“Aaaah. So now I understand your desperation to get to Norfolk,” Colin mused, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Can you help me, sir? Will you travel with us to Norfolk, look after Shareb-er-rehh, protect us from Tristan and any other threat to my stallion’s well-being?”
“Well, I—”
“Though Tristan, of course, inherited the title and the estate, my father did not, I can assure you, leave me destitute. Not by any means. I’ll pay you well for your trouble, Mr. Lord!”
He nodded, thinking. “You say that this animal is superior for its high-stepping gaits. Yet his build—from what I can see of it—is extraordinarily lean and rangy.”
“He’s . . . been off his feed.”
“Sick?”
“No, just . . . stressed.”
“Forgive me, but your stallion does not look like a fancy gait-horse,” Colin said dubiously, wishing the animal would let him get close enough for a more careful examination.
She tossed her head. “That’s because he’s in disguise.”
“In case your brother happens to see and recognize him?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” Colin said, smiling.
“Just as I am in disguise, for the same reason.”
“And just how much is your brother offering for the horse’s return?”
“Ten thousand pounds,” she said unthinkingly.
“Aaah. So, ten thousand pounds to return him to your brother—” he pushed the hair off his forehead and left the heel of his hand against his brow, gazing sideways at her as though in deep thought— “and yet, only three thousand pounds to get him to Norfolk? I daresay, it would be a most unwise business decision on my part if I were to settle for a mere three thousand pounds when I can more than triple that amount by simply turning you over to your brother.”
She stared at him, stunned and open-mouthed with horror.
“Furthermore,” he mused, “such a course of action would require far less work on my part, and I would merely have to travel across town as opposed to all the way up to Norfolk—”
“Why, you rotten scoundrel! I wouldn’t have thought you were a devious man!”
“I am not a devious man. Merely a practical one.”
“Fine, I’ll pay you five thousand pounds!” she snapped.
“Twelve would be nice.”
“Six!”
“Twelve.”
“Eight!”
“Twelve.”
“I am not giving you twelve!”
“Very well then. I’ll settle for the ten offered by your brother instead. Come with me, my lady—”
“Daniel! Simon!” she cried, panicking. “Don’t just stand there!”
The two youths exchanged nervous glances, unsure what to do. “But my lady, that stallion is worth far more than—”
“Never mind what he’s worth!” Ariadne cried, cutting them off before they could do more damage. Dear God, could this situation get any worse? “A fine lot of help you two are!”
“Sorry, my lady,” they said in unison.
She glared at the veterinarian. He merely stood watching her, an infuriating, amused, calmly assured little smile playing about his lips. “Very well, Mr. Lord,” she seethed, already beginning to suspect that he was cut from the same cloth as her worthless, money-grubbing brother. “I’ll pay you twelve thousand pounds, you cunning blackguard! But let me tell you, I think you’re despicable.”
“Thank you. But actually, I would rather you tell me I’m a shrewd businessman. ‘Twould be far more flattering, I think.”
She clenched her fists at her sides.
“So, do we have an agreement then?” he asked, lifting a brow.
“Yes, we have an agreement.”
“Splendid. I suppose we should get started right away, then. But first, let me pack some clothes, hang a sign proclaiming my absence, and collect my medicines and surgical instruments.”
She swung herself up onto the stallion’s back. “Very well, but let me tell you, Mr. Lord, I am in great haste to get this horse to Norfolk and will not wait long for you.”
“Which leads me to one last question, my lady.”
She spun around in the saddle, her eyes flashing. “What?”
“Just what sort of refuge do you expect to find once you reach Norfolk?”
“Oh, did I not tell you? The mare belongs to Lord Maxwell.” She glared down at him. “He’s my betrothed.”
CHAPTER 3
Ariadne, waiting in the dark street just outside, was growing increasingly frustrated.
Already, she regretted the rash decision that had put her in the position in which she now found herself. She did not quite know what to make of Colin Lord. He angered her, with the way he had shrewdly outsmarted her. He confused her, with an attitude of command and authority she would not have expected in such a gentle healer. And he unnerved, annoyed, and flustered her—with his patient ways, his smiles of private amusement, and, the way he had looked at her. Especially, the way he had looked at her. Directly. Appreciatively. Too hard, and for far too long.
She suddenly felt hot all over.
Just who did he think he was?
His eyes had been no less keen upon studying Shareb-er-rehh, and she knew he would have liked nothing more than to strip off the blanket and hood and see the animal beneath. Thank heavens he had not discerned the truth about what the stallion really was. Gait-horse? Imagine! Well, it was safer to let him—and everyone else—believe such rubbish. It was only a matter of time before the veterinarian realized that Shareb-er-rehh was no gait-horse at all, and the less he knew, the better.
With a start, she realized Daniel and Simon were talking to her.
“My lady, we insist on coming with you to Norfolk,” Daniel was saying, and she wondered that his throat wasn’t raw from repeating the same words so many times in the last two hours. “You don’t even know this—what d’you call him, Simon?”
“Veterinarian.”
“Veterinarian. You don’t even know him, my lady—he may take liberties with you, he may steal the stallion, he may do you dreadful bodily harm—”
“Or worse,” Simon said, evasively.
