Deliciously Hazardous (Regency Four Book 4)

by Virginia Taylor

  “My pride, mainly, I suspect,” she said in a breathy voice. Beneath a streak of mud, her face looked stark. “I have only ever ridden Daylight in the city. I didn’t know she was so speedy, or would be unnerved by storms.” Shrugging off his hold, she pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Let me see if all my limbs work. My arms do. Yes, my feet wriggle, so my legs must be there. Help me stand, if you will.”

  “Stay where you are.”

  Clearly dizzy, she leaned back again, her face as pale as strained cream. “Did you see where Daylight went?” she asked faintly.

  “Into the nearest paddock.”

  “If I sit here for a moment to recover, would you mind fetching her for me?” Her gaze met his, an expression in her eyes that caused a hollow in his chest. “I must know if she is unharmed.”

  He hesitated, assessing the situation. Although she appeared glassy-eyed and shaken, she had been able to speak clearly. He had no idea how her horse fared and the thought of a broken shin, or worse, niggled him. Torn between leaving her dazed, and a possibly injured animal, he rubbed his forehead, trying to put his thoughts in order. “First I will carry you to shelter. I can’t leave you sitting in the mud in this rain.”

  “My horse is more important,” she said, her voice husky. “Give me your hand.”

  He didn’t need to guess that she was on the verge of tears. Despite his reservations, he did as ordered, and she slowly pulled herself to her feet. With his reins over his shoulder, he scooped her up. Her cheek brushed his, reminding him of the only time their mouths had met. Trying to put his yen for her to the back of his mind, he carried her to the nearest sheltering tree, where he placed her in a sitting position. “I’ll retrieve Daylight. Do not move from there.” He fixed his gaze steadily on hers until she nodded.

  He jumped his horse over the hedge where he found Daylight happily grazing on long, bright green fodder. The horse lifted her head and glanced at him as if speculating about his intentions. He reached her and grabbed her reins, but taking two horses together over a hedge was a risky proposition. Therefore, he rode to the far side of the paddock and found the gate and the laneway back to the main road. All in all, this possibly took him ten minutes. In the meantime, the rain pelted down, soaking the brim of his hat and turning his collar and cravat into a gathering place for cold and discomfort.

  When he arrived back at the tree where Lady Hebe stood, she appeared to have made better use of the leafy canopy than he had managed with his hat. He dismounted, not about to drag her off in the heavy downpour. “Have you discovered any injuries?”

  “Only to my pride. Daylight has never managed to throw me before.”

  “Has she tried, previously?”

  “I would normally describe her as even-tempered. She took advantage of my dislike of lightning.”

  “Horses are not known to play fair. You need to keep a firmer grip on her.”

  “That’s all I need, to be told this is my fault.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if to protect herself.

  He wiped his hand between his wet collar and his neck. Perhaps he should wait until the battle was on an even ground before he ventured to criticize her. Words like ‘a bad rider, a bad horse’ crossed his mind, but he held his tongue. “How long have you owned her?” he asked in a careful voice.

  “Almost a year. In the city I don’t ride in bad weather, so I expect she hasn’t had such a close encounter with a storm before.” She shivered, rubbing each upper arm with the other.

  “I would offer you my jacket but I am afraid it is more soaked than yours.”

  “I don’t expect you to deprive yourself of anything for me.” A softened gaze met his.

  He squared his shoulders, not about to fall for the temptress’s imitation of a helpless female. “I would prefer not to, Lady Hebe, if I can avoid it.”

  “Because when you disrobe for me, I suspect you will be doing so for other reasons.” After her carefully enunciated words, she dropped her gaze.

  “The day will never come when I am tempted by you. You have never been my style. Fast women bore me.”

  “Surely you have grown out of your priggishness by now?”

  For a moment he stood, knowing priggishness had never entered his mind until he realized the need to put her out of his life. “Surely you know the difference between priggishness and distaste?”

