Today she’d returned early, hoping to catch a quick nap before riding to the heath. It was market day, and chances were, the gypsies would be celebrating over what coin they’d been able to coax from the villagers pockets. Cora was quivering over the prospect of their adventure, hoping to procure some charm to hasten the predictions of the old gypsy woman.
Thornhill, who was accustomed to her wild gallivanting, barely raised a brow when she strode across the foyer, scattering sand on the freshly polished floor.
Kay wouldn’t have cared about her appearance either, if not for Hunter appearing at that very moment with Mr. Nash in tow.
One lifted eyebrow from her husband send heat rushing to her cheeks.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” Mr. Nash bowed, offering her a pleasant smile.
Kay halted half-way up the stairs, lifting one hand to smooth the curls escaped from the coil at the nape of her neck. “It’s lovely to see you again, Mr. Nash.”
“Your husband is most intrigued by our plans and anxious to view the results.” Mr. Nash beamed up at her with his usual enthusiasm.
“Yes, very anxious,” Hunter said dryly. “I had no idea my wife knew anything about architecture or decorating. Her interests are usually more rustic. But she’s not a complete country bumpkin. I’m sure she’d have dressed had she known you were coming.” He wrinkled his nose and sniffed loudly. “What is that smell? You haven’t taken another fall in the manure pile, have you darling?”
“Of course not.” Kay sent him a withering glare. Only he would have the caddish insolence to draw attention to her disadvantaged attire.
Mr. Nash gave a short cough. “We’re off to Plymouth to meet the ship from Vienna with our chandeliers. I dare not trust them with just anyone.”
Hunter wore a forced tight smile. “Yes, according to Mr. Nash they’re as big as comets and just as rare.”
Kay feigned a look of wide-eyed innocence. “You’re not angry, are you, dearest? I was only thinking of you, and what you truly deserved.” She ignored the predatory gleam in his eye, saying sweetly, if not a little breathlessly, “Now, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I really must dash and change.” She spun on her heel to climb the stairs as regally as a queen.
Inside she was fuming. How dare he make such depreciative remarks in front of a guest! A gentleman would have ignored her disheveled appearance. Instead, the oafish clod had taken great satisfaction in pointing it out, enjoying watching her squirm with embarrassment.
She wished now she’d ordered bigger chandeliers!
“Shall I ring for your bath, Your Grace?” Cora inquired as she barged into her bedchamber. “You look as though you’re in need of a good soak.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told,” Kay said with a huff. “And while I’m taking my bath you can get yourself ready. We’re going to fetch that charm you’re so badly in need of.” Kay was anxious to question Miska. If anyone knew who the stranger on the beach was Miska would. He knew all the village gossip. Strangers, especially wealthy ones, were always of interest to him.
News of their outing sent Cora into a tizzy. She tugged on the bell to summon hot water, then fluttered and flapped like a sparrow trapped in the rafters. “What will you wear?”
Kay stepped out of her pantaloons, kicking them high in the air for Cora to catch. “I think I’ll wear the blue flowered gown.”
“Oh, but that’s ever so old.” Cora’s mouth turned down in disappointment. “You’ve not worn all of your new gowns yet.”
“The blue will do well. It has long sleeves and you know how the wind blows up on the heath.” Kay hoped to inspect Miska’s herd. According to Carter he had some prime horseflesh. She might even stay late enough to watch some of the dancing. She didn’t bother to inform Cora of her plans, she’d likely fall into a swoon at the prospect of such pagan merriment.
***
“Is that blood dripping down my neck?”
Robert paused—blade in mid-air. “No, Your Grace, only soap. If you hold still, I’ll be done in a flash.”
Hunter tilted his chin higher and gritted his teeth. “Hurry up, man, and be careful with that damn blade. At the rate you’re going, I’ll have no skin left. I didn’t kill myself getting home, only to have my throat slit before I’ve sat down to dinner.”
