by Olivia Drake
Every fiber of her being quivered as she glanced up to see a smirk resting on his mouth. The breeze blew a lock of brown hair onto his brow and lent him an endearing handsomeness. She ought not feel such a foolish attraction to a man who personified the very nobility that she opposed. “I’m not running, sir, but attending to my duties. Not all of us have the leisure to do as we please.”
“Yet you were out on a walk with Lady Ellen just now. I saw you from an upstairs window. Where did she go, by the way?”
Natalie cast a furtive glance at the house. Luckily, the girl had vanished from sight. “You just missed her. She went inside already.”
“The two of you came from the direction of the woods. What were you doing out there?”
An inquiring directness in his eyes seemed to peer deep into her thoughts. Did he guess that Lady Ellen had had a rendezvous with another suitor? A young neighbor who was the duke’s rival for her affections?
But that was not Natalie’s secret to reveal.
“As a matter of fact, she was helping me look for Leo,” she invented. “I thought he might have gone down to the river, but he wasn’t there.”
“Ah yes,” he said affably. “Lady Godwin mentioned that the brat is missing. That’s why I came out here, to see if you’d found him yet.”
So why hadn’t he said so from the start? Why all the questions?
Natalie drew a breath that filled her lungs with his provocative masculine scent. “Leo isn’t a brat. And I was just on my way to check the stables.”
“I’ll join you. If he’s run off again without permission, the boy could use another lecture on proper behavior.”
The twinkle in the duke’s eyes proved a distraction as he took hold of her elbow. His touch seared straight through her sleeve to wreak havoc with her insides. It would be ill-mannered to refuse his escort, she reminded herself. Aside from Lady Ellen, he was the only one who had exhibited any concern for Leo’s welfare. Natalie might not approve of the English class system, but her pragmatic side acknowledged the value of having a duke as an ally. If indeed she could trust him after the way he’d questioned Leo.
Perhaps the best way to put a period to her unwanted attraction to him was to bring his marital plans out into the open. “You came here to Oak Knoll to court Lady Ellen, did you not?”
Slowing his steps, he sent her a piercing look. “Is it so obvious?”
She reduced her pace to match his. “The other day, she mentioned something of your interest in her.”
“Did she? What exactly did she say?”
“Very little, really,” Natalie hedged. “Only that there was a long-ago agreement between her father and yours.”
“They were fast friends as youths. They fancied it a fine notion to pledge their children and strengthen the family ties. Since my ducal seat is only twenty miles from here, the marriage also would enable Lady Ellen to remain reasonably close to her parents.” Clayton’s mouth twisted wryly. “Though I confess, she doesn’t seem to be very taken by the match.”
Was he in love with her? Or just determined to fulfill a family obligation? It was difficult to tell. “Perhaps she’s hesitant because it was Audrey you were supposed to wed. No one likes to be second choice.”
“You may be right,” he mused. “I can’t imagine any woman would appreciate that.”
His gaze roved over Natalie’s face, and when he glanced at her mouth, his eyes lingered for a second. She knew enough about men to recognize that flicker of heat. A reciprocal warmth swept her with the desire to be clasped against his hard body and to experience his burning kiss. The sensation was so strong that it seared her insides.
Then a chilly gust of wind slapped her back to her senses. What madness had scrambled her brains? She had no interest in any Englishman—least of all a duke who was on the verge of betrothing himself to one of his own kind.
“Well,” she said lightly, “if you’re looking for ways to charm Lady Ellen, you could always try your hand at writing poetry to her.”
“Poetry?” The horror on Clayton’s face was almost comical. “You can’t be serious.”
“It was just a thought.” Biting back laughter, Natalie took pity on him. “By the way, if that coat is the same one I remember from a few days ago, I’m happy to see that your valet did an excellent job of cleaning the mud left by Leo’s shoes.”
Clayton glanced down at the pristine garment. “Chumley is a gem.”
