by Stacy Reid
“Don’t you ever change, Livvie.”
“I won’t, Papa,” she whispered in the wind, urging the stallion to greater speed.
The earl overtook her, and she admired the easy way he rode and the restrained power in his movements. He turned his horse across the lanes, forcing her to come to a halt.
“Yes?” she demanded, a bit too tremulously. He mustn’t see that he had rattled her.
A smile tugged at his lips, and she forced her gaze away. The earl was dressed in dark breeches with knee-high riding boots. His white shirt was shockingly without a cravat and it was parted enough so she could see the strong column of his throat. She had to own he was a very handsome man. He was in possession of the brilliant emerald eyes that appeared to be a trademark of the Blade men. All of the men’s eyes in the paintings lining the picture gallery inside the house boasted the exact same shade of green. A shock of black hair, which he wore in the fashionable Coup de vent, was topped by his beaver. He had high-sculpted cheekbones and a strong patrician nose and a full, sensual mouth. She blushed at noticing these details.
The earl was obviously tall and muscular, yet so graceful in his movements…and so arrogant. It was a pity he wasn’t more affable. Outrage still burned through her regarding his rude demand as to what she was.
“I will ride back with you.”
She blinked. “I appreciate the courtesy, but I am not in need of a chaperone.” Surely it would not be wise for her to be seen with him alone.
His cold eyes swept over her. “Yet you shall have my company.”
His presence was almost intimidating. She’d only met a few men like the earl, where their aristocratic razor-edged elegance cloaked immense personal power.
“I borrowed your horse because I wanted to be alone with my thoughts for a few moments. Your presence…would be unsettling to the peace I desire.”
The fierce intensity with which those brilliant green eyes ensnared her had her pulse leaping.
“Ah, your recklessness is explained,” he murmured caustically.
Profoundly disturbed by the earl’s intense stare, Livvie glanced away. She had never been so uncomfortable in her life. “I suppose you wouldn’t consider my reason an acceptable excuse.”
“You supposed correctly.”
Mindful of her deportment, she said evenly, “I had intended to go around the lanes once more before I returned to the main house.”
He grunted and kneed his horse to move up beside hers. They trotted together in silence, and Livvie wondered if she should make an attempt at conversation. She desperately wished her hair had not tumbled during her ride and that she had not fallen into the mud. How terribly unladylike and unkempt she must appear.
“In her letter, my mother beseeched me to travel home and assist with your dancing lessons.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It seems at least two dancing tutors have abandoned you on account of your terrible form.”
She gasped. “I…I do not have a terrible form,” she muttered, acutely embarrassed. “It was unkind of the countess to say so.” It infuriated her to feel tears burning her throat. What else had the countess complained of? Livvie thought she had been doing so well. She’d never had a dance tutor before, nor had she attended finishing school, so she was not as graceful on the dance floor as she ought to be. The only time she ever felt elegant and had good form was when she rode or fenced.
The earl blinked. His only reaction. “Did I bruise your feelings?”
“Of course not.”
“I am relieved to hear it. Your eyes do appear a bit red, and I would not be able to abide your tears,” he said icily.
She set her teeth, dearly wishing she had not felt the sharp pinprick of hurt at his callous recital of her faults.
“You insult me by suggesting I would dissolve into hysterics simply because you know I am a clumsy dancer,” Livvie said lightly, burying all traces of earlier discomfort. The vile whispers about her father had created within her a thick hide. She’d not let a man whom she just met pierce her shield.
He made a gruff noise in his throat. “How unusual, a lady who controls her emotions. Never before have I met the like.”
He is insufferable.
“Insufferable, am I?” he mused softly, and it was then that she realized she had spoken aloud.
Her cheeks heated. “I shall not apologize when you are acting so odiously.”
A surprising smile tugged at his lips. “Are we to take another turn around the lanes?” he asked, ignoring her outburst.
Her stomach tightened. “Are you suggesting you will ride with me, my lord?”
