Her feet touched the ground, but he did not let her go.

‘I’m aware of everything about you,’ he whispered against her hair. ‘The tone in your voice. The way your eyes change colour during the course of the day. The way your lips move when you speak.’ Grace lifted her gaze to meet his as he trailed the curve of his finger down her cheek. He was watching it, as if he was marvelling at the softness of her skin. ‘I’ve tried to fight it, but I no longer have the will to try.’

‘Fight what?’

He met her gaze. ‘This.’

His kiss surprised her, robbing her of both time and place and her will to move. It was demanding and stoked a need within her too, a desire which was instinctual and would not be ignored. Her lips parted beneath his, enticing him deeper. The seductive message was clear. I’m yours for this moment in time and you are mine. Talek heard the unspoken message and gladly responded as only a man can.

The intimacy of their kiss was both shocking and all consuming; indulging in a wild passion she did not know could exist. At times gentle, at times demanding, a chase of desire that left them both breathless and shaken. Together they had unleashed a passion that could run wild if not kept in check.

It was Talek who had the strength to break away first.

He rested his cheek against her hair as he caressed the small of her back with his hands. He spoke, his voice hoarse and barely a whisper.

‘What have you done to me, Grace Kellow?’ He held her at arm’s length, his brow knotted in puzzlement. He retreated a few steps. ‘I have turned into an untrustworthy fool. I promised your father you would come to no harm under my roof. I promised to protect you, not to take advantage of you.’

‘We kissed. There is no harm done.’

Talek shook his head. ‘I’m not talking about just the kiss. I’m talking about where that kiss might lead. From the first day I saw you I have been drawn to you, Grace. I blamed it on my curiosity. Who was this woman who had the gall to accuse me of murder and trespass on private property, but then be found in such a vulnerable and confused state? Your behaviour was bound to raise questions in here,’ he said, tapping his temple. He took a deep breath. ‘This strange power you have over me is growing stronger by the day and it is only now that I can see what it is. I am attracted to you, Grace, but my good sense warns me to keep my distance. I have workers who rely on me and a business to run and I need a clear head, not one that is thinking of another.’

‘Is this because Margaret hurt you so deeply?’

Talek braced himself. ‘My sister shares too much at times.’

‘She thought to warn me. Her intention was good.’

Talek’s nod in acceptance was so slight, she almost missed it.

‘I have no wish to court you, Grace. What would you say if I told you that when I was kissing you, in my head I was begging you to slap my face and put an end to it?’ He smiled at the memory. ‘You didn’t. I see now that you and I are not so very different after all.’ His hazel eyes challenged her to disagree. Grace found she could not. ‘I think we are both capable of great passion and the temptation to indulge is powerful, although foolhardy. So if I cannot rely on you to keep me at arm’s length and my head clear, then I must do it myself. And it is all the more painful as I have had a glimpse of all that could be between us. It has shaken me. And I’m not ready to be shaken yet.’

‘Then we won’t speak of it again.’

He turned to face the breeze and closed his eyes for a moment. His brow furrowed, as if he was constructing and deconstructing what had just happened to make sense of it all. He opened his eyes but did not look at her.

‘I apologise for my behaviour. The fault is mine. I have let my passion get the better of me and kissed you with no intention to court you.’ He braced his shoulders. ‘It will not happen again. A woman’s reputation is everything and if we had been seen my behaviour would have damaged yours.’

‘Is reputation everything?’

He looked at her, puzzled. ‘Of course it is. You must see that.’

Grace felt a lump rise in her throat. ‘Yes, of course.’

‘I am going away for a few days.’

His plans surprised her. ‘When?’

‘Tomorrow. I received a letter from Caradon Potteries this morning requesting an urgent meeting.’ The change in his tone was marked. Only a few moments ago he had spoken with passion, now his words were measured, serious and clear. The aloof Talek Danning had returned with no wish to refer to their kiss again and she could only follow his lead.

‘You need not worry about Amelia. I will look out for her.’

‘Speaking of which, I think she is stirring and we should walk back.’

Silently, they retraced their steps in the sand and Amelia greeted them with a smile. Talek fetched the picnic hamper from their waiting carriage and Grace and Amelia set about sharing its contents in the shadow of the grey rocky cliff. As Amelia poured and passed around the glasses of cool lemonade, she remained oblivious to the exchange of furtive glances from those she was with. The only evidence that Talek had held her in his arms was the trail of his footprints drying in the sun. He spoke of his impending trip and which train he intended to catch and it was clear he was resolved to forget their moment of passion. However, Grace knew she could not. For the briefest of time she had seen the real man — and, more importantly, she had discovered who she really was — she was the passionate, sensual, confident woman who had kissed him back.

Chapter Fourteen

Amelia greeted Grace with a radiant smile. She had received another letter from Henry and was pleased he was finally improving. As the steam of the teapot rose between them, she read it to her, her eyes bright with hope and love. Amelia was entranced with Henry. How potent and all-consuming falling in love could be — and how blind it makes one, thought Grace as she listened in silence.

‘When I am well, my darling Amelia, we will announce our engagement. I cannot bear to not have you as my wife a moment longer. This injury has made me realise how much you are at the centre of my heart and how not being with you rips something inside of me.’

Amelia’s eyes glistened with joy. Grace lifted her teacup and sipped at the burning liquid.

