Edmund was no stranger to the unexpected. Life had dealt him his fair share of surprises, the first at the age of seven, when his otherwise healthy, robust father had keeled over whilst supping one evening, never to eat again.
When his mother remarried four years later, Edmund was once again caught unawares. As he was when Lydia took ill, her eyes once so full of life and spirit, dimmed first by fever and snuffed by death. The series of upsets continued with wagers lost on horses guaranteed to win and culminated with an earl’s daughter who not only wished to race in the Emberton Derby, but had the earl’s permission to do so.
Life, it seemed, was determined to take him by surprise. Therefore, he should not have been startled by Lady Albina’s determination or willingness to work harder than any lady, or any person for that matter, he had ever encountered.
Her focus was remarkable, her obedience to his demands, no matter how petty or relentless, appreciated. He no longer doubted her capabilities or her willingness to follow his lead, for in the two and a half hours he had critiqued, berated, and directed her, she had done precisely as asked, never once questioning his abilities, his experience, or his rank.
If she continued in this vein, he might win the Thoroughbred after all. Her performance this morning had buoyed his hopes, had lifted, ever so slightly, the burden pressing upon his shoulders. For the first time he dared to hope… A Thoroughbred. Of his own. Along with the recognition given by not only the Earl of Amhurst, but the bloody damn Duke of Waverly. Should word spread of his teaching capabilities, of how his talents were so great he was able to achieve the impossible by training a woman to not only race, but to win the duke’s prestigious derby…
First, however, he was owed compensation for his instruction. And if she was as receptive to his orders on top of a horse, he was more than excited to see if the same held true within the sanctity of his arms where he was, as she had stated herself, a man first.
Edmund worked a finger under his cravat, loosening the tightly tied linen. He glanced over his shoulder, at the golden orb rising in the sky. Time was a precious commodity this morning, having slipped away unnoticed, so absorbed was he with his instruction.
And his student.
Who was determined to shake the beau monde with her radical ideologies. First as a female jockey, second, as a lady genuinely concerned with the staff’s, namely his, interests. He smiled. Perhaps Lady Sarah was wrong, and the earl’s daughter could be wooed by a groom.
Sliding two fingers in his mouth, he whistled for the mare and her rider to return. Time was of the essence, and he had yet to be paid for services rendered. Services that had seemed much less the work he had expected and far more like pleasure.
And why should it be anything less? An attentive student not only listened to his instruction, but complied and strived for his affirmation. In racing technique. A passion that was obviously enjoyed and shared by a woman who was quickly consuming his thoughts, both waking and in slumber.
Edmund let out a chuckle. A woman. Who enjoyed racing horses. It was no wonder he could not stop thinking of her. She did not belittle his passion but appreciated it, her respect for the horses clear in her handling of the beasts. He’d guided many a rider before, but Lady Albina stood apart from the others. Her regard for the horse more a reverence than an appreciation, resembling something more akin to that of a jockey than a lady…
Clomping hooves stirred Edmund from his reverie. Lady Albina’s bay mare snorted her arrival as she skillfully eased the horse beside him. She smiled, her cheeks flushed, strands of loosened, windswept hair splayed across her face. His pulse quickened at the mere sight of her and raced with the knowledge she was minutes away from delivering a kiss. From her lips to his.
“Would you like me to run her again? Once more down the ridge?” she asked.
He chuckled and quirked his head toward the eastern sky. “I believe we are out of time, my lady. More instruction will have to wait until tomorrow.”
“But we have yet to go at a faster pace,” she persisted. “I need to test her abilities, her willingness, her—”
“Which we shall,” Edmund assured her. “The mare has been run hard and is owed a rest. As are you.” He slid off his saddle and walked toward the horse. The beast sniffed at his hand, the velvet-soft muzzle searching for an apple or a handful of oats, neither of which he had with him. The clover-studded ground would have to do until they returned to the barn…and his payment was received.