After arriving at the docks in Plymouth to discover several crates, containing furniture and God knows what else, he was determined to have it out with his wife. He knew what she was up to, and he meant to take her to task before she sucked his coffers dry.
“If you don’t mind my saying, Your Grace, if I have done you damage there’ll be no one there to notice except Mr. Thornhill.”
Hunter’s gaze slanted upward. “I suppose that’s your polite way of telling me my wife has retired for the night?”
Robert’s continued shaving the side of his cheek with long fluid scrapes of the blade, his tone carefully controlled. “No, Your Grace, she hasn’t returned from the market yet.” Hunter’s curse muffled against the hot towel Robert slapped to his face. “Sorry, sir,” he said, removing it, “What did you say?”
“Never mind,” Hunter fairly snarled. “Fetch Cora to me at once.”
“Cora’s gone with her, Your Grace.” He took a step back toward the basin, to rinse the badger bush and razor with furious concentration.
Hunter came to his feet, swiping the towel from around his neck. “Damn!” He snatched up the clean shirt Robert had laid out on the bed. “I suppose I’ll have to go and find them.”
“You might try the heath. Cora’s been prattling on about visiting those gypsies again. You know what she’d like when she gets an idea in her head.”
Hunter sat himself on the bed to tug on his boots. “Women, and their damn superstitions!”
“Yes, Your Grace, but you were planning to see about them horses,” Robert reminded him in soothing tones. “So it needn’t be a wasted trip.”
Hunter wasn’t pondering horseflesh as he thundered down the dark, tree lined road at a full gallop. He was thinking about throttling his wife. It was bad enough she’d deliberately gone behind his back, contriving with Mr. Nash to turn his renovations into a project rivaling Carleton House. Though his resources surpassed the Prince Regent’s, he didn’t possess the same wild extravagance nor did he wish to spend every coin he possessed on a bloody ballroom.
And to top it off, here he was chasing her across the countryside in the middle of the night without his supper!
It didn’t take long to find the gypsy encampment. The strum of guitars and the jiggle of tambourines could be heard past the outskirts of the village.
With the camp fires in sight, a mile in the distance, a pair of riders flew by him at breakneck speed, passing so close they nearly ran him off the road. There was no mistaking one of them, with her head thrown back and her hair gleaming behind her like white gold, she looked like a pagan goddess under the moon.
Desire snaked through Hunter, followed by a spark of anger at her reckless behavior.
By the time he reached the camp his blood pumped so hard he could hear the whoosh in his ears. He hitched his horse to one of their bright canvas covered wagons, noting his landau parked by the edge of the camp to the left of the tents. He dragged in a few gulps of night air to calm his ire.
As he strode through the darkness toward the fire his attention caught on the gentle sway of a blue flowered gown as a gypsy he recognized as one of Miska’s close friends lifted Kay from the black stallion’s back.
Hunter stopped by one of the wagons to watch, mesmerized by the sensual fluid grace of her hips as she twirled away from the gypsies greedy hands. She seemed to sway in tempo to the music while she laughed.
The crowd of half-drunken gypsy’s clapped and shouted at their return of the pair from their wild barebacked ride. Hunter stood frozen with fascination, at the lazy seductive smile playing across Kay’s lips, while the dark, flashing eyes of her partner raked over her as she found a spot by the fire. She glanced ove
r her shoulder still laughing, like a lover, taunting and teasing, flaunting her charms.
Anger washed over Hunter—so swift and so strong, he had the immediate compulsion to snatch her away from under the gypsy’s hungry eyes.
He took an unconscious step forward.
A voice stopped him before his loins ruled his head. “She rides bareback very well,” Miska said from behind him. “I taught her myself when we were children. It’s good to see she hasn’t forgotten.” His white teeth flashed in the darkness. “Don’t worry I’ve been watching over her.” He slapped Hunter on the back. “Come, we’ll drink. I’ll show you my new stallion and you can try and cheat me as you always do.”
