She pulled him into the laboratory, just out of sight of any prying eyes, and placed the letter in his hand. “Take this to Mr. Guerson at the posting inn and tell him to send it to London right away.”
The boy nodded and hurried away. “Yes, miss!”
* * *
Damn that letter! Edward grabbed up a rock from the riverbank and heaved it as hard as he could. And damn Phillip Benton!
Even in this last letter to his daughter, when the man admitted he cared so little for her that he was willing to sign her over to a stranger to get her off his hands, the bastard had the gall to ask for money. But then, Edward shouldn’t have been surprised, because Kate had been trying to buy her father’s love for years. He would have admired her loyalty if it wasn’t so deeply misplaced.
From the top of the riverbank, he could see the old brick smokehouse in the distance that she used as her laboratory. Even from his short visit inside, he could still smell the herbs and chemicals of her medicines, just as he could smell the faint scent of honeysuckle, which still clung to him from holding her while she cried, harder than he’d ever seen any woman cry. So hard he thought she might just break. He’d felt helpless to console her.
Then, suddenly, the embrace changed, and consoling wasn’t what he wanted to do to her. Sweet Lucifer, he wanted to ravish her. He wanted to shove her across the table and plunge between her thighs until her cries of heartache became cries of passion. And for a moment, when he felt her pulse race beneath his fingertips, he was certain she wanted that, too.
Until she had the good sense to step out of his arms.
And thank God she had. Their situation was already tenuous at best, downright confrontational at worst now that she knew how he’d come to be her guardian, and the complications that would follow from seducing his virginal ward…Good Lord.
There was also the matter of trust. He’d learned the hard way that people couldn’t be trusted, especially women. But he wanted to trust in Kate, and he wanted to believe that, for once, a woman could give him the peace he craved.
But thoughts like those were dangerous. They implied an importance in his life that he wasn’t willing to give to any woman, least of all to Benton’s daughter. He might as well sacrifice himself to the flames right now.
But her fire would taste exquisite.
With a curse of frustration, he plunged down the bank and dove fully clothed into the cold river.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nine Days Later
Oh, drat it!” Kate rolled her eyes at the perfectly good lavender plant she held in her hand. Then she looked down at the patch of garden she’d been weeding, and her shoulders sagged with self-reproach at the yard-long stretch of soil where she’d thoroughly plucked every plant and left standing a row of weeds.
Digging a hole with her fingers to replant the lavender, she cursed herself for ruining yet another chore. Just as when she’d tried to sort a box of bandages earlier and nearly tossed out the good ones and left the bad, everything she’d attempted to do today had gone wrong. And she knew why.
Him.
Edward Westover, she decided as she sighed with chagrin, overwhelmed her. If it were only the way he looked—with those broad shoulders and muscular arms, that charming grin, which could turn into a rakish smile in a heartbeat, and those eyes, the same ones whose blackness once frightened her but now reminded her of velvet—she could ignore him and go on with the normal activities of her everyday life.
But it was more than just how attractive he was. Good Lord, she actually found herself starting to…like him.
During the fortnight he’d been at Brambly, she hadn’t minded spending time with him during the lingering conversations they shared over dinners. Or the long walks they took through the fields. The chess games they played in the evenings. The stories he shared about army life, the descriptions of Spain and Portugal. Even his kind remarks when she told stories of her medical work, despite his obvious bafflement that a woman would want to be a scientist. And she certainly didn’t mind the way he stared at her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.
Oh, they still sparred at every opportunity, but she’d begun to find him delightfully challenging in a way that completely unsettled her. He’d turned her world on end and stolen away her ability to concentrate on anything. But him.
Which was why she now found herself kneeling in the middle of a weed patch, thinking not about her herbs and medicines but about him, and beginning to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, he also wondered about her.
“Miss Kate!” Mrs. Elston leaned heavily against the garden wall and struggled for breath from hurrying from the house.
Her chest tightened with fledging dread as she looked up from beneath the large brim of her floppy hat. Mrs. Elston running from the house always sent up a warning inside her because it so rarely occurred. “What is it?”
“The duke…wants to ride this afternoon…insists you accompany him. And,” she panted, “he’s refusing to…let you decline.”
“Ride?” Kate puzzled, confused. “But I don’t have a horse.” Except for Brutus, and she doubted the old swayback could even fit beneath a saddle.
“Those were his words. Ride. And to be ready within the hour.”
She wanted to refuse. She should refuse. She rolled her eyes in surrender—she couldn’t refuse. Not one of his direct orders. So, heaving a sigh, she removed her gardening gloves as she climbed to her feet to return to the house and dress for an afternoon outing with a duke who insisted they go riding, apparently on a magic carpet.
An hour later, she was clean, dressed in an old forest-green riding coat and matching hat that had once belonged to her mother, and ready not to ride anywhere. With a breath of determination—and deciding to leave her riding crop behind for fear she might crack it over Edward’s head before the outing was over—she grabbed her gloves and went downstairs.