The conversation ended as they arrived at the stable complex, which included an enormous barn, a red-brick carriage house, and several paddocks where some horses had been turned out for exercise. The yard had a fair amount of activity under way. In front of the barn, a young groom shoveled a pile of fresh manure into a wheelbarrow. A handyman stood on a ladder and touched up the white trim with a paintbrush. Another worker could be seen through the open doors of the carriage house, polishing the brass fittings of a coach in preparation for the family’s departure to London in a few days.
Natalie didn’t want to think about the future just now. It was too wonderful to breathe in the perfume of horses and leather. She had always loved the freedom of riding, the rush of the wind in her face, the excitement of discovering what lay over the next hill. Several fine mounts pranced inside the fenced enclosures, tossing their manes in the sunshine.
“Oh, I do miss riding!” she said impulsively. “Are all stables on English estates so large and well kept?”
Clayton turned an appreciative smile at her. “We Brits love our horses. Racing is a national pastime. I myself run a breeding program at a property I own in Suffolk near Newmarket. It has twice the capacity of this stable. Last year’s champion was sired by one of my stallions.”
“Newmarket. I remember my father mentioning that racetrack. He raised horses, too, on our farm just outside of Philadelphia.” At least until he had died suddenly and she’d been forced to sell the place.
“Did he, indeed?” His expression alive with interest, the duke raked her with an assessing look. “He must have visited England, then.”
“In his youth.”
“You mentioned he was a senator, too, a politician as well as a horse breeder. He sounds rather like our English aristocrats.”
The topic made her uneasy, for he’d ventured too close to the truth. What would he say if he learned of her shady family connections to the nobility? Natalie had no wish to enlighten him, for she firmly believed that the blue blood conferred by birth made a duke no more worthy than any of the workers in this stable yard.
Luckily, she had reason to change the subject. “Look, there’s Leo. I’ll go fetch him.”
Natalie hurried ahead toward the boy, who was galloping his little cavalryman along the white slats of the paddock fence. Her mind was set on scolding him when an angry equine snort broke into her thoughts. The livid sounds of an enraged stallion came from within the paddock.
In swift succession, she noted that Lord Wymark was mounted on a large bay at the far end of the enclosure, and that he seemed to be having difficulty controlling the agitated animal. He shouted at a groom, who hastened to unlatch the gate.
The stallion reared, its front legs pawing at the air. The iron-shod hooves hit the dirt and the horse sprang forward.
Just as Leo wandered past the open gate.
Chapter 9
Hadrian had been admiring Miss Fanshawe’s shapely figure as she walked ahead of him toward Leo. She wore that cinnamon gown again, the same one as in their first meeting at the inn, when she’d come looking for the brat who’d been hiding underneath the table. Now, as then, he wondered how a long-sleeved frock with a modest neckline could be so titillating. The brown shawl over her shoulders made her gown even more provocative, affording him glimpses of a slender waist, womanly hips, and a delightfully curvy bottom.
Perhaps it was not the trappings at all, but the woman herself who fascinated him. Natalie. An uncommon name for an uncommon lady. Her bold, forthright nature made him suspect that she would
be equally passionate in bed. He had no intention of finding out if that was true, but the thought inspired his lustful imaginings nonetheless. He was entertaining a vision of exploring the silken skin beneath her skirts when an irritated whinny brought the fantasy to an abrupt halt.
His gaze snapped to the paddock. Only then did he realize that Wymark was mounted on Thunder, his new bay stallion. The horse was dancing to the side, tossing its head and snorting. His cousin sawed at the reins in an attempt to keep the spirited animal in check. Fool! Hadrian had warned the pup that he lacked the experience to control the volatile beast.
Just then, Thunder reared, front legs kicking the air. Wymark clung for dear life, by some miracle avoiding a toss into the dirt. The bay came back down onto all four hooves and surged forward.
Straight at Leo as he strolled past the open gate.
Natalie dashed toward him, frantically calling out his name. But she was hampered by her long skirts. She’d get herself killed along with him.
Hadrian sprinted forward, his legs pumping, his heart pounding. Time slowed to a crawl as if he were running through a bog of treacle. His mind played a prayer over and over. Please, God. Please, God. Please, God. The nightmare of Leo and Natalie lying mangled and bloody spurred him onward, the effort utilizing every ounce of his strength.
