The sense of calm that pervaded Mariah when she awoke the next morning, nestled against Peter’s side, her hand on his steadily rising and falling chest, was like returning home after a long and arduous journey. She smiled, snuggling closer to Peter, saying a quick prayer of thanks that what was wrong had been righted. She wouldn’t have given up the way she felt, body and soul, for the world.

Although improvements could always be made.

Her smile grew mischievous as she drew her hand downward from Peter’s chest to his stomach. She understood so much more about him after all they’d been through, painful though it’d been. He craved affection, needed it expressed boldly. And having seen his body in motion as he tackled not only sparring matches with Lord Malcolm, but riding and banging about his estate with the energy of a man half his age, she was eager to learn more. Where many men his age had turned plump and let their waistline grow and their muscles soften, Peter had only grown leaner, harder.

The muscles of his stomach and thighs weren’t the only things growing harder as she explored his body. She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling as his staff stirred and came to life the closer she came to touching it. It seemed unspeakably bold for her to caress that part of him, to learn his feel and reactions, but everything her mother had told her about asking for what she wanted came back to her. Peter was her husband, and she had every right to signal that she wanted to be intimate with him.

Holding her breath, she let her wandering hand slip between his legs, cupping the sack beneath his staff. She had so little experience with male anatomy that this part of him was a mystery to her. He twitched slightly, drawing in a breath as she tested the weight of him, rolled him through her hands. His skin was hot, the contrast of textures alluring as her hand moved from his sack to the rigid length of his penis. She knew what his instrument was capable of, the memories of being filled by him making her ache and shiver in expectation.

She brushed her fingertips along the underside of his shaft, which had hardened to the point of standing straight up against his abdomen, then circled around his head. The involuntary groan that escaped from him betrayed that he was awake at last, but he said nothing as she continued her exploration. She wriggled closer to him, hooking her leg over his and grinding against his hip as her hand traveled down to the base of his staff once more. She closed her hand around him, a jolt of longing zipping through her at the thought of how thick he was and how amazing he felt inside of her, then began moving up and down with lazy strokes.

He let out a deep sound of pleasure and raised one arm above his head, as if signaling that he wouldn’t stop her, whatever she wanted to do. Heat radiated from his body.

“Do you like that?” she asked in a hopeful whisper.

“So much,” he sighed.

She continued to stroke him with one hand, but shifted so that she could look at his face as she pleasured him. The heavy-lidded look of bliss that he wore sent spirals of longing through her. He was so easy to please, so patient with her, even though she didn’t know what she was doing. He could easily have grown bored with her, or worse, disliked her boldness. She couldn’t forget what he’d said about Anne, the way she pursued him, and the inequality of their interactions. She suspected he’d only glanced the surface of what was a painful chapter in his life. But all of that seemed forgotten now. The only thing she saw as she watched him react to the way she sought to give him pleasure was enjoyment.

She wanted more. She wanted to give herself to him as much as she wanted him to feel pleasure. With a nervous swirl low in her stomach at what she was about to attempt, she drew her hand away and lifted her body up to straddle him. The bedcovers slipped down to her waist, exposing her breasts, her stomach, even her spread thighs and her sex to his view. He sucked in a breath and drank in the sight.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

She blushed from head to toe. “I feel beautiful when I’m with you.”

He lifted toward her, and she bent to kiss him. Their mouths met in a dance that was becoming familiar, yet ever new. Her heart sang as their tongues twined. He relaxed back against his pillows, his hands sliding across her sides, up to knead her breasts. When he pinched her nipples just enough to send a jolt of sensation through her, she gasped and arched toward him. But it was when his hands traveled down her back to take possessive hold of her backside, that her desire reached a fevered pitch.

“I want to….” she started, not knowing how to communicate what she wanted. She flexed her hips, rubbing across his rigid staff in a way that sent unexpected spears of pleasure through her. “I want…how do I….”

Pleasuring herself against him felt divine, but he knew what she truly wanted. He took hold of her hips and moved her to the right position, then grasped himself, bringing his erection to her entrance. She bore down on him, gasping as he slid inside, filling her to the fullest.

It was different, joining with him that way, than it had been with them before. Mariah felt awkward and uncertain, but she wanted him so desperately that she pushed on. She sheathed him to his root, gasping as his tip pressed against something deep inside of her. The sensation made her restless, but she wasn’t sure where to go next.

Without words, Peter stroked her spread thighs for a moment, then took hold of her hips, urging her to lift up. She followed his lead, moving over him until he almost came free of her. Then he pushed her down. The friction was so heady that she wanted more, and, with his guidance, she found herself moving slowly into a rhythm that turned her blood to fire.