He waited in the foyer, dressed casually in the same maroon jacket and tan waistcoat and breeches he wore the afternoon he had arrived. The same afternoon two weeks ago, she recollected, when he thought he would only be at Brambly for a few hours before riding off and never bothering with her again.
She frowned. Hers wasn’t the only life her father had upended.
He sketched a bow over her hand. “Katherine, you look lovely.”
She fought down a blush. “Thank you.”
“And thank you for joining me.”
She pulled her hand free with a bit of pique. “I don’t believe I had a choice, Your Grace.”
“You can’t blame me.” He smiled at her irritation, and in response, a slow heat crept into her limbs. “A beautiful companion improves any activity.”
She caught her breath. Was he…flirting? If it had been anyone else, she might have allowed herself to believe…But certainly not him.
As she narrowed her eyes, quick suspicion curled through her. Oh, this man could be very charming when he wanted to be, which left her wondering exactly what he was up to now.
He offered his arm. “Shall we?”
He led her outside to the barn, where his chestnut colt waited, saddled and ready. She stopped, eyeing the horse and its owner equally suspiciously. “You said we were going riding.”
“We are.”
“I thought, perhaps, you meant…” A carriage, actually. Or even old Brutus. But she hadn’t expected this, or the pang of odd disappointment. Her shoulders sagged. “Two of us on one horse?”
“Why not?” But he glanced away, his lips tightening oddly.
“It’s unseemly, and you know it.” She removed her hand from his arm and from the hard muscles her fingertips felt beneath his sleeve. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
She scowled as she turned back toward the house. He’d interrupted her work and made her change—for this? Obviously, he was playing some kind of joke on her, but she wasn’t at all amused.
“So you don’t want your gift, then?” His hand closed over her elbow from behind, stopping her.
Swallowing down the flutter in her somersaulting stomach at his touch, she glanced dubiously over her shoulder at him. However much she distrusted this charming side of him, he’d still managed to raise her curiosity and draw her to him. “Gift?”
Smiling devilishly, knowing he’d caught her like a fish on a line, he let loose a sharp whistle, and Tom emerged from the barn, leading a horse behind him.
Kate blinked. It couldn’t be…“Misty?”
She couldn’t believe her eyes. Her horse! The one she’d raised from a foal but had to sell to pay the miller. Beneath the new sidesaddle and bridle, the mare’s black coat had been brushed until it shined like polished ebony, and beside the mare, Tom grinned.
Rubbing her hand down the soft muzzle, Kate stared incredulously at Edward. “You did this—you brought her home.”
He shrugged at her surprised accusation, a smile tugging at his lips, his velvet eyes not leaving hers.
“I never thought I’d see her again,” she whispered, unable to speak any louder through the sudden tightening of her chest. This was the best surprise she’d ever been given. She blinked again, this time to hold back the tears of happiness threatening at her lashes. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Brambly needed a saddle horse,” he replied casually as if the difficulty of tracking down her horse and buying it back took no effort. “You can’t very well go bouncing around the countryside on an old plow horse.” He leaned toward her, amusement shining in his eyes. “It’s unseemly.”
She laughed and threw her arms around his neck to hug him tightly. “Thank you!”
“Katherine.” Surprise sounded in his voice as his hands lifted to her back in a loose embrace.
She froze. He was…hugging her back? For a heartbeat, she felt the strength of his hard body held against hers, and heat blossomed everywhere they touched.
Then his head lowered to brush his lips across her temple, and he murmured, “Kate.”
Startled, she jumped away but not before she caught the heated look in his eyes. It fell over her like a warm summer rain, and she trembled at what she saw in his gaze. It wasn’t appreciation for her gratitude, although from the way he stared at her, she suspected he wouldn’t mind if she launched herself into his arms to hug him again—she saw arousal.
“We should go.” Her voice was far huskier than she intended as she stared at him, her eyes never leaving his for fear he might just pounce if she glanced away.
“Then come here,” he ordered gently.
Her heart skittered as she glanced around. There was no block nearby, nothing to use to mount her mare. Which meant…
He held out his hand.
Realizing what he intended, she fidgeted with her gloves. “I can mount on my own, Your Grace.”
His lips curling into a grin, he ignored her and clasped her around the waist, turning her around and pulling her back against him. It was only for a moment but long enough for her to feel the muscles of his legs pressed against the backs of her thighs, his hard chest against her back. Then he lifted her. As she settled gently onto the saddle, his hands slid down from her waist to take a surreptitious touch of her leg.
He hadn’t meant it as a caress. She knew he was only helping her onto the horse. Yet heat flared where he’d touched her, and she shivered.
Appearing oblivious to the tingle of longing he stirred inside her, he handed her the reins, then swung up onto his colt in an easy, fluid motion. He set the horse forward, only to pull up short when she hadn’t moved and glance back at her.
She arched a brow. “Is Tom joining us on foot, then, or will he ride behind you?”
He glanced down dismissingly at the boy. “Neither.”
