Beaming with happiness, she pressed herself lower over the mare’s neck and urged her faster.
“Surrender!” Edward shouted as he moved his horse even with hers.
“Never!”
“You can’t outrun me.”
She didn’t have to outrun him, only outsmart him.
She pulled the reins sharply to the right, and her little mare darted down a narrow trail into the woods.
Edward jerked back in surprise at her quick maneuver, but his large horse was slower than hers to turn, its stride too powerful to stop quickly. With a laugh at her cunning, he expertly spun the colt into a tight circle and charged after her. He caught up with her easily, but the trail wasn’t wide enough to overtake her.
“I’ll pass you in the open fields,” he warned from behind, and she felt her pulse speed from the thrill of the chase and from the smooth sound of his deep voice swirling through her.
“Probably,” she called out over her shoulder, flashing him a mischievous smile.
“I’ll win!”
“Oh no, you won’t!”
When they broke out of the woods and the trail spilled into the open field, he dug his heels into his horse’s sides, and it surged forward, its hooves pounding into the turf as it flew past her black mare.
From her vantage point, she saw his hard muscles ripple beneath the jacket as it drew taut across his shoulders and his thighs tightly hug the saddle. He mesmerized her. He was utterly fluid on horseback, as if he’d been born in the saddle, and she’d never seen a better horseman in her life. She could have watched him ride like that for hours.
But she wanted to win the race even more. She leaned low in the saddle and urged her mare on.
They galloped in the open now with only a short stone wall and a field of a few hundred yards between them and the barnyard. There were no more narrow trails or trees for her to duck into, but her mare was small and quick. She could easily win over the fences—
“That way!” he shouted and pointed down the field to send her away from the wall.
His colt wanted to jump the wall and head straight back to the stable, tossing its head and fighting for the rein, but she knew from the way his strong hands expertly kept the horse in check that Edward didn’t think she could safely make the jump and that instead they should take the long route back to Brambly. But if they did that, he would win.
“I can make it!” she yelled.
“Go around!” he ordered.
Letting him get a few yards ahead, she pulled up her horse, changed directions, and headed straight for the wall.
“Kate, no!”
Just as she set the mare for the jump, out of the corner of her eye she saw his horse rear into the air and spin on its hind legs, then charge after her. He was bearing down on her, the large colt’s strides eliminating the distance between them before the mare’s hooves even left the earth. Landing easily on the other side, she heard the loud pounding of Edward’s horse at her shoulder, the beast not even pausing in its stride as it took the jump.
Edward snatched the mare’s bridle into his fist and pulled both horses to a stop. A sharp curse exploding from him, he swung to the ground. He clamped his arm around her waist and jerked her from the horse, slamming her back into his chest with a teeth-jarring thud.
For a moment, he held her suspended against him, her feet dangling in midair.
“Edward?” she whispered fearfully.
In answer, he carried her to the wall and dropped her onto it, her bottom bouncing on the stones and making her wince. Then he placed his palms flat on both sides of her and leaned in to trap her with his body.
She shivered as she stared up at him. The look on his face was murderous.
* * *
Damned woman! Gritting his teeth, Edward shook both from anger and from the terror that stabbed him when he saw her turn for the wall. Foolish, reckless—did she want to break her damned little neck?
He clenched his jaw so hard that the muscle in his cheek twitched. “What the hell do you think you were doing?”
With a frown of confused irritation, she pushed against his shoulders to move him away, but he wasn’t about to budge. “I took a jump.”
“In a new saddle on a horse you haven’t ridden in months—you could have been killed.” He’d seen it happen too many times during the war, when green horses threw their riders or fell jumping barriers, when new saddle straps simply snapped. Even good riders were killed falling beneath their horses, trampled by pounding hooves, their necks and backs broken when they hit the ground. And the thought of Kate falling…His hands shook from imagining it, his heart thudding painfully against his ribs.
“I was fine.”
“I told you to go around,” he snapped.
Another futile push, another irritated scowl. “We were racing, and I couldn’t win if I didn’t take the jump—”
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her once. Hard. Her eyes flew open wide. Good. Now he had her attention.
“I’m responsible for protecting you. If you’d fallen, if you’d been hurt—” His hands tightened on her arms. “Christ, Kate!”
She gasped as he took her chin and forced her to look at him. Reflexively, her hands reached for his shoulders to keep herself from tumbling backward off the wall, and her fingertips dug into the muscles beneath his jacket.
“Do not ever defy my orders again,” he warned.
Her chin jutted up the way it did whenever he upset her. Which seemed to be all the blasted time. “I took a jump—”
“If you do, I swear,” he seethed, “I will send you away.”
Her breath hitched, her mouth falling open as she gaped at him. “You wouldn’t dare!”
But he would do exactly that—he’d send her away and never let her return. He’d done it to his men in Spain when they defied his orders, and he’d certainly do it to her, too, if it meant protecting her and saving her life. “I will.”
“This is my home. I will never leave it.” Her eyes flared in challenge. “Even if you burn Brambly to the ground to force me away, I’ll erect a tent in the ashes and keep warm sleeping on the embers!”