Her inexperience melted away as she became used to the movements and gradually sped up. Peter’s breath became deep and ragged, and he moved his hands from her hips, up her sides, to cradle her breasts. The combined sensations of him stretching her from the inside and holding her breasts was magical. She tilted her head back and let out a sound so wanton that she never thought she’d hear it from her own lips.

Peter made a matching sound, which sent the coil of tension building inside of her spiraling tighter and tighter. She moved on him at a frantic pace, suddenly aware that he had a full view of her body in the throes of passion. And from the sound of things, he loved what he was seeing.

That thought tipped her over the edge, and her body burst into shimmering, throbbing pleasure. She cried out, bearing down on him hard as the tremors turned her into a being of pure pleasure and light. Peter grasped her hips again, pushing into her with a few more, pounding strokes until he, too seemed to ripple with tension, then release, then satisfaction.

Mariah lost all will to hold herself upright and spilled across his chest, burying her head on the pillow next to him. He closed his arms around her as they lay panting and sweating together, his hands stroking her back and backside.

“That was magnificent,” she gasped as she tried to catch her breath.

“Better than anything I’ve experienced before,” he said, equally exhausted.

Mariah raised herself enough to look at him. “Really?”

His lips twitched into a wicked grin. “By far.”

“Oh my.”

She rested on top of him, so happy she burst into a giggle. She half expected him to scold her and tell her to stop, but he laughed as well, rolling until they lay on their sides, facing each other. He kissed her for a long, lingering moment, and the two of them basked in the glow of pleasure and love. It was a love like Mariah had never imagined before.

She wasn’t sure how much lazy, beautiful time passed with the two of them entwined together like that, but the sound of movement from the dressing rooms eventually shook them out of their affectionate stupor. Peter pried himself reluctantly away from her and climbed out of bed, fetching his robe before heading into the dressing room. Mariah nestled back into the bed, eyes closed, for a few moments, breathing in the scent of Peter and their love-making before forcing herself to start the day.

She and Peter were both in such an obviously good mood when they joined Captain Tennant, Domenica, and Lord Malcolm in the breakfast room that she was sure their friends knew exactly what had made them so late coming down. Domenica sent Mariah a knowing grin, which had Mariah’s cheeks bright pink in no time. The men launched straight into a chat about the headlines in the day’s newspaper with such stoic concentration that Mariah was sure Lord Malcolm and Captain Tennant were tweaking Peter’s nose in some mysteriously male way.

It wasn’t until Mariah had finished half her breakfast that she blinked and asked, “Where is everyone else? Where is Victoria?”

The men’s conversation hushed.

“Poole and Robinson never returned to the house yesterday,” Lord Malcolm said.

“And Victoria?”

“Is she the kind to keep to her room in a snit?” Domenica asked.

Mariah let out an uneasy breath. “Yes, she is.” But that didn’t feel like the right answer to her.

“Where is William?” Peter asked with a grim frown.

The footman waiting in attendance cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him. Mariah had seen the young man around the house over the last month, but assumed he had been promoted to Davy’s position on short notice.

“Christopher, isn’t it?” Peter asked.

“Yes, my lord.” Christopher bowed, his face red. “And Lord William was spotted leaving the house long after midnight last night.”

“I see.” Peter nodded in approval.

“I should probably check on Victoria,” Mariah said, standing. Peter stood with her, but rather than being a show of respect, his movement was in reaction to Mr. Snyder rushing into the room.

“My lord, I’m terribly sorry,” Mr. Snyder said, more ruffled than usual. “But these were just discovered behind the large vase in the front hall.” He held out two envelopes.

“What are they?” Peter asked, his frown as anxious as the knot forming in Mariah’s gut.

Mr. Snyder continued forward, handing one of the letters to Peter and the other to Mariah. The bottom fell out of Mariah’s stomach as she looked at the letter. It was addressed simply, “Mariah” in Victoria’s flowery handwriting.

“It’s from Victoria,” Mariah said, sitting down heavily as she opened the enveloped.

“And this one is from William.” Peter remained standing as he tore the pages from his envelope and read.

Mariah swallowed and took out Victoria’s missive.

“My dearest sister,” it read. “I don’t care what you say, I’m in love. William is the most wonderful, handsome, passionate, exciting man I’ve ever met, and he adores me. I refuse to listen to you say anything bad about him, or to have you tell me I’m ruined. I’m not ruined, and I’ll prove it. William and I are to be married. We’re leaving tonight, in grand romantic style, and you won’t be able to stop us. It looks as though I will be in line to be Countess of Dunsford after you in the end. But don’t worry, I shall be gracious and generous with you. Your loving Victoria.”