She looked at them, puzzled. “Or worse?”
The two young men exchanged glances. “Never mind, my lady. Suffice it to say that you cannot travel alone with a man—”
“Oh. And so you wish me to travel alone with three of them.”
“Yes, but—”
“Listen, I appreciate your concern, but you will remain here in London, at Weybourne House in case Tristan comes looking for me. And if he does, you must tell him I’ve gone to be with—who can I think of who lives in the opposite direction? . . . ah yes, with Lady Chadwick and her family at Greenvale Manor in Milford, Hampshire. Yes, tell him that.”
Lud, what was taking that veterinarian so long?
“But what is Lord Maxwell going to think, when you show up on his doorstep wearing a coat and breeches with another man in tow?”
Ariadne raised her chin and pretended to study the detail of a window ledge, fifty feet away. “I should hope he’ll be grateful that I’ve gotten Shareb-er-rehh to him in one piece. Now, go. And Godspeed.”
“But my lady, please—”
“Go!” she cried, keeping her gaze fastened on the window ledge so they wouldn’t see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. Another part of her life, gone. The horses, her father, the servants who had shared her childhood, even, quite likely, her reputation . . . one by one, they were all being taken from her by fates that seemed to have no end to their cruelty.
She heard the two grooms sigh, and then walk dejectedly off into the darkness.
Ariadne stared straight ahead, swallowing hard and rhythmically stroking Shareb’s sleek neck as she fought to regain her composure.
Just think of getting Shareb to Norfolk. That’s all that matters. Tristan will never be able to get Shareb once you reach Maxwell’s protection . . .
Maxwell. Yes, she was eager to see Shareb to safety, but the idea of marriage to this man that Papa had chosen for her, this man whom he, in his wisdom, had thought would “tame” her wild ways, settle her down, be able to “manage” her, this man that she barely knew and was just a little bit afraid of. . .
The idea of delivering Shareb to Maxwell was one thing.
The idea of delivering herself to the man was quite another.
Colin Lord’s door opened, and the veterinarian, with a small, curly-haired mongrel twirling about his heels, came out. Her escort and protector had changed into a serviceable coat of navy-blue; a simple waistcoat, a clean white shirt and a muslin cravat gave him a dash of panache and elegance, and buckskin breeches tucked into military style riding boots emphasized the long, muscled leanness of his legs.
She frowned, though, as she noticed that he seemed to favor one of those legs.
Probably kicked by a horse, she thought.
However, her vulgar admiration for his masculine splendor, and her curiosity over how that slight limp had come about, were quick to turn to annoyance—especially in light of how he’d neatly turned the tables and gotten another seven thousand pounds out of her. The blackguard. She watched impatiently as he locked his door, positioned a sign upon it that took him a full minute to arrange until it hung to his exact satisfaction, and stooped to pick up the large trunk he had set on the steps. As heavy as it looked, he never staggered under its weight, and lifting it to one broad shoulder, he called for the dog and came toward her.
Barely breathing hard, he set the chest down and picked up the dog, fondly ruffling its ears and holding its squirming body out toward Ariadne.
“Lady Ariadne, meet Bow. Bow, meet Lady Ariadne.”
“Bow?”
“Aye, Bow.” He grinned, still holding the salt-colored mongrel toward her and waiting for her to make a response. The animal’s pink tongue slid out, and its button eyes fastened on Ariadne. “As in the forward part of a ship.”
From her lofty perch atop Shareb-er-rehh’s back, she stared in disbelief down at the veterinarian.
He regarded her with a patient, imperturbable expression.
“Mr. Lord, what do you think you’re doing?”
“The task you’re paying me for, my lady,” he said, tickling the dog’s fat pink stomach and setting it down.
“And just where do you propose to put that trunk?”
“It’s not a trunk.” He stepped back, and she looked down to see that indeed, it was not, but a heavy wooden chest emblazoned with, of all things, a beautifully engraved drawing of a ship, and letters picked out in gold that spelt, HMS Triton.
“Dare I ask what it is then?” she asked, with mounting ire.
“A sea chest. It goes everywhere with me, and has many sentimental memories attached to it. But lest you think I’m toting useless frippery, I’ll have you know that this chest contains medicinals and surgical instruments, as well as several changes of clothing.”
“I hope you’ve considered just how you plan on bringing it along,” Ariadne said sharply, “because I can’t imagine that you intend to carry it.”
“You’re absolutely right. I have no intention of carrying it.” He looked up at her, studying her as though he thought she was the addle-pated one. “Come, follow me.”
Hoisting the chest to his shoulder once more, he turned his back and strode off, the little dog yapping at his heels. Miffed at the way he was giving orders when this was her venture, annoyed that she was losing control of this situation, and even more annoyed that she found herself admiring the way his shoulders filled out that blue coat, Ariadne angrily sent Shareb-er-rehh trotting after him.
“I’ll have you know, Mr. Lord, that I quite object to your high-handed ways. And I’ll thank you to remember your station in life, and how you address your betters. Furthermore, may I remind you that you are working for me and I’m the one giving orders here!”
