by Diana Quincy
Cam took the ribbons from the relieved groom, gripping them with a firm hand. “I find I am drawn to magnificent creatures who appear untamable.”
He thought he heard her snort, but couldn’t say for certain because she turned from him and hopped onto the mounting block. Hoisting herself into the saddle, she swung one of those cascading legs over the side of her mare. So she planned to ride astride. That explained the breeches.
She caught his look and raised her brows. “I warned you. I can be most unladylike.”
He swung up onto Hercules, allowing his gaze to slide over the breeches. She really did have far more in the way of curves than he’d presumed. “Rest assured, no gentleman who has the pleasure of seeing you thus would ever forget you are female.”
The groom coughed, his posture rigid. He planted himself beside Charlotte’s mount, clutching the horse’s bridle in a way that appeared almost territorial. The man barely had time to jump out of the way before Charlotte urged her mare onward, taking off at a gallop.
Cam shook his head and grinned before sending Hercules flying after her. He couldn’t resist holding back a bit to admire the view those breeches afforded him. She bent low over her mare’s neck as the animal accelerated into an all-out run, her slim round hips thrusting back in a slight up-and-down rhythm. Cam’s mouth went dry. Lord, but she sat her mount well.
Forcing his attention away from Charlotte’s delectable bottom, he gave his powerful stallion its head to catch up with her. The endless green spaces surrounding Fairview Manor were made for such a ride, with long, smooth expanses of grassland, dotted with trees, which went as far as the eye could see. Great swathes of wildflowers carpeted the landscape in vibrant hues of yellow, violet, and lavender. Cam inhaled the morning air, savoring the crisp scent of a new day and an unexpected sense of well-being.
Both he and Charlotte were accomplished riders, and before long they were goading each other into taking small jumps. But he balked when Charlotte wanted to move onto more challenging ones. “I am afraid that would not be wise,” he insisted. “The higher jumps are too dangerous.”
She cast him a skeptical glance. “And here I thought you were a gentleman who enjoys living dangerously.”
Cam frowned. She must now be referring to the kiss. He took a deep breath. Time to deliver the overdue apology. The sight of her in those damn breeches had quite distracted him. “Miss Livingston—”
But she’d already taken off again, barreling toward the daunting jump. He followed, admiring the fearless and determined way she soared through the air, coming down easily on the far side of the low hedges. Obviously the breeches helped her perform at a skill level rivaling any gentleman.
He took his turn, coming across to join her. “I see now why you choose not to don appropriate riding clothes.”
Her exquisite eyes moved over him. “It appears you also aren’t overly concerned with your riding apparel.”
“You are quite right, of course.” He glanced down at his wrinkled white shirt and dusty, well-worn brown Hessians. He never bothered to wake his valet for his early morning rides. “I shall have to relieve my man of his duties as soon as we return.”
Her head snapped around to look at him. “You cannot be serious.”
“Indeed.” Cam shrugged his shoulders to hide his irritation that she so easily believed the worst about him. “I shall cast him out just as soon as I allow him out of Hartwell’s dungeon.”
The tiny frown lines between her brows vanished. “You are toying with me,” she said turning her mare in the direction of the manor.
“Why would you think that?” His mount fell in step beside hers. “After all, as my valet, Onslow is accustomed to the most degrading working conditions.”
“You may think the hardships endured by the operative class are a matter for mirth, but I assure you, my lord, that I do not.”
Frustrated, he rubbed the back of his head. “Having never visited any of my factories, you are in no position to pass judgment on them.”
“I know they are putting weavers out of work. I don’t know why I should be surprised at your involvement. You are clearly a man who takes what he wants.”
She must be referring again to the kiss. He cleared his throat. “Miss Livingston, I feel I must apologize for last evening.”
Her face squinted. “I beg your pardon?”
“I took liberties with your person. I do hope you will accept my most sincere apology.”
