by Henke, Shirl
The services Josh had in mind for Sabrina at that moment had nothing whatever to do with etiquette.
And the earl knew it.
* * * *
What a perfect day for a ride. Josh had called her earlier in the day and suggested that she teach him the intricacies of assisting a lady while horseback riding, confessing he'd never even seen a sidesaddle until he came to England. Of course, she was still piqued with him over the previous night's debacle with the Russian ballerina, but she had taken a snide bit of satisfaction in refusing his offer of a midnight ride in his automobile and in having Mrs. Bretton waiting for them at the door.
The look of disappointment on his face had been quite comical. This was her job, she reminded herself. But it was still a perfect day for a ride. And riding was a luxury she had seldom been able to enjoy since coming to London. Since many wealthy Cits had never ridden to hounds or, indeed, ridden horseback at all, she had now and then taught their daughters. This would be great fun.
If she was spending the afternoon with the Texan in the process, Sabrina preferred not to think about how much that added to her pleasure. She stood watching him as he led their horses out of the mews, a bay stallion and a dappled gray mare. The animals were magnificent, but her eyes kept straying to the man. He wore denim pants that seemed as if they'd been weather-softened to his long legs, and a pair of those odd high-heeled boots. His plain white shirt was open at the collar—highly improper, she had scolded, but she was happy he'd ignored her protest.
A bit of black hair peeked through at the base of his throat, making her breath catch when she imagined what it might feel like to touch it. He was hatless and his hair curled around his nape as he bent over to adjust a stirrup on her mare. Her fingers literally itched to brush through the black curls and feel the hard warmth of his broad shoulders. She watched with a dry mouth while his muscles bunched and flexed as he worked.
Then he raised his head and smiled at her. “Cloudy's ready. Are you?”
She was a vision in a dark-green riding habit that set off the color of her hair. Of course, it was piled high in a bun, and a silly little hat with a green feather in it perched on top of her head. He imagined tossing it away and pulling the pins from her hair, then running his fingers through it, watching it fly like a banner behind her as she rode. Her reply broke into his erotic fancies.
“You may assist me in mounting, my lord.”
Oh, yes, he'd love to do that...but not the way she meant. All he said was, “Just tell me what to do.”
“Place your hands so.” She illustrated, explaining how to give her a boost onto the horse's ridiculous little sidesaddle.
“That contraption still doesn't look safe to me,” he said dubiously as he followed her instructions. What he really wanted to do was take her tiny waist in his two big hands and lift her up, but he knew that would elicit a rebuke. Sabrina lightly took her seat with practiced ease, holding the reins like a seasoned rider. He nodded in approval as he swung up onto Comanche.
“Ladies always ride sidesaddle. Even when they ride to hounds, which can become quite vigorous.”
“Fool way to break your neck.”
“Which, riding sidesaddle or fox hunting?” she asked.
“Both,” he groused. “Dozens of grown men and women all chasing one little scruffy varmint, and they let a pack of dogs do all the work for them. Downright unsporting, if you ask me.”
“You'd best keep that sentiment to yourself, Lord Wesley, else you'll not be welcome at any peer's seat.”
“Speaking of country houses, are you going to go with me this weekend?” he asked casually.
“I suppose so. It does present a fine opportunity. If the Chiffingtons employ me, I'll soon have my reputation restored. I know how you and your uncle conspired to turn all my clients away. Even with enough money to open my school, I must be above reproach.”
“Aw, I didn't have anything to do with that. Uncle Ab's the one with the devious mind,” he protested as they rode toward the Wellington statue in the park.
As they circled in a leisurely canter around the tree-lined riding course, Josh noted that it was approaching three. Then he spotted Nikolai Zarenko dismounting from a beautiful black horse. He strode purposefully toward a lone figure standing at the base of the statue. Nodding in greeting, he placed an arm about the slim Englishman's narrow shoulders, and the two began to walk as if they were old friends. Josh saw the traitor pass a sheaf of papers to the Russian, who quickly slipped them inside his jacket.