Hunter gave a snort. “Is that why you ply me with liquor each time I come, to prevent me from cheating your sly gypsy ass?”
Miska’s laughter rang out loud and long. The last strains of music died, and the dancers sank down beside the fire amidst much clapping and cheering. Then the musicians began to strum their guitars again. Hunter seated himself crossed legged beside Miska at the fire.
Kay had just tipped a wine skin to her lips. When their eyes clashed across the leaping orange and gold flames of the fire, it appeared as though she gagged so hard she almost spewed.
He couldn’t help but smile with satisfaction that he’d manage to unhinge her usual cool confidence. It served her right, the teasing little minx. Her slanted aqua gaze held his for a moment, then with a defiant lift of her chin she turned back to the gypsy rider.
He clamped his teeth together hard. She’d not find it so easy to ignore him when they got home.
Miska took him to see his newly acquired Arabian stallion. They spent the good part of an hour haggling. By the time they’d arrived at a price, Hunter’s stomach was complaining loudly, reminding him of why he’d left home without his supper.
His narrowed gaze scanned the dark laughing faces through the billowing smoke and popping blue sparks shooting up from the fire. She wasn’t hard to spot amongst the darker skinned gypsies with her fair hair streaming down her back. She glowed like a new pearl beside her colorful companions.
Hunter’s flesh burned thinking of the way she’d slid down the length of the gypsy rider as he’d helped her to dismount. It made him burn with jealousy. It would be a long time before he’d be able to thrust that image from his mind.
He strode around the fire, stopping directly in front of her. He extended his hand, ignoring the resentful look from her gypsy admirer. “Come, it’s time to go home.”
She looked as though she might argue. Then with a shrug, she accepted his hand, letting him haul her to her feet.
His gaze searched the shadowed faces beyond the leaping flames.
“If you’re looking for Cora,” Kay said, resentment clinging to each word. “She’s gone to her mother’s in the village. Tomorrow is her day off.” She slipped her hand out of his, to glide across the dew-soaked grass to the landau.
Hunter caught up with her in two long strides. “And you planned to return home alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have Jacob to drive the carriage.”
He sucked in a long calming breath. Jacob was one of his younger grooms, a skinny lad of barely a score and six years. Hunter reached out a hand to stall her. “You’ll ride with me.”
She slid her angry gaze to his hand, then back to his face. “Though I appreciate your gallantry, I’ll be far more comfortable in the carriage. If you’d like to share my carriage, you’re most welcome.”
It irked him that she could brush him off so casually after boldly flaunting her charms before every man at the gypsy camp. There wasn’t a chance of him letting her think she’d won. “You’re right. The carriage suits my purpose better. We might as well get this over with,” he said, tugging her forward.
“I’ve changed my mind,” she said breathlessly, stumbling to keep up. “Perhaps you’re right, we should ride.”
He ignored her plea, continuing to tow her forward. “No, I think I’d like to tell you about my day.” When she tried to resist, he pulled her up against him hard. “What’s wrong, Gorgeous? Afraid to be alone with me? Funny, when I saw you with that gypsy, I could have sworn you were begging for male company. You’re a walking contradiction, aren’t you—hot then cold.”
She sent him a frosty glare. “I’m sorry if my friendship offends you.”
He laughed harshly. “Oh, it does more than that.” He released her so abruptly she stumbled back on the wet turf. “Get in the carriage, Kay, before I give in to my compulsion to beat your gypsy lover to a bloody pulp.”
A shocked expression claimed her face, before her hands balled into small fists.
“Or perhaps that’s what you want me to do?”
He didn’t need to say more. She turned on her heel and stalked toward the vehicle.
He told Jacob to wait for him, while he went to fetch Beau. After tying him to the back of wagon, he swung himself into the carriage in one angry motion. He expected her to be huddled on the other side, as far from him as she could get. Instead, she sat in the middle of the seat, staring at him as cool as you please.