The boy looked quizzically toward her. His freckled features showed wide-eyed curiosity. Then he must have heard the hoofbeats, for he swung his tow-haired head toward the paddock and froze.
The massive stallion surged toward him, hooves hammering the packed dirt of the yard. One of the workers shouted a warning. The horse faltered for a split second, long enough for Hadrian to hurtle past Natalie and grab Leo.
He seized Natalie’s waist with his other arm, and in one continuous motion yanked them out of the animal’s path. They went tumbling down in a heap near the paddock fence.
Just in the nick of time. As Hadrian covered them with his body, the horse galloped past so close that clods of earth sprayed them. He felt a jolt as one of the hooves grazed his shoulder.
He glimpsed a groom at the edge of the yard waving his arms to stop the runaway horse. Spooked, Thunder reared again and this time succeeded in dislodging his rider. Wymark went tumbling to the ground as the bay took off like a shot across the lawn, its silken mane streaming in the wind.
Hadrian turned his attention to the rescued pair, fearing he might have injured them in the hard fall. Natalie appeared stunned, her bosom heaving, her lips parted to gasp out, “Leo…?”
The boy was already squirming to free himself. “I’m squished! What’s wrong with that horse, Mr. Duke? Why’s he so mad?”
“He needs training, that’s all.” Worriedly, Hadrian shifted position to scan the boy. “Are you all right, brat? Any pain in your arms or legs?”
“No, but I lost my cavalryman,” he wailed tragically. “I gotta find him!”
As if he hadn’t just escaped death, Leo nimbly scrambled to his feet. He scurried off, bending over to peer at the ground for his toy. Work resumed in the stable yard, and Hadrian heard the scrape of a shovel somewhere nearby, the creak of the painter’s ladder against the stable, the muted voices of several grooms discussing the near-accident a short distance away.
Then the rest of the world vanished as he turned his gaze downward at Natalie. He lay sprawled on top of her, his hard frame cushioned by her soft feminine curves. The delight of full-body closeness seared him. A lightning flash of hot blood flamed into his groin, bringing him to instant arousal. It was the very devil of a time in which to be struck by lust, but he relished the sensation nonetheless.
He couldn’t bring himself to release her. Not just yet. Not until he had a moment to savor her womanly form. Was she experiencing the same urgent hunger as he felt?
As he watched, the look in those sunlit green eyes altered subtly from shock at the close call to a carnal awareness of him. Her thick dark lashes lowered slightly, though she didn’t glance away in maidenly shyness. She continued to hold his gaze, her bosom rising and falling beneath his chest, one of her hands still clutching his forearm.
He read a certain reserve in her lovely features. Clearly, she knew as well as he did that any intimacy between them could only lead to disaster. She was wary of him, for she had made her low opinion of the nobility very clear.
Not that wary precisely described Natalie Fanshawe. She had survived a brutal attack on the American frontier. She had rushed into danger just now without hesitation. And she had an audacious way of speaking her mind that he found curiously refreshing …
“Clayton,” she said rather breathily, “you’ll need to move if I’m ever to stand up.”
Her body stirred beneath him in a way that threatened to drive Hadrian over the verge into madness. With effort, he cudgeled his lusty mind back into the realm of sanity. A gentleman oughtn’t be contemplating the seduction of a respectable woman. As much as he might crave to do so, he could not lie here forever in the cradle of her body.
Especially not in a damned stable yard in full view of the world.
He eased off her, stood up, and drew in a lungful of cool air to clear his head. Extending a hand, he assisted Natalie to her feet. She shook out her wrinkled skirt and smoothed the fabric in a quintessentially feminine manner.
“Forgive me for tossing you to the ground like that,” he said. “I hope you aren’t too badly bruised.”
