by Anne Stuart
"I, I beg your pardon?" she stammered, stalling for time, looking about uneasily. Down at the shoreline, too far away for her to make out any features, stood a man. Taller than Wat Simpkin and strangely familiar was the mysterious Mr. Fredericks. He stared up at them with a wary intentness that communicated itself to Elizabeth's startled eyes.
"I said, what in God's name are you doing here?" Michael demanded roughly, reclaiming her attention.
A moment later she found herself yanked quite brutally to her feet. She stood there, squinting at him through the blazing sunlight as he deliberately stationed himself between her and the shoreline, his broad back obscuring her vision, and she felt a momentary rush of panic. He was suspected of killing at least one man, he was no doubt a desperate spy, and he looked frankly murderous at the moment. It would not take much: a rough shove that would send her hurtling down the pathway to the sea and the feet of his confederate, probably breaking her neck; a blow on the side of the head; those tanned, strong hands reaching around her throat . . .
Those strong, tanned hands grabbed her arm in a fierce grip and began dragging her back up the hill at a rapid pace. Looking back toward the shoreline, she could see no trace of the man who had been staring up at them just moments ago.
"Do you have the faintest idea," Michael was demanding in a furious voice, "just how dangerous this game you're playing is? It's not an anagram or a French novel; it's a life or death proposition."
"What is?" she demanded weakly, struggling to keep up with him. "I just went for a peaceful ride down to the sea. What's the harm in that?"
"You know damned well what the harm in it is," he said roughly. "You expect me to believe you? That you just happened to choose Starfield Cove when there are a number of nearer, more congenial accesses to the sea you could have ridden to? You expect me to believe that you just happened to tether your horse out of sight and went to hide behind a boulder for want of something better to do?"
"I thought there might be some early wild strawberries," she said defensively.
Fraser stopped dead still, and Elizabeth, still moving at his breakneck pace, barreled into him full force. He caught her before she fell, holding her at arm's length. The grim expression had softened somewhat, and there was a reluctant quirk to his well-shaped mouth. "I could almost believe you, Elizabeth. For your sake I'd like to, but I don't dare. If you do not curb your meddling and obviously insatiable curiosity, I will have to lock you in your room."
She stared up at him in amazement. "I didn't give you leave to call me by my given name," she said lamely.
"No, you didn't. And as a matter of fact, I don't think I will. Elizabeth is far too formal for a ramshackle female such as you. You're a Lizzie if ever I saw one."
"I'm Miss Traherne," she shot back, at a loss to deal with this abrupt change in personality.
"What you are is damnably interfering, and I can't afford to waste my time and energies looking out for you," he said frankly. They were at the top of the cliff by this time, and Lacey eyed her with deceptive passivity from her spot beside Fraser's huge black stallion.
"You aren't going to get away with it, you know," Elizabeth said abruptly, daringly. "Someone will catch you before you can find the papers. Sir Henry, or the general, or someone will stop you."
The expression on his tanned face was more harassed than dangerous. "Aided and abetted by you, no doubt," he said wearily. "Leave it alone, Lizzie. If you don't, I can't answer for the consequences."
"Is that a threat?" she asked in steady tones, trying to ignore the pleasure she felt in the sound of his deep, slow voice saying "Lizzie."
"More in the nature of a warning. I'm not about to satisfy your immense curiosity by giving you any explanations or excuses. You've somehow managed to stumble onto far too much knowledge already, and the less you know, the better. Be a good girl and mind your own business, and everything might possibly come 'round right in the end."
The look Elizabeth cast at him out of mutinous brown eyes was far from reassuring. With an irritated explosion of breath he put his hands on her slender waist and threw her onto Lacey's broad back. Elizabeth scarcely had time to catch hold of the saddle, when the nervy beast reared up with a shrill whinny and took off, yanking the tethered reins free from the scraggiy branch where she had tied them.
This ride was a great deal different from the one on the way to the ocean. If Lacey had run fast the last time, she flew now, with the reins trailing and completely out of Elizabeth's reach. Too fast for her to try jumping off onto the spongy turf, she thought with a very real panic. Michael Fraser might very well be responsible for her death, after all.
Her hands were slippery with sweat as she clung to the saddle, and she remembered with despair her riding gloves, resting no doubt beneath that boulder. Her legs were numb, and each jolt and bump threatened to toss her headfirst from the animal's terrified back. Numbly Elizabeth realized that she couldn't hold on much longer.
Through blinded eyes she was vaguely aware of a figure coming up on her right. Michael, his stallion thundering beneath him, drew even with her maddened beast. Leaning over at a dangerous angle, he made a grab for the trailing reins and missed. The stallion fell back a few paces, and Lacey, even more terrified, sped up, bugling a high, panicked shriek.
Once again he drew even, halfway swinging out of his saddle as he reached for the reins. This time he caught them, and slowly, imperceptibly Elizabeth felt the horse slow in response to the steady, inexorable pressure on the reins. Finally Lacey came to a shuddering halt, her flanks heaving, her eyes rolling, winded, exhausted, unrepentant.
