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‘How can you say that?’ He shrugged her off. ‘How can you defend me?’
‘Because if you were truly wicked you would not feel like this.’ Her hand touched him again, this time on his cheek.
.....
From all she had been told, all she had read, she knew she should have been terrified at being imprisoned in those strong arms. She should have fainted quite away. Annabelle gave a little huff of impatience. She had never thought much of those heroines who burst into tears at the slightest thing and swooned as soon as a man touched them. Why, that would leave the man free to behave in whatever way he wished. Surely it was better to fight and struggle, as she had done?
And in the end he had let her go. Well, there was little else he could do. A poor start to his ownership if he was to ravish his neighbour’s daughter at the outset. She wondered if he planned to settle at Morwood Manor. As its name suggested, it had once been the major property in the area. Her father had a watercolour of the house as it had been before the fire, a substantial stone building dating back to the time of the Tudors. The wealth of its owners had declined since then, and the last owner, Jonas Blackstone, was said to have been a poor landlord. That was well before Annabelle had been born, however. Her father had bought the manor lands soon after the fire, but although he had looked after the tenant farmers, he had never done anything with the house and grounds. Morwood had remained unused and untended, and Annabelle had grown up roaming freely through the woods and the ruins. They had been her playground, but that of course was ended now. She would avoid the manor and its odious owner in future.
.....
