Amelia, who was an experienced horsewoman, had often remarked that true gentlemen looked uncommonly dashing on horseback and, looking at Laurence Rockford, Victoria conceded that her friend had a point. With that lazy, intimate smile of his and those deep-blue penetrating eyes, he must have been making female hearts flutter for years.
Dismounting, he handed the reins to the groom, taking a moment to fondly rub the mount’s nose. Victoria couldn’t tear her eyes from him. She was struck by his stern profile and was able to see a kind of beauty in it, but quickly dismissed the thought. All thoughts of her reason for being there fled as her breath was suddenly caught in her throat and her heart beat painfully fast. Not wishing to intrude on the moment, she took a step back, but she realised she must have made a sound or he sensed her presence, because without warning he turned his gaze directly at her. She felt heat in her face—felt it spread at that naked, desirous look. It was a look that spoke of invitation and need.
Laurence saw her hesitate and had no mind to let her escape. ‘Here you are.’ He strode towards her. ‘Nervous?’
Victoria felt her legs begin to shake and cold fear race down her spine—her pulse accelerated wildly. ‘All my life I’ve been nervous around horses—I feel it is not about to change.’
‘We shall see.’
‘Then since all civilised young ladies know how to ride, I have decided to let you civilise me.’
A dashing smile spread slowly over his handsome face. ‘An intriguing proposition.’
‘I believe it should prove an amusing project, yes.’
‘It is the least I can do. I consider it my duty to help those less fortunate than myself,’ he joked, a teasing light dancing in his eyes, ‘and, forgive me, but it is very clear that without my guidance, you will never know the joys of sitting on a horse.’
‘Well, I am your most eager pupil—clay in your hands. Mould me as you will,’ she said, eyeing the horses nervously.
Noting her apprehension and the way her eyes darted to his horse as it was being led into the stalls, Laurence was determined that by the time he had finished she would have conquered her fear of horses. A slow, lazy smile swept across his face and Victoria braced her trembling body for him to say something mocking, but his deep voice was filled with admiration. ‘You look lovely—although we shall have to see about getting you a riding habit. Are you ready for your first lesson?’
‘I think I’d prefer pistols at twenty paces,’ she remarked, eyeing the grey mare a groom was leading towards them.
‘Whoa—easy now,’ the groom murmured soothingly to the horse when it shook its head and snorted loudly.
Laurence took the reins from the groom and nodded for him to disappear. ‘Try not to be nervous. Don’t let the horse see your fear. Horses need to be taught obedience by their rider. Once that has been established, a good horse will always recognise its master—or, in your case, mistress.’
Victoria tried to swallow her fear. ‘I will try.’
‘Good girl. Come and make friends with her—her name is Misty. She’s as docile as a lamb.’ Taking something out of his pocket he offered his hand to the horse. Misty snorted. Taking the piece of sugar, she crunched appreciatively. Laurence placed another piece of sugar in Victoria’s gloved hand. ‘Now you try.’
Gingerly she approached the horse and held out her hand. She was tempted to withdraw it at the last minute, but she didn’t, and her lips broke into a wonderful smile when Misty nuzzled her hand and took the sugar.
‘There, see how easy that was? Time, patience and a lot of friendship can make anything happen.’ Laurence casually caressed Misty’s nose, urging Victoria to rub her neck. After several minutes more, in which Victoria tried to familiarise herself with the mare, Laurence said, ‘Are you ready to mount her?’
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Victoria said, ‘I suppose it’s now or never.’
He took her hand as she ascended the mounting block, then climbed into the side saddle, holding the horse steady while she arranged her skirts and picked up the reins. She felt so high up her head spun but, taking a deep breath, the feeling passed after a moment. Laurence let her sit there and get the feel for the horse before leading it out of the yard and on to a bridleway that was concealed on both sides by foliage. It was frightening at first and Victoria was terrified she would fall off. Walking along beside her at a slow, measured pace and holding the side of the bridle, Laurence was wonderfully patient, giving her instructions and correcting errors. Gaining confidence all the time, she began to relax and enjoy herself.
Laurence looked up at her, tracing with his gaze the soft lines of her face, the brush of lustrous dark lashes, the strands of hair that rested against her cheek, her features rosy with the exhilaration of the ride. ‘Still nervous?’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’m feeling much better—better than I imagined.’
‘You’re doing well.’
‘I think Misty has something to do with that. She knows how to be gentle with me and has helped me to build up my confidence.’
‘She does have a natural gift for patience, I grant you, which is why I chose her.’
Glancing down into his eyes, Victoria saw the soft, smiling warmth there and the last of her fear evaporated. ‘It’s clear you have a way with horses.’
‘I like them and enjoy being around them.’
The bridle path opened up on to moorland, the ground littered with giant boulders. The air was crisp and clear. Pale-grey clouds dotted the sky—the smell of damp heather and earth was all-pervasive. They paused by a knoll and Laurence lifted her from the saddle. Sitting on a boulder, one knee drawn up, he gazed at her, a half-smile curving his lips.
‘Why have we stopped?’ Victoria asked.
‘To rest the horse. No good tiring it.’
