“Ooooffff.” Air burst from Jenny’s lungs as she hit the ground. She shook her head, trying to erase the blackness with its dizzying bursts of light. For a moment, all she heard was buzzing, as if a swarm of bees surrounded her. Then, her vision cleared.

And her panic rose.

The other two men had descended from the porch, their faces twisted with drunkenness and lust. She glared at them. Suddenly, one of them lurched backward, shock clear on his face.

Andrew appeared from behind him and pummeled him until the other seized his arms. His gaze met hers, his brows drawn together as they pulled him away.

She stared at him, puzzled.

He followed me.

The dazed man beside her staggered sideways then stared down at her.

“What have we here?” The short man teetered as he leered at her, then at Andrew. “On yer way home, eh? On yer way to a bit of a tumble, I’d wager.”

The other men laughed. The injured man clambered up, helping to hold Andrew, but the two were barely able to stand, let alone restrain him.

Andrew twisted away and ran to Jenny. The drunk beside her swung then twirled when his fist missed Andrew. Andrew brought his fist up, catching the man in his gut. He doubled over, moaning. The other two men each grabbed one of Andrew’s arms again.

The man on the horse held her mare’s reins. “Let’s make him watch.”

“I found her, so I get the first go.” The short man unfastened the top button of his breeches.

Jenny stirred. Sitting up, she scrambled backward, but the drunk caught her by her feet. She kicked furiously, but he only laughed. She clawed at his hands. He captured her flailing wrists, heaving her up to stand. When they were face to face, she froze. She stood an inch taller than him. She thrust her face into his.

“Shall I tell Mrs. Carter about our little tryst?”

Gasping, he staggered backward. “Miss Sutton?”

Ephraim Carter’s eyes were not twinkling tonight. Instead the rheumy effect of too much rum clouded them, and he squinted, trying to focus on her. He dropped her wrists and stepped back. “Miss Sutton. Excuse me. I thought you were a …”

“And if I were a whore, would that excuse what you and the other men were about to do?”

He hung his head. The other men released Andrew and stepped away.

“Leave them be.” Ephraim’s voice was low. “They work for the Sons.”

One man picked up Jenny’s hat, returning it to her with a jerky bow. “Sorry, miss.” The man on horseback handed the reins to Andrew, tipping his hat. Andrew helped Jenny mount the horse, then swung up behind her.

Jenny glared at the men. “Is this what we’re fighting for? For you to attack a woman—any woman? My father gave his life to fight for your liberty. Shame on you.”

She tapped her heels against the mare, giving one disdainful look back as they rode away.

When they were a safe distance, Andrew slowed the horse to a walk.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, resting a shaky hand on his. “Yes. You followed me, didn’t you?”

“I had to make sure you arrived home safely before I left.” He buried his face in her hair. “Jenny.” The heady, familiar aroma of lilac filled him with desire. He was unable to tame his body, their bodies so close, moving in rhythm with the horse’s gait. Was she aware of his longing?

“It will be like this for us now, Andrew. Living in fear, unsure of who we can trust.” Her voice was serious.

Perhaps she wasn’t aware of his desire.

They reached her road and turned toward the house.

“Remember our peaceful nights at Brentwood Manor?” she asked.

“Mmmmm.” He nuzzled her neck.

“Andrew.” She laughed softly on the night air.

“I want you, Jenny. Now.”

They had reached her yard.

She half turned toward him. He slid off the horse and reached up to her. As she leaned forward, his hands brushed against her breasts. Her breath caught, fueling the fire in his belly. She stood before him, her breathing fast, but she wouldn’t look up at him.

Tilting her chin up, he repeated, “I want you, Jenny.” His mouth covered hers, moving, hungry. He ran his hands along her back, down to her buttocks, pulling her into him. She melted against him, a soft moan driving him on. Her arms looped up around his neck, her hands running through his hair.

He would soon explode. A rush of pleasure pulsed through his body. He kissed along her neck, burrowing into the crook. She was trembling, her breath hot against his ear.

“Jennifer?”

She pulled away.

“Is that you, Jennifer?”

Mrs. Sutton rushed out the back door, her voice strident with fear. “Jennifer? Please … are you there? Are you all—” She stopped a few feet from them, lifting a candle up to see more clearly.

Andrew moved away as Jenny tried to tame the curls wildly dancing about her head. She wiped at a tear that ran down her cheek. He pulled his longcoat forward, hoping to hide his present state of arousal, but it didn’t fool her mother.

“I have been sick with unease, Jennifer. And you have been out here … dallying with this young man?”

“No, Mother—”

“Did you at least deliver the message to Laurence?” Her voice shook with anger and, he suspected, fear.

“Mother, please. Let’s go inside.”

Mrs. Sutton scowled at them, then led them toward the house. Turning, she pointed at him. “You see to the horse.”

