Who knew adventure could be so terrifying?
Marianne straightened in the saddle and stared at the upcoming course. The Ride was laid out in a series of eight separate courses, each more difficult than the last. This was the third.
More than a hundred riders were participating, divided into six teams. The third team was on the course at the moment. Marianne’s was next. Pennington was in the group behind hers, but Berkley was on her team.
Thomas and Becky were on the second team and it was already apparent to Marianne their group would surely win the competition. Becky rode with barely controlled abandon, as if she were born on horseback. Thomas handled his horse as if they were of one body, one mind. As confident and compelling as a hero from a book.
She watched him take the jumps and maneuver around the obstacles and her heart leapt with a certain amount of fear and more than a little pride. This was the man she loved. He was magnificent.
“You needn’t continue, you know,” Berkley said beside her. “There’s no shame in quitting at any point. In fact, it’s expected that a fair number of riders won’t finish.” He nodded toward a young man. “The stable master posts someone at the start of each course. All you have to do is indicate to him that you’re not going on.”
“Yes, well, I am considering it.” She grimaced. Still, what would a heroine worth her salt do? She squared her shoulders. “However, not yet.”
Berkley frowned. “Are you certain?”
“Not at all.” She laughed weakly. “I might more likely end up in the water up ahead than sail over it.”
“As many have done before you.” Berkley grinned. “I myself have taken a spill or two here in past years.”
She studied him carefully. While she was grateful for his encouragement and his company, she found herself a bit uncomfortable in his presence. The declaration of love in his letter was disquieting and she had no idea how to handle the situation. Still, she probably should do something.
Marianne drew a deep breath. “I have given your dilemma a great deal of thought, my lord, and I was wondering if you have come any closer to declaring yourself to the object of your affections.”
“From equestrian obstacles to obstacles of the heart?” He raised a brow. “Rather a startling shift of subject, don’t you think?”
Heat rushed up her face. “I do apologize. I should never have—”
“Nonsense.” He waved away her words. “I did confide in you, after all. To answer your question, I have written her of my feelings, but . . . ” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but she knew full well it did. “To no avail. She has not seen fit to respond.”
“Perhaps,” she said gently, “her affections are otherwise engaged.”
“Oh, I’m certain they are.” His expression darkened. “But he is not the man for her. He will break her heart and leave her alone and ruined.”
“Surely he is not that bad.” Unease settled in the pit of her stomach.
“He is a black-hearted villain,” Berkley said harshly.
She stared in surprise. Were Berkley’s feelings coloring his perception? Or had she really portrayed Lord W—Thomas—in such a dastardly way? Certainly she had made him somewhat dark and morose, possibly even threatening, definitely arrogant. With the exception of the arrogance, perhaps, Lord W was more a product of her imagination than anything else.
His exploits—their exploits—had a grain of veracity in them but were only loosely based on her and Thomas’s. Still, it was obvious Berkley would never believe that if he knew the truth. Nor, she suspected, would anyone else.
“She must escape from his clutches. I will find her eventually.” Berkley’s voice was grim. “She needs me.”
“My lord”—Marianne laid her hand on his sleeve—“have you considered the possibility that she has not contacted you because she is, well, satisfied with her fate?”
His brow furrowed into a forbidding frown. “I cannot believe that. And I will not until I hear it from her own lips.”
She studied him with a sense of helplessness. Poor, sweet man. He’d gotten caught up in her imagination and now fancied himself in love with a woman who bore only a vague resemblance to reality. This was her fault entirely and it was up to her to do something about it.
“My dear Lord Berkley,” she said slowly, removing her hand. “I fear you are something of a fool.”
“How can you . . . ” He drew himself up and glared. “I thought you understood. I thought—”
“Piffle.” She waved off his comment. “What I understand is that you are pining after a woman you admit you have never met. Therefore, whatever you know of her, or think you know, is incomplete. You have built her out of your own desires and needs. You do not know her at all.”
“I daresay, I—”
“You are in love with a dream. A fantasy, with no more substance than the story in a book. Fiction, my lord”—she shook her head—“is not, nor shall it ever be, real.”
“My lady, I—”
“Look around you.” Marianne gestured at the crowd. “There are several lovely young ladies here. Real women, and I suspect there are any number who could care for you deeply.”
He studied her intently. “Do you think so?”
“I do indeed.” She laughed with relief. “Why, you are quite charming and more than a little handsome. Any woman—any real woman, that is—would be flattered to be the object of your attentions. And I would suspect more than one would return your affection.”
“Really?” A slow, pleased smile spread across his face.
“Really.” Satisfaction spread through her. With luck, Berkley would forget all about the country miss now and turn his interest elsewhere. “Now, then, it appears our team is about to begin, whether I am ready or not.”
“Never fear. I shall be beside you,” he said staunchly. “Should you need my assistance.”
She studied the course with reluctance. “It is good to know there will be someone close at hand to help me up should this creature and I part company.”
“You may count on me.” An odd light shone in Berkley’s eye. “I shall remain by your side every minute.”