‘But we’ve only been riding for half an hour—at a sedate pace, I might add.’
‘True, but I’m trying to be a responsible and considerate riding instructor,’ he joked, his eyes twinkling with humour. Her face was rosy, her eyes bright from the ride. ‘You’re doing so well, I see no reason why tomorrow we don’t progress to a trot.’
‘Is that not a little ambitious?’
‘You can do it. I have every faith in you.’
She laughed happily, pleased that she was progressing better than she had imagined. ‘You have more confidence in my ability than I have.’
They were content to look about and let the cool air refresh them. Victoria’s gaze took in the panoramic view. ‘This is such a beautiful place,’ she said, her gaze caressing the gentle rise and fall of the moors.
‘Did you miss it when you were away?’
She glanced at him, his arm resting on his knee, deceptively at ease. ‘Oh, yes, but in York everything is so different. We were always busy—and York is so large I was able to disappear if I felt like it and to be anonymous. Here you’re awfully visible.’
Laurence smiled lazily. ‘Careful, Victoria. You’re beginning to reveal your insecurities. Do you feel you have the need to disappear?’
‘Sometimes.’
He patted the boulder beside him. ‘Come and sit down. We’ll resume the ride in a moment.’
She did as he bade, perching her hips on the edge close to him. Removing her bonnet, she shook out her hair. She liked to feel the sun’s warmth on the top of her head.
Laurence was completely transfixed by the heavy mass tumbling about her shoulders. It was thick and silken, shot through with tones of russet and chestnut, dark with the gloss of good health. His expression said he liked what he saw. It was in his eyes and the curling expression on his well-cut lips, which were ready to smile with pleasure.
‘You have lovely hair, Victoria,’ he murmured softly. ‘It is almost a sin to cover it with a bonnet.’
She turned her head and m
et his gaze, her heart slamming into her ribs when she saw the inexplicable hunger flare in the depths of his eyes. ‘I cannot imagine why you are concerning yourself with something as trivial as my hair. I’ve always considered the colour to be quite ordinary and the texture to be of a wilful nature, which makes it awfully difficult to arrange.’
‘To a man, a woman’s hair is never trivial. Imagining a woman with her hair down, imagining how it will feel in his hands and how it will look spread out across his pillows, can become a man’s obsession.’ Reaching out, he caught one of her long curls and wrapped it around his finger before pulling it gently, unfurling it to its full length, his knuckles brushing her cheek. ‘I confess it has been mine on occasion.’
Waves of heat flooded through Victoria’s body at his words and his touch as the image of her hair spread across his pillows flashed across her mind, followed immediately by horror at the very thought of such a thing. She forced herself to look away. ‘A woman’s hair is your first priority, then,’ she said as if they were discussing the weather. ‘Are all men concerned with women’s hair rather than what is inside their heads?’
He continued to twine the lock of hair around his finger. ‘Where women are concerned, Victoria, men are not very deep.’
‘That is not very complimentary about the character of your own sex.’
‘Men have no character when it comes to women. Love turns us into complete idiots or dishonourable rogues—or both.’
‘Even you?’
He dropped his gaze to the lock of hair, his brows drawing together in a fierce scowl. ‘Even me,’ he answered quietly.
‘I’m sorry,’ Victoria murmured. ‘I should not have mentioned it—only, when two people marry, there must be love,’ She gazed at him. ‘Have you ever been in love, Laurence?’ she enquired quietly.
Inwardly, Laurence recoiled from the mere mention of the word. ‘As I’ve discovered, with age and experience, very few of your sex are actually capable of feelings or behaviour that even approximates that tender emotion—though women talk as if it were as natural to their sex as breathing.’
‘Dear me, you are a cynic.’
‘I am. I instinctively mistrust the word and any woman who mentions it. I will not utter false protestations of undying affection that I don’t feel.’
‘I do not share your feelings in that regard.’
Something in the soft romanticism of her words irritated him, for they brought memories to the surface, memories he thought he had buried for good. He ruthlessly shoved those memories back down deep and concealed his irritation with an air of indifference. ‘That is your prerogative.’
‘When two people marry there must be love. How else is it to succeed?’
When he spoke again his voice had a hard edge to it that evidenced his irritation on the subject. ‘Love, Victoria, has no place in marriage. On the whole, in my world, marriages are arranged for profit and gain. Those who believe they are in love find their pleasures elsewhere. They throw caution to the wind. Have you ever been in love, Victoria? But, no, I doubt it,’ he said shortly. ‘You are young and still innocent of love’s joys.’
She met his gaze. ‘You are right. I know nothing of what you speak of. You are talking in riddles.’ It began to register with Victoria that, as he continued to twirl her hair around his finger, he looked almost—admiring. ‘You really do like it—my hair?’
Laurence liked it. In fact, he liked every single thing about her. ‘I do like it,’ he said casually, releasing the curl and watching it bounce back. ‘Does my opinion count?’
‘Well, since you ask...’ Victoria said, feeling shy and warm beneath the heat of his smile. He was so handsome—in a dark, manly way—that it was difficult not to stare at him. ‘I can’t help feeling—flattered. But why do you speak of love in such a derogatory manner?’