Comprehension and something akin to disappointment crossed her face. “Ever the gentleman.” She regarded him with those indecipherable eyes of hers. “No need to apologize for a trivial kiss. But, of course, I accept your apology if it relieves your mind.” She shook the reins, urging her mare into a trot, leaving him behind.
Trivial kiss? He frowned. His amorous efforts had never been labeled as such before. And Charlotte seemed affronted by his apology.
“Have I insulted you?” he asked, catching up to her. A gunshot sounded in the distance, the loud popping noise close enough to make Charlotte’s mare fidgety.
“Whoa, there.” She firmed her hold on the ribbons and patted Flame’s neck.
“It must be the poachers the groom warned of.” Tension fired through the muscles in his arms and legs as he scanned the wood line. “Let’s get you back.”
She nodded, still stroking the mare’s neck as they moved into a trot. After several minutes, when they had neared the manor, Cam peered over at Charlotte. “You neglected to answer my question. Did my apology insult you?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Of course not.”
“Then what was that look you gave me?”
“It is of no consequence.”
“Please do tell me.”
“I simply don’t understand men like you. You feel worse about a simple kiss that injures no one, than about putting so many people out of work.”
Her words were swallowed by an ominous cracking sound that echoed through the air. Another gunshot. This one so close Flame shied away, spooked. She reared, the abrupt movement taking Charlotte by surprise. She slid off backwards, the back of her head slamming the ground. Flame circled then broke off into a skittering run.
“Charlotte!” His heart pounding, he leapt from his horse and ran to her. She lay motionless with her eyes closed, her face pale and still. He bent over to cradle her upper body in his arms, alarm blasting through him.
“Miss Livingston. Charlotte, can you hear me? Are you all right?” Her translucent blue eyes blinked open, peering up at him with a blank look. “Charlotte, can you hear me? Charlotte?”
“You called me Charlotte. I have not given you leave to do that.”
He let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Yes, I hope I did not offend. Do you think you can sit up?” He helped her into an upright position, his concern spiking when she seemed to waver.
“Easy now.” He put an arm around Charlotte to keep her steady and bent his knee, bracing it behind her for support. She leaned against his knee and dropped her head into her hands. Stroking her hair with his free hand, an unexpected tenderness welled up in Cam. “There now, just rest for a moment until you regain your bearings.”
She made a murmur of contentment as her entire body sank against his chest, all warmth and suppleness, her gentle scent embracing him. Cam tensed at the unexpectedly provocative feel of her. His prick perked up, too, stirring with interest. Cursing to himself, he shifted to lessen the physical contact between them.
Opening her eyes, she smiled weakly. “Don’t worry, I shan’t take advantage of you.”
Ah, but was she safe from him? He allowed his lips to brush the softness of her hair; its silken length smelled of lavender. He wondered how long it fell. Did it reach the small of her back? If he pulled it loose now, would its glistening strands brush over the gentle curve of her hip?
The sounds of shouting in the distance distracted him from such fanciful thoughts. A man on horseback charged their way, hi
s mount’s beating hooves kicking up grass. As he neared, Cam recognized the groom from the stable riding Charlotte’s errant horse. Nearing them, the man leapt down before his animal had time to come to a complete stop.
“Char…Miss Livingston, are you hurt?” The urgent words throbbed with concern, his eyes wild with anxiety.
“Yes, yes, please don’t worry on my account.” She managed a smile, although it looked more like a grimace, and made an effort to pull away from Cam. “I took a spill.”
The groom ran his gaze over the length of her body. Cam wanted to slap him for his impudence. The stable boy seemed not to notice because his intense focus remained fastened on Charlotte.
“Are you certain no bones are broken?” The groom reached for Charlotte, but stopped himself before touching her. “When your mount came back to the stables without you, I feared the worst.”
“Oh, Nathan, I am sorry to have worried you.”
Oh, Nathan? Cam examined the groom, taking in the tall, lanky form, brown hair, and quiet determined way he carried himself.
“Come now, let’s see if you can stand,” he said, feeling a need to take command of the situation. Holding on to Charlotte’s arm, he helped her up. Nathan shot to his feet and moved toward her.
