by Alicia Scott
Liz almost laughed. “Lady Godiva? A horse?”
Blaine shrugged with his golden grin. “She named it, not me.”
Liz shook her head, heaving the saddle up and on. She began fastening the girth.
“Looks good,” Blaine said, turning to study her work. “Why don’t I give you a leg up?”
“No need,” came Richard’s distinct voice behind them. “I can help her up while you finish your own mount.”
Blaine froze. From where she was standing, Liz could see myriad emotions flash across the man’s face: anger, frustration, and finally, resignation.
“He always did have the most damnable timing,” Blaine muttered. He straightened and gave Richard a curt nod.
“Goliath is waiting over there,” Blaine informed his older brother, pointing to a large black horse that sported its own Western saddle. “The groom took care of him.”
Richard nodded, his pale eyes unreadable as he watched Blaine walk away. He turned his scrutiny back to Liz.
“Shall I help you up?” he asked coolly.
Liz looked at him, trying hard not to stare. This was the first time she’d seen him in anything other than slacks. She’d half expected him to come out in the full Hunter regalia the other riders were wearing. Instead, he was wearing an old pair of jeans that clung to his lean hips. His long legs were half encased in fine leather boots, and he was wearing a beautiful wool sweater. This close, she could catch the faint hint of spicy cologne, mingling with the scent of leather and horses.
The effect wreaked havoc on her senses. All of a sudden, she wanted desperately to lean just a little closer. Or maybe reach out, and touch the light stubble on his finely carved cheek. Or rest her head on his strong, broad shoulder, close her eyes and inhale until the scent of him drowned out all other sensations.
He moved forward, and she caught her breath in a quiet gasp. But he simply braced his hands together and offered them to her as a step for mounting the horse. Shaking her own silly thoughts from her mind, she gripped the pommel of the saddle and prepared to hoist herself up.
He propelled her up and onto the saddle easily, his shoulder brushing her leg as he helped her gain her balance. Then she was settled, sitting back low and easy in the saddle.
He remained there, looking at her with his steady blue eyes that revealed nothing, but tormented her, anyway.
“All set?”
“Yes,” she managed to reply, her nervousness making her Carolina accent thicker so the word came out sounding heavy and sweet.
His eyes darkened, resting for a minute on the curve of her leg, outlined snugly by her faded jeans. Wordlessly, he turned and walked away. Unbidden, her gaze followed him as he gathered the reins to the giant mount, and easily swung himself into the saddle.
All the riders were ready now, so he directed his horse to the front, leading them to one of the many trails that wound through the six acres of land. It had been a long time since he’d been in the saddle. He hadn’t taken up riding until Alycia had come into his life. Then, he’d discovered an inherent joy for the sport: the smell of the horses, the freedom of the wind, the feeling of strength and stamina beneath him.
But as with most things he’d enjoyed, Alycia had found a way to taint it. Eventually, trips to the stable had him overhearing unseemly giggles and the rustle of hastily adjusted clothing. He spared a cold glance for Parris, riding a couple lengths back. If Parris hadn’t been part of Blaine’s gang, Richard never would have allowed him back in the house. Then again, if he turned away all of Alycia’s old lovers, he’d never have a visitor again.
Not even his own brother.
He spared a sharp glance to where Blaine rode beside Liz, and even as the sight of it made his jaw clench, Richard tried to block the knowledge out. He didn’t care if Blaine was interested in Liz, he reminded himself. She was just the nanny.
His face, however, remained grim as he rode.
Liz could still feel the tension coiling off the dark man in front of her. Even on this bright, beautiful day, his features remained dark, his control impenetrable. Perhaps it was just the contrast, but her attention remained drawn to him even as Blaine said something light and funny in her ear.
“I’m sorry?” she found herself saying yet again, trying to focus her attention back on the man at her side.
