Miranda's Dilemma by Natasha Blackthorne

expensive wool black greatcoat, the many capes flapping in the breeze. His blond hair glinted like gold. His face, hard-boned, appeared sculpted from granite. Everything about Winterton spoke of hardness, from his sharp, penetrating gaze to his strong, square jaw and his powerfully muscled body. But he emitted an air of intelligence and unquestioned authority that frightened her far beyond even his hard stare. A shiver of instinctive alarm snaked down her back. He gazed down at her with cool, pale green eyes so like her own. “Miranda,” he said simply, emotionless.
     
    Jerked back into the present by his deep voice, she met his icy green eyes. She took a deep breath to suppress a shiver  and lifted her chin “Your Grace.”
    He nodded, then he glanced up and down the street, before addressing her again. An amused smile barely touched his thin, hard mouth. “Not quite up to the standards to which you had become accustomed, eh?”
    “It will do for now,” she replied.
    He studied her. “Proud Miranda. So proud.”
    “Should I hang my head in shame?”
    “After what you did?”
    “I did nothing but protect her.”
    “Ah, what a lioness you have become. How bravely you roar. But Carrville is gone now.”
    “You’ll stay away from her.”
    He raised his brows. “You actually believe that I have any desire to return to a woman of her years?”
    “I don't know what you want. I am just warning you.”
    “The rent on your mama’s cottage is rather expensive, yet I hear you have turned down every offer of substance you have received from the noblemen of Mayfair.”
    “That’s my affair.”
    “You may regret your pride. It is about to become very cold in Sussex.” He paused. “Very cold indeed.”
    Her stomach knotted. “You’ll stay away from her!”
    “I should have sent for the watch. Every day I regret not having sent for them.”
    “You wanted to avoid a scandal. You didn’t want anything to tarnish your grand, old name.”
    “You'll never understand that. It is a name you will never bear. You’ll never know how much that fact pleases me.” Clutching the brass handle of his walking stick, he shifted his weight.
    Her attention was drawn to his left leg. The stiff, odd angle sent a shudder through her.
    “I am not afraid of you,” she said, speaking slowly, careful not to reveal her inner shaking.
    “You should be, Miranda.”
    She swallowed back the acrid, dry-mouth fear.
    “When given a choice, I asked the physicians to attempt to save my leg. And they did, but at a dear price. Do you know what it is like to have your own flesh rotting from the inside out? Smelling the scent of your own petrifaction?”
    She found herself drowning in twin pools of green, a mirror of her own eyes filled with hate.
    Acid lurched into her throat. She took two steps back and her hands shook.
    “Weeks,” he said. “Weeks of agony. I was out of my head, raving with pain and fever. I allowed my brother and my wife to control the situation. I caved to their desire to avoid scandal.” He leaned closer. “But if I had been in my right mind, I would have called for the damned watch.”
    “And then, by the time I had come to my senses, you had run to Cassandra, and she had placed you into Carrville’s keeping.”
    Miranda swallowed convulsively.
    “He protected you so well, didn’t he? Where is your protector now?”
    “I was justified in what I did.” Her voice cracked. She swallowed again, trying to ease the hoarseness. “You should have never tried to come back.”
    He pursed his lips. “She was making a fool of herself with that young man. She needed to be brought to heel.”
    “She was no longer yours to bring to heel!” Miranda spat the words past lips that trembled now with equal parts fear and rage.
    “I have purchased her house in Sussex.”
    “You what?!”
    “I have purchased her house in Sussex. It’s very nice land. I think I shall develop it and raise sheep.”
    “You have no need for more