Cam stopped him with a territorial gaze and a crisp, brusque tone. “That will be all, Nathan, is it?”
Nathan stepped back, bowing his head in acquiescence, but not before Cam saw anger flash in the man’s soft blue eyes.
Charlotte rose a little unsteadily. “I was knocked about a bit, but nothing seems to be broken.” She gave Nathan that grimacing smile again, one that was meant to be reassuring but instead had the opposite effect.
Cam frowned at her ginger movements. “I think perhaps you should ride back to the manor with me, on my steed.”
“My lord,” the groom interjected. “Miss Livingston can ride back on her mount. I will walk.”
“Miss Livingston is in no condition to ride alone. She is still quite unsteady. I will accompany her.” He guided Charlotte over to his horse. “You may go. Take her mount with you.”
Climbing into the saddle, Cam ignored the departing groom. Once seated, he took hold of Charlotte’s hand while she placed her foot on top of his boot so he could hoist her up. Settling Charlotte sideways in front of him, he wrapped his arms around her delicate waist to keep her steady and set the stallion in motion at a slow pace. He tried to maintain focus on the path ahead, and not the scented feminine softness pressing up against his chest and stomach. And other regions he had no business thinking about at the moment.
“Just a little bit farther, sweet,” he said. Although he couldn’t see her face, he felt it the moment Charlotte lost consciousness. Panic flashed through him when her body went limp and lifeless just as Fairview Manor came into view. Some of that tension released when he caught sight of Hartwell outside the stables with several guests, preparing to lead a riding party. “I need your assistance,” he called out.
The duke came forward, and alarm stamped his dark face once he took in Charlotte’s still figure. “What the devil?”
“She took a fall. Help me take her down. Slowly.” Cam eased off the horse with Charlotte still in his arms. Hartwell provided a stabilizing hand until Cam touched the ground. Cradling her long, slender form in his embrace, Cam’s strides ate up the ground as he closed the distance to the house. Every muscle in his body had gone taut and his heartbeat drummed in his ears. A murmur moved through the gathered guests who watched with open curiosity at the sight of Charlotte in the marquess’s arms.
Hartwell turned to the nearest groom. “Go to the village and summon the doctor.”
Reaching the manor, Cam glanced back in time to see Nathan mount almost before the command left Hartwell’s lips. Kicking up a cloud of dust, the groom spurred the mare onward, the thumping sounds of galloping hooves quickly fading into the distance.
Chapter Three
“You’ve suffered a brain commotion,” Doctor Guelph said to Charlotte. She lay in bed battling another wave of nausea, one arm draped over her eyes to block out the painful light.
“How serious is it?” asked her brother, Hugh.
“Miss Livingston will be right as rain provided she follows my orders.” The doctor turned back to Charlotte. “You must remain abed for a fortnight. Rest and sleep as much as possible to allow your brain to recover from the trauma it has suffered.”
“Two weeks?” she whispered, trying to still the clanging in her head. “That sounds interminable. And the house party ends well before that.”
“Nonsense,” she heard Willa say. “You’ll stay until Doctor Guelph says you are completely recovered. You cannot travel all the way back to Leicestershire in this condition. Besides, I shall delight in your company.”
“What is that racket?” Charlotte groaned. “Who is ringing that infernal bell?”
“The ringing in your ears is quite normal and will clear up with time,” Doctor Guelph assured her. After giving her maid a few more instructions in regards to her care, the doctor announced he’d return in a sennight to check on the patient. Willa and Hugh saw the doctor out, leaving Charlotte alone in the darkened room.
Her head drummed as though a hundred people rioted inside of it, but thoughts of Camryn helped distract her from the pain. Her belly twinged at the memory of those golden-green eyes crinkling with concern for her. Even the scent of him lingered in her senses, that purely masculine combination of musk, leather, and sweat. She’d felt the marquess’s heart clamoring beneath his chest when she’d laid her head against him. Despite her fog, she’d been aware of Camryn’s embrace and the feel of his taut body against hers.