“We need a chaperone, Your Grace.” Good Lord—a chaperone? With the way her body pulsed from even such a fleeting caress, she feared they might need two.
“Unnecessary.” He circled his horse back to hers. “You don’t need a chaperone.” He slapped the mare across the hindquarters and sent her trotting down the drive. “Not when you’re with your guardian.”
“How convenient,” she muttered, his horse settling in beside hers.
“I don’t make the rules,” he drawled with a teasing gleam in his eyes. “I just enjoy them.”
When he leaned out of his saddle and placed his gloved hand over hers, ostensibly to adjust her grip on the reins, her heart fluttered. Oh, they were going to need a dozen chaperones…
“And for some reason, Kate, I find myself enjoying your company.” His voice softened with an undertone of curiosity, as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. “Very much.”
And then her heart completely stopped. She had to swallow before her mouth found the words to stammer, “But all we do is argue!”
A slow grin drew her attention to his sensuous mouth. “I know.”
Then he pulled his hand away from hers and eased back in his saddle.
She stared in blinking disbelief, trying to comprehend what had just happened. True, his smile was full of arrogance, as if both daring her to contradict him and secure in the knowledge that she wouldn’t. But with the sunlight shining on his black hair and broad shoulders, his muscular thighs hugging the saddle beneath his tight breeches, he looked so incredibly male, so masculine she couldn’t help but stare and for so long that after several moments he arched a brow.
Turning away to cover the burst of red heat across her cheeks, she deftly threw the conversation back at him, forcing a light tease into her voice as she asked, “What else do guardians do, then, besides force their wards into scandalous afternoon rides?”
“Well,” he replied slowly as if he’d given considerable thought to that question himself, “normally, they provide a quality education.”
“Too late, I’m afraid. I already have Mrs. Elston.”
She saw his lips twitch at Mrs. Elston’s expense. “Well, then, perhaps I can provide a respectable governess for her.”
The unguarded amusement she glimpsed in him made her chest lift, and she laughed. It was so nice to see a lightness in him for once, rather than the dark brooding that seemed permanently fixed to his brow. Although she hated to admit it, Edward could be quite amusing. When he wasn’t making her furious.
“I suppose there’s always boarding school,” he added.
Her laughter choked. There was nothing amusing about that. “So you intend to send me away?” Despite her playful tone, she remembered Mrs. Elston’s warning that he wanted to improve her value in order to marry her off.
“Would that work?” he inquired impishly with a sly glance in her direction. “Because I’m certain we could find one in far northern Scotland that—”
“No.”
It was his turn to laugh, this time at the fierce scowl she shot him for suggesting such a thing.
“I thought you’d like that.” Another grin, more proof that he was enjoying himself by baiting her so mercilessly. “Learning all the important things in life, such as how to pour a proper cup of tea, speak French badly, make seating arrangements for boring dinner parties—”
Kate nearly laughed at his list of necessary skills. “I’d enjoy remaining at Brambly.”
She liked her life just as it was, happy and safe at home with her medical work and the servants. It was a small but important life, one she would never willingly surrender.
“It seems, Your Grace,” she commented as she turned the mare down the lane skirting the river, “there isn’t much a guardian can do for me, so you’d best release me from that contract.”
Ignoring her blatant attempt to get him to tear up the agreement, he instead said so quietly, so seriously, that he immediately drew her undivided attention, “Actually, there is something I can do.”
She held her breath warily.
“I can sponsor your debut.” He kept his gaze firmly focused on his colt’s flickering ears. “And secure your presentation at court.”
“You’re mad!” She sharply drew up her horse, gaping at
him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Absolutely not!”
He shot her a puzzled look, clearly not expecting that. “As the ward of a duke, you’ll be one of the most sought-after ladies—”
“To what end?” she demanded, suddenly irked.
“Marriage, of course,” he replied as if the answer were obvious.
“Marriage?” she choked out, frightened to within an inch of her life. Her guardian, discussing marriage plans—he was the only person in the world who now held the power to force her into such imprisonment. Marriage would be the end of her. “Never!”
That pulled him up straight. “You have no intention of marrying?”
“No.”
He blinked. “Whyever not?”
“Because I don’t need a husband.”
“Need aside, you might enjoy being married.”
She arched a brow in challenge and pinned him beneath her narrowed gaze. “Are you married, Edward?”
“No.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because I don’t need a husband,” he answered, deadpan.
He pressed his colt into a gentle gallop, ending the conversation and leaving her no choice but to follow.
Turning away from the river, they cut across the open fields and slowed only to splash through a shallow creek. Her mare took the water without pausing, but Edward’s colt hesitated. Just a moment’s pause, but enough for her to race several lengths ahead.
“First one back to Brambly wins!” she challenged, urging her mare into a run.
Giving a shout, he gave chase.
His horse’s giant strides ate up the distance until he caught her at the edge of the woods, yet she charged fearlessly on. Her hat flew off into the field behind her and her hair streamed loose, but she didn’t care. The race was exhilarating! She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this free, this alive.
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