To Tame a Savage Heart

by Emma V. Leech

  Belle looked up at her, as though she’d forgotten she was there at all.

  “Oh. Er … I … I’m sure we’ll deal famously together,” she said after a moment, sounding quite certain of herself and much more Belle-like.

  Crecy bit her lip, wanting to be reassured but still feeling uneasy. “But I thought you meant to have Lord Nibley?”

  Belle nodded, flushing a rather violent shade of scarlet. “I did,” she admitted.

  “Then what …

  Belle held out her hand, a look of desperation in her eyes. “Do you mind if we discuss this later? I have the most dreadful headache.”

  Crecy agreed with alacrity, though she did make sure to ask if Belle needed anything before she left. Though she knew she was selfish in the extreme, if Belle didn’t need her, she had a whole day free.

  And she meant to put it to good use.

  ***

  It was a simple thing to ditch the groom assigned to chaperone her. Though she had experienced a qualm, and rather wondered if perhaps she’d lost her nerve for riding, as it had been some years since she’d last had the opportunity. But Crecy had always been a fearless rider, and, to her delight, nothing had changed. Riding had been one of her greatest pleasures, and she had never despised her own wretched excuse for a father more than when he’d sold her beloved horse to pay his gambling debts. It was at that point that Crecy had known that those good men, nice men like her father, those charming men who smiled in your face and said all the right things … they were not to be trusted.

  Far better a man you knew was set on ruining you and was honest about it, you could deal with that head on. You knew where you stood and what you had to lose. Far worse a man who crawled into your heart with pretty little lies and sweet deceits and whose promises were worth nothing but dust.

  The morning and the countryside stretched out before her, full of promise and expectation. Longwold was situated high on the Cotswold escarpment, and a vista of rolling hills and thick woodland spread out, all sparkling white under a crisp blue sky. She could see the Mendips, those limestone hills to the south of Bath, and remembered Lord Nibley at dinner one night. He’d grown almost animated whilst speaking of the carboniferous limestone that was found in abundance here. She had been briefly interested when he’d touched on the variety of Neolithic, Iron Age, and Bronze Age barrows to be found in the area, but sadly, these intriguing sites did not hold the appeal for him that a lifeless rock clearly did.

  Leaning forward, she urged the horse on, revelling in the cold wind on her face, so sharp it made her eyes water. Her hair whipped about in the breeze, the jaunty green feather in her hat dancing madly as they flew across the thin covering of snow. She would need to make haste if she was to get to Damerel House and return before anyone noticed her gone.

  ***

  Gabriel looked up as Piper came into the room, bearing a small silver tray with a letter upon it. The arrival of the post was the only exception to the do not disturb rule that was adhered to the moment his study door closed - unless it was a dire emergency.

  “This arrived for you, my lord,” he said as Gabriel reached for the letter. “It’s early, isn’t it? I hope there is nothing amiss with the young lady?”

  Gabriel sent him a look that strongly urged the man to mind his own damn business and broke the seal with a frown. Waiting until his obviously concerned butler had closed the door, he opened the folded sheet with curiosity. Piper was correct, of course, she wrote on the first of every month, usually, with the exception of his birthday.

  My dear friend,

  I am to be your neighbour!

  Gabriel dropped the letter like it had scorched him, staring at the words as vexation burst to life. Blast the girl! What did she mean by threatening to seek him out? Was she utterly lost to propriety? Except she wasn’t a girl any longer, was she? He had been aware for some months of a subtle change in the tenor of those letters. She must be twenty by now, twenty-one, even? He glared at the extravagant, looping writing, for once not crammed in to fill and cross every inch of space on the sheet. It had been written in haste, which meant …

  He got to his feet, taking a hasty step away from the letter as if it had the power to contaminate him somehow, to shatter his peace of mind … and then he made the connection.

  By God, the blonde outside Longwold, the way she had stared at him - as if she had a right to …

  That was Lucretia Holbrook?