“I’m glad you decided to come,” he repeated gallantly. “It really wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
Liz didn’t have to look at her to know that Jillian’s features were frosting over even more at the words. Liz wished she could tell the woman she had nothing to worry about. Blaine was beautiful in his own playboy-type way. And he was funny, too, with all his flirtations and teasing. But despite his best intentions, he reminded Liz more of a mischievous boy than a possible lover.
Richard, on the other hand...
“I think I’m going to move up and ride with Greg and Parris,” she informed Blaine casually. “I haven’t really spoken to them much yet. Why don’t you ride with Jillian?”
Blaine gave her a sideways glance. “Leaving me so soon?”
She gave him a careless shrug, then winked with mischievous spirit, herself. “Well, you know, why ride with one good-looking man when I can ride with two?”
He laughed at that, a light golden sound that drifted through the group. He leaned forward slightly in his saddle, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I hate to tell you,” he said softly, “but don’t fall too hard for Parris, as handsome as he is.”
Actually, Liz hadn’t paid much attention, one way or the other, to how Parris looked, but she nodded. “Why?” she whispered back.
“Well, he’s impotent, you know.”
Liz’s eyes opened so wide with shock, Blaine promptly began laughing again.
“You really are something else,” he told her, grinning hugely until she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.
“You’re making that up,” she accused.
Blaine simply shrugged. “You never know.”
Shaking her head, Liz urged her horse forward until she caught up with Greg and Parris. Sure enough, after a moment or two, Jillian’s horse picked up the pace to come alongside Blaine’s. That ought to keep them both occupied, Liz thought wryly.
Liz chattered briefly with Greg and Parris, but her eyes had a way of wandering. Even as she nodded or smiled at their casual banter, her eyes kept falling on the man not far ahead of her now. He sat back, comfortable and easy in his saddle, looking at home on his large black mount.
Strange that he’d told her he wasn’t good with horses, Liz thought, because he certainly seemed at home on one. Indeed, with his worn jeans and fine boots, he blended in perfectly.
Who was this man who could look so professional and restrained in a lab, yet so comfortable on an outdoor horseback ride? she wondered. And why did just looking at him make her cheeks flush?
She shifted slightly in the saddle, realizing that the nervousness and restlessness was back. Suddenly, walking along placidly wasn’t enough. She wanted to run, she wanted to ride hard and fast and feel the brisk fall wind burn her cheeks. She wanted to see the landscape fly by, the rolling hills, the flame-colored trees. She wanted to feel free.
“If you’ll excuse me,” she found herself saying, “I actually think I’ll ride ahead for a bit. Is that okay?”
Greg and Parris exchanged startled glances.
“I guess,” Greg said finally. “We’ve been on these trails before and they’re tame enough. You should be fine.”
She nodded, thanking them. Then, before she could question the impulse that was guiding her, she nudged her horse into a brisk trot.
She didn’t look at Richard as her horse trotted past him, though she could feel his gaze slide over her. Instead, she focused her attention on the rhythm of the horse beneath her, relaxing into the trot with rusty muscles. But it still wasn’t what she wanted, she realized. After all these days, she needed to run.
With a smal
l touch of her foot, she moved the horse to canter, and then to run.
And it was great, she thought with exhilaration, feeling the horse bunch beneath her, then leap forward. The brisk wind rasped against her rosy cheeks, the green hills rushed by. Around the gentle corners, and over the small bumps, through the sloping valley—
Vaguely, she heard the sound of hoofbeats behind her. But rather than slow her down, they urged her forward. Faster, she urged her horse, faster.
But the sound of the hoofbeats grew.
She could feel the rhythm in her pulse, feel the excitement of the chase. Now she was the wind and wild and free and she wasn’t ready to stop yet. Months’ worth of tension and strain was in her blood. She wanted to exorcise it all, feel it pound out with each crashing thud of her own horse’s hooves. She leaned forward, and urged her horse even faster.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she could see the other horse gaining on her, a black blur approaching on her left. Not giving it another thought, she veered her mount off the trail altogether, racing across the short crisp grass.
But still the black horse gained.
