Love At First Bite

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Anne made it to the door without falling flat on her face and hurried outside. She needed fresh air to clear her head. The back of her neck prickled and she knew he watched her even now. The temptation to turn and look at him in the moonlight nearly got the best of her. If she saw his features, then he’d be able to see hers.

  Come tomorrow, Anne must pretend that she had never met the man who’d nearly seduced her tonight. Pretend she had never felt his mouth moving against hers, the brush of his fingers upon her skin, never heard the sound of his husky voice. Tonight she’d told her first lie. Anne supposed tomorrow she would try her hand at acting.

  Chapter Two

  It was early the next morning when Anne met him. Her eyes felt swollen from lack of sleep. She’d lain awake much too long thinking of him once she’d reached the safety of her bed. Her lips were swollen, as well, and she knew what that was from. Lost in thought, she sat quietly dining upon breakfast with her aunt and uncle when a stranger entered the room. Anne had never seen the man, but she knew him instantly.

  Her nostrils flared, her heart skipped a beat, and the hairs on the back of her neck bristled. The man didn’t look her way but strode past her straight to her uncle.

  “You sent for me, my lord?”

  Her uncle dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Yes. I thought you should meet my niece. She frequents the stable much more than the Countess and I find agreeable, but because she does, I will provide an introduction. You should know who she is and how she is to be treated when she visits the stable to ride.”

  The new stable master inclined his head. It was a dark head. His hair was as black as a moonless night. It hung to his shoulders, was thick and curled around his collar. His lashes were just as dark, just as thick, shielding his eyes from her until he glanced up and in her direction. Anne forgot to breathe. He pinned her with ice blue eyes and she couldn’t seem to form a simple thought. He stared, and she stared helplessly back.

  Slowly, the rest of his features came into focus. High cheekbones, chiseled jawline, indentations along the sides of his mouth… a mouth shaped with a gentle hand when nothing else about him hinted at any tenderness. He was big, and broad, and beautiful. And for a moment, she thought she had seen him somewhere before, but she knew she could not have.

  “My niece, Lady Anne Baldwin,” her uncle’s voice managed to penetrate the fog in her head. “Lady Anne, this is our new stable master, Merrick.”

  “Lady,” the stable master said softly.

  Anne knew she had to respond. She couldn’t say his name. It was too intimate. “Mister… ?” She let her voice trail.

  His eyes never left her. “Just Merrick. I’ve no last name. Born on the wrong side of the blanket. You may call me by my given name.”

  She simply nodded but refused to do so.

  “I’ll tell you what I tell the rest of those who work for me,” her uncle interrupted. “You are to treat my niece with the utmost respect. She spends far too much time riding her horse and lurking about the stable when she knows her aunt and I do not necessarily approve of her fondness for such things. We indulge her here in the country where it makes little difference. But being in charge, I expect for you to watch out for her, and of course with as much distance as possible between the two of you while you do.”

  “Uncle!” Anne was embarrassed by his instructions and by his bluntness in her company.

  He held up a hand. “A man must know his place, Anne. Sometimes a man must be told his place so that he doesn’t forget.”

  “Really, my dear,” Aunt Claire fussed. “Must you embarrass the girl so early in the morning? I’m certain our new man knows good and well his place, don’t you, Merrick?”

  As if reluctantly, the stable master’s intense gaze swung from Anne toward her aunt. “I’ve been put in it enough times to know it, my lady,” he said.

  “Interesting.” Aunt Claire’s gaze slowly swept over him. “That you have an English name and a Scottish accent.”

  “My mother was Scottish,” he explained. “Grew up listening to her, so naturally I would speak as she spoke. Whoever my father was, he asked her to give me an English name. Not his name, mind you, whatever it was, but an English Christian name.”

  “That will be all, Merrick ” Anne’s uncle piped up, dismissing the man. “My niece rides every morning at ten o’clock sharp. Her horse is the bay mare in stall five. Be sure that the horse is ready for Lady Anne.”