  Gabriel swallowed, a feeling of unease creeping over his skin. No, no, no. The last thing he needed was some pretty fool with ridiculous romantic notions about him trying to trap him into marriage. Though at this point, he had to admit that the young woman seemed perfectly aware of all of his vices; she had never had the slightest hesitation in questioning him about them, after all. Sometimes the things she wrote, and asked, shocked him deeply. She clearly didn’t have an ounce of shame, and even less good sense. Though his mouth quirked a little, involuntarily, as he remembered how some of those imprudent questions had made him smile. Nonetheless, unease prickled over his skin.

  “Piper!” he yelled, refolding the letter with care and putting it in a large wooden box to peruse again later, when the coast was clear. For now, he needed to get away until the wretched woman had gone.

  The butler appeared at his door, his face full of curiosity. Well, the fellow could keep his blasted nose out of Gabriel’s affairs.

  “There has been some kind of house party at Longwold. Do you know when the guests leave?” he asked, ignoring the man’s disappointment at being kept out of the secret and refusing to let him know why Miss Holbrook had written him an extra letter.

  “Yes, my lord, I believe they will be leaving today.”

  “Today?” Gabriel repeated, breathing a sigh of relief. So he only need make himself scarce for a few hours and he’d be in the clear. “Have Typhon saddled for me, I’m going out.”

  The butler nodded and retreated, leaving Gabriel to stare into the fire, trying hard to ignore an irrational surge of anger towards Miss Holbrook. He didn’t want her here, didn’t want to put a face to the strange and oddly intimate letters that arrived without fail each month. It was unsettling and … out of the ordinary, and that was unacceptable. His life followed strict timetables, rules and rituals that kept the days ticking past and him on an even keel. Too many deviations from the norm, and he started to feel adrift and anxious and … out of control, and that … that made him angry.

  He glowered at the flames, the rising heat fierce against his face. Well, she’d be gone soon, perhaps she’d already left, and then he could relax and concentrate on what next to do about Edward Greyston. For his father would not let him live in peace until he’d kept his promise and destroyed him.

  ***

  Crecy rode hard, the powerful beast beneath her sweating and blowing clouds as she pulled up, her heart pounding with exhilaration and trepidation as a huge house came into view. It was built of squared and dressed limestone, like so many of the region, and dominated the landscape. From her position on the ridge and looking down, it had an H-shaped main body, with a projecting rounded porch and portico in the centre supported by paired Doric columns. It spoke of power and wealth, but Crecy cared not for any of that, all that mattered was that it belonged to him. This was the home of Gabriel Greyston, the Viscount DeMorte, this was where he had been born and grown into a man. This place had shaped him, for good and for ill, and she wanted desperately to uncover its secrets. All of them.

  Ignoring the prickle of unease at the back of her neck that told her that her presence was likely unwelcome, she urged the horse on again, moving at a steady trot now as she drank in the scene below her, committing it to memory.

  A flicker of movement to her right caught her attention and she turned from the house and heard her own gasp as she saw a man on a powerful horse riding further along the ridge, heading in the opposite direction. Just before he turned and disappeared, the horse was checked, the man’s head coming up and star
ing at her.

  It was him! And he’d seen her.

  Chapter 3

  “Wherein our heroine is courageous foolhardy.”

  Crecy held her breath, wondering what came next. Surely he had received her letter by now? Surely he must have guessed it was her who had been so captivated by him and stared in such a shocking manner? If he turned away now, all her hopes would shatter.

  The moment seemed to stretch out, the distance between them growing larger as her heart beat in her chest, marking the moments as he made his decision. As the horse was urged into motion again, this time towards her, Crecy let go of a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, though it didn’t help her much. The freezing air seemed suddenly too thin, and no matter how she gulped it down, her chest heaving, she felt dizzy and unsettled. Some innate sense of self-preservation urged her to turn and flee, but she ignored it, drinking in the sight of him as he came nearer.

  He drew up beside her, those dark blue eyes cold and angry, as she’d known they would be.

