“Wake up, Brianna. Wake up.”
Her shoulder jostled. An instant pounding in her head followed it. Her belly was cold—Sebastian’s arm was gone.
Brianna groaned, rolling over to her side on the bed. It took her several seconds to convince herself to open her eyes against the knives of pain slicing into her brain.
Her left eye buried in the pillow, her right eye opened.
Still in the strange place, and she could see Sebastian moving across the room, shrugging himself into a white linen shirt. It all flooded back to her. She was in the Twisted Oak Tavern in Clavenshire. With Sebastian. And she was naked under the sheet.
She had drunk far too much last night. Far, far too much.
Her left eye opened.
Sebastian saw her movement and came to the side of the bed, his fingers brushing aside a chunk of hair that hung haphazard across her cheek into her face.
“You are awake—finally.”
“It is late?” The words croaked out, fighting her dry throat and swollen tongue.
“It is.”
“I do not usually sleep so long.”
“I am aware. I do believe this is the first time I have woken before you.” He stepped away from her, pulling on his dark waistcoat and coat.
The insistent hammering in her head unyielding, Brianna could not move from the position on her side she had landed on. She watched Sebastian quickly tie his cravat. He was in a hurry. In a hurry to escape her?
“Seb?”
He turned to her. “Yes?”
“Last night—was I a twit? Embarrassing? There is a reason I do not touch wine.”
An easy smile came to his face. “No, and no. You were…energetic.”
Her eyebrows arched.
“You do not believe me?” He came across the room to her and sat on the edge of the bed, his hip snugged next to her thigh. “Do you not remember?”
“I remember most of it.” Her arm went up, her fingers scratching the hair just above her forehead. “Until we got back here.”
“You dropped—fell asleep.” His easy smile turned into his devil smirk.
“I did? But the tree—I thought we...”
His hand went on her hip, rubbing it, his fingers slipping across her backside. “Apparently, my romantic wiles are no match for your weak belly. We were only up three stairs before you collapsed on me.”
“You had to carry me?”
He shrugged. “You are not the first woman I have had to carry.”
She reached back, grunting, and grabbed a pillow behind her, throwing it at him. He caught it, but it still nicked his head, mussing his brown hair. He tossed it back onto the bed.
“But you are the last, Bree—whenever and wherever you may need carrying.” He bent forward, kissing her bare arm, and then stood.
Brianna watched as he went over to his boots by the door and sat on the wooden chair next to the fireplace to put them on.
His brown eyes came up to her. “Speaking of your belly, I am going down to get you some food for your stomach before we move on to the race course.” He stood, walking over to her and then bent to kiss her forehead. “I think that will help your head.”
She grumbled a few words that didn’t make any sense, and she knew it, but didn’t bother to try again.
He chuckled. “In a different development, my jockey broke his wrist last night.”
“How?”
“Something about a bet and a tree and a rope that was on its last threads.”
She stared up at him, trying to make sense of his words. “So your horse will not be racing today?”
“The jockey will not be. The horse will. I will be riding it.”
“You? But are you not far too large?”
“Thank you, I think, for the compliment. But this is a much more informal local race, and not bound by the likes of the Jockey Club. I only need to show the horse in the best possible light to Lord Bayton. It is the race he wanted to see Red Swallow in, so see her he shall.”
Sebastian pointed to the second chair by the fireplace. “I took the liberty of laying out your riding habit. We do need to make it to the course soon.”
“So you are rushing me?”
“Yes.” He winked.
With that, he was out the door, and Brianna flopped onto her back, trying to still her throbbing head. What had happened to all of her control? One mug of wine, and she had bandied about all night like a lovesick chit.
She groaned to herself. Sebastian was making her ponder too many fanciful notions. Notions of a normal life, of no responsibility. Notions that she had no right to entertain—not if she was to protect what needed to be protected.
Her head fell to the side, sinking into the deep pillow as she looked out the window. Sebastian had pulled wide the heavy curtains and opened the windows. A breeze wafted in, and Brianna could smell cooking meat—probably from the kitchens behind the tavern. Her stomach turned. She wasn’t sure she could keep down anything Sebastian did bring to her.
Taking a deep breath to steady her stomach, she watched the teardrop leaves on the branches outside the window rustle in the wind, somewhat at a loss of what to think about. She was days away from Notlund, so there was nothing to manage at the moment.
Only Sebastian in front of her.
Him, she could think about, even though her mind screamed at her to be cautious. To not feel too deeply.
But maybe she could enjoy him for just these few days. No harm could come of it. Enjoy his company. She couldn’t deny he was refreshing to be around—he was witty, and he made her laugh with every other comment he made. Her whole soul felt lighter when she was next to him.
Not to mention he was a handsome man to look at.
And when he looked at her with his devil grin, she could do little to slow her racing heart.
Her hand went to her forehead, rubbing it, trying to banish the ache in her head. If she was going to give herself this margin to relax, she didn’t want it ruined by a foggy brain.
Relax. She could do it.
Just until they got back to Notlund.
Enjoy the day. The journey home.
Then she would refocus.