“Yes.”
He reached up and his thumb brushed against her cheek in a featherlight caress.
She jerked away, shocked. “My lord! You…are being improper.”
He seemed equally surprised at his actions, before his countenance became remote. “There is a smudge on your cheek…and chin, blue in color.”
Oh! How embarrassing. “It’s paint. And please refrain from touching me.”
A fleeting smile touched is lips. “Of course. Forgive my lapse, Lady Olivia, it most assuredly will not happen again.”
His thigh brushed against hers as their horses walked beside each other. A tingle of awareness spread, becoming a rush of heat that made her breasts tingle. Her reaction was mortifying, unusual, and so shocking. Never had she reacted so to a man, and she was at a loss as to what was happening.
The sense of tranquility that usually enveloped her when she rode vanished. She tightened her fingers on the reins, wanting to be out of his presence. Without thinking, she urged the horse forward, and Lord Blade leaned in and tugged on her reins, forcing her to a halt once more. Somehow his thumb slid over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. A single bold and improper stroke, and her stomach did a frightening little flip.
He released her as if he had been burned. Then his face shuttered. He stared at her, and the icy distance she spied in his expression had her mouth drying. He barely tipped his hat. “Good day to you, Lady Olivia. I will let you enjoy your ride alone.”
She nodded and he spun his horse around. “Lord Blade?”
He tensed. “Yes?” He answered without looking back.
“Will you keep this encounter between us? Your mother would be most displeased if she knew I took Arius from the stables.” His mother was a woman of uncertain temper and Livvie found it best not to prick her moods.
“A secret,” he drawled.
She frowned. “Well…yes, a secret if you will.”
He glanced over his shoulders and considered her. A barely there smile touched his lips, then he urged his horse forward in a powerful surge without answering. Livvie felt bereft and surprisingly fascinated by the man. A foolish thing to feel for a gentleman like him, who would never be interested in a lady like her, and she would certainly not want favors from a man who thought her ridiculous for simply indulging in a ride.
Since her travel to Grangeville Park, her aversion to marriage had slowly been eroding. She recognized her fear was that no man would truly desire her for her…and she would be trapped into a life where she was unable to express herself for fear of condemnation. Though she envisioned another life for herself, she knew she could not support her family on her paintings alone. Not in the comfort they had long been accustomed to.
The freedom she had now was a wonderful thing, and she could not imagine it permanently being curtailed. But she truly was unsure whether a husband would want to force restrictions on her person. If she must marry, and she feared deep in her heart she would have to, it needed to be to a man of affable charm, one who would appreciate everything about her, and one who most preferably have at least ten thousand pounds a year. That would satisfy her mamma.
The hope that had been on her mother’s face and the excitement in her eyes swam in Livvie’s vision. She had to give this…whatever this was, a fair chance. Livvie had to do everything in her power to ensure her
mother never suffered such loss of hope again. While she had not minded the genteel poverty they had weathered, her mother was too delicate in her sensibilities to endure such a state again.
With a grimace, Livvie conceded that she truly had to secure a good match. But she wished the very notion of marrying did not make her stomach feel so hollow.
Chapter Three
Lady Olivia really was the loveliest creature Tobias had ever laid eyes on, and also the most disagreeable in her temperament. It was a pity she wasn’t more…gently bred. Lord and Lady Bathhurst, her parents, had been disingenuous in describing their daughter as demure and respectful in her ways. While she might hold the courtesy title, her behavior was the furthest thing from ladylike.
In fact, Tobias would say she was a hoyden. She was very unsuitable to be the friend of Lady Francie, his mild-mannered sister. He had seen a rapid deterioration in his sister’s behavior since Lady Olivia had descended on their household six weeks prior. Her stepfather, the Viscount Bathhurst, was Tobias’s mother’s cousin, and the man had sent her to the dowager countess of Blade, his mother, for social polish, so the chit could land herself a wealthy, well-connected husband.