  “Good morning, my Lord DeMorte,” she said, relieved that she didn’t sound quite as breathless as she felt.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice harsh as he glared at her, his displeasure at seeing her here only too evident. “This is private property, as I’m sure you are well aware.”

  “Of course I am aware,” she said, grinning at him and feeling a rush of delight at being in his presence and speaking with him even though he was obviously furious. “I told you I was going to trespass, after all. Didn’t you believe me?”

  He paused at that, frowning as if he didn’t quite know what to say to her next and was wondering why she wasn’t terrified of him. She wondered the same herself in the light of his rage, but discovered she was not the least bit afraid, only rather nervous. That strange, over-excited, nervousness that always accompanied thoughts of him.

  “Are you going to shoot me?” she asked, her tone innocent as she quirked one eyebrow, knowing it would vex him and doing it anyway.

  “No,” he replied, the word curt and irritated as he gathered his horse’s reins in large, powerful hands. “I’m going to escort you from my land and strongly encourage you not to return again.”

  “And if I do?” she asked with a sweet smile.

  He glowered at her and she felt the strangest urge to laugh at the growing fury and the heated indignation in his eyes. “Then I’ll shoot you,” he muttered, gesturing for her to turn her horse.

  Crecy sighed and looked down at the great house with regret. “I will see it one day, you know.”

  “Over my dead body,” he snapped, his expression close to a snarl.

  He trotted away and Crecy hurried to keep up with him.

  “Oh, no,” she replied with quiet calm as she drew alongside, perfectly serious. “That’s no good at all. How will I discover all of those hidden staircases and dark secrets if the master is not there to point them out to me?”

  He turned his head and Crecy could only stare at him, memorising every detail: the thick, black lock of hair that had fallen forward, the forbidding, hooded eyes, that cruel mouth that would change his expression completely if only she could induce it to smile.

  “You really are insane, aren’t you?” he growled, looking perplexed and really rather disturbed. He pushed the lock of hair from his forehead with one hand, a gesture she suspected he repeated often.

  She shrugged at his question, giving him a frank, if slightly rueful, look.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, holding his gaze when he didn’t turn away from her. “I know that … that I’m … different … Odd, I suppose.”

  She watched him, wondering what he would say to that as he frowned, those dark brows heavy over his eyes. “You don’t hear me disagreeing, do you?”

  She laughed and shook her head, blonde curls dancing around her face. “No, I didn’t expect you to, I promise.”

  He reached out and grasped her horse’s bridle, pulling it to a sudden stop and staring at her, his eyes glittering and intense. “If anyone discovers you’ve been here, alone, you’re ruined. Do you understand that?” he demanded, his cold eyes searching hers, clearly expecting her to looked shocked and anxious.

  “Of course,” she replied, her expression placid. “I might be odd, but I’m not a fool.”

  For a moment, he gaped at her, obviously strongly disbelieving that statement.

  “Don’t you care?” he raged, letting go of the reins in disgust. “You’d never marry if you were to be seen in my company.”

  “I don’t want to marry.” Crecy saw utter disbelief this time, and he gave a snort, urging his horse on again.

  “You damned liar,” he threw at her over his shoulder.

  “No, I’m not,” she said, quite unruffled by the accusation as she moved her mount faster to keep up. “At least, I would marry you if you asked, I think …” His horse was pulled to a sudden halt and Crecy followed suit. She kept her eyes downcast for a moment, aware of the weight of his gaze on, her but not quite brave enough to face it yet. Taking a breath, she ploughed on. “But I am well aware that you never would, so there is no need to stare at me so. It’s not like I’m hoping or angling for a proposal.” She did look up then, and the expression on his face was one of such revulsion that she almost laughed. “Well, you did ask, so I’m telling you,” she replied, sounding a little indignant. “But frankly, well, there isn’t another man in the world that would put up with me.”

