by Brenda Hiatt
"You were telling me before about when you started hunting. I assume you had to give it up for a while when you joined the Army?"
"Not entirely," he said. "I was Cavalry, so when the action was slow, many of us were given leave during the season, so that we could hunt. It was considered good training —or so they said. It helped to have a commander who was also an avid sportsman."
She did recall hearing something about that from her father. "Does your former commander still hunt?"
"He does indeed," he replied with a grin that made her heart race. "You've met him, in fact— Lord Rushford."
"He was your commander? Is that when you met, during the War?" Again she felt foolish, though she wasn't sure why.
"We were acquainted before that, as we'd ridden some of the same hunts in our younger days, but war has a way of strengthening bonds." For a moment his eyes were shadowed, but then he smiled. "That was the genesis of the Odd Sock Club, you see, for Stormy and Thor were also members of Rush's regiment."
"But not Lord Killerby?" she asked, feeling somehow privileged that he'd used the nicknames to her without even noticing. As though she were intimate enough with him to understand without explanation —which, of course, she did.
For someone who'd never had any close friends, it was a heady feeling.
"No, Killer's father refused to buy him a commission and by the time he inherited, the war was nearly over —it was during the Hundred Days, as I recall. We knew him from the hunt. His estate is in southern Nottinghamshire, not so far from here."
Tessa smiled. "Poor Killer. It sounds as though he's been coddled all his life."
Anthony nodded, though his eyes were thoughtful. "Yes, I suppose so. We've taken over, now his father is gone. He somehow seems to bring out our protective natures, perhaps because his enthusiasm outstrips his abilities —and stature."
"Yet you feel I do wrong to protect my own father, who is hampered by an actual infirmity?" she couldn't help asking.
"Touché," he said with a rueful smile. "Perhaps we do Killer no favors with our hovering. Indeed, it's likely what led to his ill-advised adventure today."
But Tessa preferred not to follow that line of reasoning. Surely her protectiveness would not spur her father into similar foolishness? It hadn't so far. Still, it was a lesson to remember.
"It sounds as though the rain is getting worse," she said when the silence again threatened to become awkward.
He shifted and his shoulder brushed hers, making her acutely aware of his nearness and their isolation from the world. "No matter. Nimbus has barely had time to rest his leg yet. I suggest we both get some rest as well."
Suiting action to words, he pulled off his boots, then stretched out atop his cloak, his feet toward the fire. Tessa sat where she was for a long moment, her heart pounding. Did she dare to follow his example?
Steeling her nerve, she unlaced her riding boots, keeping her face averted so that he would not see her blushing. Her stockings were wet and her feet cold, so she extended her legs to warm them by the fire, as he was doing.
"There. Isn't that better?" he asked as she gingerly lowered herself onto her own cloak.
"I, ah, yes," she admitted, her voice unnaturally breathless. She could actually feel the warmth from his body, he was so close, though she was careful not to touch him.
He shifted, making her tense, then gently —very gently— stroked her hair. "Relax, Tessa. I promised not to press you to do anything you don't wish to do, and I'm a man of my word— inconvenient as that might be at a time like this."
"I trust you," she said, with perfect honesty. It was herself she did not trust, for in truth she wished him to do far more than was proper —far more than she could ever admit aloud.
"Then sleep." Withdrawing his hand, he rolled onto his back again and closed his eyes.
Tessa watched as his breathing slowed and his face relaxed, fighting a ridiculous sense of disappointment. Now she heartily regretted stopping him when he'd been kissing her earlier, for spoiling her one chance at pleasure, at a memory she could keep forever. It was wrong, but she regretted it all the same.
She lay back on her cloak, forcing herself to stare at the rough-timbered ceiling instead of at him. One thing was certain: she would never sleep a wink with him so close beside her.
* * *
CHAPTER 9
"Tessa? Tessa, wake up." With sunlight filtering through the cottage's one grimy window, Anthony gently shook her shoulder. She stretched, opened her lovely brown eyes, then sat up in sudden alarm to glance at the window.