He lifted his hand and crooked his forefinger toward Lady Albina, urging her to get off the horse. “If you do not pace yourself, my lady, both you and the mare will be unable to train tomorrow.”
She grudgingly placed her hand in his and slipped down into the thigh-high grass. “I shall be back at the stables for an afternoon ride, Mr. White. As I always am. I think—”
“No doubt you shall.” He gripped her fingers tighter and pulled her into his chest. He gazed down at her bright, widened eyes. “But you will be in a dress. Accompanied by the day’s guests and sitting sidesaddle in an expected, ladylike manner.”
“I suppose so.” She placed her hands on his arms. His body tingled at her touch, as though her fingers belonged to the fay, conjuring a magic he had never before experienced.
Which was an absolutely ridiculous notion. He’d held numerous women in his arms while receiving far more than the mere kiss Lady Albina promised. He was not a lad, green with inexperience, but a grown man with more than one tumble beneath his belt.
And yet, the slightest pressure of Lady Albina’s fingers on his forearms sent his heart palpitating as though she were his first love. And had him actually questioning his decision to remain as head groom.
As a viscount, she could be much more than his student. She could very well be his wife.
Edmund held back a snort at the absurdity of his woolgathering. Were he to accept his great-uncle’s offer, sheep would be his primary source of livestock, not Thoroughbreds. And Lady Albina had not skillfully ridden ewes this morning, but champion racers from a world that appreciated pedigree and order. If she thought he had little to offer in his current status, as a sheep-gathering viscount, he had nothing more than a title to afford her. And what good was his rank if he lacked the happiness given to him through racing horses?
“I…I…presume you wish to be paid, Mr. White.”
Edmund cleared his throat and gazed down at an imploring set of sage-green eyes. “For services rendered, my lady. As previously agreed upon. Unless you did not think my instruction adequate—”
“No.” Her cheeks flushed a becoming shade of scarlet as she adjusted in his arms, shifting her shoulders. “You…you did as requested. And very thoroughly so. I cannot recall a time when I’ve had so knowledgeable an instructor.” She rolled her lip between her teeth, her gaze darting away from his.
Uncomfortable did not begin to describe the woman in his arms, all stiff and unyielding, much like the tension in his breeches. Adjustments needed to be made. Directly. Fingering a lock of her errant hair, he tucked it behind her ear. “I could not have asked for a more receptive and attentive student this morning.”
Her gaze lifted. “You think I performed well?”
“I would not say so if it were not true.” He nodded toward the mare and his stallion, both of whom were happily devouring a patch of clovers. “You ran the mare with exceptional skill. With continued instruction, I have high hopes of your performance at Emberton.”
She continued to peer up at him, her eyes shifting from green to brown. “I-I-I don’t know what to say.”
“I believe a thank you is the general and preferred reply.”
She laughed, her hands relaxing on his arms. “Of course, it’s only that…” Her voice trailed off, her focus shifting away from him to some distant point on the horizon.
“Only what?” he asked, eager to have her attention return.
“Only that… Do you really mean what you say? Are you…are you sincere in your compliment?”
He frowned. “I would not say something if it were not, in fact, the truth.” He clutched her closer, willing her to put her mind at ease as the light floral scent of her soap tested his control. “How else should it be perceived if not in a sincere manner?”
“However, I cannot help but wonder”—she paused, her gaze flicking to the side—“if your compliment was given to ease the delivery of my payment.”
He blinked, both startled and surprised by her sudden insecurity. The woman had been nothing but confident and assured this morning, secure in her place both on the horse and in Society. But here she stood, as vulnerable as a freshly hired kitchen maid, uncertain of the house hierarchy.
Which had him revisiting his earlier theory. Was her determination to race fueled not only by a desire to win, but also a curiosity spurred by a dark yearning for forbidden pleasures? Of a need to explore the sensuality denied by her status and restricted by her innocence? Such thoughts could confirm her sister’s fears and damage her reputation with his kisses.