  He blinked, silent and quite still, and she wondered what he was thinking. So many thoughts seemed to flicker behind those dark eyes, it was impossible to tell. But then they settled back to annoyance, that one was clear at least. “What the devil makes you think I would?” he demanded in outrage, settling his now jittery horse with light, masterly hands, despite his anger.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said with perfect sincerity. “But the thing is that I think I could make you comfortable, if you would let me. You could be contented, even. I think we could deal famously together, actually.”

  He rode off without another word and she cantered after him, sparing a moment to admire the breadth of his shoulders, the powerful thighs, and the way he moved in perfect symmetry with the huge horse whose heavy hooves thundered beneath him.

  They slowed as the terrain became rougher, conscious of their mounts sliding on the frozen ground.

  “Shouldn’t you have left by now?” he demanded after ten minutes of frigid silence. “All the other guests have, surely.” He turned to look back at her, and she thought he looked wary, probably afraid she’d try and seduce him next, somehow trap him into marriage despite her assurances. The idea made her smile.

  As if she’d have the slightest idea how to.

  “We aren’t leaving,” she said with a smug smile, seeing the horror grow in his eyes with amusement.

  “Why the bloody hell not?”

  She gave a startled laugh at his exasperation which made him look crosser than ever. “Because, Belle …” she began, and then stopped abruptly as she realised she didn’t want him to know Belle was marrying his cousin. Not just yet. He’d find out soon enough, of course. “Belle has become good friends with Mrs Violette Russell, and she has invited us to stay for Christmas, too.” It wasn’t a lie, after all. “So I shall be able to deliver your Christmas present in person this year,” she added with a merry smile before cantering off past him.

  A rude word scorched her ears, something that ought never be uttered in the presence of a lady, and certainly not with such heat, but it only made her laugh all the harder. She pushed on into a gallop as the ground evened out, and then turned back, grinning madly, to see him spring his own horse, gaining on her with ease.

  Crecy squealed, her heart hammering with excitement as they flew across the fields. The sun was growing warm now, hot against her back even as the cold air prickled at her skin and made her cheeks glow. She had never felt more exhilarated, more alive and vital, and despite the fact he l
ikely wanted to wring her blasted neck, she felt happier than she’d ever known.

  ***

  Gabriel watched her bolt across the fields, everything about her alive and vibrant, the sun on her hair glinting gold like a barley field. Yet all he could feel was fury. Damn her! Why did she have to come and provoke him so? He harboured concerns that perhaps she really was unstable. Good God, that was the last thing he needed. He was quite capable of courting scandal without any help from some strange young woman who ought to be locked up for her own safety. His thoughts strayed to the letters she’d written him, to the things he knew to be true about her. Things she had no right to confide to a complete stranger, certainly not an unmarried man. They had been sane enough, though, if a little … eccentric, to say the least - certainly for a young woman.

  He glanced at his watch, his temper flaring as he saw it was after midday. He’d never get back to the house before one o’clock now, which meant he’d be late for lunch. He ground his teeth as his shoulders tensed, his skin growing clammy at the idea. He needed to be back by one. He would not let this … this hoyden ruin his entire schedule.

  Urging his horse on, he galloped after her, Typhon eating up the distance between them with ease, though what he meant to do when he caught up with her he could not decide. He had never raised a hand in anger to a woman and never would. He’d hated his father for that very reason even before …

  Damn her, she was stirring everything up.

  He forced the ugly scenes from his mind with no clear idea of what to do next. He just had to get her off his land and frighten her enough that she would not dare return. Sadly, he got the feeling the chit didn’t scare easily.

  They were neck and neck now, the silly creature riding too fast, doing her utmost to outpace him. He turned and looked at her and she crowed with laughter, the delight and sheer joy in her voice a sound so utterly foreign to him that he could not help but stare at her. But from out of the hedgerows, there was an explosion of birds as a dozen or more pheasants took flight, and her horse shied, rearing and dancing. To his astonishment, she held on, trying to calm the beast who refused to settle and bucked twice, finally unseating her.