  Anne couldn’t ride this morning. It was out of the question. She needed time to gather herself. “I will not ride today,” she blurted. “I-I don’t feel well,” she explained to her aunt and uncle, who both looked surprised by her statement.

  “I would have a word with your maid.”

  Anne’s eyes snapped toward the new stable master. “What?”

  “Your maid,” he repeated. “I would like a word with her.”

  “Old Bertha?” Aunt Claire’s brow furrowed. “Why on earth would you need to speak to her? Not that she could probably hear half of what you say. She’s going quite deaf in her old age.”

  The new stable master didn’t look surprised. He knew. Anne suspected he’d known all along. But how could he? He couldn’t have seen her last night. She couldn’t see him in the darkness.

  “Never mind then,” he said. “I assumed the lady might take her maid to ride along with her and I meant to question the woman regarding which horse she would use, but if the woman is old…”

  “You will ride with my niece,” her uncle instructed. “At least until I can decide upon a suitable groom. Her old groom is no longer with us. Ride with Lady Anne, but a proper distance behind her, of course.”

  “Of course,” he said, and Anne detected a hint of sarcasm behind his cool expression. He was of the serving class. But he did not like it. Not one bit.

  “Is that all, my lord?” he asked her uncle.

  “You are dismissed,” Uncle Theodore answered, returning to his breakfast. “Don’t forget my instructions regarding the gray filly.”

  The stable master turned to leave. Anne was curious about all that went on in the stable. The gray filly was a particular favorite of hers, although the horse belonged to her uncle. “What about the gray filly?”

  Merrick, as he would have her call him, hesitated, glancing toward her uncle. ” ‘Tis none of her affair,” he said to the man. “Go on now about your business, or rather my business,” her uncle added with a chuckle.

  Uncle Theodore’s good humor failed to make Merrick smile, and Anne found herself wondering what he might look like if he did. Would it soften the hard lines of his face? Merrick left the room and she stared after him until she felt her aunt’s regard. Anne blushed and quickly turned her attention back to breakfast.

  “He’s very handsome, your new stable master, dear,” Aunt Claire commented. “I am not certain he was a wise choice when we still have a young, beautiful woman beneath our roof. Rather like putting a fox in charge of the henhouse.”

  It bothered Anne somewhat that her aunt had referred to Blackthorn Manor as belonging to Anne’s guardians. The house had belonged to Anne’s mother and Blackthorn Manor, along with a large inheritance from her mother’s lineage, would become Anne’s when she turned twenty-one. Still, she said nothing. Anne felt certain it was an oversight.

  Uncle Theodore had inherited Anne’s father’s title, but her father had been a “naked” earl, in that he had no property that went with his earldom. It had been Anne’s mother who had married beneath her. A love match. Because she had no brothers or male relatives left living on her mother’s side, Anne’s son, if she had one, would someday become a Marquess.

  Uncle Theodore waved a hand. “As long as the hens mind themselves, so will the fox.” He glanced up, sharing a peculiar look with his wife that Anne had trouble reading. A warning?

  Uncomfortable silence settled over the table. Anne was still curious about the filly and thought her uncle might be more talkative now that the stable master had left. “Wha
t are your plans for the filly?” she ventured again.

  “Unsuitable conversation for a young lady,” he said, frowning at her. “It is not your concern, Niece.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” Anne replied dutifully, although his refusal to discuss the matter only made her more curious. Maybe she’d been too hasty in her decision to stay indoors this morning. The stable master knew what plans her uncle had for the gray filly. If she asked, he’d have to tell her, wouldn’t he?

  “May I be excused?” she asked. “Perhaps a short rest this morning will see me feeling more myself.”