Edmund licked his lips. Unless she wanted his kisses to settle the very insecurity she touted. With practice, repetition…and a very willing advisor. Men, while proclaiming to covet innocence, enjoyed the confidence of an experienced lover. Should an earl’s daughter not only know how to kiss but enjoy and return the intimacy, he suspected she would garner many proposals. All Lady Albina required was confidence earned through practice and the affirmation of a job well done, which he could readily offer with direction and well-placed encouragement.
“My compliments are genuine, my lady. They have no bearing on your requital, as it was agreed upon prior to my instruction.” He lowered his face, tilting it toward her. “I know, whether you succeed or fail, a kiss awaits me at the end of every lesson. Flattering you is not necessary for me to receive compensation.” His lips hovered above hers. “So when I say you rode well this morning, I mean precisely that. You are deserving of my praise, and I wish for you to hear it.”
She swallowed. “Well, then, I believe a thank you is in order.”
“I believe it is. As is a kiss,” he added.
A breath of air escaped her lips. “Yes, right. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Mr. White.”
“You are most welcome, Lady Albina.”
A smile touched upon her lips, fading before fully forming. She lifted her shoulders in a large inhale. “Well then I suppose I should get to the kiss.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I suppose you should.” She trembled in his arms, her heart beating so hard and fast he could feel it through both her waistcoat and his. “It might be easier if you closed your eyes, my lady.”
“But then, how am I to know where to place my lips? You are the one who insists I kiss you, and not the other way around.”
He held back a smile, knowing her sentiments to be sincere and not an attempt at flirtation. She was a perfectionist, unwilling to settle for anything less than her absolute best, as he had quickly deduced during their time together this morning. Yes, instruction was definitely needed to lift her confidence. And he happened to be an excellent teacher.
“A kiss is guided by emotion and touch rather than by sight.”
“I am to feel my way toward you? And hope by happenchance I come upon your lips?”
He lowered his face further, his lips a breath away from hers. “I’d say you have a small margin for error.”
“Are you ready then, Mr. White?” Her eyelids fluttered closed.
He was more than ready, his mouth eager to devour her pillow-soft lips. Ravishing her, however, would only scare her away. Patience was required, of the meticulously slow variety.
She moved toward him, her lips brushing across his, soft and light as a butterfly. Edmund closed his eyes, restraining his hands from clutching the roundness of her bottom. He held his ground, waiting for her to continue, but she pulled back, her lips gone as quickly as they had come.
He snapped his eyes open to see her skin flushed red, her gaze darting everywhere but on him. “Is that sufficient?” she whispered.
Not by half, but it appeared she required more assurance and a bit of guidance. Time was not on his side, nor was his body, its ache for her straining through his breeches, but he had worked hard this morning and was owed recompense. Were he to demand it, however, he had no doubt she would deny him. He must proceed with grace. Kindness. And soft words of encouragement.
“For an initial impression, you are off to a good start.” He continued to hold her, the trembles in her limbs intensifying. “You must first relax, my lady. A kiss is not meant to be executed, but felt.”
“I cannot—”
“Then do not think of what you cannot, but of what you can. Better yet, do not think at all. Allow yourself to feel. Let go.”
She nodded and licked her lips, the motion nearly undoing his control. He clenched his jaw and waited. He had patience. In spades. Waiting for Lady Albina’s courage to bolster was a very small price to pay for this morning’s accomplishments. He would wait for her to come to him. This was, after all, another lesson. Unless, of course, the student was not receptive.
Edmund pulled back to express as much, when she leaned forward, her eyes shut tightly closed, her lips pressed together in a pucker resembling something meant more for an obliging pet than a man. He would have laughed at the awkwardness if the sound would not have killed the moment dead.
“Relax,” Edmund whispered against her lips. He ran his hands up her back, pressing his palms flush against her spine. “Don’t think, only feel.”