"What time is it?"
He consulted his pocket watch. "Nearly seven. I've checked on the horses and they seem fine, though I didn't risk trying to touch Nimbus. I thought you'd want to look him over yourself, now that it's light."
"Yes. Yes, of course." Clearly embarrassed, she pulled on her boots and fumblingly laced them. "I must look a fright," she mumbled, trying to smooth her hair with her fingers.
"Not at all," Anthony assured her. Indeed, he thought she looked quite adorably tousled, her cheeks still flushed from sleep and her honey-colored hair in curly wisps around her face. "Would you care to borrow a comb, however?" He held his out to her.
"Thank you." Taking the comb, she undid her hair and began working on the tangles.
It was all he could do not to touch the shining golden-brown mass that tumbled past her shoulders, but he knew where such a caress might lead. He sternly reminded himself that he'd managed to play the gentleman all night, so he must not disappoint her now.
"There's fresh water in the cistern now, after last night's rain. I'll bring some in so that you can freshen up." Snatching up the dilapidated ewer by the bed, he stepped outside, removing himself from temptation.
He paused by the cistern at the corner of the cottage to splash his own face with water before filling the ewer. Last night had been as difficult as any he'd spent during the war. He hadn't slept a wink, though he'd pretended so that she could relax enough to get some much-needed rest. Once her breathing told him she was asleep, he'd spent the next few hours watching the play of firelight over her face —and thinking.
Tessa had wanted him last night, nearly as much as he'd wanted her. He hadn't missed the eagerness in her touch when he'd kissed and caressed her, nor the disappointment in her eyes when he'd stopped. Stopping had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he'd known instinctively that she wasn't ready for more. Not yet. Even if she wished she were.
Nor was he. That was even stranger, but it was true, for he had realized during the long watches of the night that if once he made Tessa his, he would never be able to let her go. And that thought scared him to his very soul.
He dipped the ewer into the cistern and strode quickly back to the cottage door. "Here. It's cold, so should wake you up nicely."
She took the ewer with a shy smile that went straight to his heart. "Thank you. I . . . I must have been more tired than I realized, for I never thought to sleep so late —or at all."
"You did have rather a trying evening," he reminded her. "I'll go saddle your mare and leave you to wash." He would far rather stay and attempt to rekindle what they'd begun last night, but once the words were spoken he was committed —which was just as well.
Cinnamon was restive and doubtless hungry, but stilled on his command so that he could tighten the girth of the sidesaddle. Tessa had been right that there was nothing wrong with her temperament. Nimbus, however, eyed him nervously.
He was tempted to see whether he could calm the big bay himself, using the methods he'd watched Tessa employ, but decided not to risk it, as she'd be out here herself in a moment. Perhaps later, once the horse was back at Ivy Lodge.
"He hasn't tried to kick or bite, has he?" came Tessa's voice from behind him just then.
"No, he's been a perfect gentleman —though I've not ventured too close." He strove to subdue the surge of desire that shot through him at her unexpected nearness.
She slipped past
him, inflaming his errant body further. "What a good boy you are, Nimbus," she said to the horse in her lovely soft lilt. "Come, then, let's get you out into the light and see how you're doing this morning."
She led the bay out of the lean-to, then ran gentle hands along his body and down his legs, examining every inch of him. Anthony found himself quite envying Nimbus.
"He seems to be walking better today," she said at length. "Beyond his sore leg and that scratch on his flank, I don't see anything else wrong with him. We'd best get him back so that flank can be properly cleansed, however."
Anthony nodded. "I'm sure Killer has notified the veterinary surgeon, who may already be waiting at Ivy Lodge."
Sudden worry flared in her eyes. "I hope he can be trusted to hold his tongue, should he see me. I know neither you nor Lord Killerby will say anything."
"Of course not. But there's no reason for him to see you. I can lead Nimbus back to Ivy Lodge myself."