  “Yes, by all means go and lie down for a while,” her aunt said, patting Anne’s hand absently, a required response rather than a heartfelt one. She tried not to be resentful. Her aunt and uncle had become her guardians when her parents had contacted a fever abroad and both died, leaving her orphaned at the age of ten. But she’d never felt truly loved again, not as her parents had loved her. Her aunt and uncle had been staying with her at Blackthorn Manor when the news of Anne’s parents’ deaths reached them. They had simply never left.

  Her father and uncle were brothers. There was no one else to take Anne in, and perhaps had there been, she would at least have the knowledge that her aunt and uncle chose to raise her because they wanted to, not because they had to. Anne excused herself, rose from the table, and went upstairs. Old Bertha had nodded off in a chair and snored softly. Anne’s riding habit had been laid out. She couldn’t avoid the new stable master forever. Besides, she wanted to ask him about the filly and her uncle’s plans for the horse.

  Merrick smelled Lady Anne’s sweet scent before he saw her. He had a gift for scent and for sight. He always had, but he obviously couldn’t read a lady’s mind, because her sudden appearance surprised him. He stood before the gray filly’s stall, thinking his new employer was an ignorant man who didn’t deserve the fine horses he owned. He turned and saw Lady Anne at the stable entrance. She was dressed for riding.

  “Change your mind?”

  It was a question that might hold two meanings, and by her slight blush he knew she was quick-witted.

  “Yes, I have decided I shall ride this morning,” she stated, stepping into the stable’s dim interior. “Will you saddle my horse?”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” He moved away from the gray’s stall. “To see to your needs.”

  Her blush deepened. “There is no call for this to become awkward. You made a mistake last night and we shall both forget it today and move forward.”

  Merrick paused before the bay’s stall. He lifted a brow. “I made a mistake? I wouldn’t have had you had you not lied to me.”

  But that in itself was a lie. Had Merrick known she was the niece of his employer last night, it still wouldn’t have stopped him. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Merrick had never reacted so strongly to a female before, be she a serving maid or a highborn lady. He found Lady Anne Baldwin irresistible.

  Her hair was the color of rich maple syrup and when down, as she’d worn it last night, cascaded in waves to her slim waist. Her eyes were a warm shade of brown. Her lashes were dark and thick, and her skin was as pale as cream. Some might consider her mouth too generous, but Merrick liked her full, lush lips. Her figure was every man’s dream. The lady wasn’t for the likes of him, but that didn’t stop Merrick from wanting her.

  “It was wrong of me to lie,” she admitted, biting her fuller lower lip. “I feared you’d tell my aunt and uncle what I was doing and I knew they would not be pleased. I thought they might ban me from the stable and riding.”

  Judging by what he knew of her aunt and uncle, Merrick imagined they would not be pleased to know of her actions last night, certainly not his. “Then it can remain our little secret.” He bridled the mare, opened the stall, and led the bay out. He glanced at Lady Anne, noting that her chin rose a notch.

  “I would think that would be more to your advantage than to mine.”

  Merrick quelled the desire to roll his eyes and stopped before her. “I’m not so ignorant that I don’t know that. There’s no need to threaten me, lass.”

  Anne hadn’t meant to. She’d always prided herself on being kind to others, even to those of a lower station—even to those considered outcasts among society. Why now was she putting this man in his place? Why did she feel threatened by him? Her gaze roamed him and she knew the answer. He was dangerous. Being bad wasn’t so difficult, after all. One just needed the right incentive. The right incentive stood before her now, tall and handsome as sin, staring down at her with his rebellious blue eyes.

  “I’m not like them,” she insisted. “I am not a snob.”

  His gaze ran the length of her and back again. “Yes, you are,” he said. “You just don’t know it yet.”

  She watched him lead Storm to the tack room and tether her. Anne was trying to think of something to say when he moved past her, walked to the end of the stable, and led a leggy black stallion from his stall. She’d never seen the horse before, and in an instant she forgot her crossness with the new stable master.

  “He’s beautiful,” she breathed. Anne loved horses and considered herself a fine judge of horseflesh. The stallion was built for speed. His head was small, his neck thick, and his long flowing mane and tail were well tended.