With tentative, small movements, she pressed her lips against his, sighing as she did so, her mouth softening. He held back, allowing her to set the pace, and she deepened the kiss, increasing the pressure on his lips, allowing her mouth to move over his.
His head spun at the innocence of it all. Never had he dreamt her inexperience would intensify his desire. His body warmed with every feather-light kiss she placed on his lips. His breath quickened, his control slipping through his restraints…
Edmund returned her kisses with a fervor. Following his own advice, he allowed his body full rein over his mind, his thoughts centered on the pleasure of the moment.
Lady Albina’s hands flitted up his chest to his jaw, her fingers spreading over the beginnings of a beard he had yet to tend. He pulled her closer, darting his tongue across her lips and tasting the slightest hint of salt…
A firm push in the small of his back made him stumble forward. The kiss broken, he righted both Lady Albina and himself before glancing at the intruder.
His black stallion snorted and shook his massive head.
“I believe your horse thinks my debt filled.” Lady Albina stepped out of his grasp and straightened her hat. “As you said before, time is of the essence, Mr. White. Shall we resume our training tomorrow at the same time and place?”
He lifted off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “I-I, yes,” he stuttered, not having fully recovered from the interruption and the break of their intimacy.
“I look forward to seeing you then.” She hoisted herself onto her horse. “If I do not see you this afternoon.”
Returning his hat to his head, Edmund nodded. She jabbed her heels into the horse’s side and turned toward the barn, the mare’s tail swishing behind.
His hand reached idly for the stallion’s seeking nose. Neither heaven nor hell would keep him from the barn this afternoon. That much was certain. Not when he might, for the first time, see Lady Albina in a dress.
Chapter Eight
A dress was precisely what Albina wore as she strolled into the barn less than five hours after succumbing to Mr. White’s instructions and allowing herself to “feel.”
Oh, she’d allowed herself to feel all right. Every inch of her skin had tingled with his touch, as though prior to his ministrations her flesh had been an unfeeling, dead mass. Even now, as she peered into the dimness of the building, her body prickled with anticipation of having his hands, his b
are, ungloved, calloused hands, sliding down her arms, pulling her toward him…
She was a hoyden. A brazen woman of ill manners and base urges. For what else was she to be called when all she could think about was Mr. White and his opinions? Even the gown she wore had been selected with him in mind.
Simple, worn, and soft, the faded blue-floral print provided easy maneuverability and a broader range of motion, allowing her to ride astride with ease. If she were able to find Mr. White, of course. She couldn’t very well allow just any groom to assist her; he alone must be the one to select both her saddle and her mount. And should he glimpse a hint of her white stocking while she rode out to the pasture practicing the very posture and form he had taught her just that morning—so be it.
A hoyden to be certain. Albina’s cheeks warmed. She fiddled her fingers, the supple leather of her gloves doing little to distract her. She was strung tighter than her painter’s canvas and had to remind herself to breathe—and steel herself against the possibility that Mr. White might very well refuse to heed her request. In which case, she had to have an argument ready.
“Lady Albina?”
Mr. White stepped out of the shadows, wisps of his ginger hair ablaze in the beams of the afternoon sun.
“I, well, I…” she stuttered. He was, in two words, ruggedly handsome this afternoon. It had been less than five hours since she had seen him last, but somehow in that space of time he had acquired an endearing dimple in his left cheek. A more defined jaw. And, well, a broader chin. His charm had multiplied, much like her waistline after having a fourth helping of plum cake at her morning meal.
Devil take it.
“Might I fetch a horse for you?” he asked, amusement lurking in the depths of his cerulean eyes.
All she could do was nod, her tongue having lost all feeling.
As she clenched her hands, he turned. She had to get ahold of herself. Mr. White was hardly the first handsome man to be employed at Plumburn. He, however, was the only one who had ever captured her attention, or engaged her in conversation, or offered to teach her how to race in a derby.
To Win a Viscount (Daughters of Amhurst) Page 10
