“That man there,” Delilah supplied with a helpful jab of her finger. “The one in the sleigh with the red scarf. Annabel seems quite taken with him. Do you know who he is?”
Temperance squinted, then shook her head. “Never seen him before. He is quite striking though, isn’t he? I wonder what his name is.”
“Let’s go ask him,” Annabel said impulsively.
“What?” Delilah and Temperance exclaimed in unison.
Annabel’s chin lifted with determination. There was no telling when she would see the handsome stranger again. If this was her one chance to find out his name, she wasn’t about to let it slip through her fingers. “I said let’s go ask him.” And without another word she picked up her skirts and went dashing across the snow.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lucas was not overly fond of the outdoors, especially in winter, but his mare had needed to run off some energy and after losing three straight hands of whist at the gambling hell, so had he. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten just how much of a bloody madhouse Hyde Park turned into during the weeks leading up to Christmas. It seemed everyone and their brother was out and about, skating and sledding and trying (with limited success) their hand at driving a sleigh.
Twice he had been forced to avoid a head-on collision by sharply checking his mare, something he wasn’t very keen to do as she was still young and quite sensitive. Now he was merely trying to find a way out of the jumbled traffic without jumping down from his sleigh and boxing the ears of the next bounder who cut him off.
Even on his best days, Lucas was not a man renowned for his patience and good humor. He may have lived in London for the majority of his life, but he still had the blood of the Irish running through his veins and with that blood came a bold, brilliant temper. A temper that had landed him in more brawls than he cared to count.
Those who knew him knew to steer clear when his eyes burned more black than gray as they were doing right now. Jaw set and countenance tense, he steered his mare expertly through the snarled maze of people, horses, and sleighs, all the while cursing himself for coming to the park in the first place.
What the hell had he been thinking? Merry revelry was not for him. Traditional pastimes were not for him. Give him a strong brandy, a crackling fire, a naked woman, and he had all he needed.
Anything more than that was simply asking for trouble.
Some men – for reasons that baffled – actually wanted a family and children and time to spend with them. They enjoyed strolling through Hyde Park on a Saturday afternoon without a care in the world (or a sensible thought in their Godforsaken heads, for that matter). Lucas was not one of them. His wants and needs were much more…basic.
But no less satisfying.
A sudden prickling at the nape of his neck caused his shoulders to tense and his head to turn abruptly to the left where a trio of pretty young women stood clustered together on the edge of the tree-lined walking path. They were dressed head to toe in heavy cloaks, their cheeks flushed with cold and their hair teased by the wind. Together they made a fetching picture, but it was the woman standing in the middle whom Lucas found his gaze inexplicably drawn to.
She was no taller nor shorter than the other two, but there was something about her that immediately drew his eye. It was true he’d always had a penchant for blondes and her hair was as gold as a wheat field in high summer, but it was more than her physical appearance that held his unwavering attention.
Even from this distance, Lucas felt a connection to the delicate lass and he knew, even though he could not see the color of her eyes, she was staring straight at him as he was staring at her. There was a crackling electricity between them. A magnetic pull that he felt all the way down in the depths of his chest. A pull, oddly enough, that came from his chest instead of his loins…
Bemused by the sudden flood of unfamiliar emotions, Lucas purposefully redirected his gaze to the road in front of him and urged his mare forward with a quick flick of the reins. He’d already made too many mistakes today and he had no intention of making another. Even if he learned the lady’s name, it would do him no use.
By the sweet, unsullied look of her and the company she was keeping, the blonde beauty was a complete innocent and he had neither the time nor the inclination to take an innocent under his wing. He may have been a man of loose morals, but even he had a few lines he refused to cross and seducing virgins was one of the widest. In his experience they were flighty, daft creatures with more fluff in their heads than common sense. They fell in love at the drop of a hat, and their kitten claws turned razor sharp once they sank into a man’s flesh which was why he avoided them as if they carried the plague.
Like the grand trading ships that filled East Lane Harbor, innocents and their ilk were best admired from afar but Lucas would be damned before he actually stepped foot on one.
Leave the sailing for the poor bastards who need an heir, he thought even as he glanced behind him to where the blonde and her two companions had been standing.
It was an unconscious movement, one he cursed himself for the second he had done it…especially since the blonde was not where she had been standing. Instead, the crazy little fool was running straight towards his sleigh, her cloak flapping in the wind like the wings of a bird. Snow kicked up beneath her boots in a spray of white as she cut a diagonal path across the open space between the walking trail and the busy carriage path, determinedly dodging trees and a gaggle of shrieking children.
“What the devil…” Lucas breathed.
Without warning, a man on horseback came galloping past, causing another vehicle to veer directly into Lucas’ path. Distracted by the tiny blonde lass, he reacted a second too late, causing his mare to lose her footing as he yanked the reins sharply to the left to save them from a head-on collision.
She stumbled, going down to one knee on the slippery footing. Compacted beneath the hooves of dozens of horses, the ground was more ice than snow and provided little purchase for man or beast. Off balance, his sleigh tipped precariously onto one runner, threatening to overturn. Lucas knew he could save himself by jumping clear, but if he did he would be damning his mare to a bowed tendon or worse for surely the sleigh would fall and drag his mare down along with it, tangling her in the harness and making it impossible for her to escape.
