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stranger’s grip on Isabel’s upper arm, Marcus said brusquely, “I believe that the lady made a request. I would suggest that you follow it. Now .”
    Isabel’s gaze jerked in his direction and her eyes widened when she saw him just a few yards away sitting astride the big black horse. Embarrassment mingled with fear flitted across her features before she mastered herself and schooled her face into a polite mask. The embarrassment Marcus understood. But fear? Good God! She had no reason to fear him .
    The stranger took Marcus’s measure, and whatever he saw in Marcus’s face made him drop his hand from Isabel’s arm and take a step away from her. Smiling, the stranger said, “There is no reason for you to be staring daggers at me. This is merely a misunderstanding between old friends.” He looked at Isabel and prompted in a silky undertone that raised Marcus’s hackles even more, “Isn’t that right, my dear Mrs. Manning?”
    Isabel nodded, her eyes not meeting Marcus’s. “Y-y-yes. Major Whitley w-w-was Hugh’s friend in India. He was stationed near us in Bombay for a number of years.” A flush on her cheeks, she added hurriedly, “He recently retired from the Army and was visiting friends in the neighborhood. When he learned that I lived nearby he came to call.”
    Isabel had never been a very good liar, but Marcus gaveher full marks for trying. He didn’t doubt that some of what she said was true, perhaps all of it, but she was leaving a great deal unsaid and that aroused his curiosity—that and Major Whitley’s threatening manner. He might bully Isabel all he pleased, Marcus decided instantly, but he damn well wasn’t going to allow anyone else that liberty. Swinging down from his horse and holding the reins lightly in one gloved hand, he walked up to where they stood.
    Stopping a few feet from Whitley, Marcus drawled, “Ah, so you knew Mr. and Mrs. Manning in India, did you?”
    Whitley inclined his head, his dark eyes watchful. “Yes. Hugh and I met while I was stationed in India.” He sent Marcus a man-to-man smile. “We were merry bachelors together in those days and I considered Hugh one of my boon companions. His marriage did not change our friendship and once Mrs. Manning joined him in Bombay, she frequently invited me to dine at their home.” He flashed a glance at Isabel. “For which I am forever grateful. Mrs. Manning was a most gracious hostess to a poor bachelor officer. She and Manning often entertained several of us stationed there.”
    Whitley was a big and burly man and his dark hair was lightly peppered with silver. His black eyes were set under well-marked brows and at one time he might have been considered quite handsome, but lines of dissipation blurred and distorted his once chiseled features. Marcus disliked him on sight.
    “An Army officer,” Marcus remarked politely. “Retired. Recently.” He looked perplexed. “How very odd. With Castlereagh at the War Department again and the gossip buzzing ’round the country about a possible invasion of the continent by Sir Wellesley this summer, I would have thought that the military would have use of an experienced officer like yourself. I vaguely remember a friend in the Army saying not long ago that the war with France was making advancement up the ranks easier and that for a career man it was a capital time to be in the service.”
    Whitley ignored the implication that there was something unseemly about the timing of his retirement and shrugged. “I regret I won’t be part of the force that finally beats Napoleon, but after over twenty years in the military, I felt the need for a change.”
    “Ah. And this, er, need for change brought you to Devon?” At Whitley’s nod, Marcus asked, “Do you intend to visit long in the neighborhood?”
    Whitley’s eyes slid to Isabel. His gaze returning to Marcus, he smiled and said, “My plans are not firm yet. I find that there are, ah, certain attractions in the area not to be