Dare to Love

by Alleigh Burrows

  Instead, she had spent countless afternoons sitting near them, watching them play. Dare had been rather remote even then, but it made him all the more intriguing, like a hero in her penny-dreadful novels.

  On a few fortunate occasions, William had invited her to join them. The boys had pretended to be knights, battling to free her from a hunter’s cabin in the forest. Dare had obviously enjoyed the swordplay much more than the rescuing, but inevitably, he’d break through the door and carry her to safety. Once outside, he had twirled her around, crowing in triumph. It had always made her feel so special, like a princess saved by a hero.

  Then came the fateful day when he become her real-life hero, rescuing William from nearly drowning in the lake. That was the summer she had lost her heart to him completely.

  Yet now, as adults, he barely acknowledged her existence.

  She had hoped things would change when her father married Amelia Abbington. Once Amelia had heard Nivea had feelings for the elusive Lord Landis, she had been eager to play matchmaker. An odd twist, considering it was her own daughter who had nearly married Dare several years ago. But then Constance shocked the ton by marrying an old beau, and Nivea was once again free to dream.

  When her sister’s wedding was announced, Lady Horsham saw it as the perfect opportunity for Nivea to catch Dare’s eye. She’d swept Nivea under her wing and transformed her into, if not a swan, at least a fairly attractive duck. She convinced the family to retire to their country home to prepare, leaving Nivea in London. It had only taken a brief conversation with William, suggesting that Dare would be an ideal escort to bring her home, and the plan had been set in motion.

  “Voila! It is foolproof,” her stepmother had declared. “He is certain to fall for you by the time you reach Durham.”

  Nivea had her doubts, but had been caught up in her enthusiasm. Then Dare’s fool carriage had broken down. And she had to ride a cursed horse for hour after painful hour. Her clothes were dusty and her hair bedraggled and her mood soured. She was so miserable, she could barely look Dare in the eye, let alone draw him into meaningful conversation. It was so unfair! The only thing that kept her going was the knowledge that she would be home soon, back with her family who loved her.

  Chapter 5

  “Nivea, may I have a word with you?”

  At the sound of tapping, Nivea jerked out of a sound sleep and yanked the covers up under her chin.

  They had arrived at the small posting house just after dusk. Once again posing as brother and sister, they acquired adjoining rooms. Nivea had managed to stumble through supper before falling asleep on the bed before the maid had even left the room. If it weren’t for the sun streaming through the window, she would have guessed she’d been resting for an hour or so.

  Another rap. “Nivea, are you awake?” Dare whispered through the door.

  ‘Ummm, yes?” she squeaked, terrified he would come in and see her disheveled from sleep.

  “I need to speak with you. Please make yourself presentable and join me in the sitting room.”

  Apparently, their appalling mode of travel was not having a negative effect on Dare. He was up and ready to go. She listened to his boots stride away before swinging her feet from the bed. She flinched as her throbbing muscles reacted to the sudden movement. Slowly rising, she staggered to the dresser to drag a brush through her hair and throw on the clothes that had been laid out the night before. After a few tugs, her cobalt-striped dress fell into place.

  She then flopped on the bed and leaned over to tie her boots. And stopped.

  Hmm, that was interesting. She could easily reach her feet without forcing the breath out of her lungs.

  She sat up, then bent down again. And giggled.

  Standing up, she wiggled. Yes, there was definitely a little more room around her waist. She pulled on a blue Spencer that matched her gown and buttoned it under her breasts. Even that was easier, causing less strain on the buttonhole. How marvelous!

  Granted, she still felt like she’d been mauled by a bear, but it appeared all the exercise was doing her some good. Maybe all this horse riding wasn’t so bad.

  Oh, good lord. Surely, after twenty-five years of living with the most nutty of all equestrians, she wasn’t going to become a horse fan simply because she dropped a pound or two. No doubt her exhaustion over the past few days had just curtailed her appetite. She’d practically landed facedown into her stew last night, after all.

  Whatever the cause, she was grateful for the change. Giving a satisfied glance in the mirror, she danced across the hallway. Dare was seated at the table, set with a hearty breakfast. He stood when she entered, but he did not look directly at her. She plopped down into the chair and stared at him.

  He indicated toward the food. “Please, have some of the breakfast cakes. They are quite tasty.”

  “No, thank you,” she answered. She knew she was being silly, but couldn’t suppress a flash of irritation that he hadn’t noticed her slight physical change. Crossing her hands in her lap, she stilled. He’d said he needed to speak with her and she had a sneaking suspicion it would not be good news.

  Her misgiving grew when he took a bite and smiled at her. “Are you certain? I charmed the servant girl into providing us strawberry jam for the rolls. It will give you strength for today’s ride.”

  He was being quite solicitous. Talking to her, smiling, requesting tasty treats. What was he up to?

  His eyes skimmed her face and then darted down to his plate. Yes, he was nervous about something.

  At last, after clearing his throat, he started. “I received word last night. While I had anticipated that my carriage would catch up with us today, it is not to be. My coachmen sent word that, when the wheel broke, it damaged the entire structure and requires extensive repairs. He has arranged for another carriage, but fears it will not arrive for another day.”