Glancing casually around as they rode, Sabrina admired the statue of England's greatest hero and wondered why her cousin Edmund was there walking with some strange man who looked vaguely familiar.
Chapter Nine
Josh immediately recognized the skinny kid as the clerk who worked for his uncle. What did this green boy have to do with the Foreign Office? Uncle Ab was a member of the House of Lords, but from what he'd figured out, these days that was pretty much window dressing unless a peer became a cabinet member or worked in the government in some other official capacity, which he knew the earl did not.
He would have to learn more about this Whistledown fellow. Michael Jamison might know something...or be able to find out something. He would send word to the spy when he and Sabrina finished their “lessons.” Tonight he had a command performance for dinner with the earl, just to be certain his dinner-table etiquette was sufficient to pass muster at the Chiffingtons.
Looking at the pensive expression on her face, he asked Sabrina, “What could be wrong on such a beautiful day—except for being rigged up on that uncomfortable contraption?”
She laughed. “This ‘uncomfortable contraption, as you call it, is the only way I've ever ridden.”
“Then you have to let me teach you something—to ride astride.” At her incredulous expression, it was his turn to laugh. “Women in America do it all the time, especially out West.” His voice grew husky as he drawled, “There's nothing like riding flat-out across a sea of buffalo grass under a full moon with your knees wrapped around a galloping horse. You can feel the pounding power of every hoof beat.”
The vivid imagery was sexually arousing, as she was certain he intended it to be. Sabrina dared not look at him, but she could feel his gaze on her and knew her cheeks were flushed. “I suppose your Texas women wear britches and let their hair down.”
“You've never known how it feels to let your hair down, have you?” He did not wait for her to answer. Her flaming face did it for her as she stared resolutely straight ahead. His voice was low, vibrating as he continued, “To have it flow like a banner on the wind while you lean over a pounding mount. Without that, you've never lived.”
“I suspect a good many people have ‘never lived’ according to your definition,” she replied dryly, at last daring to look over at the rogue. “But as to riding swiftly, I can manage that,” she said and kicked the mare into a gallop, leaning low over the gray's neck as she took off.
Josh whistled low. “Girl, you are full of surprises,” he murmured as he kneed Comanche into following her reckless ride across the manicured green. Considering how dangerous the sidesaddle was, she did manage to keep a smooth seat. His big bay quickly caught up to her small gray, and they rode side by side for a bit; then she reined in and slowed to a canter.
“You're a natural-born rider,” he said.
Her smile was dazzling. “I take it that is quite a compliment coming from a Texan.”
Her hair had come loose and a few pins stuck out from beneath her hat, which remained secured to her head. Wispy tendrils of shiny bronze blew across her face, and she brushed them away absently with one hand, then began to secure the pins holding her hair in place.
“Yes, ma'am, it is.” His mouth went utterly dry when her upraised arms revealed the curve of her breasts as her jacket pulled open. The soft cotton blouse beneath could not hide the lushness of her figure. He could span her waist with his two hands, and if he judged rightly, her corset
was not laced tightly. He was a very good judge of such matters after years of firsthand observation.
Sabrina could feel the tension humming between them. What was happening to her? Had she deliberately reached up to refasten her hair, even though she knew the frog holding her habit jacket allowed it to gape open? Her breasts felt suddenly tight, the nipples hardened beneath her chemise. Dear Lord, could he see the points sticking out through the well-washed layers of clothing?
When she quickly lowered her arms, he chuckled. “Lost your nerve, huh?”
“I have no idea what you mean, my lord,” she managed to reply as she reined in and turned the mare away before finishing the job of fixing her hair. The mad ride had been a childish way of showing off for him, and now she chastised herself for it.
He gave her time to compose herself, leading Comanche in a wide circle before approaching her. “Don't take on so. What's happening between us is pretty natural back where I come from.”