She shrugged, drawing Anthony's attention back to her body. "Perhaps, but if Nimbus were to resist, he might end up worse off than before." She pinkened slightly and added, "Nor would I have you hurt."
Anthony grinned down at her. "I appreciate your concern, though I must tell you that I really am quite good with horses, despite what you saw that first night we met."
"Oh, I didn't mean—" She broke off, perceiving that he was teasing her. "Rogue! I'm well aware of that, for I've observed you in the hunt, you know. You're one of the best riders I've ever seen, in fact."
He held up a hand. "Please, please, no flattery. I have far too good an opinion of myself already, I assure you."
As he'd hoped, she burst into laughter —a delightful sound that he'd very much wanted to hear again. "You really are absurd, Lord Anthony," she finally said. "Here, then, why do you not lead Nimbus, and I will lead Cinnamon."
"Ah, the lady wishes to test me. Very well, I accept your challenge." With a mock bow, he extended his hand and she placed Nimbus's reins in it. "Come, lad," he said soothingly to the horse. "Help me to impress my lady, won't you?"
Tessa made a business of untangling Cinnamon's reins so that Anthony could not see her face. My lady? A thrill went through her at the thought of being his lady. But he was teasing again, of course. She mustn't let him see how those two little words affected her.
"Shall we go?" she asked in a tolerably disinterested voice.
To her surprise, Nimbus seemed not at all upset by the change. She resisted the temptation to speak to the horse, to continue to soothe him. Though Anthony had spoken teasingly, she suspected that he really did wish to prove, to himself if not to her, that he could handle the difficult beast.
"I hope my father will not send any message to me at the Hilltops'," she said after a moment. "That would be rather awkward."
"Is he likely to?"
She thought for a moment. "No, I think not, as long as I'm home before noon. He often sleeps that late himself." Though the past few days Sir George had been rising earlier, she remembered.
"We'll have you back well before then," Anthony assured her. "Shall we walk a bit faster?" Nimbus still followed him docilely, but of course that could be because she was still nearby. He scarcely limped at all now.
"Yes, I believe Nimbus could manage a quicker pace, if you can convince him to attempt it."
Flashing her a grin, Anthony glanced back at the horse, then lengthened his stride so that Tessa had to trot a bit to keep up. Nimbus quickened his gait without protest.
"You may ride, if you prefer," he said.
For a moment she was tempted, as that would indeed get them back sooner, but then she shook her head. "I can more quickly get to Nimbus from the ground, should he suddenly become difficult."
"Good point," he agreed, and slowed his pace somewhat, so that she could more easily match it.
They had nearly an hour's walk ahead of them, so she cast about for a suitable topic for conversation.
"You said you have always enjoyed riding," she said. "Did you always wish to go into the Army, as well?"
"From the time I was old enough to understand the war," he replied. "My father wasn't keen on the idea, mind you. But with five sons the succession was in no real danger, so I was finally able to convince him to buy me a commission —as he did for my next younger brother, Peter."
"Did he go into the Cavalry as well?" She wanted to learn everything she could about Anthony, to include his family. This might well be her only chance.
"No, he was never as horse-mad as I was. Peter's a prudent sort. Focused, observant —incredible memory. Probably why he rose to the rank of colonel and I but to major." His grin showed only pride and affection for his brother, not bitterness.
She gazed at him for a moment, drinking in the perfection of his handsome profile. "Somehow, I suspect you enjoyed your service more than he."
He glanced and her in surprise, then chuckled. "I won't say war was enjoyable, exactly, but you're probably right. I do have a knack for finding the fun in most any situation, if there's any fun to find."
"Like being caught in the rain with an injured horse and a damsel in distress?" Why had she said that?
"I didn't have to seek far for the enjoyment in that scenario," he assured her with twinkling eyes. "Or were you merely fishing for a compliment?"