  “So, what you are trying to say is…”

  “We have to ride again today.” This time, he didn’t drop his gaze. But the muscle in his jaw flexed, betraying a flicker of anxiety. Dare was never anxious. It must be a good sign that he cared about her reaction. Perhaps another day on horseback with him wouldn’t be so bad. And if it helped her slim down a teensy bit more before the wedding…

  The wedding! How could she have forgotten? “Do you think…is there a chance we will arrive at Vincent Hall today?”

  He nodded. “If we get on the road soon and keep a good pace, yes, I think we can arrive by late afternoon. Then you will have a full day to recover before Caroline’s wedding. Or we can send word to your father and have him send a Horsham carriage, but it is sure to add time to the trip.”

  No. She didn’t want to wait. As much as she had been looking forward to being in Dare’s company, she wanted to get home. “I suppose I can ride one more day. Let me break my fast and then we can proceed.”

  Picking up a roll, she took a hearty bite. Oh, it was fresh and sweet. Two more bites and it was gone, so she reached for another. The movement shot pain down her arm. She let out a slight groan and Dare winced.

  “I am sorry, you know. If my coachman had been more observant, you wouldn’t be in such discomfort.” His expression was so remorseful, she couldn’t let him suffer. True, he could have been a more gracious escort, but their current difficulties were not his fault.

  She patted his hand resting on the tabletop. “I accept your apology.”

  Their eyes met and she smiled. How could she not, gazing at such a handsome figure. The morning sun shadowed his cheeks, emphasizing the strong planes of his face and deepening his eyes to obsidian. She saw his lip begin to curl in a rakish grin. Then his eyes widened, his features hardened, and he thrust back his chair.

  “I will get the horses readied while you finish your meal. Please meet me in the yard when you are done.”

  In a blink, he was gone, and she was left with a head of questions and not a single answer.

  They were on the road within a half hour. Their mounts were
lively, and even Nivea could tell they were of higher quality. No doubt living near Horsham land raised the class of horseflesh.

  Now that she had been forced to ride for a few days, Nivea admitted it really wasn’t so bad. Certain she would not slip from the horse into an enormous lump in the road, she was able to take delight in the life around her. She smelled the flowers and freshly cut hay. She merrily greeted the wide range of humanity they encountered along the way—farmers off to market, children playing in their fields, and travelers heading for parts unknown. And best of all, she was now able to tie her boots without suffocating.

  To celebrate, she began composing a poem in her head. She had no talent for watercolors, but she’d always found poems to be a beautiful way to express her feelings. Not that she followed the normal convention—there were no couplets, no iambic pentameter. Very little structure at all. She preferred stringing words together that bubbled up from inside.

  Scanning the horizon for inspiration, she began with an ode to nature.

  Birds soar overhead

  on a gentle breeze,

  looping, swirling, without care.

  Gliding through the soft blue sky,

  over the lush green leaves

  of the forest below.

  Through the trees,

  flowers burst a show of colors,

  enhancing the beauty of the day.

  That was certainly not one of her best efforts. Maybe she should consider a new subject. Pondering a moment, she settled on a subject who’d figured prominently in most of her writings.

  Who would have thought

  I would appear

  at Vincent Hall

  astride a horse?

  Who would have believed

  as the sun warms my skin,

  and the ride thins my waist

  that I would find cheer

  astride a horse?

  Who would have guessed

  that despite all my work,

  the man whom I love

  would remain so remote

  astride his horse?

  Why would I think, dream,

  believe, guess, or pray

  that a man such as he

  would…

  Hmmm, would what? Fall madly in love? No. Be enthralled by my form? Not likely. Drop to his knee and pledge undying devotion? Ugh, that was too much to hope for.

  Fall in love would do for now. Especially since no one else would ever hear it. With a contented nod, she continued her verse.

  Dare was bored. Bored, bored, bored. There was nothing to look at except trees and sky and the nodding of his horse’s head as it meandered down the road. Clop, clop, clop, bored, bored, bored.

  Lord, how he hated the country.

  There was always something in London to keep him entertained, to keep his thoughts at bay. But not here. Surely Nivea could exert some energy to entertain him, instead of bobbing along, smiling to herself. Ignoring him.

  “Women are here for a man’s pleasure,” his father had always said. “Their happiness should be solely dependent upon making you happy.” While he did not see eye to eye with the marquess on most things—hell, on scarcely anything—Dare had always been partial to that sentiment.

  He spotted a large oak tree up ahead, split in half long ago by a bolt of lightning. Oh, yes, this would make things interesting.

  He pulled his horse alongside Nivea’s. “We’ll stop here for a brief meal.”

  Startled by his sudden pronouncement, Nivea jerked, causing her horse to dance.

  He flashed her an innocent smile as she got her mare under control. It served her right. If she had been paying attention to him, it wouldn’t have happened.

  “Where do you propose we eat? There’s nothing around for miles.”

  “Au contraire, I know a charming little spot, just up ahead.”