Left with little other option, he braced his legs against the wooden dash, gathered the reins, and pulled back with all his strength. His mare lurched forward, leaning against the bit and nearly pulling his arms from their sockets as she fought to get all four legs beneath her heaving body. The sleigh groaned, tipping even further onto its side. With a hissed curse Lucas threw his entire body to the right, using his weight to fight against the pull of gravity.
Were he a smaller man it would not have worked, but he was broad shouldered and well-muscled from years of hard labor. The sleigh righted itself, slamming down onto both runners with a teeth rattling bang.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” Loosening the reins, Lucas slumped back with aching arms and directed his gaze heavenward. He wasn’t a very religious man, but at times like these he couldn’t help but think someone – or something – had been watching over him. His friends, as well as his enemies, were fond of saying he had the nine lives of an alley cat and Lucas couldn’t disagree. How many times had he knocked on death’s door, only to slam it shut the moment it opened? Far too many to count, he thought with a wry twist of his mouth.
When his heart slowed and the roaring in his ears quieted, he pushed to his feet and tipped his hat back as he surveyed the damage the reckless bastard on his galloping horse had caused.
Chaotic as it seemed at first glance, the maze of traffic inside the park was actually like a well-oiled machine and accidents were rare. Throw a spoke into the wheel, however, and the whole damn thing came unraveled.
Nearly all of the vehicles within a furlong of his sleigh had come to a halt and people were dismounting to talk amidst themselves while they waited for the mess
to sort itself out, but there seemed to be no injuries which was nothing short of a miracle considering the damage that could have occurred and the lives – both human and horse – that could have been lost. Sleighs and carriages were large, cumbersome things and Lucas had seen more than one accident end in gut-wrenching tragedy.
Satisfied that no one seemed to be in immediate peril this time, he started to sit down to wait out the tangle of traffic until a flash of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. With a frown already embedded he turned…and cursed anew when he saw a team of matched bays racing across the snow, pulling a sleigh with a group of terrified looking women and one helpless driver behind them.
Spooked by the pandemonium, the bays were running without thought or reason, their actions fueled by instinct and driven by fear. People screamed as they leaped out of the way, knocking each other aside in a flurry of oversized hats and scarves and cloaks. When Lucas’ own horse began to fret, he steadied her with a firm word and she settled in place even as the whites of her eyes flashed and her body trembled. Boxed in, there was nowhere they could go. Thankfully, it seemed the bays had veered off to the side and were galloping in the opposite direction.
Heads high, nostrils flared, coats steaming with sweat, they ran straight towards…
“Jesus, Mary, and feckin’ Joseph.” The curse exploded out of his mouth when he realized the runaway sleigh was barreling down on the blonde lass who had captured his attention before everything had gone to shite. She stood frozen in place, her lips parted in shock and her arms raised in front of her face as though such a meaningless gesture would somehow protect her small body from being crushed.
There were other men who were closer, but none of the bloody self-absorbed bounders seemed cognizant of the peril the terrified lass was in. Tying his mare’s reins off, Lucas jumped down from his sleigh and sprinted across the snow without a single regard for his own safety.
A self-proclaimed selfish bastard, he was not someone who would have ordinarily risked his own neck to save a complete stranger, but there was nothing ordinary about the circumstances under which he found himself, nor was there anything ordinary about the lass he was determined to rescue.
The ground trembled beneath the power of the bays’ hooves as they charged forward. A glance thrown to the side revealed the passengers as well as the driver had managed to jump clear, choosing to save their own necks at the expense of everyone around them.
“MOVE YER ARSE!” Lucas shouted at the blonde. He could tell she had heard him by the flicker of awareness that crossed her face, but she was too paralyzed by fear to obey his command. Her companions stood nearby, their faces drained of all color. They, too, screamed at the lass to move but it was no use. One started forward, but the other yanked her back with so much force they both fell and went tumbling out of sight behind an enormous pine, its dark green boughs bent beneath the weight of too much snow.
The bays bore down, showing no signs of changing course. Lucas felt their hot, steaming breath on the nape of his neck as he lunged for the blonde, catching her around the waist. Together they flew through the air just as the runaway sleigh barreled past, trampling the spot where the blonde had been standing.
Twisting his body, Lucas caught the brunt of the fall as the frozen ground rushed up to greet them. The air was knocked from his lungs and his head struck the snow with a hard thud, temporarily stunning him. His vision went blurry and his mouth went dry, but he did not relinquish his hold on the blonde. Cradling her in his arms as though she were made of the most delicate porcelain, he held her pinned against his chest as he struggled to refill his lungs with much needed oxygen.
On a painful rasp of breath, he closed his eyes. When he opened them it was to the lass’s heart-shaped face peering down at him, her rosebud mouth a few scant inches from his own. She smells like wildflowers on the first day of summer, Lucas thought dimly, and wondered if the blow to his head had been more severe than he first imagined.