Elizabeth slid from her back. Michael was there to catch her as her legs buckled. Burying her face against his shoulder, she put her arms around his neck and held on, her breath coming in frightened sobs as she trembled in his tight clasp.
After a long, long time the panic left her, her breathing was regular, and if her heart still pounded too rapidly, well, she had never been held in a man's arms before. Regretfully she loosened her hold, and immediately he set her free. Pushing her hair away from her damp, flushed face, she looked up at him and managed a shaky smile. "Thank you," she said, and found it coming out in a hoarse croak.
"Thank you?" he echoed bitterly. "Of all the stupid things to have done! Do you realize that you could have been killed?"
Her temper flared. "It was hardly my fault. You were the one who threw me on the horse. I couldn't help it if you frightened her."
"I realize that," he said stiffly. "I wouldn't have thought you would have been out riding a horse that was scarcely broken in."
"Lady Elfreda's suggestion," Elizabeth said with a wry grin. "I should have known better than to have listened to that . . . that gorgon."
She was rewarded with a reluctant smile. "I could have killed you," he said, self-recrimination still strong in his voice, and the dark eyes were troubled.
So much for him being a conscienceless killer, Elizabeth thought triumphantly. There had been an imperceptible change in their relationship in the last few moments, one she couldn't understand but welcomed anyway. She smiled up impishly at him. "You still could."
She was met with an answering gleam in his eyes. "And no doubt you'll continue to drive me in that direction. Still and all, I think I'd be more likely to do it with my bare hands the next time I catch you where you don't belong."
"I'll take that under advisement," she said demurely, "and make sure that you don't catch me."
"Lizzie—"
"Will you help me back on this crazed beast?" she interrupted swiftly.
He stared at her, saying nothing for a long moment. "You're intending to ride her back to Winfields?" he demanded finally.
"Well, I'm not intending to walk," she said with some asperity. "If you're just a touch gender, I should have no difficulty. She may not be cowed, but I expect she's too tired to run off again." As if in agreement, Lacey nodded, her eyes rolling more lazily.
There was an arrested expr
ession on Fraser's face as he stared down at her.
"I suppose you think I'm completely unladylike," she said resignedly. "But what good would it do if I were to have the vapors all over the place? I have to get back to Winfields some way or another, and I'd as soon not sit around in the grass while you return with a carriage or some such fustian."
"You misunderstand me. I seldom encounter more sense than sensibility in a young lady."
This wasn't quite as endearing as Elizabeth could have hoped. "Oh, yes, I have a great deal of sense," she responded cheerfully. "It is extremely difficult to overset me."
"Is it?" he wondered aloud, his eyes playing on her face in a curiously disturbing manner. "At some other place and time I might endeavor to prove you wrong."
"You would have a difficult time doing so," she said firmly, deliberately daring him. "You forget I am past my first youth."
"A veritable woman of the world, in fact," he said softly, that bewitching smile playing about his lips. "We shall see, Lizzie."
"And I suggest you refrain from calling me that," she said sternly. "Sumner wouldn't like it in the slightest."
"Yes, ma'am," he replied, agreeing meekly. "Are you ready to go back now?"
"More than ready."
Once more his strong hands went around her waist. Very slowly he lifted her until her face was level with his. He held her there for a long moment, her feet dangling in midair. Her breath was coming rapidly, and Michael's eyes were alight with amusement.
"Are you certain I should have such difficulty ruffling that mature calm of yours?" he questioned softly, and his breath was warm and sweet on her flushed face.
"Very certain," she responded, lying firmly. For a long moment he held her there. He's going to kiss me, she thought, and then I shall faint.
A moment later she was in the saddle once more, unkissed. Lacey edged about with a trace of her previous nervousness, but the headlong flight had taken its toll on her energy, and she stood there peaceably enough after the initial start. Elizabeth controlled her absurd feeling of disappointment nobly. "Would you care to race back?" she inquired with deceptive calm.
"No, thank you. You may be a nerveless creature, but I am not so sturdy. One wild race across these fields is more than enough for one afternoon." He took one of her hands in his strong hand and held it for a moment. "Where are your gloves?"
"Back by the boulder."
"You'll have blisters by the time we get back to Winfields," he warned.
"If that's the worst I suffer from today's adventures, I shall consider myself lucky."
His eyes were very blue in the bright afternoon sunlight that beat down on her back through the lavender habit that now had a long rent under one arm. "Will you promise me one thing?" he asked softly. "That you will behave yourself for the next two days?"
"Would you believe me if I did?" she countered.
"If you promised."
"Then it is a great shame I cannot promise what I have no intention of doing," she said sweetly, and gave Lacey a gentle nudge toward home.
Chapter 9
Had it not been for Brenna O'Shea, Elizabeth would have managed to sneak up to her room with no one the wiser of her afternoon's strenuous activities. She was on the first step in the hallway off Lady Elfreda's study when Brenna appeared, taking in her disheveled appearance with wide eyes and a mouth shaped like an O.
"What in the world happened to you?" she asked.
Elizabeth was acutely aware of her tumbled hair, the large rent in the seam of her jacket, her flushed face, and the twigs clinging to her crumpled skirt. "I'll tell you later. I want to get up and change before anyone else sees me. Where is everyone?"