He kept his voice smooth. “First of all, let me thank you for taking such an interest in my renovations.”
She shrugged. “Mr. Nash asked for my opinion, and I gave it. He thought a woman’s touch might benefit the project.” One corner of her mouth twitched as though she might smile. “When you remarry, your new wife may be grateful for the extra money you’ve spent.”
“Remarry! Ha!” His laughter held no mirth. “I shall never put myself through such misery again.”
“It seems to me you’ve gotten the better side of the bargain,” she said with haughty dignity. “At least you’re free to go wherever you please, live your life as you see fit. I try to spend one night enjoying myself with old friends, and you hunt me down like some lost pet.”
The air turned thick.
A long silence prevailed.
“Perhaps that is because you belong to me,” he said, softly but distinctly. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll not make a fool of me like that again. You’re a Duchess, not some cheap gypsy-wench.”
“You should have asked for references before you wed, Your Grace.” Her tone turned light and taunting. “That’s what you get for marrying a thief.”
Hunter didn’t know whether to throttle her or push her back on the leather seat and ease his frustration. What he did know was he couldn’t keep up this facade for much longer. No matter how hard he tried to ignore her—forget her, she was forever in his thoughts.
It drove him half mad to sit across from her in the dark carriage with the moon caressing her silver hair. Even when she was angry like this, he wanted her. He remembered her soft and yielding in his arms, the way her long silky legs felt against his skin.
Sometimes when he looked at her, he could barely breathe much less think. She’d become an obsession, a powerful drug he had to have. One taste had only left him wanting more. Her being so near was sweet torture, heating his blood—causing him to lash out at the least provocation.
He wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t.
He wanted to trust her but he dared not.
One thing was certain, he had to ease this terrible torment soon, or set her adrift.
Chapter Twenty
The sight of Miska’s stallion grazing in the paddock by the stable stopped Kay in her tracks. Had Hunter purchased the beast? She couldn’t believe her luck. He was just what she’d been searching for. She handed the reins of her borrowed mare to one of the grooms, then strode forward to have a closer look.
She leaned against the fence, making the clucking sounds with her tongue she’d heard Miska use to call him the night before.
The stallion lifted his head to stare at her. Then, slowly he trotted over. He gave a low throaty whicker, blowing air out his nostrils as she stroked his velvety nose. It must have taken a lot of coin to talk Miska out of the handsome dark bay. He was magni
ficent, from his long graceful neck to the quivering muscles in his sturdy hindquarters.
“You’re a handsome one, aren’t you? I’d like to see you stretched out in a full run.”
He jerked his head up in an arrogant gesture. Then he took off across the paddock as though he’d understood what she’d said.
Kay chuckled, delighted by his spunk.
What beautiful colts he’d sire.
He came thundering back to her at a full gallop. Just before he reached the fence, and looked as though he might clear it, he dug in his hind legs and came to a full stop.
Kay laughed, patting the side of his neck. “You’re a bold devil aren’t you? I believe my ladies would like to meet you.”
He wandered off to graze with a disinterested toss of his head.
Kay continued to watch him, pondering how she might accomplish this.
When she spotted Hunter emerging from the stable, she reacted on impulse, hastening forward to meet him.
“Well?” he lifted a brow when he saw her. “What do you think of my new stallion?”
“He’s beautiful.” Without stopping to think how it might sound, she spoke her mind. “I’ve been wanting to breed my mares. I wondered if you’d consider hiring him out for stud, and if you did, what you might charge?”
He lifted one brow, as though shocked that she’d speak of such things. Then a slow wolfish smile spread over his face. “Since you’re my wife, it wouldn’t be right for me to charge you for stud services, but…perhaps we can come to some arrangement.”
Kay shifted her stance. What was he up to? Why was he being so accommodating all of a sudden. She had expected to have to plead and barter for the brute. “What kind of arrangement?”
His gold eyes turned warm like honey and his voice came just as smooth. “A night with you in exchange for his services.”
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