Tobias shook his head, mystified that they thought it was even remotely possible. In the two weeks since he had first been in her presence, she had only proven more completely how inappropriate her behavior was. He watched as the beautiful hoyden tried to convince his sister to take a dip in the lake. Well, he assumed that was what she was trying to do, from the pantomime happening below. From where he sat mounted on his massive gray steed, he could not hear their conversation. But he could only imagine Lady Olivia was trying to convince his sister to behave in a manner as foolhardy as she did herself. Lady Olivia gesticulated, pointing toward the main house in the far distance and then back at the lake. His sister shook her head, then folded her arms, her lips setting into stiff lines of what he knew was disapproval.
Lady Olivia threw back her head and laughed. It was husky, sensual, and unfettered. Nothing like the sweet, simpering, elegant chuckling the ladies he knew displayed. With a casual shrug, she undressed.
Sweet Christ.
Was the lady completely without propriety?
Look away.
The gentlemanly thing would be to ignore her actions. Instead, he was rooted to the spot, his mouth drying as she slipped out of her simple high-waisted day gown. She wore no stays, a shocking thing for sure. Tobias knew no lady who would behave in a manner so scandalously. Lady Caroline Lamb had been rumored to be just as wicked with her inappropriate mode of dressing and her affairs, notably with Lord Byron. But what would a sheltered country miss like Lady Olivia know about behaving badly?
Against his own volition, his interest multiplied, and an idea to shape his current heroine in a similar manner took root. Absurd…but so damned fascinating. She stood in her chemise, and with a toss of her hair, ran down the gentle slope and executed one of the most elegant dives he’d ever witnessed into the lake.
He was reluctantly impressed.
She continually thumbed her nose at the normal expectations of ladylike behavior. Young ladies did not cavort in their undergarments in the middle of the day, where anyone could see them. No…they should be inside, designing meals, reading, practicing their instruments, planning their wardrobes for the Season, or even bloody sewing.
The only thing she did that seemed normal was paint, and even in that he had been erroneously wrong. He’d spied a painting of his estate that she’d left unattended in the parlor and Tobias had been riveted, unable to credit that a young lady of only twenty-two years had produced with such skill, precision, attention to detail, and mastery. The painting had made him observe Grangeville Park through fresh eyes. Everything had seemed more vivid, more beautiful, more peaceful and serene. On an impulse, he had offered to purchase it, and had been pleased and baffled when she’d offered it instead as a gift, for his generosity in having her in his home.
Lady Olivia jangled at nerves he had kept detached and unemotional since he had been a boy of twelve years. He’d learned early to master the Blade’s volatile temper and emotional vulnerability, tempering his emotions with logical thinking and carefully guarded responses. Yet how easily her mere presence irked and fascinated him in equal measure. He found her decidedly strange…and dangerous.
His sister shouted something and pointed toward the main house. Olivia nodded, and Francie fairly skipped away, leaving her alone. Tobias would need to have a talk with her. One did not leave a friend to fend for themselves when they indulged in reckless endeavors. Someone needed to ensure their hides were safe. The thud of hooves stirring the earth had him momentarily shifting his gaze from the very beguiling and vexing woman.
Grayson, his younger half brother, rode up. His mother would be furious that he had invited his father’s by-blow, as she referred to Grayson, for a spot of fishing. But Tobias had never been one to let someone else’s anger determine the path he would choose for himself. The minute he had discovered his brother, he had reached out to him, for it mattered not to Tobias if Grayson was a bastard. He was his brother. He was deeply regretful, however, that his mother had to endure the pain of her husband’s betrayal.
“What has drawn you over here? We were having the most invigorating race and then you simply headed off without a word,” Grayson said. He was six years younger than Tobias, but there was no doubt they were brothers. They were the spitting image of their late father, with their dark green eyes, black hair, and physiques that might have better suited the hardworking class than fashionable men of leisure.
“I cannot account for your inability to keep up with the power of my stallion.”