By sheer force of will, Sabrina kept her face blank and remained superficially calm as she turned to face him. “Oh, and precisely how many viscounts in Texas carry on frivolous flirtations with their hired help?”
He looked innocently amused, a grin turning up one corner of his mouth as he replied, “I can't rightly say we have a lot of viscounts and such running around Texas, and I never heard it called frivolous flirtation, but men and women who're attracted to each other just naturally seem to strike sparks when they're together.”
“We cannot be attracted to each other. It would be most inappropriate,” she said stiffly. “Have you not absorbed anything about social class that I have repeatedly explained to you?”
“If a woman works for her living, there's no more shame in that than if a man does.”
“I never said there was,” she snapped.
“Then be proud of it. I always have. I started out with nothing and made my own fortune.”
“This is not America. It is England.”
“Just because I talk slow doesn't mean I'm stupid, Sabrina.” He could hear her indrawn breath when he used her Christian name. “I don't need a geography lesson.”
“No, you don't. What you require most egregiously is a lesson in propriety. And at the moment, so do I.”
He was pushing her too fast, but, damn, the woman made him crazy! “Now, don't take on so,” he said soothingly
“I believe it's time I went home. Would you be so kind as to convey my regrets to the earl about my inability to continue your lessons?”
“Oh, no, you don't. You're not backing away like some skittish filly. I know you have more sand than that, Sabrina.”
“Do not call me that!”
“It's your name, isn't it? And mine's Josh. No one's around to hear us if we break a rule or two.”
“You and your uncle used virtual extortion to force me to attempt the feckless task of civilizing you; but if I never again have another pupil, I don't care. I hereby resign my position.” She kicked her mare into a gallop, heading back to the stables.
“Damn fool female,” he groused beneath his breath as he followed her. This time she was riding even faster than before, recklessly cutting across rougher terrain, jumping a hedge and spurring the gray through a copse of alders. She was going to break her fool neck!
Sabrina could feel the sting of tears and blinked them back. She could barely see as she urged the little mare to race even more swiftly. All she could think of was escaping from him before something unthinkable happened. To use his crude Texas vernacular, the man could coax a buzzard off a gut wagon. The ghastly image made her cringe. A few short weeks ago, such a vulgar thought would never have entered her mind. Lord only knew what he could coax her to do!
Josh saw the gully ahead of them, partially hidden by some low shrubbery. He kicked Comanche into an even harder gallop toward the deadly abyss. If one saw it and was prepared to jump, a good horseman could accomplish the feat easily, but he knew Sabrina was not paying attention. She'd plunge downward and break her neck. He pulled alongside her, seizing Cloudy's reins in a tight hold as he wheeled Comanche into a sharp turn, bringing the mare with him.
But Cloudy's footing began to slip at the edge of the gully. As the horse struggled to keep from falling, Josh yanked Sabrina from the sidesaddle and swept her into his arms. For once he was glad for the silly thing. If her foot had been caught in the stirrup, he could not have pulled her free. Comanche wheeled around, allowing the mare to regain purchase in the crushed bushes and scramble to safety.
Josh held Sabrina tightly for a moment as both horses, winded and snorting nervously, calmed. His pulse was still racing, and he could feel her heartbeat pounding against his chest. Her hair had come unfastened and fell in a tangled cascade of silk down her back. He could smell the faint essence of wildflowers as she nestled her head in the curve of his shoulder.
Sabrina was amazed to feel his big body shiver as if he were afraid. Her bold Texan? Impossible. Or had he been that frightened that harm could come to her? She had endangered both their lives and those of two very valuable animals. Her own trembling was part terror, part guilt. How could she face him? Taking a shaky breath, she looked up, ready to apologize for her rashness...and found him smiling at her.
“I appear to be right hard on a lady's wardrobe. You've lost another hat,” he said in a husky voice.
