She looked at him surprised. Talek did not strike her as the sort of man who did anything on impulse. ‘It has?’

He nodded.

‘That must be unsettling for you.’

‘Extremely, but it was also a pleasant surprise. The question is, was it a pleasant surprise for you too?’

Grace stared at him. This virile, handsome man had just asked her to be his wife. To have his children, to grow old with him, to end the day in his arms and wake beside him in the morning. To share everything that life has to offer and make new discoveries along the way. An unbreakable bond that only strengthens with each adversity and pain they have to endure. His hazel eyes grew concerned.

‘Grace?’

‘Marry you and live here?’

‘The clay lands do not have the beauty of your moor, but I will be a loyal husband to you and provide you with everything you want and need.’

‘I have no doubt about that. But, Talek, you know so little about me.’

‘I know I love you.’ He stepped forward, taking her hands and drawing her gently towards him. ‘And I hope you will grow to love me in time.’

‘I don’t need to grow to love you.’

‘Then you are accepting?’

She nodded dumbly. ‘Yes. I believe I am.’ She found herself smiling too.

He drew her even closer, circling her waist with one hand as he did so.

‘I was growing concerned,’ he whispered as he traced her jawline with the fingers of the other. ‘For a moment I thought . . .’ His smile broadened as he looked at her. ‘What a formidable team we will make, Grace Kellow. With you by my side, I believe I could take on the world.’ He kissed her before she could reply and, just as it was on the beach, his kiss cast a spell to keep the worries of the world at bay.

The kiss quickly deepened, spurred on by her response and a desire for more. He was staking his claim upon her, but she did not care, for she was staking her claim on him too. They were now betrothed by both promise and kiss, two bodies becoming as one and hinting at the pleasures that lay ahead. They broke apart, their hearts racing and bodies trembling.

‘I must speak to your father and ask his permission,’ he murmured. He gently kissed her again, before withdrawing at arm’s length. ‘I don’t want to upset my future father-in-law without asking for his consent.’

Her father. Suddenly all the secrets she held rose up between them.

Grace touched his cheek to soothe him. ‘Talek—’

‘I love the way you say my name,’ he said, turning into her palm to kiss her there too.

‘Be serious now. We need to talk.’

‘Now you are reprimanding me,’ he teased.

‘This is so sudden. It is beyond my wildest dreams.’

‘And mine.’

‘I don’t want it to spoil.’

‘And why should it?’

Before she could reply the familiar gait of a horse’s trot stopped her. Talek heard it too and lifted his gaze to look over her head.

‘Who is it?’ asked Grace.

Talek’s hold of her loosened. ‘It is Mr Williamson, my banker,’ he said, frowning. ‘And as I have not requested a visit, I can only assume it is not good news.’

* * *

Grace and Talek immediately returned to the house, where his housekeeper informed them that Mr Williamson was waiting to see him in the drawing room.

‘I will leave you to talk,’ said Grace, certain that Talek would not want her to be present.

Talek caught her arm as she turned to leave. ‘We are to be married. Stay. I have nothing to hide from you.’ His honesty held up a mirror to her own deceit. Talek noticed the change in her. ‘It cannot be as bad as all that, Grace. I have nothing to fear and nor should you.’

Grace swallowed the rising lump in her throat as Talek led the way to the drawing room. They found the banker fervently polishing his glasses. Startled, he hastily perched them onto his nose and rose to greet them. He clasped Talek’s hand in both of his and shook it vigorously.

‘Mr Danning, I apologise for disturbing you, but it is a matter of great importance that I came to speak with you today.’ He nodded a fleeting greeting towards Grace and immediately returned his attention back to Talek.

‘I hope there is nothing amiss?’ asked Talek as he offered the older man the seat he had just vacated. Mr Williamson declined it and dragged a large, crumpled, white handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed his brow with it.

‘I should have questioned it earlier.’

Talek frowned. ‘You are beginning to worry me now, Mr Williamson. Questioned what?’

‘The withdrawal of five thousand pounds from your joint account. He intended to make another withdrawal today, but I refused.’

‘Who intended to?’

‘Mr Ward.’ The banker mopped his brow again, dislodging his spectacles in his haste. ‘I was surprised to see him,’ he said, straightening them with trembling fingers. ‘I had heard he was injured.’

‘Are you sure it was Henry?’ asked Talek.

‘On that I have no doubt. Bold as brass to such an extent I questioned my own reasons for being uneasy. After all, he had your signature and had every right to withdraw whatever amount he chose to. However, you have always warned me in advance of large withdrawals in order that I can ensure there is money available, when he returned the next day I felt uneasy and began to suspect—’

‘I haven’t signed anything to make such a large withdrawal.’

‘He presented your signature. I saw it myself.’

‘Whatever he showed you, it was not by my hand.’

Mr Williamson began to worry the handkerchief in his hands. ‘I did not doubt the signature until he returned to make another withdrawal. I should have refused the first.’

Talek rested his hand on a high-backed chair. He remained calm, as his fingers tightened on the spiral of carved wood in his palm.

‘You know, as well as I do, you could not if he had both signatures. He has legitimate access to the account, just as I do. He must have forged it. My concern is . . . what he intends to do with it.’

‘What should I do, Mr Danning?’