  “Distaste? You are forgetting that I know another side of you.”

  “Am I to presume you are about to count a single kiss?”

  “You didn’t want to stop there, did you?”

  “I had no choice. Only those with prospects could lift your skirts.”

  “And you mourn that you had none,” she said, coolly. “You still don’t.”

  With any other women, he could ignore deliberate provocation, but her effect on him had always been the same. He wanted to grab her, shake her, hold her, kiss her, thrust inside her, and be done with her. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the steady stream forming along the side of the road rather than remember the pangs of unrequited lust his younger self had suffered for her.

  After a loaded silence, he said, “I think we should find shelter. I don’t see a change in the weather soon.”

  The flush on her cheeks had faded. She ran her hand over her horse’s wet flanks and turned back to him. “Forgive me, my lord.” Her expression relaxing into contrition, she reached out and touched him lightly on the upper arm. “I didn’t thank you for your gallant rescue. You dislike me but you came anyway. When you were retrieving Daylight, did you see a shed or an outbuilding?”

  “I saw a path that could lead to one, but the drizzle was filling my eyes and I was more intent on returning your horse to you.”

  “If you could help me mount, I’ll follow you back to the gate and we shall see what we shall see.”

  “Would you prefer me to go ahead to investigate?” His eyes finally met hers.

  “That would be a waste of time. Or perhaps I don’t trust that you might come back for me.”

  Inside his head, a stiff voice said she could rot for all he cared, but he did care, and had never been able to fight off his attraction to her. He was also sodden, and needed shelter. He helped her back into her wet saddle, followed suit, and took his mount into a smart trot toward the farm gate. As he reached the corner, he noted a large shed ahead and he headed in that direction. She followed, a length behind.

  In the distance, he saw a small farmhouse, more than likely a tenant of Langsdene’s. For reasons he would not explore, he decided to shelter in the barn rather than to ask for the hospitality of the farmer. Lady Hebe appeared to have no objection. He dismounted and opened the old barn door. The odor of well-composted manure and old straw hung over the space inside, an area large enough to shelter the two horses. With luck, the storm would pass as quickly as the weather had changed. He used his reins to tether his horse to a rusty ring nailed into the slats.

  Lady Hebe followed suit, finally managing the wet ribbon ties of her hat. Her magnificent dark red hair fell around her shoulders, dripping onto the fabric of her jacket. She straightened her shoulders and her eyes met his. “This should do nicely,” she said, politely. “Thank you, my lord, for coming after me. That was most generous of you.”

  “I was the closest volunteer. It seemed speed was more necessary than goodwill.”

  “Your distaste of me makes your rescue all the more gallant.” She shook her hair and her wet locks slid across her shoulders in sensuous waves.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering waltzing with her and being mesmerized by a tendril of her hair that had escaped to the side of her neck. He had wanted to stir the lock with a breath just to see her knowing expression. “We used to be on first name terms.”

  “I don’t mind calling you Alexander, but you appear to have an objection to using my name.”

  “I suggest we call a truce while we are in here.”

  “I don’t remember why we fell out in the first place.”<
br />
  He did. She delighted in teasing him when she knew he had to marry money. The more he tried to keep out of her way, the more uninhibited her behavior grew with more suitable prospects. “We have nothing in common, other than our friends.”

  She nodded. “Winsome and I met when we were still in leading strings. I lost her for a few years when my family shifted out of the district, but we maintained our contact by correspondence. Then, during my first season, I met Rose and Della.”

  He removed his hat and shook off the water, leaving it on a bale of straw to dry, and turned to her. “Would you allow me to remove my jacket?” he asked formally.

  “Absolutely not. I might see the true shape of your shoulders without the padding of your jacket, or I might have a glimpse of your bare wrist and be utterly overcome.”

  He rubbed a finger between his eyebrows. “By that, I assume I may. I suspect I could be naked without you being in the least interested.”