His body drew up tight and tall in response to the fight in her. She had been right about him. He wasn’t used to being contradicted, certainly not by a woman.
But this hellcat was no ordinary woman. Even now, instead of being intimidated and frightened, she stared boldly back, her hands clenched into fists, those full lips of hers pressed together stubbornly. Aggravation at him gripped her enough that she panted with it, her breasts rising and falling tantalizingly beneath her coat with each quick, shallow breath, and he could feel the heat of her body through his jacket and along his legs where his thigh pressed against hers.
“And you will stop ordering me about!” She smacked his hand away from her face. “I am not one of your men, Colonel.”
He clasped her chin again. “Trust me, angel,” he rasped, his voice husky as he tilted her face upward, “of that I am well aware.”
His mouth swooped down and captured hers.
The kiss was so sudden, so predatory, that she gasped beneath his lips and her body stiffened in his arms, but she made no move to push him away, and so he made no move to temper the onslaught of his mouth as it ravished hers.
Then she softened against him with a trembling whimper of surrender, her body arching up from the wall to press against his as she returned the kiss. Her hands at his shoulders no longer clung to him to keep from falling away but to keep him pulled close. The tip of her tongue darted out hesitantly to touch his—
He groaned and shoved his fingers deep into her tumbled hair, not to stroke through her loosened curls but to cup her head against his palm, to keep her mouth molded against his.
His tongue pushed her lips apart to thrust inside and claim her in the kiss he’d wanted to take since the moment he saw her glide down the stairs that first night at Brambly, appearing both so desirable yet so unobtainable. Her kiss was jus
t as wonderful as he’d imagined. Spicy and sweet, moist and hot—she tasted of honeysuckle and woman, unbelievably delectable.
“Edward,” she moaned, his name a plea against his lips that shivered all the way through him to the tip of his cock.
He ached to touch her, and his hand at her hip drifted slowly up toward her breast—
“Miss Kate! Your Grace!” Mrs. Elston’s shrill shout echoed across the countryside. “Where are you?”
He pulled back, breaking the kiss but not releasing her from his arms. Just far enough away to glance over her shoulder and see in the distance that Tom had captured both horses as they ran back to the barn and that Mrs. Elston stood on the front portico of the house, glancing frantically around, trying to spot them.
“Let me go,” she whispered.
“It’s all right.” His voice came hot and ragged against her ear. “She can’t see us from there.”
But her hands shoved at him, slapping against his shoulders and chest. “Let me go!”
Immediately releasing her, he caught her hand. “It’s all right,” he repeated calmly, trying to make her understand that her reputation was safe. “She’s too far—”
“Why did you kiss me like that?” she demanded, her face flushing bright red, although he couldn’t have said whether from anger or embarrassment.
“Because I wanted to.” Such a childish thing to say, yet true. He’d wanted to kiss her. Desperately. “And so did you.”
She didn’t deny it—couldn’t deny it, not with the way she’d responded to his kiss. But a look of heated confusion crossed her face, a fierce bewilderment and self-recrimination evident in her flaring eyes.
“Good Lord, chit,” he muttered in surprise, “it was just a kiss.”
Her hand rose to touch her lips, still red and moist from his. “No.” She turned her face away. “It wasn’t just a kiss.”
Not just a kiss? Of course, it was. It was nothing more than…Oh Lord.
Her first kiss.
Trying not to let the surprise and guilt register on his face, not wanting to make her embarrassment any worse than it already was, he slowly released her hand. “My apologies, Kate,” he said gently. “I didn’t realize—”
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Edward, please—don’t say anything.”
And for once, without argument, he did exactly as she asked.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kate stood in front of her bedroom window, staring out at the rainy night. The room was cold, the fireplace dark, but she didn’t have the energy or will to light a fire. Anyway, she didn’t want to face the light, not tonight. Tonight, she wanted to hide.
She hung her head in her hands, guilt and shame clenching in her belly. What had she done? Her first kiss, her very first kiss…oh God!—why did it have to be with him? The man who was ruining her life. The man who wrenched control of Brambly away from her. How could she be so weak and foolish? Of all men, him!
When Edward pulled her from her horse and admonished her like a child, she had been furious with him. How dare he speak to her like that! Her control of Brambly had been snatched away, her life upended—and he was angry because she’d dared to take a jump? But she’d gone too far in arguing and pushed him. And he pushed back. Deliciously.
Demanding and fierce, his kiss tasted of man and fire, and she’d lost herself in the sensation of him, shamelessly moaning against his mouth as the white-hot fury she’d felt pulse through him just moments before was instantly replaced by something just as hot, something just as barely restrained…something she desperately wanted to push to the limits, then follow willingly over the edge.
But then, the way he’d looked at her afterward, as if it had all been a horrible mistake— Blasted man!
The worst part was she didn’t know if she should be furious at him or ashamed at herself, because she’d liked it. Very much. And very much wanted to do it again.