  “He is a fine horse,” Merrick agreed, stopping before her so that Anne could reach out and stroke the horse’s silky coat. “But he has no pedigree. Caught him as a wild colt and brought him up myself. Don’t know his lines, just as I don’t know my own. We’re both bastards, I guess.”

  Anne lifted a brow. “Does he resent it as much as you do?”

  His blue eyes widened in surprise for a moment, as if he hadn’t expected her to be intuitive. Then he shrugged. “No,” he answered. “But he’s too dumb to know the difference. I guess he’s blessed that way.”

  Realizing Merrick’s parentage was obviously a sore subject, Anne didn’t comment further. Instead she watched as he went about the business of saddling Storm and the black. Merrick moved with a grace few men, even those of the gentry, possessed. Black trousers hugged his slim hips and muscled legs to the point of near vulgarity. He wore a white shirt, coarse but clean, open at the neck, so open in fact that she saw a portion of his tan chest and a glimpse of dark chest hair. For some reason, that struck Anne as indecent, as well. Or perhaps it was simply her reaction to him that was improper.

  The lack of shine on his knee-high boots reminded her that he was of the working class and had no valet to see to them nightly. His hair had hung loose when he’d intruded upon breakfast in the house, but now he’d secured it with a black ribbon. Doing so only accented the chiseled lines of his face and made his stark blue eyes stand out. She had to admit in that moment she’d never seen a man as handsome as he was.

  Just looking at him filled her stomach with butterflies. Her blood raced through her veins and catching a normal breath was difficult. Oh yes, he was dangerous. Anne would have to watch herself around him, which was something she had never had to do before.

  “I’ll give you a hand up,” Merrick said, and she realized she was still staring and the horses were saddled and ready.

  Fighting down a blush, she walked around Storm where he waited. The sidesaddle perched upon the mare’s back made Anne frown. It was a reminder that her adventure last night had not included her dream of riding astride like a man. Her thoughts scattered with Merrick’s hands encircling her waist. They felt warm even through her lightweight riding habit. He lifted her into the saddle as if she weighed nothing. He stared up at her for a moment and their eyes locked. It took a great deal of willpower for Anne to glance away.

  Flustered, she steered her horse around the big stallion and out into a rather dreary day. Anne was thankful for the cooler air to revive her. She wished Merrick had not been given the task of escorting her on her rides. She feared no good could come of the two of them spending time together.

  Chapter Three

  Trying to co
ncentrate on the ride and forget her escort, Anne took a familiar path through the fields along the north side of the manor house. The smell of rich dirt and clean air always made her feel better. Anne was a country girl at heart, if she could get on well enough in the city.

  “What are my uncle’s plans for the filly?” she called over her shoulder, expecting Merrick to be following at a discreet distance as he’d been told to do.

  “I recall hearing your uncle say it wasn’t your business.”

  She turned to find Merrick beside her. It didn’t surprise her that he hadn’t followed her uncle’s instructions. Anne suspected Merrick seldom followed anyone’s rules but his own.

  “As my uncle said, I have a fondness for horses and the stable. The gray filly has excellent lines. He isn’t going to sell her, is he?”

  Merrick’s lips suddenly curled slightly at the corners. “No,” he answered. “She’s in season. He wants to breed her.”

  Anne realized why her uncle had refused to discuss the issue with her. Such things were not discussed in the presence of ladies. She was always told to stay away from the stable when the breeding took place. The new stable master seemed to take delight in saying something so shocking in her company. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of making her blush again.

  “To which stallion?” she asked. “I hope not Ascot, the large sorrel. He’s too big boned. A colt produced by him would likely be too large for the filly to deliver. I’d personally choose Shadow, the charcoal stallion. He’s smaller, and the coloring would suit, I’d think.”

  When Merrick didn’t respond, she glanced toward him. His lips were still curled in that disturbing way that drew her gaze to them, but in his eyes shone a glimmer of respect.