Jenny cast a half-smile at him, and even in the candlelight that damned dimple assailed him.

Jenny poured a glass of brandy. “It is not what you think, Mother.” She handed her the drink. “I did deliver the message to Mr. Montclair, immediately.”

“Jennifer, I have been worried sick all night.”

“I’m sorry, but so much happened.” Should she explain the incident at the tavern? She didn’t want to add to Mother’s distress, but she had always been honest with her. Mother needed to know about the occurrence. She poured two more glasses of brandy, trying to form an explanation. The back door closed. Her heart skipped. Andrew was here. In her house. He would meet Mother. Oh, that he could remain safely here.

He stood at the door. The sheepish look on his face melted her heart. Reaching for his hand, she drew him into the room and handed him a crystal snifter.

“Mother, this is Andrew Wentworth.” She couldn’t control the smile that covered her face.

“Well, I should hope so. After all your talk about him in your letters, I would hope you wouldn’t be dallying in the night with someone else.” She rose, extending her hand. “Mr. Wentworth.”

He bowed over it. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Mrs. Sutton. Jenny’s affection for you has come through every story she has told me. May I offer my condolences on the passing of Mr. Sutton?”

She returned to her seat on the settee and indicated the chair beside it. Jenny smiled at him. Andrew returned her smile, glanced at Mother, then studied the hearth as he sat down.

Together they explained the events of the evening, starting with their meeting with Montclair. Jenny’s throat tightened as she recounted his command that they not be seen together. How could she stay away now that they were finally united?

“He is very wise. It is protection for both of you.” Mother looked from one to the other. “I know it’s difficult, but the risk is too great.”

“You are right. As I was watching your house this evening …”

Mother arched one brow.

Andrew cleared his throat. “Well, yes, I have been watching every evening since I arrived.” He shifted in his seat.

Mother patted his arm. “It’s all right, Andrew. I appreciate your concern for our safety.” Jenny caught the twinkle in Mother’s eyes and the gentle tone of voice she used when teasing.

“Well, when I was out there tonight, two British officers happened by. One told the other, named Ashby, that your house was under suspicion.”

Mother set her snifter on the side table and nodded slowly. “I wondered if he had ulterior motives for his attentiveness to Jenny. Even more reason for you two to stay apart.” She looked at her daughter, her voice soft. “I know that’s not what you wish to hear, but it must be so.”

“But for tonight …” Jenny folded her hands as if praying, pleading.

“Alas, especially tonight. For if you were seen on the street by anyone other than Mr. Carter and his cronies, they will come for us.”

Andrew rose. “Your mother is right. I must go.”

Mother stood. “I must see to preparations for breakfast. I will return in a few moments.” She raised one brow at Jenny before she swept out of the room.

Jenny smiled. “I believe we have a few precious minutes alone.” She craved his touch, his nearness.

He shifted in his seat but did not move closer.

She reached out her hand, inviting, beseeching.

He remained where he was.

“Andrew?”

“I don’t know. Here in the light, you look like a lad.” His lips twitched up, his eyes danced.

Her gaze darted to the door. “We have precious little time together.” Reaching up, she swept off the hat, freeing her black curls to tumble and swirl around her shoulders. “I am no lad.”

He was up and beside her in one swift movement. He wrapped her in his arms, leaning her back against the pillow. “Jenny,” he whispered. His soft, warm lips moved over hers. He traced kisses along her cheek, along her throat. Never in her life had she tingled with such an agonizing need that started in her belly and suffused her whole body. She clung to him as if these were the last moments they would ever share.

They could be.

“Andrew.” Her arms tightened. His lips found hers again, and he nibbled along her neck, pausing in the crook. She thought she would shatter with the joy of holding him, tears streaming down her cheeks. He stroked her back, sliding one hand forward along her side, just tempting her breast. She shuddered. His hand moved forward.

“Jennifer.” Mother’s voice from the next room was like a splash of cold water.

They sat up, but he kept one arm around her shoulder.

Mother entered. “Mr. Wentworth.”

He dropped his arm.

Jenny brushed her hair back as if that would hide the flush of pleasure on her face.

“I’m afraid you must leave now.” Mother’s voice was gentle. “No matter how safe you think you may be, there are too many who cannot be trusted. If only one person sees you …”

Jenny shivered. She took his hand.

He stood. “I will do whatever is necessary to keep Jenny safe, Mrs. Sutton.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry it must be this way.”

He nodded. Taking Jenny’s hand, he helped her rise from the settee. Despite Mother’s presence, he kissed her long and full. She stumbled back a step when he released her.

“I cannot say farewell, Jenny. I will only say, ‘Until we meet again.’” He kissed her hand, bowed to Mother, and disappeared.

Tears streamed down Jenny’s cheeks. Would his words prove true?