She twisted in the bed trying to ease her discomfort. Her thoughts became a confusing jumble as the laudanum took effect. The medicine lulled her into a fitful sleep where impressions of Camryn floated among the edges of her consciousness until everything finally went black.
…
Anxious for word of Charlotte’s condition, Cam paced in one of public reception rooms. His brothers, Sebastian and Basil, looked up from their chess game.
“It’s hard to concentrate with you moving about like that,” complained Basil. “What’s got you looking like you’re ready to tap the claret?” At two-and-twenty, Cam’s youngest brother was a hellion who did well with the ladies. He had his older brother’s lean build and golden coloring, but Basil could easily be considered the most classically handsome of his brothers. Cam had often heard ladies ramble on about his brother’s large blue eyes, perfectly structured nose, and chiseled jawline.
“Miss Livingston has taken a fall from her mount,” Cam mumbled. “I’m awaiting word of her condition.”
“Miss Livingston?” One side of Basil’s mouth shot up in confusion. “Oh, Shellborne’s sister,” he said with obvious disinterest.
Sebastian moved his queen. “Check.”
“Bollocks!” Basil turned his attention back to the board looking for a way to save his king from his brother’s predatory advance.
“Was it a serious fall?” Sebastian asked.
“I cannot say. She hit her head while we were out riding this morning.”
“While you were out riding?” Sebastian steepled his fingers beneath his chin. His dusky good looks were a marked contrast to his sun-sprinkled brothers, his powerful build unlike their lean, lithe forms. “Alone.”
“Leave off,” Cam retorted sharply, reacting to the unspoken censure in his brother’s question. “We met quite by accident and proceeded to ride together.”
Basil tapped his knight as he studied the chessboard. “Besides, isn’t Miss Livingston as good as on the shelf?” he asked without looking up. “She’s a little long in the tooth to worry about such proprieties.”
Cam quashed an immediate urge to defend Charlotte’s feminine appeal. “Any discussion of Miss Livingston’s age is highly inappropriate.”
“Highly inappropriate,” echoed Sebastian, “as is riding without a
groom.”
Basil chuckled and moved his knight. “There, I’ve stopped you.” He twisted around in his seat to look at Cam. “You rode alone with a lady. Of course, Saint Sebastian does not approve. He can do no wrong.”
Sebastian’s hooded gaze moved back to the chessboard, a victor’s smile curving his lip. “Certainly not today. Check and mate,” he said moving his queen in for the kill.
“Damnation, there is no beating you,” Basil said good-naturedly.
Willa appeared on the threshold. “Charlotte has suffered a commotion of the brain,” she announced. “The doctor says she is to remain abed for a fortnight.”
Relief loosened Cam’s muscles. “Will she be all right then?”
“Yes, provided she rests and sleeps.” Willa went toward him. “She’ll remain here under Hartwell’s protection until she is recovered.”
“I suppose I cannot see her.”
“Why would you want to?” asked Basil.
Ignoring Basil, Willa gave Cam a reproving tap on the arm. “Charlotte is confined to the sickroom. She can hardly accept gentleman callers.”
“I am hardly a gentleman caller.”
“What were the two of you doing out riding together?” she asked.
“I found Miss Livingston having a mount readied for her. Since there are poachers afoot, I offered to accompany her. There was nothing inappropriate or untoward about it.”
“Nor did I say there was, cousin,” she said, examining his face. “I was simply curious.”
“My brother seems to have forgotten to take a groom with them.” Sebastian reached for the newspaper on a nearby side table. “Whether you intended it or not, you have helped make Miss Livingston the subject of unsavory gossip.”
Willa regarded her dark cousin with fondness. “Oh, Sebastian, I fear none of your brothers can live up to your impeccable standards.”
Cam snorted. “Yes, thank goodness we have the moral compass that is Sebastian Stanhope to make certain we are not led astray.”