‘Help yourself to some eggs, Grace. Please don’t starve yourself,’ Amelia added as an afterthought.

Grace remained seated. ‘Perhaps in a little while . . .’

Amelia returned her attention to the letter in her hand, her eyes eagerly flitting across the page. ‘He then goes on to talk about our future. Listen to this, Grace . . .’ Amelia cleared her throat and continued to read of Henry’s hopes and dreams. The little appetite Grace had slowly faded away. He wrote of children and growing old together. Talek had told her Henry knew of Amelia’s prognosis. Was this some cruel joke or an attempt to make Amelia’s life as normal as possible?

Amelia laughed. ‘What was I thinking? This must bore you. A love letter is only interesting to those it concerns.’ She folded her letter carefully and slipped it into her dress pocket. ‘Henry wants the ledger and all the recent paperwork that has come through since his injury. He feels well and wants to reassure himself that everything is in order. I suspect he is bored. Henry is not a man who likes to sit around. I will send one of the shift bosses to take it to him.’

‘There is no need,’ said Grace, lifting the teapot to pour a cup. ‘I will take them to him.’

Amelia immediately accepted the offer. ‘What a splendid idea. You could take him a letter from me at the same time.’

Grace sipped her tea. The burning liquid moved down through her body. Not only was she hiding things from Talek, she was now finding herself a go-between for a relationship he may not approve of.

‘On one condition — that you inform Henry in the letter that no more low-grade clay is sold under the disguise of a better one without Talek’s knowledge.’

‘Agreed. And you must keep your promise not to tell Talek about this deal and my part in it.’

Grace nodded and took another sip of steaming tea. She swallowed down the painful heat, which helped to ground her in a landscape that continued to trouble her.

* * *

Grace gently pushed open the door of the St Austell mining office. It swung easily on its well-oiled hinges, gliding over the tiles like a swan in flight. She had a right to be here, she told herself, as she ran her fingers across the Celtic Clay, Proprieters Ward Danning nameplate on the door as she stepped inside. The noise of carriages and townsfolk in the street below seeped in through the gap in the window frame, muted only by the folds of the heavy curtains. She had handed in Amelia’s letter to Henry’s housekeeper, but she had quickly left without handing over the ledgers. Talek had entrusted her with the accounts and she was unwilling to pass the guardianship back to their former owner just yet. She needed to clarify things first and she had a feeling that somewhere in this office she would find the answers.

Talek had offered her access to this room, but she still felt like a trespasser as he did not know she was here now with the intention of searching every cupboard and drawer while he was out of the county.

Although Amelia had written to Henry and asked him to cancel the contract, Grace could not forget about it. Amelia was right when she expressed concerns that a fall-out between business partners could cost jobs. It was on this basis, coupled with her loyalty to Amelia, that Grace had agreed to remain silent. It was not long before the doubts had set in. During the night, when the hour is at its blackest, old fears and what ifs resurfaced in Grace’s mind. Despite Amelia’s earlier pleas, Grace could not escape the fact that she was betraying Talek. If he was the cold calculating man he pretended to be, then it would be easier to remain silent on the matter, but now, after Talek’s kiss on the beach, she had seen a side of him that was far different to the man he pretended to be. It tore at her heart to know that this kind, caring, passionate man was being betrayed by all those he held dear. One day he would find out, and she could not bear the thought of witnessing his anguish when he did.

She could run away and forget the Danning family. She had run from her troubles before and could do it again. The decision made, Grace finally fell into a fitful sleep, but sound decisions made at night, seem foolish in the light of day. Upon waking, Grace quickly changed her mind. This time she had no intention of avoiding the problem, but she could not risk tearing a family apart on a hunch. She would face it head on, and she believed she would find the evidence she needed in this office.

Grace shut the door, locked it and began a methodical search of every drawer, shelf and folder. The first two drawers yielded nothing of interest, but she was not disheartened. Henry was meticulous in his record keeping, but he had not kept a record of the increased profits Amelia said he was planning to reinvest. Grace was convinced that he would keep a record somewhere and she suspected the deposits would tally with the faint marks on the account books. She opened the third drawer and started at the back, working her way through it, page by page, book by book. Again she found nothing of interest.

Grace sat back on her heels. The dark ornate furniture seemed to crowd in on her. Her gaze flitted from chair, desk and sideboard, up along the shelf crammed with yellowing maps tied with scarlet ribbon. Dull books lined the other shelves, some dusty from neglect, others with spines cracked from frequent use. Grace slowly rose to her feet as her eyes came to rest on one book in particular. It was pale brown and uninteresting, with no writing on the spine to indicate the title, yet it appeared to be a novel in a working office. She walked towards it, reached up and slid it from the shelf.

She carefully opened it, as if it was far more fragile than the small, leather bound book it was. It was heavy for its size, with column upon column of numbers, meticulously recorded in fine black ink and neatly displaying everything she had been searching for. Selling the clay from Stenna Pit as a higher-grade clay had been presented to her as a business contract to be proud of. If it was, why would Henry hide the details in a secret ledger disguised as a novel? A makeshift pocket on the inside of the cover cradled a book no bigger than a man’s pocket. Grace recognised it instantly. It was a passbook, so called as it was passed from bank customer to teller to record the transactions of their accounts. She itched to examine it, but hesitated. If the passbook related to Henry’s personal account, she had no right to pry — but what if it tallied with the marks in the ledger? Grace slowly opened it.