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sapphire necklace and the silver snuff box he had taken from Edward.
    ‘I think these belong to you.’
    ‘I could not understand why you took Edward’s snuff box and left the rest. Why did you?’
    ‘It was your betrothal gift to him, was it not?’
    ‘Yes, but I don’t see—’
    ‘I don’t like my wife presenting gifts to other men,’ he told her sharply.
    ‘How could you have known I had given it to him—or that he would have it on his person tonight, for that matter?’
    ‘I didn’t. I took a chance. It was John who told me you had given it to him.’
    She frowned crossly. ‘I think I might have told John far too much. Why did you take my necklace?’
    ‘To make the robbery more convincing—and it pleased me to discover how reluctant you were to part with it.’
    ‘You took it all the same.’
    ‘And now I have returned it. And if you are ever accosted by a highwayman again, my pet,’ he chuckled, gently tweaking her cheek, ‘I expect you to guard it with your life.’ Collecting his pipe and tobacco pouch from the hearth, he strode towards the door.
    ‘I will. I promise. There is just one more thing, Lucas.’ He turned and looked back, waiting for her to go on. ‘Who was your accomplice tonight?’
    He didn’t deign to reply, but cocked a brow and looked at her with ill-concealed amusement.
    Laura moved closer, determined to find out. ‘Who was it, Lucas? Tell me.’
    ‘Don’t you know?’
    She stared at him through eyes huge with horror and disbelief. She recalled how his accomplice had moved and mounted his horse with less agility than his companion, and with sudden clarity all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, presenting the whole picture. ‘That was John, wasn’t it? Oh—Lucas, how could you? To take him, as old as he is, on such a dangerous mission—why, the poor man might have had a seizure.’
    ‘John may be sixty, Laura,’ Lucas said, opening the door, ‘but a doddering old man he is not. He’s as tough as old boots. Besides,’ he said, chuckling softly and with a gleam in his eyes, ‘he enjoyed himself.’
    ‘Did he, now?’ she said crossly, thinking that master and servant must have slipped into the house unnoticed while she had been telling Edward she wasn’t going to marry him. ‘Well, I shall have plenty to say when I see him in the morning. You see if I don’t.’

Chapter Four
    O nce alone, Laura stripped off her clothes and slipped into a deep-pink silk robe, tying the sash about her waist. Sitting at the dressing table, she studied her face in the mirror. She was almost twenty-one years old, and little of the girl who had come to Roslyn remained. The fresh glow of innocence had been replaced by a patina of cool sophistication. Two years of hard work and living in Cornwall had given her maturity, had transformed the girl Laura into a woman.
    When Lucas had brought her to Roslyn, after he had done his duty she’d had no doubt that her husband of three days would eventually return to London to his former pleasures and leave her buried in Cornwall without family or friends. It had never entered her head that he would disappear out of her life altogether—permanently, she had thought. And now…now he was back.
    It was inevitable that prison had changed him in several ways, as it must change many once carefree men. His time spent in that French prison must have been like a malevolent humour festering inside him, destroying hope of survival, faith and self-respect. But all humours of the flesh could be healed—now the prison walls had fallen away, and, though the healing process might take time, time was the greatest healer.
    But how did she feel about him?
    The truth hit her. Physically she was no more immune to Lucas Mawgan now than she had been when he had dazzled her in London, blinding her to every other man. She could withstand his anger but not his smile—the smile that had shattered her heart two years ago. When she had lain with him she had almost