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found elsewhere.”
    “Really?” Marcus murmured, his skepticism insultingly overt. “Now, that I do find most odd, indeed! We have no particular geographical sites of interest nearby and while the Devon coast is spectacular in places, we are situated some miles inland from its charms.” The expression in his gray eyes unreadable, he said in a voice just shy of sarcastic, “Do you know, I have lived here all my life and I cannot at the moment call to mind those, er, ‘certain attractions’ that would hold the attention of a seasoned traveler like yourself. Perhaps you would care to share specifics with me? Especially since I seem to have overlooked them.”
    Whitley did not like either Marcus’s tone or the persistent questioning, but he wasn’t going to let the other man rattle him. Seeking guidance in dealing with this tall, formidable gentleman, he cast Isabel a glance. But there was no guidance to be found from that quarter; her pretty mouth half open, her eyes wide and startled, Isabel was staring at Marcus as if she had never seen him before.
    If she didn’t know better, Isabel thought incredulously, she’d swear that Marcus—staid, sober, excruciatingly polite Marcus —was determined to provoke a fight with an utter stranger! Uneasily, she stared at that rigid jaw and those cool gray eyes, wondering where the cordial, amiable, oh, andsometimes infuriating, gentleman she had known most of her life had gone.
    Since Isabel was no help, Whitley said lightly, “I find that strangers to an area are more likely to see gems all around…gems that are overlooked by those who pass them by every day.”
    “That may be true,” Marcus agreed. “But I’d still like to know of which gems you speak.”
    Whitley’s lips tightened. Was the man obtuse? In no mood to continue to exchange veiled remarks with an irritating stranger, Whitley considered his next move. Ordinarily, in the face of the blunt hostility radiating from the stranger, he might have retreated and returned at a better time, but Isabel’s show of spirit needed to be dealt with immediately. If she thought she could fob him off so easily, she would soon learn to her cost that such was not the case! He slanted another assessing look at the newcomer and stifled an oath. Unless he missed his guess the fellow wasn’t going to give ground anytime soon. So who the devil was this country bumpkin? Realizing that the stranger had never introduced himself, Whitley said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you gave me your name.”
    “I am Marcus Sherbrook,” Marcus answered, no sign of his normal friendliness in his voice.
    “Not the ‘clutch-fisted, monster guardian’ who drove our dear Mrs. Manning from England?” exclaimed Whitley, an expression of astonishment crossing his face.
    Unsmiling, Marcus glanced at Isabel, who dropped her eyes and had the grace to blush. Looking back at Whitley, he bowed and said coolly, “The same. Although, I believe that ‘ former clutch-fisted, monster guardian’ would be the correct title these days.”
    “I must say,” Whitley remarked, “that I am most happy to make your acquaintance. Since my dear Mrs. Manning spoke of you so often, why, I feel that I know you already.”
    A derisive gleam in his eyes, Marcus murmured, “How fortunate for me that my reputation goes before me.” And if this black-eyed knave, Marcus thought grimly, calls Isabel “my dear Mrs. Manning” in that smarmy tone of voice one more time… His hand formed into a formidable fist and the satisfying image of that same fist smashing into Whitley’s face whipped through his mind.
    Unaware of how close he was to having his claret drawn, Whitley laughed. “Having met you I see now that the picture Mrs. Manning painted of you as an absolute ogre was misleading.”
    An edge to her voice, Isabel joined the conversation. “If you will remember I was very young at the time I made those remarks.”
    “Very true,” said Whitley, “but you