Ignoring her, Colin suppressed a grin and easily balanced the sea chest atop his shoulder. I know more about giving orders and ensuring that they’re obeyed than you ever will, he thought. But it was best to let her remarks go by the board. Favoring his bad leg, he led the way around the back of the building to the little courtyard, her peppery words stinging the air behind him, the stallion following in his footsteps and mincing like a fop. She was lying about the beast, that was for damned sure. Even for a gait-horse, it had a strange and singular way of moving, throwing its feet high and strutting like a damned peacock.
Well, she must have her own secrets, and for twelve thousand pounds, he wasn’t going to pry too deeply.
Reaching the tarpaulin-covered chaise he’d brought over from the livery with the intention of repainting it, he set the trunk down and looked up at his employer. From her perch atop her steed’s back, she was staring down at the shrouded lump, and frowning.
“And what, pray tell, is that?”
“A chaise.”
“And what do you intend to do with it?”
“Why, harness your fine steed to it.” He saw the color rushing into her face, and added, “It will enhance his disguise. No one will suspect a carriage horse as being a fancy riding hack, will they?”
“Now see here,” she began, “Shareb-er-rehh is the bluest of bluebloods. He cannot be made to pull a chaise—”
“My dear lady.” Colin had more patience than cold treacle, but it was beginning to wear quite thin. “We have between us, your belongings, my sea chest, Bow, and over a hundred miles between here and Burnham. In case you have not noticed, we also have only one horse, with no time to hire another. I personally don’t care if he’s a pet or the most valuable stallion in England, he is still a horse, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to walk all the way from here to East Anglia.”
Ariadne drew back in surprise. The veterinarian’s anger was the quiet type, restrained but effective, the kind that was all the more intimidating because one was unable to discern its depth. Beneath her, Shareb-er-rehh stiffened, as though he had understood the animal doctor’s logic—and, his words.
“But—” she began.
“But what?”
Her mouth tight, she looked out past the soot-stained buildings that even now, were starting to gain shape and color from the blossoming pink and gold dawn. “I don’t want him pulling a chaise,” she said mulishly. “He’s never had to do such a thing and I’m . . . I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That he’ll get scared and hurt himself.”
“He’s not going to get scared, and he’s not going to hurt himself.”
“Just because you know how to save dying dogs doesn’t mean you know a thing about my horse!”
“He’s not going to get scared, and he’s not going to hurt himself,” the veterinarian repeated, with deliberate patience.
”But he’s never pulled a chaise, he’s never pulled anything!”
“He can learn.”
“He’ll balk. He’ll shy. He’ll refuse to budge.”
“Then I guess we won’t get him to Norfolk, will we?”
She glared at him,, rankled by his quiet but firm authority. He gazed calmly, implacably back—Lord, she was starting to loathe that particular look—awaiting her answer.
“I can see right now that this is going to be one miserable journey.”
“Only as miserable as you choose to make it.”
“Know something? I’m beginning to wish I’d never hired you.”
He shrugged and began stripping the tarpaulin cover from the chaise. “It is not too late to change your mind.”
“What, and have you go running straight to Weybourne House to tell Tristan that I’m still near at hand? Oh, no. You know too much as it is, and you’re coming with me whether you like it or not, Mr. High and Mighty Animal Doctor!”
“And you are going to hitch that horse to this chaise whether either of you like it or not, Your Spoiled and Sassy Ladyship.”
“How dare you insult
me so!”
He merely grinned, leaned insolently against the side of the chaise and gazed calmly up at her.
And as the first fingers of daylight breathed color into the morning, she saw that his eyes were a clear, unusual shade of lavender shot through with gray.
Beautiful, arresting, keenly perceptive, eyes.
She wasn’t supposed to notice things like that. Not when her future belonged to another. She jerked her gaze away, staring at the shoddy stone and brick buildings instead.
“Very well, then,” she snapped. “Finish uncovering the thing.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him touch his brow as though in salute, turn, and resume where he had left off. The temptation was too much, and despite herself, she slowly twisted her head to look at him, ready to jerk her gaze away in case he straightened up and caught her watching.
For a lowly commoner, Colin Lord possessed no small degree of charm and dash, and he issued orders as though doing so came second nature to him. She didn’t like the way he was already taking over command of this venture. She didn’t like the feelings he evoked in her, didn’t like the fact there was something about him that didn’t quite ring true, didn’t like the hot prickle of sensation that swept her blood every time their eyes met. There was no reason he should affect her so.
None at all.
She watched as the fat little mongrel sidled close to her master’s legs, cocking her head at the sound the night’s rain made as it rolled off the tarpaulin. Yapping, she dove at the droplets trickling to the ground, inciting a burst of laughter from her master before he playfully shooed her away.
Losing interest, the tiny creature came up to the stallion. Then she went down on her forepaws before him, barking happily and looking up at Shareb-er-rehh with sparkling, mischievous eyes. Her tail waved madly; Shareb pricked his ears and took a step forward, blowing softly through his nose. Then his head went down, the reins slipped through Ariadne’s fingers, and the mighty stallion touched his nose to the little dog’s.
Danelle Harmon Page 4