“Oh, Victoria,” Mariah groaned, folding her letter and tossing it and the envelope on the table.

“What does it say?” Domenica asked.

“She believes she is eloping with William.”

Domenica paled. “Would William actually do that? Would he marry her?”

“No,” Peter said, his frown darker than ever. “He’s holding her for ransom.”

“What?” Mariah and Domenica gasped at the same time.

“Where have they gone?” Malcolm asked, standing and looking as though he would ride off single-handedly to bring them back.

“He said we can find them at the County Arms Inn in Truro,” Peter said. “I’m to come alone tonight, and I’m to bring a note giving him five hundred thousand pounds.”

“Five hundred thousand pounds?” Mariah gaped in disbelief.

“Does he say what he’ll do if you don’t come?” Captain Tennant rose, and Domenica and Mariah stood as well.

Peter shot a quick, apologetic look to Mariah. “He says he’s already ruined her, and that he’ll do worse if I don’t pay up.”

“Oh, Victoria.” Mariah shook her head, unsure whether she was more furious or terrified for her sister. “What do we do?” she asked Peter, glancing to Lord Malcolm.

“We go after her, of course,” Lord Malcolm said.

Peter nodded in agreement. “But we go prepared.”

It was the last straw. For years, decades, Peter had carried a burden of responsibility in his heart where William was concerned. He’d spent too long thinking he could have changed the young man, steered him away from a path of self-destruction. But William hurting Mariah, ruining her sister, was where Peter’s guilt ended. He’d lived his life going out of his way to care for Anne at the cost of his own happiness. William had no qualms about destroying a young woman’s chance at happiness at best and killing her at worst. Peter could see now that his nephew’s moral compass was shattered, and as far from his own code of honor as could be. The time had come to stop trying to reform him and to instead bring him to justice.

“If he sees the two of you, he’ll run,” Peter said to Albert and Malcolm as they gathered in the stable, mounting Charger and the horses Harry had prepared for the other two.

“If he tries, he won’t get far,” Malcolm said, flashing the revolver that was hidden under his coat.

Peter sent his friend a flat look. “I’d like to avoid murdering the last family member I have.”

“Peter.” Malcolm nudged his horse to walk closer to Charger. “Do you honestly think that William will go into this encounter without some kind of weapon at the ready?”

“If he’s capable of burning my ship, he’s capable of much more,” Albert added.

It tore at the core of everything Peter believed in, but Malcolm was right. Worse still, when his friend reached into the saddlebag behind him and handed him a second revolver, Peter took it.

“I’m not going to use it unless I feel like my life or either of yours is in danger,” he said, stashing the pistol in his own saddlebag and half wishing they were in the Wild West of America, where everyone wore gun holsters and could draw and fire at a moment’s notice.

“Come on,” Albert said, turning his horse toward the road. “Let’s get this over with.”

Peter sighed and nodded, then tapped Charger into motion. His body ached as though he were too old for riding around Cornwall after dark, pretending to deliver a ransom but actually intent on rescuing a woman. But it was his soul that was weary as they rode across the estate and onto the road that would take them into Truro. As glorious as it was that a new part of his life had begun with Mariah and, God willing, their child, it was still painful to watch the entire first half of his life fold to a close.

Truro was a longer ride than Peter would have liked. The land attached to Starcross Castle was vast enough to give the castle itself the feeling of being isolated. They rode over and around hills, and Peter’s thoughts turned to his mines, to the people who depended on him for their living. He was doing this for them as much as for himself or Mariah. If it were left to him, William would squander the lives and resources of Starcross. The promise of a new chapter that reports from the surveyor hinted at would be dashed. Peter couldn’t let that happen.

“Someone’s coming,” Malcolm muttered as they rounded a bend to see the spire of Truro Cathedral and the lights of the town.

The three of them pulled their mounts to a stop and turned to watch a lone figure riding after them. Peter flashed from grim determination to alarm as Mariah rode up to join them.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, fear making him sound harsher than he intended to.

“You left without me,” Mariah fired back.

As much as he admired her strength, considering her condition, her stubbornness needed to be addressed. “Mariah, this could be dangerous. There’s no telling what William has waiting for us, or how he’ll react when he sees I haven’t come alone.”

“And Victoria will be caught in the middle of it all,” Mariah said as though she agreed with every statement he’d made. “She’ll be confused and frightened.”

“It’s true that we might need someone to keep the young woman out of harm if William causes trouble,” Albert said.