Grayson grinned. “You would like to—” He froze and then a long, low whistle of male appreciation slipped from him.
Tobias followed his brother’s gaze, and his mouth dried. Lady Olivia was climbing from the lake, her thoroughly soaked underclothes plastered to her body. Though her chest was only modest, her bottom was delightfully curved. Well-rounded, it looked like they would fill a man’s palm and then some. A breath hissed from his teeth. He was annoyed she could tempt him to desire. He was used to women more beautiful and more scantily clad than her.
Devil take it! He had a lover who was more provocative, and she had never made his cock so achingly hard so quickly, even when dressed in her most daring peignoir.
“Turn away,” he commanded flatly.
Grayson jerked, curiosity shifting in the depth of his eyes. “Is she yours?”
Tobias smoothed his features into a cold mask of disinterest. “What she is supposed to be is a lady, though she is not acting like it. I will join you at the main house shortly.”
Grayson arched a brow and then, instead of arguing, nudged the side of his horse and left for the main house.
Someone needed to take a switch to the hoyden’s backside. The damnable chit stretched before lowering her arms, leaning left so her mass of wet hair tumbled down. She gripped a fistful and wrung it. The chill in the air was evident, yet she stood there as if the biting cold was not affecting her.
Before he could talk himself from it, he eased his horse forward and rode down the incline. Her head snapped up at the sound, and she gasped when she spied him. She scrambled for her discarded gown and held it to her front.
“It is a bit late to be thinking of modesty, don’t you agree, Lady Olivia?”
She chewed on her lower lip, before lifting her chin defiantly.
“Have you truly lost all sense of propriety?” he inquired in a steely voice.
Her face flushed a becoming pink. “It was but a swim,” she said through obviously gritted teeth. “A pleasure I’ve seen you indulge in several times at this very lake.”
“I’m a man,” he drawled, deliberately provoking her.
“Of all the ridiculous notions,” she spluttered. Accusation and ire shot from her eyes. “You delight in vexing me, my lord. It’s very ungentlemanly, if I may say so.”
>
No…he delighted in seeing her face flushed and her eyes darkened with fury. She was so transparent in her feelings. He stiffened at the unwanted thought, and anger snapped through him. He ruthlessly buried it, calming the sudden unwanted spike in his heart.
“I thought you were away on business, and none of the countess’s guests have yet descended on us for the house party. I thought it safe to indulge,” she offered by way of explanation, a soft blush dusking her cheeks.
“I left London at first light.” He would not admit that the thought of how she fared had been tugging at him to return to the estate after only a few days.
“But you were not to return until tomorrow,” she pointed out, no doubt to be contrary. “It’s also ill-mannered to creep up on a guest.”
“Ill-mannered?”
She nodded empathically. “Most assuredly. Nor are you acting in a gentlemanlike manner now by remaining when I…I…am not decent.”
Tobias allowed his gaze to run insolently over her wet form. God’s blood. She was delectable. An unwelcome rush of desire went through him, and his body reacted with painful immediacy to her state of deshabille. He restrained the response. It made no sense for him to even dwell on his lustful urges. Lady Olivia was looking for marriage, and she was the last woman he would offer for. The lady was simply not the type of woman he would make his countess. His wife would be respectable and of sound character, with no hint of scandal surrounding her.
He had a family history to defy, and his sons and their children would not be associated with the reputations of the past Blades. He would ensure it. At the moment, Tobias did not possess the pressing urge to wade through the marriage mart, despite his mother’s urgings. He was only twenty-eight years old and quite content with directing his energies to restoring his estates, which his father had brought to the brink of ruin with his excesses.
When he selected his bride, he would marry a woman incapable of stirring too much passion in his blood. He’d been unfortunate enough to inherit the famous Blade men’s temperament, which had been a curse on their marriages for more than two hundred years. Hell, his great grandmother had shot her husband because he had turned his terrifying anger on her and she had been insensible with fright. The stain on his family name from the many scandals had been called legendary by some.