~~~
Brianna leaned out from the high, but rickety, platform, her gloved hands gripping the wood railing so she didn’t topple over into the crowd below. Popping in and out of view, she could catch glimpses of Sebastian’s form on the far end of the line of jostling horses.
He looked to be having a grand time, laughing with a jockey on an adjacent horse and yelling into the crowd.
In just his white linen shirt and buckskin breeches, he looked particularly relaxed—and strong. The mare, Red Swallow, a tall, sleek black horse, was antsy and proud—Brianna could easily discern that from this distance.
Sebastian had said Red Swallow was built for racing—one of the finest they had produced at Notlund—and if the posturing of the mare was any indication, Sebastian was very right.
“Have you ever watched the races, Lady Luhaunt?”
Looking to her right, Brianna pulled herself back behind the railing, turning to smile at the rotund man stopping next to her. “No, Lord Bayton. This is my first time.” Brianna glanced over her shoulder to the line of horses, trying to keep an eye on Sebastian.
“Truly?” Lord Bayton handed her one of the full wine glasses he held in his hands. “For your husband mentioned you were quite the horsewoman.”
“He did? I am positive he exaggerated my abilities.” Brianna clutched the glass, holding it by her belly. She couldn’t even imagine the liquid touching her lips in that second.
“Luhaunt does not pansy about the truth when it comes to the subject of horses—his reputation is the only reason I am even considering allowing a match with my stud and that mare.” Lifting his glass of wine, he pointed with his pinky to the horse Sebastian sat atop. “So I imagine he was earnest in the compliment he paid you.”
Brianna offered a humble smile. “It was a generous th
ing for him to say. I do appreciate the stables at Notlund. I have truly never ridden such a lot of fast horses. It took me some time to decide which one I favored most.”
“Which one did you choose?”
“Moonlight—she is at the stables by the tavern if you would like to see her. She is as fast as the wind, and her nature fits me quite well. I believe the duke told me she shares a sire two generations back with Red Swallow. Though she does not have the obvious swagger like Red Swallow.” Brianna looked out to the line of horses, finding Sebastian. “Moonlight just wants to be ridden for the sake of running fast.”
“A horse pure of spirit?”
Brianna laughed. “Something akin to that. Although I imagine my husband would think me fanciful if he heard that.”
“Understanding horses is not fanciful, Lady Luhaunt,” Lord Bayton said, the tone of his voice heavy with the utmost seriousness.
“You sound as if you know them well, Lord Bayton. Do tell me about your studhorse that Sebastian is so keen to match with two of his mares.” Smiling, she shifted the wine glass to her other hand. “However did you come about him? He must be something special if Sebastian cares deeply enough about impressing you that he is riding in the race.”
Lord Bayton’s mouth cracked with a wide smile, his plump ruddy cheeks rising high on his face. “My dear, it is a grand story. I am sure you will delight in it.”
Brianna spent the next half hour listening to Lord Bayton and wondering two things. One, she wondered if the man would ever take a breath. And two, she wondered how long it took a horse race to start.
Just when Brianna was about to break and take a sip of her wine for the thirst that had consumed her, she was saved.
Lord Bayton interrupted himself, pointing out to the course. “They are to begin. It is the final straight-away up the hill at the end I am most interested in.”
“Where is that?” Brianna asked.
“There.” He pointed to the hill leading up to the finish line, marked with a slew of ribbons fluttering in the wind from a rope strung between two trees.
Lord Bayton turned back to the line of horses, tracing the course with his finger. “They run the straight course, then turn to the right behind those trees and make their way past the adjacent side of this platform. The track is almost V-shaped. And then that—that hill will determine the stamina of any horse. That is what I came to see.” The excitement on Lord Bayton’s face had him sputtering words.
Brianna nodded just as the crowd cheered. Her eyes whipped to the starting line in time to see the frenzy of the horses bursting into action.
Nine horses hit the straight-away, and Brianna searched until she found Sebastian riding hard in the middle of the pack, angling for a space to break out and set Red Swallow free.
Brianna went to her tiptoes, one hand gripping the railing as she found herself nearly bouncing with the excitement. The set of horses disappeared behind the trees.
“Come, come, Lady Luhaunt.” Lord Bayton grabbed her elbow, dragging her to the other wide area of the platform that faced the finish line.
Breath held, Brianna leaned back and forth off the railing on the new side, trying to gain position to where she could clearly see the horses past the jostling heads in front of her.
The first horses rounded the trees, breaking into view, and the crowd erupted. Screaming, chanting, the masses below Brianna went frenzied, cheering for their chosen horses.
Her eyes scanned the field. The string of horses had thinned around the corner, the fastest four breaking forth while the other five fell back. Sebastian was one of the four, jammed between two horses and trailing the leader as they rumbled past the crowd and the high platform.
Her eyes flew to the finish line and back to Sebastian. The horses were just hitting the bottom of the hill. If Sebastian was going to break free, he needed to do it now.
Whipping his horse hard, the jockey to Sebastian’s left made a break to push his horse past the frontrunner. It gave Sebastian an opening, and he followed suit, going for the opening to the frontrunner’s left.
Halfway up the hill, the jockey in the lead yanked his horse hard to the left, ramming into Red Swallow.