Of course, Goliath.
In earnest now, Liz leaned forward, whispering notes of clicking encouragement to Honeysuckle. If Richard wanted to chase her, she’d give him a race.
All of a sudden, she was fifteen again, racing away from her brothers in childish glee. Except her brothers had never ridden powerful mounts named Goliath.
She could feel Honeysuckle laboring, the horse’s breath coming out in heaving gasps. There wasn’t much run left in her. Still, there was one last fleeting moment of the thrill, the wind racing through her hair, the sunlight on her face.
And then, like lightning, Goliath appeared on her left. Having been caught, Liz wordlessly reined her mount to a trot, and then to a walk. Richard did the same.
“What the hell where you doing?” he demanded the minute the horses had slowed.
“Running,” she said simply. “And God, was it beautiful.”
Her face was flushed, her cheeks rosy in the morning sun, while her eyes glowed a beautiful exhilarating blue that pierced him deep in his chest. Damn it, he hadn’t known what was going on when she’d suddenly raced away like that. He’d followed, thinking that perhaps her horse was out of control. But then he’d seen her lean over, seen how gracefully she moved with the horse as they’d raced away from him like a streaking arrow.
The challenge had been too much, and he’d sent Goliath in hot pursuit. Damn, she hadn’t been easy to catch. And now, having caught her, he wasn’t so sure what to do.
Just looking at her, glowing and exhilarated, he felt the ache hammer its intensity all over again.
He stopped his mount, abruptly, instinctively. She stopped hers as well, but in confusion. Instinct and the restless need pounding through his blood guided his arm, reaching across the distance. And anger, too, he understood vaguely. Anger at her for making him want her, anger at how she and Blaine had ridden together, laughing like a pair of lovers while he’d ridden ahead, all alone.
He grabbed her arms and pulled her onto his mount.
He saw her eyes grow wide with shock. If she’d cried out then, he might have come to his senses. But instead, her gaze fell helplessly to his lips, and he saw the midnight depths grow even darker.
He didn’t need any other sign.
He wasn’t gentle when he took her lips with his own. He wasn’t a man asking, nor a man coaxing. He was a man possessed by hundreds of sleepless nights, a man driven by raging demons seeking reprieve.
He plundered her lips, his tongue plunging into the moist recesses of her mouth, relishing the softness of her lips against his own. She opened her mouth to him willingly, arching against him as his hands wrapped around her ponytail, pulling her closer. She tasted of October sun and wild exhilaration. He could feel the softness of her breasts crushed against his chest, smell the beguiling scent of flowers, and horses, and heat. Beneath them, Goliath shifted impatiently, but Richard simply tightened his legs for control.
He’d dreamed of this moment too long, damn it, to have it end abruptly.
Liz sighed beneath him, her hands tangling up through his thick dark hair. They wandered around, stroking through the wonderful rasp of his morning whiskers as she slanted her mouth across his. She could feel the heat on all sides, from his mouth, from his firmly muscled body, and from the powerful mount beneath them. She could smell sweat and leather and horseflesh, and it made her press against him harder. Her breasts were swollen against his chest, his cheeks rough against her fingers. His tongue, wrapped around her own, exciting her unbearably.
Goliath shifted again. With a groan, Richard pulled back, steadying both of them on the horse.
His eyes were dark, and for once he didn’t try to hide the expression on his face.
“I want you,” he said thickly, the passion still thundering through his veins. He’d never wanted anyone as badly as he wanted her right now. And by God, he would have her. Only then would the hunger leave him, he was sure. He would take her, take her with fire and fury. Then the restlessness would finally be gone.
And he would be able at last to return to his lab and his work. Back to the isolation.
Back to the loneliness.
She shivered against him, her eyes falling helplessly on his lips. Never had she felt her pulse race so fast, until her heart practically pounded in her ears. Her face was fiery with heat and desire. She wanted him, too. It was at once that simple, and that complicated.
She stiffened in his arms.