  “I must admit, I would be inclined to test that theory.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Unless I accepted your bluff.”

  “You won’t. You think you are too good for me.”

  He caught her glance, surprised. Although he kept his body in shape and his brain active, few women had proved interested in the liability of an old title and a depleted inheritance. Often he had wondered if he was merely a go-between for his friends. Certainly, he was not inexperienced, but not with any woman who would expect to marry him. Unlike a few friends, he didn’t dally with servants or prostitutes. He simply had the odd fling with women whose husbands were not satisfied with them. No harm was ever done and no relationship had ever been long term or involved any emotions other than pleasure. “Perhaps not too good,” he said in a steady voice.

  “In that case, you may remove your jacket if I may remove mine.”

  He offered her an inclination of his head. “Please do. I’m sure you need to shake off the rain as much as I do.”

  She began to undo her braid fastenings as he turned his back and shrugged out of his jacket. Grabbing the collar, he flicked off the worst of the water. When he finally glanced over his shoulder, he realized that beneath her jacket, rather than wearing a shirt, she wore a lacy chemise. Although the fabric covered her, another quick surge of unwanted desire heated his blood. Pretending he hadn’t seen her, he stayed with his back turned.

  “I expect we should have a perfectly civil conversation if you never face me. I can comment on your broad shoulders, which certainly need no padding. You also have a nicely shaped behind. I expect that’s why gentlemen are so intent on keeping their jackets on. How shocking it would be if a lady had to see too much man. Who knows what might follow?”

  Not about to let her goad him, he said, “In a barn? Nothing, I suspect.”

  “No use tempting me to test your theory. I am immune to your charms.”

  He swung around, only to see that she was smiling. “Perhaps I should say the same. Your chemise hides few of yours, but again,” he said, not resisting his urge to flicker his gaze to her cleavage. “Your gowns also hide few.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that the charms you see in me pertain to the amount of flesh I show.”

  “Which leads me to wonder why females wear low cut gowns, if they have no intent on attracting male gazes.” Suppressing a mental image of her wearing less than she did at the moment by pulling out a handful of straw from the nearest bales, he began to sluice the excess moisture from his horse. When he thought he had removed all he could, he turned. She appeared to have shaken her top too, but stood undecided as to whether or not to dress again. He sighed. “Pass that to me. I suspect I can deal with that better than a woman who needs a maid to attend to the minutiae of her day.”

  Wordlessly, she handed her jacket to him. He dealt with hers the same way he had dealt with his, a thorough shaking, and passed the garment back to her. “Will you need help to dress?” he asked with mock courtesy.

  “If you please. As you may note, my jacket has been made to fit my body and is not easily slid into.” She offered him her right arm.

  He watched while she slipped her arm into the sleeve, his vision focused on her white shoulders and the shapely hand that held her hair out of the way. Only a saint would not notice the perfect skin on the nape of her neck and the gentle rise of her breasts as she breathed in and out. Perhaps he should have noticed the quality of her lace and her ribbons, but her body was far more enticing. He had thought the same when she was a debutante of eighteen. He had been twenty-two, not ready for marriage, but certainly ready for the pleasures, therein. She and he had been part of large group of young people who had been proximate because of friends and relatives.

  The young ladies in the group were being presented for marriage. Perhaps the young gentlemen were too, but his thoughts had not been there at all. He knew he couldn’t afford any of the latest beauties. Langsdene could, but he had no plans for marriage, being newly deprived of both of his parents as well as being a young earl with responsibilities. During that time in their lives, they had drunk too much, roused the watch, and gambled until the morning in low dives he wouldn’t consider patronizing these days. Langsdene had taken a mistress, which kept him out of trouble. Rydale had discovered that the wives of older men, who had finished their families still craved a little male attention.

