would be aware that she and Matthew planned a late spring wedding, but she certainly did not want to discuss the particulars with him. Really, Richard. Let's just move on. God, it looks as if he's salivating. Just looking at him made her shiver with revulsion. She dreaded telling Matthew about this meeting. She turned toward the bakery to join Anna in order to avoid further conversation with him.
Richard leaned forward and opened the motor's back door. Mary stepped back cautiously. "Won't you join me for a little jaunt out to Haxby to see the improvements?" he asked. Never in a million years. Where in blazes is Anna? Mary resisted the urge to turn and run.
"Thank you, no, Sir Richard. I'm expected elsewhere." She knew better than to mention Matthew's name, considering she sensed how much Sir Richard loathed him after their final confrontation. As she turned to look for Anna, she heard Sir Richard's cold, even voice. What now?
"I insist."
She looked back at him and saw to her horror that he was pointing a pistol at her. He motioned with the gun for her to enter the car, so she stepped in, her heart racing nearly out of control. Dear God, what am I going to do? What can he possibly be thinking?
"Drive on," Richard ordered the driver, who nodded once and headed down the road to Haxby.