“It’s nothing. Leo and I are alive, and that’s all that matters.” Her stark gaze focused on his face. “If anything, I must thank you for acting as swiftly as you did. When I saw that horse coming straight at him, I feared…”
Shuddering, she adjusted the shawl that had fallen from one of her shoulders. Tears glinted in her eyes as she glanced away, blinking hard in a palpable effort to master her emotions. Until that moment, Hadrian hadn’t realized just how much she loved Audrey’s son. He had a powerful urge to fold her into his arms, to offer her comfort and protection, and damn anyone who might be watching.
But no sooner had he taken an involuntary step toward her than she managed a wobbly smile. “Well! It’s over now and we’re fine. And you’ll no doubt be embarrassed to be seen with me. I must look a fright!”
Lifting her hands, she attempted to straighten the tumble of sable curls that had come partially undone in the fall. Several strands streamed down past her shoulders to curl around her bosom. With her cheeks flushed from the encounter, she looked the precise opposite of frightful. She made such an adorable picture that a soppy warmth stirred in the region of his chest. It was a feeling so foreign to his customary cool hauteur that it threw him off-kilter.
“Nonsense,” he said roughly. “You’re the most—”
“Oh no!” she broke in. “You’re bleeding!”
Natalie was staring in dismay at his left shoulder. He glanced down to see that a portion of his upper sleeve had been ripped open, the shirt beneath it torn as well. Blood oozed from a laceration the size of a hoof. Now that she’d brought it to his attention, his shoulder ached like the very devil.
“One of Thunder’s feet clipped me, that’s all. It’s nothing serious.”
“Another inch or two, and it might have been your skull!” She dug in her pocket and whipped out a folded handkerchief, gently pressing it to the wound. “Thunder—that’s the horse’s name?”
“Yes.” Hadrian ignored the pain and concentrated on her closeness, savoring her enticing feminine fragrance. “Wymark recently purchased the stallion. The beast is too excitable to be ridden by someone so inexperienced.”
Those gorgeous eyes lifted to his. “An animal with such a high-strung temperament won’t be easy to tame.”
“Precisely why my cousin should never have mounted Thunder. Bert is his trainer. That’s Wymark’s groom.”
“I see.” She lifted the square of linen to examine the injury, not a difficult task since she was barely half a head shorter than him. He hadn’t realized until this moment how irksome it was to a ma
n of his height always having to gaze down at much daintier women. “There may be some bandaging supplies kept in the stable,” she said. “Hold this in place to stop the bleeding, and I’ll find out.”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, tucking the handkerchief inside the torn fabric so that the intact portion of his coat held it in place. “Chumley will doctor me.”
“Your valet is a man of many talents. However, I very much doubt that he’ll be able to fix the damage to your coat without sending it to a tailor. The tear is jagged and you’ll likely need to replace the entire sleeve.”
“Don’t look so glum,” he said, warmed by her concern. “A ruined jacket is no great tragedy when compared to the safety of you and Leo.”
“You’re very kind, Mr. Duke. Especially as it appears your expensive wardrobe isn’t safe around either of us.”
Smitten by her smile, he said impulsively, “My name is Hadrian. I hope you’ll consider me enough of a friend to use it.”
“Then do call me Natalie.” She paused, a hint of irony twisting her lips. “Unless you fear your cousins might object to any familiarity with a provincial upstart.”
“Leave them to me.” A smudge of dirt marred her cheek, and without thinking, he brushed it away with his thumb. The rose-petal softness of her skin jolted his pulse beat, a reminder of the temptation she posed. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have a word with Wymark. It appears that Thunder managed to unseat him.”
Hadrian forced himself to walk away from her. He headed toward Wymark, who was sitting on the grass, rubbing his knee. The damned sprout was lucky he hadn’t broken his neck. He deserved that and more for having come within a hairsbreadth of trampling Leo and Natalie.
Speaking of luck, she had interrupted him at a critical moment, pointing out his injury just when he’d been about to declare her the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance. She’d spared him the inadvisability of voicing that gushy tribute. Natalie Fanshawe might be strikingly attractive with that combination of deep green eyes and sable hair, and her curvy form, but she was far too egalitarian to be his wife. They came from vastly different worlds. Within his elevated sphere, he had his pick of far more suitable ladies.