Confused, she looked away. That wasn't what she was doing, was it? She wasn't sure. "I'm sure you'd have been far more comfortable in your own bed than on that floor," she said, only to realize that that, too, could be misinterpreted.
"There's more to life than comfort." Something in his voice made her glance at him, but then his expression made her look away just as quickly.
This is the son of a duke, she reminded herself sternly. However much he might enjoy bantering —flirting —with her to pass the time, it could ultimately come to nothing. She must remember that.
"What of you, Tessa Seaton," he said when she made no response. "Have you always had a gift with horses?"
She flashed him a startled glance at his use of the same word she always used to herself for her ability. "Since my early teens, anyway. My mother had the same gift, the same affinity with horses, so was willing to let me spend more time with them than I might otherwise have been allowed to do."
"And her father?"
"Yes, though not to the same extent. He had enough to make him an exceptional trainer, however. It seems to run more strongly in the female line, for my mother told me once that her grandmother also had the gift."
He regarded her thoughtfully. "And was her grandmother Irish, perhaps?"
Tessa stared at him. "How did you know that?"
"I was remembering what Carter, Lord Killerby's groom, said last night —and how you reacted. I simply put the pieces together."
"Clearly, your brother Peter is not the only one with remarkable powers of observation," she exclaimed. "Yes, I wondered if the woman his grandfather remembered might not have been my great-grandmother. Or perhaps this gift is simply more common in Ireland."
"Perhaps. But tell me more about your abilities," he said, carefully leading Nimbus around a fallen tree branch. "Is there any horse you can't tame?"
She shrugged. "I'm sure there must be. I've never been tested against a truly wild one, of course. Even Nimbus here had received some training before we bought him."
"Bad training, I'd wager, and it appears your cousin did little to counteract it. I take it he does not possess your gift?"
"Alas, no. In fact, Harold seems to have quite the opposite effect on horses. I wish Papa could find some other employment for him than trainer, for he is remarkably ill-suited to that task." She knew she should not be telling him such things, but it was such a relief to put her worries into words.
"Perhaps we can think of something," he suggested. "From what I've seen of your cousin, however, I doubt he'll be amenable to anything he perceives as a demotion."
That was true enough, for Harold's ambitions far exceeded his abilities. She suspec
ted that what he really wanted was ownership of Wheatstone itself— through her.
"We're nearly there," she commented, pointing ahead, rather than speak her thoughts.
While part of her wanted to tell Anthony all of her problems and allow him to solve them for her, she knew they were not his responsibility. She mustn't come to depend on him, for he would be gone as soon as hunting season ended.
"You stay here," he said when they came within sight of the stables. "I'll lead Nimbus in, then return to help you into the saddle. We don't want to risk you being seen."
She nodded, trying to ignore the sudden knot in her throat. It's not as though she had expected him to make an offer rather than put her reputation at risk. That would be absurd, when they could so easily hide the truth. Nor would she accept him if he did. He must know that.
Besides, it wasn't as though they'd done anything truly wrong.
Speaking soothingly, he put a hand on Nimbus's withers, then, without Tessa's help, removed the saddle perched atop him. She watched in amazement as the big bay stood quietly during the process. Anthony might not possess her gift, but he really was extremely good with horses. If only . . .
By the time he returned, she had her emotions under control. To her surprise, he was leading Cinder.
"I thought I would escort you at least part of the way," he said in response to her questioning look. "Don't worry —I'll take care that no one sees us."
Though she knew she should protest the additional risk, she found she couldn't forego the opportunity to spend a bit more time in his company. "If . . . if you insist," she said. Then, as she could not climb into a sidesaddle unassisted, she glanced over at him, only to find him watching her with a bemused expression.
"What?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing. Here, let me help you." Instead of offering her a boost, however, he seized her by the waist and bodily lifted her into the saddle.
The feel of his hands spanning her middle stole her breath. She'd had no idea he was so strong.
"Thank you." Her voice sounded high and unnatural.