“Bother the hat. What I did was inexcusable. Please accept my apol—”
He silenced her with a kiss. It was quite different from that first sizzling one exchanged in the garden. He was exquisitely gentle, brushing his lips over hers like butterfly wings, pressing, withdrawing, teasing and caressing as he cradled her head in one hand and held her against him with his other arm. He pulled her up onto the saddle so she was seated across his thighs as he continued his mercilessly soft assault on her mouth. Sabrina could hear his low murmur, indistinct yet oddly soothing, as he pressed kisses around her mouth and on her eyelids.
“When I saw that drop-off and knew you didn't, my heart came near choking me, Sabrina...Sabbie, my Sabbie...”
She stiffened slightly.
“That's a child's name, and I'm a woman grown,” she protested as he centered his mouth over hers once again. She should protest. This was utterly irresponsible, highly improper, deliriously wonderful!
This time she opened when his tongue rimmed the seam of her lips. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his arms as he deepened the kisses, slanting his mouth over hers with a more possessive abandon. They were both trembling, but no longer from the brush with death. This was something infinitely more dangerous...at least from her point of view.
She'd been hurt once before. How could she bear it again? Yet the magic of his kiss was mesmerizing. Her fingers trailed up his arms to his nape, then splayed into the thick night-dark hair curling around his collar. She pulled his head down to her, arching against him like a kitten being petted.
Josh could feel the pressure of her breasts against his chest and taste the delicate sweetness of her mouth. He was losing control, and he knew it but didn't give a damn. The ache in his groin was becoming unbearable. In a moment, if he shifted his weight—and it was imperative that he do so or risk injury—she'd feel very physical proof of his arousal beneath that delectable bottom of hers.
But she won't know what it means. At least he hoped she wouldn't, being a very prim and proper lady, and a virgin to boot. That very thought should make him want to let her go. But it didn't. He couldn't stop kissing her as long as she clung to him and returned his ardor. His dilemma was solved a moment later when the sounds of hoof beats and laughing voices grew louder. A party of riders was drawing near.
Sabrina heard the noise but failed to register what it was until Josh gently disengaged from their embrace, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose as he smiled down at her. “I'd hate to ruin a lady's reputation,” he said with a smile.
Idiotically, Sabrina found herself smiling back at him. “Even if you just saved her life?”
&
nbsp; “Especially if I did, since I was the cause of her almost losing it. I didn't mean to spook you, Sabrina.”
“Oh, my lord, but you do...you do,” she whispered as he lowered her to the ground. He quickly swung off the big bay, who stood obediently still, reins trailing on the ground, while Josh walked over and gathered up the reins of the gray. Hungrily, her eyes drank in the grace of his long-legged stride, the strength of his sun-bronzed hands as he patted the mare, examining her for injuries.
Sabrina fumbled with her hair, knotting it into a bun and securing it as best she could with what few pins remained. Visions of those brown hands on her pale flesh made her knees go weak. She closed her eyes tightly and blinked, then steadied herself against the bay's saddle. What a fool she was, imagining all sorts of things that must never—could never—be. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to him and took Cloudy’s reins.
“I can ride now,” she said in a voice that was not as calm and authoritative as she wished. In fact, it sounded more like a breathless squeak. Mercifully, the passing of the party of riders disguised her tone from him. Fortunate also that the party paid little attention to the two riders standing at the side of the swale.
Josh looked up at her pale face and glowing eyes. Earlier they had held the sheen of tears, then passion. Now he was not certain what he read in their sapphire depths. Could it be fear? Of him? Or of how she reacted to him? “Are you sure?” he asked dubiously.
“If the mare is not injured, I most certainly am not,” she asserted, beginning to sound more like her old self. “Please give me an assist up.”
“As my lady commands,” he said, but instead of offering her his cupped hands, he did what he'd wanted to do earlier and placed his hands around her waist, lifting her like thistledown and placing her on the saddle.
“You know that was not the proper way to do that,” she accused as she gathered up the reins, refusing to look at him.