“Hello,” she said softly. “My name is Annabel Blackbourne.”
“Lucas O’Brian,” he managed hoarsely.
She blinked. Now that they were face to face, he could see her eyes were a bright, brilliant green framed by thick black lashes. She was light as a feather, although if the breasts he felt against his chest were any indication there were plenty of curves hiding beneath her layers of clothing.
In the mess and the mayhem she’d lost her hat, and her golden curls spilled around her flushed cheeks and slender, swan-like neck in a curtain of silk Lucas’ fingers itched to touch.
The lass may have been an innocent, but there was no denying she was also a ravishing beauty. Surely in this one instance he could make an exception to his no-virgin rule, if only for the few moments it would take for her companions to reach them and reclaim their fallen comrade.
“Thank you for saving my life, Mr. O’Brian,” she said seriously, pale eyebrows drawing together over the bridge of her nose.
A nose, Lucas noted with no shortage of roguish delight, which was covered in tiny, delectable little freckles.
“You are quite welcome.” Amused by her formality despite the pounding in his temple and the aching in his ribs, he was all rakish charm as he grinned up at Annabel – a fetching name for a fetching lass – and said in a husky whisper, “But why not thank me with a kiss?”
CHAPTER SIX
From certain death to a kiss, Annabel thought with flustered bemusement as she stared down into the wolfish gray eyes of her rescuer. Who would have ever imagined such a fate awaited her when she made the decision to sneak off to Hyde Park? She supposed it only went to show that they best things happened when rules were broken. Something her mother would have certainly disagreed with, but then her mother was not here.
Dimly she heard the frantic calls of Temperance and Delilah, but they sounded far away and oddly distorted, as if she was swimming underwater and hearing them cry her name from above the surface. The only voice that was crystal clear belonged to the man she was currently lying on top of.
Lucas O’Brian.
It was a fitting name, Annabel decided. One that had rolled off his tongue with a thick Irish brogue that instantly had her toes curling inside her sensible half boots.
She’d always had a soft spot for accents, if only because it meant the person – whether they be male or female – had seen far more of the world than she. If Annabel had to guess, Lucas O’Brian had seen more than his fair share, and she was eager to discover what stories he had to tell. He was certainly brash, and a rake to boot if she had to guess given his outlandish proposal.
Thank him with a kiss? Most women in her current predicament would have no doubt stiffened, scrambled to their feet, and walked off in a self-righteous huff. But of course Annabel wasn’t most women.
“The British way or the French way?” she asked, and was rewarded for her boldness when his eyes widened and his breath caught.
He really did have the prettiest eyes. Well, not pretty, she amended silently. Pretty was an adjective best reserved for something feminine. And there was absolutely nothing feminine about Lucas O’Brian. He was a man through and through, from the tips of his well-worn boots to the shadowy bristle that clung to his jaw and chin. She felt safe with his strong, muscular arm wrapped around her, holding her pressed against his chest. More than that she felt content, as if this was always where she had been meant to be. Not sitting in a parlor across from an overdressed dandy, but sprawled in the snow atop a man who could ravish her properly if he was so inclined.
“What do you know about how the French kiss?” Lucas demanded, dark eyebrows arching.
Propping herself up on her elbows, she stared down her nose at him, the tiniest of grins flirting with one corner of her mouth. “Enough to know it involves quite a bit of tongue.”
“It does indeed,” he murmured, eyelids drifting down as his gaze shifted to her lips. She wet them self-consciously with the tip of her tongue and his grip tightened
, drawing them even closer together. “Ah lass, you’re sorely tempting me.”
Good.
Annabel wanted him to be tempted.
If this was to be her first kiss, then she wanted it to come from a man who was looking at her with raw desire burning in his eyes instead of detached boredom, as if the act of seducing her was a pleasure instead of a chore.
“Well?” she asked. “Are you going to lie there all day, or are you–”
“ANNABEL! Are you alright? My goodness, I thought you were done in for sure!” Snow flew in every direction, showering Annabel and Lucas in a layer of white as Delilah fell to her knees beside them. Completely oblivious to the sexual desire permeating the air, she wrapped her arms around Annabel squeezed her with so much force it was difficult to draw a single breath. “How are you feeling? Were you injured in any way? Oh,” she gasped in alarm, “you are turning purple!”
“That it because you are suffocating her, you ninny.” Grabbing Delilah by the shoulders, Temperance dragged her sister back, allowing Annabel to gulp in some much needed air.
Feeling a bit light-headed, she staggered to her feet and began brushing snow from her hair and pelisse. “I was not injured, courtesy of Mr. O’Brian’s quick actions.”
In unison, all three women looked down at Lucas.
Pushing to his feet, he greeted their stares with a wave and a roguish grin, although Annabel could not help but notice the muscles tighten around the corners of his eyes as though he were in pain. “Lucas O’Brian, at your service.”
“Mr. O’Brian, we are indebted to you for saving our dear friend’s life.” Temperance extended her gloved hand, and after a moment’s hesitation – as if he were not accustomed to shaking hands with a lady – Lucas took it. “She means the world to us, and your quick actions were nothing short of heroic.”
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