“This whole endeavor could be dangerous, Mariah.” Peter guided Charger closer to her. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, her impish grin apparent even in the dark. “I’ve come armed.”

Peter’s brow flew up, but when she twisted to show him the sword tied to her saddle, he nearly laughed in spite of himself.

“Perhaps a hundred years ago that would have protected you,” he said, “but not tonight.”

“Then you’ll protect me,” she said.

She could have kissed him square on the lips and thrown her arms around him and he wouldn’t have felt as powerful and loved as he did in that moment. He didn’t know how he’d lived so much of his life without her spirit, her confidence, and her joy. He didn’t want to live another day without her, and as soon as they finished the business with William, he would never let her out of his sight again.

“I’m worried about the baby,” he said.

Mariah gripped the reins of her horse tightly to steady her. “It’s so early for the baby that I doubt it will be hurt at all.”

Peter arched a brow. He’d rather have a doctor’s opinion on that assumption than a guess. In fact, as soon as they had an opportunity, he would take her to London to have the finest medical minds on Harley Street examine her to make sure she was healthy. But for now, sending her home was likely to cause a fight they didn’t have time for.

“Stay back if things get complicated,” he warned her.

The smile she rewarded him with was enough to convince Peter he was doing the right thing. Although it would have been more right to take her back to the castle, back to their bed, and ravish her. But first things first.

“Come on,” he said.

They continued down the road and into Truro. The town was well-lit and bustling. It was a pleasant June night, and the pubs seemed to be doing a generous amount of business. The County Arms stood at the top of the hill where the train station was. Peter and Malcolm dismounted and headed inside the noisy inn while Albert waited with Mariah outside, ready to jump into action at the drop of a hat if needed.

But as crowded and noisy as the inn was, William was nowhere to be found.

“Can I get you a pint, my lord?” the innkeeper, a man Peter vaguely recognized, asked from behind the bar in the common room.

Peter gestured to Malcolm, and the two of them approached the bar. “Have you seen my nephew, William?”

The innkeeper made a grim noise and shook his head. “That blight on decent society lit out of here without paying his bill not more than two or three hours ago. Begging your pardon, my lord.”

Peter was convinced William was just as much of a blight as the innkeeper said. He exchanged a look with Malcolm.

“Do you know where he went?” Malcolm asked.

“He and his friends talked about heading on to St. Austell.”

“Friends?” A tight knot formed in Peter’s gut.

“Yeah, a balding bloke and a tall man with reddish hair.”

The knot in Peter’s gut rose to his throat. “Poole and Robinson.”

“That’s them.” The innkeeper nodded.

“Did they have a woman with them?” Malcolm asked.

The innkeeper grimaced. “They did, my lord, and I’m worried for her. She was posh-looking and crying. I tried to step in and help her, but Lord William told me to mind my own business.”

“Thank you, sir.” Peter did his best to give the man a grateful smile and pushed some money across the bar for his troubles before turning to Malcolm. “They could still be on the road to St. Austell.”

“If they are, we’ll catch them.”

They pushed their way out of the inn and back to where Albert and Mariah were still mounted.

“They’ve gone to St. Austell,” Peter said. “We need to catch them before it’s too late.” He mounted Charger, then maneuvered closer to Mariah. “I’m afraid there could be some hard riding. Are you ready for it?”

“I am,” she said. “Anything to find my sister.”

He nodded to her, deep, pervasive love working its way up through the seriousness of the situation. Then he glanced to Malcolm and Albert to make sure they were ready before nudging Charger into a fast run.

The road to St. Austell was wide and well-traveled during the day, but as soon as they were a mile outside of town, darkness closed in. The landscape was hilly and wild, with patches of trees whose leaves rattled in the warm, summer breeze. On any other night, he would have enjoyed the rugged, Cornish feel of it all, but things weren’t settling right with him. Why would William tell them to bring ransom to the County Arms but leave before they got there? And what were Poole and Robinson doing with him? Most importantly of all, was Victoria in harm’s way? Judging by the innkeeper’s report of her tears, Peter didn’t think things were good.

He was in the middle of calculating how long it would take them to get to St. Austell and whether he should try to send Mariah back to Starcross, when three dark shadows appeared on the road in front of them.

“Whoa,” he shouted, pulling Charger out of his run.

Malcolm, Albert, and Mariah did the same. Their horses were still restless, dancing and huffing in the night. The shadows became more definite as they got closer, three men in billowing cloaks.

But it wasn’t until the click of pistols being cocked and William declaring, “Stand and deliver, Uncle,” that Peter realized the trap he’d walked into.