"Adolphus and Sir Maurice are in the library with Sir Henry Hatchett and his assistant, really the most handsome young man. They arrived a short while ago. Apparently Lady Beatrice is indisposed. Lady Elfreda's in her study, sound asleep, thank heavens. Sumner and the contessa have gone for a walk, and I have no idea where Captain Fraser might be." The green eyes made it clear that she could make a very good guess.
"Sumner and the contessa have gone for a walk?" Elizabeth echoed, picking up on the most important part. "Why in the world would he do any such thing?"
"He appears to admire her greatly," Brenna said with an airy unconcern that fooled Elizabeth for not one moment.
"He must have windmills in his head," she said frankly. "I'll have a talk with him when he comes in."
"I beg you, don't! If he doesn't wish to be with me, then I must abide by his decision. Perhaps I refined too much on small attentions he paid me in the past. I can scarcely compete with someone as beautiful or glamorous as the contessa."
"Who are you talking to?" Lady Elfreda's irritable voice bellowed from a nearby room, followed by the owner. The tall, angular figure towered over the two girls, and Elizabeth noticed with amusement that her coiffure had slipped a bit, revealing, as she had always suspected, that her ladyship wore a wig.
For a moment she had forgotten her own appearance. The satisfied expression on Lady Elfreda's seamed face reminded her swiftly. "Took a toss, did you?" she inquired affably. "I knew you would. Serves you right." She turned to Brenna, pinching her arm sharply to ensure herself of the girl's attention. "This chit insisted she was capable of riding Lacey. I warned her she would be too much to handle, but would she listen? Not Miss Elizabeth Traherne! Who would have thought a vicar's sister would be such an irresponsible hoyden? I do hope Adolphus didn't see you in such a dreadful state. He can't abide untidiness." She peered hopefully over her shoulder for a sight of her portly son.
Elizabeth had a brief struggle with her temper and, for the moment, won. "Don't bother your head about it, Lady Eifreda. I am perfectly all right, and Adolphus is with the gentlemen in the library, Brenna informs me. He has no idea that I had a small accident."
"You should never have insisted on riding Lacey," Brenna said with great seriousness. "Both Lady Elfreda and I could have told you she's far too wild for anyone to ride yet. You could have been killed."
Elizabeth looked at Lady Elfreda's cold face and detected not the slightest trace of remorse. "You're absolutely right, Brenna," she said calmly. "It was unwise in the extreme of me not to pay more attention to Lady Elfreda's dubious advice. I will be a great deal more careful the next time."
"Elizabeth!" Sumner's shocked tones carried to her ears, and she controlled a start of irritation. A moment later her elegantly clad brother had joined the group of women, with the contessa holding back, watching them all with a trace of amusement. "What in heaven's name has happened to you?" he demanded, his normally mellifluous voice high-pitched in outrage. "Don't you know better than to go around looking like some sort of . . . of . . ." Words failed him, as they usually did. Elizabeth noted absently the golden hair and angry blue eyes, the beautifully shaped nostrils flaring as they always did when he was angry with her. Not for the first time she wondered why a cruel fate would give her boring brother the prettiest face in the family.
"I was trying to get to my room," she said calmly. "And if everyone would stop asking me what happened, I would do so."
"But what did happen?" cried her brother with singular obtuseness, and Elizabeth wondered how a sensible, pretty girl such as Brenna could possibly love such a creature, no matter how angelically fair.
She smiled up at him limpidly. "Lady Elfreda sent me out on a dangerous horse, and I fell."
"Elizabeth!" Sumner gasped in horrified accents. "I am shocked and saddened to hear you speak in such a way of this good kind lady who is our hostess. Your want of sensibility has often distressed me, but never so much as now. I am grieved by your levity and only hope dear, kind Lady Elfreda will forgive you."
Dear, kind Lady Elfreda smirked. "Do not distress yourself, Sumner. Your sister is a trifle overset by her accident. No doubt when she has time to rest and reflect, she will regret her lack of manners and apologize."
"Elizabeth!" Sumner said sternly. "I want you to apologiz
e to Lady Elfreda immediately. You will not go up to your room until you have begged this kind woman's pardon."
"Sumner," she replied in deceptively dulcet tones, "you and Lady Elfreda may go to the devil." And turning her back on them, she moved upstairs with an understandable alacrity, leaving her brother sputtering and fuming behind her.
Dinner was a trifle delayed that evening as a result of the belated appearance of their host. While Lady Elfreda tapped one overlarge foot on the Aubusson-carpeted marble floor and Sumner flirted almost desperately with a willing contessa, Elizabeth found a comfortable spot somewhat out of the way of the action and observed those around her.
She was dressed in one of her new silk gowns, the one with the greatest amount of décolietage showing off her admirable breasts and shoulders. The dull gold of the silk made her brown eyes appear almost sherry-colored, and her slightly tawny skin glowed in the candlelight. She was pardonably secure in the knowledge that she was in her best looks, her afternoon adventure having produced no deleterious effect other than a few blisters on her palms from riding without gloves. She folded the offending hands peacefully in her lap.