A mass of jumbling horse-flesh, and Sebastian went flying.
He crashed to the ground, tumbling down the hill into the path of the trailing horses—horses thundering down at him.
Brianna’s world froze in horror.
The first two horses cleared Sebastian, jumping over his prone, still-rolling body. But the next horse didn’t veer, didn’t jump, and Brianna watched in terror as one hoof came down on Sebastian’s leg, and then a hoof came down at his head.
Her wine glass shattering on the platform, she flew to the ground, shoving her way through the crowd, screaming Sebastian’s name before the last horse passed him.
Full speed onto the course, she could see several men had already reached Sebastian, surrounding him, blocking her view.
Her feet lead, she ran. Slow. Too slow. She needed to get to him.
Seconds that felt like an eternity passed and she ripped her way in-between two men blocking her from Sebastian, skidding onto her knees. His head turned away from her, she grabbed his face, hovering over the top of him.
He blinked, looking up at her.
“Se—” Her voice choked, no air to speak.
Her fingers ran over his face, his head—his cheeks, forehead, muddy. But the whites of his eyes were there. His brown eyes. His beautiful, kind, mischievous brown eyes looking up at her.
“Seb.” The word came out this time.
He grimaced a smile at her.
“You are not dead?”
He shook his head the slight bit he could with her hands clamped to his face.
She collapsed, her forehead falling onto his chest.
Not dead.
Her heart pounding, it took excruciating seconds for her to lift her head. “Are you hurt?”
Without an instant answer, her hands immediately ran over his body, searching frantically for broken bones, for blood. Brianna didn’t stop until Sebastian pushed himself up onto an elbow, grabbing her wrist to still her.
“I am whole, Bree. Roughed up, but I will survive.” He looked up at the small crowd surrounding them, shooing with his head. “I am in one piece, everyone. Go congratulate the winner. Gather Red Swallow.”
The men surrounding them dispersed slowly.
Her breath still out of control, Brianna waited until the last man ambled away, her hands resting on Sebastian’s thigh. Squeezing his leg, she moved so her eyes were in front of his.
“Your face, Seb. You are in pain and you do not want anyone to know.”
His eyes narrowed at her. “How do you see that?”
“How could I not? I do see you, Seb, even if you may think I try everything to avoid doing so.”
Sebastian sighed, pushing up from his elbow to sit upright, gingerly bending his left knee to rest his elbow on. He flicked a finger out toward the leg still flat on the ground. “My ankle. The horse stepped on it. I do not think it is broken, but it is in wicked pain.”
Brianna moved sideways to look at it, then started to stand. “Let me go get one of the men.”
“No.”
She dropped back to her knees.
“Not in front of Bayton. I need to walk off this course. The man is judging me right now, Bree, and I do not want to forfeit my chance with him because I cannot stand a little pain.”
A quick glance back to the platform above the crowd told Brianna that Lord Bayton was indeed, watching them. “What do you need me to do?”
“Be my crutch. Can I wedge you under my arm?”
“Of course.”
“Can you handle my weight? I do not want to crush you.”
“Do I look crushable?”
That brought a smile to his face. “Proven once more, the excellent choice in a wife I have made.”
He nodded to the platform. “Will you stand and block the view to Bayton
while I get to my feet? But no helping me—not until I am up and it looks like I am just strolling down the hill with my lovely bride.”
Brianna stood, her fingers twitching to help him, but she forced them to stay at her sides.
With a grunt, agony crossed Sebastian’s face as he heaved himself to standing.
She waited until he stood solid on his good leg before springing forth, wrapping her arms around his waist, her cheek tight to his chest. She took a moment to listen for his heartbeat.
“A hug?” His hands went around her.
She nodded, her cheek rubbing against his mud-caked linen shirt as she squeezed him without caution to any bruising his ribs may have taken.
Loosening her hold, she looked up at him, slightly embarrassed at her actions. “And easier to slip nonchalantly under your arm.”
She released him, sliding one hand across his back for support while spinning so his arm rested atop the back of her shoulders. His weight on her was immediate, and Brianna had to lock her knees.
“Nicely done, my wife.” Sebastian motioned with his free hand. “Shall we go speak to Lord Bayton?”
At that moment, a horse and rider crossed their path. Brianna immediately recognized the horse.
She looked up at Sebastian. “Can you hold in place for a moment?”
“Why?”
“I need to speak with that jockey.” She started to lift his arm from her shoulders.
Sebastian clamped down on her. “No. You will do no such thing.”
“But it is not fair.” Brianna tried to wedge up his fingers that tightly gripped her upper arm. “He rammed his horse into you.”
“It happens in races, Brianna.”
“And it is not fair, and I am going to blast him for it.”
His other arm went across the front of her, holding her in place. “That, you are not going to do.”
Brianna tried to wiggle from his grasp.
“Why are you so mad about this?”
She gave him a perturbed look, realizing she wasn’t going anywhere. “If you must know, I bet on you to win the race and just lost a sizable amount.”
“You did?” The devil smirk landed on his face. “You bet? On me? I would not have thought that of you.”
Lord of Fates: A Complete Historical Regency Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 42
