Only Enchanting (45 page)

“My guess is that you would not be overeager, anyway, to make your presence on the mountain known to any of the men back there,” he said. “I have the feeling that they would be a trifle annoyed. Who are you?”

“Let me go,” she said. “Any one of them would pound
you into the ground for touching me. But I’ll not betray you if you will not betray me.”

“Ah,” he said, “an amicable bargain.” He took one step back from her. “So all those men would punish me for frightening you and stealing a kiss from you, would they? All those men you do not know.”

She ignored his last words. “I was not frightened,” she said.

He grinned at her and wished that circumstances were such that he could attempt seduction. It would be very sweet. He thought ruefully of how long it had been since he had had a woman. Too long. But now was not the time.

He stepped to one side so that she could make her escape. “If I were you,” he said, “I would stay off the mountains this late at night. There are too many dangers for a woman alone.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. “I shall remember that.”

“And I shall remember this night,” he said, “and some of the faces of the men at the Chartist meeting. Perhaps I will see those faces again one day—in the other valleys. I believe I may see yours a little closer than that.”

“Not if I can help it,” she said.

He grinned and gestured to the downward slope just beyond the shadows in which they stood. “Go,” he said, “before anyone else comes down and sees that you are out of your bed at this hour and in a place that no woman has any business being.”

He watched her make the effort not to bolt like a frightened rabbit. She lifted her shawl over her head again, her eyes on his, and then walked past him and out into the open, her back straight.

“Good night, maiden of Cwmbran,” he said
softly.