“Thank you,” she murmured and directed her attention toward the obstacles ahead, pushing aside the uneasy feeling that while she might have deflected Berkley’s affections from the country miss, she might also have pointed them in a new and unforeseen direction.
Or could it be Berkley?
Thomas watched Marianne’s team progress through the course. Berkley, usually an excellent rider, hung back from the others to keep pace with Marianne. Her ability on horseback was adequate at best. Thomas was at once grateful for and annoyed at Berkley’s attention. Surely she didn’t need that much assistance?
He did have to admit, though, she had a fair amount of courage. Misplaced, perhaps, but there nonetheless. She tried to hide her apprehension, but he, and possibly he alone, could see it in the line of her mouth and set of her chin. At least she was smart enough to be concerned, given the increasing difficulty of the courses and her limited skills. But she’d yet to give up. He smiled in spite of himself and noted a surprising touch of pride. She was most impressive, every inch a future duchess. His future duchess. And just as obstinate as every duchess who’d come before her.
She made it over a moderately tricky jump but landed hard. He couldn’t help but wince in sympathy.
Was Berkley’s attention to her simply a coincidence or had he somehow discovered she was the woman he claimed to have fallen in love with? Or worse, had Marianne confessed all to him? After his appearance at Cadwallender’s she was well aware of his feelings. No, Pennington would know if that were true. Unless Berkley hadn’t told him? Nonsense, Berkley would have told Pennington; indeed, Berkley would have told everyone everything. Besides, if Berkley knew the truth, he would have confronted Thomas at once.
Marianne approached a water obstacle and Thomas held his breath. Her horse was well trained and took the jump with an ease
that belied the flash of fear on her face.
Was Berkley the new suitor in the country miss’s life? Or was it Pennington? He dismissed the unsettling thought that perhaps it was someone else altogether.
Bloody hell, who could determine anything when it came to Marianne? Why couldn’t she be a . . . well, typical female? Someone who wanted nothing more than marriage and a husband whose desires and needs she would lovingly see to? A woman who would never question the decisions or actions of a spouse?
He blew a long, frustrated breath, knowing the answer at once.
If Marianne were such a woman, then she wouldn’t be the one woman who tied his insides in knots and drove him stark-raving mad and ruled his mind as well as his loins.
Thomas watched until she had made it safely through the course, and released a relieved breath. Surely she’d give up now, but who knew what she’d do? She was obstinate enough to continue until she landed flat on her adorable backside. She probably saw the Ride as an adventure: dangerous and exciting.
Perhaps a bit of danger was precisely what he needed to add to his attempts at amorous adventure. Obviously, falling to his death was not dangerous enough for her. And why should it be? She was not the one in jeopardy.
She joined Berkley at the end of the course, her laughter floating in the slight breeze. Thomas narrowed his eyes.
Danger. Adventure. Seduction. Romance.
The words pulsed in his head, the answer teasing just out of reach. Where was the danger in romance? The adventure in seduction?
It was so simple he should have realized it long ago. He smiled slowly. Danger and adventure went hand in hand with the lure of the forbidden and the threat of discovery.
And he whispered a silent prayer to long-dead Effington ancestors for their forethought in fashioning the one place that could provide exactly that.
Chapter 17
. . . that Leopard is indeed as cunning and clever as his namesake. He is, as well, charming and exciting and far too enticing. I am drawn toward him like a leaf in a current. There is something in his nature that is both frightening and irresistible.
He is not the kind of man one considers for a match and perhaps that is the strength of his appeal. Still, if I am not to wed, then would it be so wrong to taste the forbidden fruits he offers?
As for Lord W, in spite of my efforts, he is always in my thoughts. And in my dreams . . .
The Absolutely True Adventures of a Country Miss in London
Marianne plucked the note from its perch in the branches of the round boxwood maze and smiled. What kind of adventure did Thomas have in mind now?
After the Ride, she’d returned to her room, bathed and napped, to awaken to find a note slipped under her door. It was unsigned, but there was no question as to who it was from. Who but Thomas would couch an invitation in such poetic terms? At least treasure and pleasure rhymed.
“Thomas?” she called, unfolding the note. It contained nothing more than the drawing of an arrow. Obviously, she was to enter the maze. The adventure had begun.
She drew a deep breath and stepped inside. To her right was a solid hedge wall. She turned to the left and followed the greenery to a bend to the right and back to the left. Again there was no choice. She continued through the tall leafy passageway and her confidence built. The maze wasn’t nearly as difficult as Thomas had said. Why, she doubted she’d run across even one body. She ignored an entry leading deeper into the structure and continued forward until the corridor ended at a wall.
She swiveled and retraced her steps, this time taking the entry she’d passed before. She stepped through the next opening, this, too, leading deeper into the maze. Perhaps that was the secret? Simply take whatever route led toward the heart of the puzzle.
She drew a deep breath and continued, rather more cautiously than before. It was a bit unnerving, this not knowing where she was headed. Worse, at the moment, she had no idea how to get out. She hit a wall with walkways branching out in either direction and paused.
“Thomas?”