He bit off a low growl of frustration as he felt the change come over her. His body was on fire, and once more she was withdrawing from him. He wanted to curse her to hell and back. He wanted to pull her closer and kiss all that reluctance away.
Instead, his eyes glittering with frustration, he simply let her go. He’d been called a bastard in his time, he’d been called the devil’s own spawn. But he’d never pushed a woman, and he wouldn’t now.
The muscle in his jaw clenched, but he forced his hands to relax. Pure physical desire, he reminded himself. Lust was a simple hunger. Sooner or later, she would realize that, too.
Liz slid down from the horse, knowing from the sudden looseness of his grip he would let her go. She staggered away from the horse, embracing the early-fall chill against her flaming cheeks as she collected her composure. She wrapped her arms around her middle, and once more that gesture struck him as surely as a physical blow.
She was protecting herself from him. Again.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I didn’t mean for things to get that far.”
“Then just what did you mean?” he asked curtly, feeling an abrupt sense of desolation fill him. His face turned to granite, and he retreated behind the stone wall of his incredible self-control.
“I...I don’t know.” Liz said weakly. He was looking at her with his cold blue eyes, as if, now the kiss had ended, he had no use for her anymore. Again, she realized just how dangerous such a man was for her. He knew how to kiss, how to touch, how to arouse without ever losing anything of himself. She only knew how to love, how to give her entire heart, trust and soul. She didn’t want to go through that kind of pain again. The memory, as always, came unbidden and sharp.
Kneeling on a sidewalk, trying to hold on to her love as he died in her arms—
She turned away, pushing the memory back and staring at the bright, blue sky.
“We should return to the others,” she said finally.
Richard nodded, not saying anything, his wintery eyes once more impenetrable.
He wheeled his horse around.
After a small moment, she mounted her own horse and followed.
Chapter 8
Liz and Richard were careful to remain apart for the rest of the day. They rode to the stables only to find the rest of the party had already returned. In silence, they walked back to the house, each lost in their own thoughts.
Liz, for on
e, was very confused by her reactions to this dark and volatile man. Her whole life she’d loved only Nick. He had been her friend, her husband and her lover. She had thought it would always be so.
But now those warm childhood days seemed so far away. Maddensfield loomed in her mind almost like a fairy-tale kingdom where all had been magical. Except for one Sunday afternoon of course, when the fair prince had died in her arms and the fairy tale had ended.
Now she was Liz the woman, living in a dark and gloomy house, trying to help a dark and gloomy child. And there was Richard the man, no fair prince, to be sure. Yet she was drawn to him in a way she had never been drawn to anyone. It was not the easy, simple love of her childhood. It was something more complex, something that tied her stomach in knots and left her breathless in his mere presence.
She liked his kisses. Very much.
But who was this dark man that drew her in? This house had too many secrets, and even as Maddensfield slipped away in her mind, Liz missed those golden days. In this new environment of morbid statistics and midnight vigils, she didn’t know her way around. A woman had died here. Liz slept in Alycia’s room, rode the horse named by her, cared for her child. But what had happened to Alycia? Who had pushed her from the tower?
Was it Richard?
She wanted to ignore such a thought. She wanted to push all doubt from her mind. Because she had liked his kiss, because she would sell her soul for another. But Richard seemed so distant at times, and his blue eyes were so often cold. He had secrets, too, secrets known only to him as he swirled his glass before the midnight flames.
In the dark of the night, she still didn’t know what went on behind those pale blue eyes of his. Nor how much it could cost her.
The doubt tore at her. She was accustomed to people who talked, people who shared. She’d fallen in love with a man who’d returned her passion as purely as she’d given it, until she’d seen his love in his eyes, his smile, the casual touch of his hand.
Attraction was a physical thing, entirely different from love. It wouldn’t last, especially with a man like Richard. He was too good at control. It would be easy for him to rouse her into flames while keeping his own heart untouched. And when he was done, when the passion at last was slaked, he would simply walk away.