‘Do I?’
‘Actually, yes, you do.’ She tilted her head to one side. ‘Why aren’t you married?’ she asked pointedly. ‘Most men who reach your age are.’
‘And how old do you think I am.’
She thought for a moment. ‘About thirty—give or take a year. But you didn’t answer my question,’ she said quietly, thinking what an attractive man he was. He infected her with his own enthusiasm and made everything seem oddly pleasurable. But most of all, and this was where the real miracle of resistance came in, he was inordinately desirable.
The more they were together the more she became aware of him. She felt as if a huge spring coiled somewhere in the depths of her body. She could feel it physically, its stirring, its pressure, trying to unwind and prevented from doing so only by the casing of her body. One day that spring would become unleashed and when she allowed herself to dwell on it, it was almost beyond her wildest imaginings.
‘Why have you never married?’ she persisted.
He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘What does it matter?’
She dropped her gaze. ‘I just don’t want to see you end up alone.’
Laurence let out a bitter laugh and turned away from her. ‘Why not? I’m used to it. It gets a little dull at times, but at least this way no one can stab me in the back.’
‘Is that what happened?’ she asked softly. ‘Did someone betray you?’
‘Stay out of it, Victoria,’ he told her curtly. ‘It’s none of your affair.’
‘Maybe you’re afraid that I’ll betray you, too. But I won’t, Laurence. I promise.’
No, he realised, he did not feel that Victoria would stab him in the back. But he still didn’t want to open his heart to her. He never explained himself to anyone.
‘I remember when I began at the Academy, everyone in Ashcomb knew you were to marry—a woman from London, I believe. What happened to her?’
At the mention of that traitor, the one person he had believed for a while had really cared about him back in those days, the past engulfed him like a swarm of locusts, swirling around him with mocking, ghoulish laughter. Rather than tell Victoria the whole humiliating truth, he said, ‘We decided we didn’t suit. Since then I’ve never found a woman I wanted to be my wife.’
‘Not even Miss Ellingham?’
He smiled thinly. Since he had arrived home, Clara had embarked on a campaign with amusing—and increasing—perseverance to draw a proposal of marriage from him—to no avail. ‘Clara is not my type.’
‘And what is your type?’ she asked, pushing back her hair. ‘You must be very hard to please.’
‘I am.’ He smiled at her, and then suddenly he stopped smiling and all around them, and indeed time itself, seemed to freeze. Victoria stared at him, feeling she had never seen him before, or rather as if he had always been out of focus before and now he had come clear and sharp. She felt she was not just discovering him with her eyes, but with all her senses—she was drawn, pulled towards him. She could hear no sound but his breathing, was aware of no movement except his own eyes, exploring hers.
And then, very slowly, very carefully, as if afraid of breaking the spell, he reached out and cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb feathering over the fullness of her lower lip. It was the most extraordinarily and powerfully sexual thing Victoria had ever known. She put out her hand and touched his face, very gently, and all the emotion of the past few days, the pain, the remorse, all centred somewhere deep within her, became less emotional, more physical, a huge shifting, violent force. Without taking her eyes from his, she moved nearer.
He stared at her, studied her face. For the first time since he was a boy, he felt the agony of uncertainty. Guilt abruptly doused his pleasurable contemplation of her appealing assets. Her mother had made him her guardian, for goodness’ sake! He had no right to be mentally undressing her and thinking what it would be like to take her to bed—lusting after her. His attraction to her was insane! If he wanted diversion of any kind, he could choose from among the mos
t beautiful, sophisticated women in the country. There was no reason on earth to feel a wild attraction to Victoria Lewis, no reason to react to her like some randy adolescent or ageing lecher.
But he couldn’t help himself. She stood so close and smelled so sweet—and with her face upturned to his...
The next moment she was in his arms and his mouth descended on her soft lips. She kissed him with the whole of her being. Her artless passion took his breath away. It was a kiss unlike any other. He could not remember being kissed like this before. All the women before her faded into obscurity.
Gathering her close, it would have been absurd to deny that Victoria was already connected to him more deeply than any previous involvement, even Melissa—in the furthest reaches of his past—his first real love, who had rejected him. No, this was nothing like that. And Victoria was nothing like her. But he could not allow this to happen.
Suddenly his conscience tore at him and he set her back, looking shocked. ‘Dear God,’ he said, mentally flaying his thoughts into obedience. ‘This is insane.’ His hoarse whisper was dredged from his throat. ‘Devil take it! I can’t keep my hands off you.’
With an abruptness that left her swaying, Laurence stood and tore himself away. He stood there at arm’s length, staring at Victoria in the gasping silence as if seeing her for the first time, as if she were an apparition, his expression one of dismay, a look halfway between pain and pleasure. His mouth tightened as he stared at her softly heaving bosom and the tantalising mouth that was still full and hot from his kiss.
‘I think we’d better stop this.’
Unsteadily, Victoria fixed her gaze on his mouth, not comprehending why he had broken off their embrace. She was as shocked as he by her desire for him, by what had happened.
The Master of Stonegrave Hall Page 13