No answer. What if he wasn’t here? If she hadn’t gotten his note in time? If he’d waited for her and decided she wasn’t coming? The idea of someone lost forever in the high, leafy passages did not seem so far-fetched after all.
She took the turn to the right, then stopped and went back to the left. A few feet from the entry, an ivory ribbon lay in the center of the path, leading farther into the maze.
She laughed with relief and picked it up. She followed it around one curve, then the next, gathering the ribbon in her hand as she went. The rounded walkways grew tighter until she reached a point where the ribbon was tied in a halfhearted bow on an iron gate.
She pushed it open, stepped cautiously into the center of the maze and gasped with delight.
It was indeed a room of sorts, with high boxwood walls and the sky above for a ceiling. Wide benches were evenly spaced around the perimeter. In the middle was a small, wrought-iron, linen-covered table and two chairs. She stepped closer. A vase with freshly cut flowers sat beside an open bottle of champagne and two filled glasses. It was a setting straight from a romantic tale.
A tale of seduction.
The gate clanked shut behind her and she spun around.
Thomas leaned against the gate, a wicked grin on his face. “I thought you’d never get here.”
“And now that I am?” Delicious anticipation washed through her.
“Welcome to adventure.” He was casually dressed in a soft linen shirt, open at the throat, and well-worn breeches. He looked like she imagined a pirate or a highwayman would appear, right down to the gleam in his eye.
“What if I do not wish to partake of the particular kind of adventure you have in store?”
“You will.” He turned the key in the lock on the gate. “Besides, I have no intention of letting you go until you agree to marry me.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. “Come, now, Thomas, I cannot—”
Before she could say another word, he pulled her into his arms. His lips met hers and she reveled in his embrace, familiar desire rising up within her. He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her again and again until she thought she’d swoon from sheer pleasure.
“Say you’ll marry me,” he whispered against her lips.
Say you love me. “Never,” she murmured.
“Very well.” Without warning he released her and moved to the table. “Then would you care for some champagne?”
For a moment she could only stare. Frustration gripped her and she struggled to catch her breath. “Why on earth did you stop?”
“I was thirsty.” He grinned, waved away a bee hovering over the champagne, picked up a glass and held it out to her.
“You are annoying.” It wasn’t enough that his merest touch drove her mad with need. No, now he wanted to play some silly game under the guise of adventure. Well, she wasn’t in the mood to play.
She snatched the goblet from him. The champagne sloshed onto her hand. She ignored it and drained the wine. “Now—” she set the glass back on the table with a firm smack—“I wish to leave.”
“Why?” He sipped thoughtfully. “You’ve just arrived.”
“I find this adventure is not to my liking.” Abruptly she realized the idea of adventure of any kind was growing weary.
“But it has only just begun.”
“Fine.” She huffed a defeated breath. He refilled her glass. She picked it up and took a healthy swallow. She liked champagne nearly as much as she liked brandy. “What do you have in mind?”
“First, I’m going to relieve you of that dress.”
“Oh?”
“There is nothing quite like the unconfined feel of being completely undressed out-of-doors.” He took another drink and set his glass on the table. “Of making love beneath the heavens.” He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on a nearby bench.
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Wait and see.” He circled the t
able to stand behind her, then ran his fingers lightly up and down her arms. “Surprise, my dear Marianne, is the very essence of adventure.”
He reached in front of her and deftly removed her spectacles, tossing them lightly onto a chair. He lifted her hand to his mouth and licked the dried champagne. She shivered, all annoyance vanishing with his touch. Perhaps she was in the mood to play after all.
He kissed the back of her neck, trailing his lips to the edge of her gown, then fumbled with the tapes of her dress. It loosened about her.
“Thomas, what if someone happens upon us here?”
He nudged the sleeves down and bared her shoulders. “No one will.” He pushed her gown and the shift beneath it lower, and she freed her arms from the sleeves. “Those who take part in the Ride typically spend the hours afterwards recovering in their rooms. Besides, even should someone manage to make their way to the center, the gate is now locked from within and the hedges nicely muffle any voices, making recognition nearly impossible.”
A lovely illicit feeling shivered through her. She leaned back against him and closed her eyes, reveling in the warmth of his body behind her. “Are you sure?”
His hands skimmed down her sides, gown and shift falling to a puddle at her feet, leaving her clad only in stockings and shoes. “Almost positive.”
He was right about being unclothed out-of-doors. Surrounded by the hedges, with only the vast blue sky overhead and the cool air teasing her skin, she’d never felt as free and unfettered, like a woodland sprite dancing in the fields. Of course, she wasn’t quite dancing. Yet.
“The danger of discovery, Marianne—it’s part and parcel of adventure.”
His hands trailed over her stomach and pulled her to mold against him. She could feel his arousal, solid and hot, through his breeches, pressing against her backside. His hands moved upward to cup her breasts and she raised her arm to drape it across his neck. His fingers teased her nipples and they hardened beneath his skillful touch. Her breath grew ragged.
“Do you know what I’m doing now?” His lips whispered against her skin.
The Marriage Lesson Page 21