  As they passed the charred oak, he turned his horse down a narrow trail. The trees were overgrown, but the path was still distinguishable. It wasn’t long before the brush gave way to a clearing. Sunlight filtered through the trees, giving the spot a magical appearance. A grassy area sloped down to a babbling stream, dotted with moss-covered rocks. Tiny white, yellow, and pink flowers bloomed riotously along the banks. In the center of the clearing stood two large L-shaped stones, with a third flat rock between them, forming a table and chairs.

  He had stumbled across the path once when staying with William, and since then, had taken advantage of this inspired location with a number of young ladies. Surely, a brief flirtation with Nivea couldn’t hurt.

  Pulling his horse to a stop in the sundrenched center of the field, he announced, “The innkeeper packed us a lunch. There is bread, cheese, and a jug of cider in my saddlebag. Why don’t you lay out the meal while I take care of the horses?”

  He handed her the bag and led their mounts to the stream for a drink. Tethering them to a stump, he returned to the field to watch Nivea arrange the food on the stone table. Now, the game would begin.

  As she sliced off a sliver of cheese, he removed his gloves and ran his hands through his hair before refastening it back into a neat queue. Women loved his hair—said the sunlight turned it inky blue. And once they had touched it, they couldn’t keep their hands off, saying it was silky as a cat’s. It was sure to draw her attention.

  Nivea did not seem to notice.

  Once she finished with the cheese, she did look up, but her attention was on the surroundings, her eyes full of wonder. “How did you know about this place?”

  Warming up to his plan, he flashed her a wolfish grin and eased himself onto the boulder facing hers. With measured stealth, he reached for the cheese and removed it, while oh-so-gently caressing her palm. “There are few places in England where I have not discovered a convenient backdrop to attract a woman’s fancy.”

  As expected, her eyes grew wide. Content he now had her interest, he slowly brought the cheese to his lips. Then he closed his eyes and waited for her to speak.

  It took her a few moments longer than most women. In fact, it was such an unusually long lull, he almost peeked from under his eyelashes to see what she was about.

  Finally it came.

  “This spot is truly wonderful. Eager as I am to get home, I could remain here for hours. Thank you.”

  That was it. She was silent again.

  Now, he did have to open his eyes. Most women would take this opportunity to prattle on, hoping to dazzle him with their wit or entice him with their list of virtues. Little response or even interest was required on his part.

  But that did not seem to be her strategy.

  So, he smiled in acknowledgement and waited for her to continue.

  But no, that was all. This woman remained stubbornly silent.

  It was maddening. It appeared she had forgotten he was even there.

  How was such a thing possible? Women always paid him attention. The slightest nod of his head, or smile in their direction, ensured a blush from a virgin, or an appreciative gleam in the eye of an experienced woman.

  But not this blasted woman. She leaned over, broke off a bit of bread, and then took a sip of cider. Ate a slice of cheese, smiled at him for a for a brief moment, and returned her gaze to the riverbank.

  Really, what was she about? Yes, the area was beautiful, but it was supposed to be an attractive backdrop to set the mood. And because he was so thoughtful, the attention would be focused back on him—thank you very much.

  He narrowed his eyes to stare at her while puzzling on his next step.

  There she sat, with the sun shining on her hair and the blue of her gown enhancing the azure color of her eyes. As she leaned forward he could see the full, soft curve of her breasts straining against the fabric of her gown. In fact, if he tilted his head just so, he could see down the gap in her dress and into the valley of delicate white flesh. It was quite alluring.

  A little shiver of desire prickled through him.

  What the devil? This was just plain, plump Nivea. There was nothi
ng desirous about her. But that wasn’t true. Just this morning, after he’d apologized, her eyes grew soft, her smile sweet. Then she touched his hand and there’d been a spark. Heat. Like the intimate warmth of a lover’s touch.

  No, that couldn’t be right. Nivea didn’t make him burn.

  Peeking at her from under his lashes, he once again eyed up her lush curves, her breasts rising up with each breath. Taunting him. Then her tongue darted out to lick a drop of cider from her red lips and whoosh, fire flashed to his groin. Try as he might, he could not tear his eyes away from her.

  Damnation, what was going on? He had no business eyeing up his friend’s sister. His oldest friend’s unmarried, unfashionable, untouched sister. His code of conduct was fairly flexible, but that rule was unbreakable.

  He ripped a bit of bread off with his teeth, desperate to regain control. Of course, Nivea chose that moment to hold a conversation. “I did not expect to enjoy myself this trip. At least once the carriage broke. But I will admit, it has not been as much of a nightmare as I feared.”

  “Hmph,” he answered, his mouth full.

  “Can I tell you what the best part will be?” she said, leaning forward in a slight whisper.

  He was not so far gone that he couldn’t guess the answer—telling all her friends about the romantic lunch she shared with the rakish, rogue, Lord Landis. No doubt embellished with tales of soft words of love and gentle caresses.

  He didn’t answer, in part because he was valiantly trying to look anywhere but at the enticing bosom still straining toward him.

  Fortunately, she did not notice and continued. “The best part will be riding up to my house and seeing the total disbelief on my family’s face when they see me on a horse.”

  “What?” he gasped, choking down his food. “Why would that matter?”