  As a matter of fact, only one young debutante attracted him when he was also young. These days, he saw them as tedious essentials, for he needed a wife to produce the next Rydale generation before he grew too old to care, which alternative would likely be the better idea. But as the firstborn son, he needed to find money to keep the title alive. A wife with money was his preferred choice, unless he planned to leave the title to one of his younger brothers who also would never have the funds to maintain a large country house that was currently in a state of complete disrepair.

  He eyed Hebe again as she turned her back on him to slip her second arm into the next sleeve. Now she had money, she could buy anyone she wanted, and she had already indicated she didn’t want him. While his gaze ran over her curves from behind, he wondered why she hadn’t waited for a better marriage offer than she had received from her Mr. Hampton. She certainly had the face that turned heads. But for her giving up too soon, she could have done much better for herself. He smoothed the shoulders of her jacket, making sure he had eased her into her covering, adequately.

  “Thank you, my lord. You have managed as well as my maid,” she said as she turned to face him. She patted her chemise into place as she pulled the edges of her jacket together. “Does the downpour sound a little lighter to you?”

  “I’m sure it will ease off soon, unless you are impatient to be rid of me.”

  “I’m sure I can manage to be in your presence for a few more moments. You are not particularly hard on the eye. If only you had a heart, you would be quite perfect.”

  Cynically amused, he lifted one side of his mouth. “I have no more use for a heart than you do. With people like us, marriage is all about money. That’s the reason why you married your industrialist. God knows that you could have done much better for yourself.”

  She shrugged. “As soon as I realized that I couldn’t have the only person I wanted, whom I should marry became immaterial during the only year I had to spare on the marriage market. My parents would accept the highest offer, as long as I had no objection to the man with the bid. I didn’t object to Horace, who was a kind man and really only needed a woman who would impress his friends. My title helped do that.”

  “My title is safe because I have two brothers, but I can’t say the same for my lands,” he said, not able to imagine which of his acquaintances had been ‘the only person she wanted.’ She’d shown no sign of being lovelorn back then, but she had never been one to show her feelings.

  “You are looking in the wrong places. You want someone who can’t have a title any other way. You are lining up the pretty young misses who could be snatched up by men with money as well
as titles. You need someone plain and grateful.”

  “You are right, of course,” he said, ruefully. “I simply need someone with money who is healthy enough to give me a son.”

  “Horace would have liked a son, too.” She cast her eyes downward. “But, alas, that was not to be.”

  “It’s not my business ...”

  “There is a plus to infertility, of course.” Her gaze met his.

  For a moment he stood, staring into her eyes, wondering if he had misunderstood her meaning. The directness of her gaze indicated that she had made him an offer. Apparently, she was aware that she had always heated his blood. At that moment, he craved her even more than he ever had. Her age and her barrenness put her out of his contention, but he didn’t believe that she meant what she said. She preferred to keep him on the left foot. Now she had money and was back in society, she could choose whomever she wanted. “The rain is easing. We could leave.”

  She gathered up her hair and twisted the bunch into a knot, which she held while she replaced her hat. “Do I look tidy?”

  “No one would expect you to be when your horse shot you out of cannon into the pelting rain.”

  “You look as if you just stepped out of your dressing room. I merely wanted to match the perfect Rydale. Always so smooth and correct. Always so untouchable.”

  He managed a light shrug.

  After he gave her a leg up onto her horse, he led her and his horse out of the barn, making sure he closed the door behind them. The sky was still gray, and a fine mist of rain lingered to cool the skin of his face.

  He escorted her back to Langsdene House in total silence. Apparently, she had said her piece. She and he were opposites in every way. He didn’t have a single impulsive bone in his body, whereas she never considered her words or the effect they might have on a marauding male. Another man might think she was throwing out lures to him but he didn’t doubt that she wanted to test his moral fortitude in the hope that he would fail.

  When a groom took their horses back to the stables, he walked with her into the hallway. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and reached up to place a soft kiss on his mouth. “Your reward for rescuing me, my lord. Even though you think a kiss from me is a penance rather than a thank-you.”