Wringing her hands, she restlessly paced her room¸ as if pacing could calm her racing heart and squelch the memory of that kiss. But it wouldn’t. She needed air and space, needed to be someplace where she could think and figure out what to do about him.
Silently, she left her room and made her way downstairs in the dark to the sitting room.
As she stood in front of the fireplace and stared up at her mother’s portrait, hot tears of confusion and frustration burned her eyes. She’d lost control of Brambly and her life, with no idea how to get it back.
“What am I going to do?” she whispered to her mother.
“To begin with,” Edward answered quietly from across the room, “I’d demand an apology for my behavior this afternoon.”
Startled, she spun around, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Thank God the darkness hid the scarlet flush of her cheeks at her embarrassment of being caught seeking out her dead mother for solace, and the quick suspicion flared that he’d been spying on her. She clenched her fists. If he said one word to her about that—just one word—oh, she’d make him regret it!
Instead, he pushed himself out of the chair and asked quietly as he approached, “Are you all right?”
Her shoulders sagged. However much she wanted to believe he was just despicable enough to be spying on her tonight, his casual state of undress told her otherwise. His shirt hung untucked around his hips, with his cravat already removed and his unbuttoned waistcoat dangling open across his chest. All of it denoted his expectation of being alone. So did the glass of port in his hand.
In the shadows, he looked dark, dangerous, and incredibly masculine. So much so that she shivered as she remembered the way that same tall, lean body had pressed against hers that afternoon. How that same mouth, which now pulled down into a concerned frown, had tasted on her lips.
“I’m fine,” she answered. But she was so very far from fine.
Believing her with a slow nod, he set his drink aside to start a fire in the cold hearth. The flames gradually took hold in a small fire, but large enough to cast a warm light into the night-chilled room.
“When I was a child, I was afraid of the dark,” he admitted, rocking back onto his heels to stare into the flames. “I used to keep candles burning all night. After Nanny tucked us into bed, I’d crawl from beneath the covers and light one.”
She hesitated…then, her curiosity about him simply too strong to ignore, asked, “Did you ever get caught?”
“Eventually.”
“When?”
“The night I nearly burned down Hartsfield Park.”
Despite herself, she bit back a bubble of laughter. “I found you sitting in a dark room, so you must have overcome that fear.”
He nodded. “I found something even more frightening.”
“What?”
“War,” he commented dryly. Brushing off his hands on his thighs as he straightened, he glanced at her. “I don’t recommend it as a cure for children.”
“I should think not.”
A wry smile twisted at his mouth, then faded into a grimace. He took a deep breath. “Katherine, it’s obvious that we’ve been at cross-purposes since my arrival.”
She stiffened, steeling herself. His voice assumed a formal tone, as if reciting a practiced speech, and with each word, her stomach pinched harder in warning.
“I had no intention of causing problems,” he continued apologetically. “I came here because I thought you were just a child, to make certain you had a proper home and staff to care for you. When I learned the truth, the circumstances were such that I felt I had to remain longer than expected. But now, I’ve seen all I need to.” He reached for his glass and swallowed down the remaining port, signaling the end of his speech. “I’m leaving in the morning.”
Her throat tightened. Edward was leaving. That was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it? For him to go away, for her life to return to the way it was before he arrived…Wasn’t it?
“Then I wish you safe travels,” she murmured, too stunned to know what else to say, except…“I hope you’
re able to visit us again soon.”
He studied her over the rim of his glass, his lips twitching. “Why do I doubt your sincerity?” When she opened her mouth for a cutting retort, he interrupted, “Apologies. You have every right to be angry with me. This afternoon, I forgot who you were.”
She frowned, puzzled. “You forg—”
“Brannigan will arrive in a few days, and you’re quite capable of taking care of yourself until then. If you need anything Brannigan can’t handle, I’ll send my attorney.” Then he added with a wry smile at some private joke she didn’t understand, “In the future, I’m certain Meacham will feel the need to oversee all matters concerning you himself.”
Folding her arms, she lifted her chin. “So for the rest of my life, I’m to live as a guest in my own home?”
“Until you marry.”
“Then it is for the rest of my life.” Grimly, she shook her head. “Shackled forever to a man who isn’t even my husband.”
His jaw tightened as if insulted. “Dozens of young ladies in London wish for nothing more than to be attached to me for the rest of their lives.”
“Then, by all means, you should ask one of them to be your ward.”
He arched a brow and drawled, “Being my ward isn’t the position they want to occupy.”
She gaped at him, shocked at such a brazen innuendo. He’d meant…oh, the devil take the man!
“Don’t worry, Kate. You won’t be under my care long,” he assured dryly. “Some brave man will come along and offer for you. For all that you’re stubborn, challenging, sharp-tongued—”
Her lips pressed into an irritated line. “Why, thank you.”
“—you’re also quite beautiful.”
Her breath caught. Beautiful. The word hung in the silence between them until it dissolved beneath the rain striking against the windows. In the flickering shadows of the firelight, they stared at each other, neither moving, neither looking away.
Finally, she replied, “So I’ve been told.” She arched a dubious brow. “And what good is it?”
* * *
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