Moreover, she needed him at the moment. His help had been invaluable, and Aldus had taught her to prize such an asset. She would send him on his way once this crisis was over with.
Cold and cruel.
Yes, most definitely. But then, she was not just the benevolent lady of the manor. She was the Fox. And he was useful.
And you don’t want him to leave.
Lady Barrowby on horseback was truly a sight to behold. She and her mare moved as one, despite the lack of saddle and her position astride—or perhaps because of it. With the skirts of her practical dark gown covering little below her knees, she rode unashamedly, laughing as she and her mare left him and his mount behind.
He let her ride on for a moment as a thought wandered across his mind. This was so very like one of the entries in her diary that he had to wonder if she had planned it thus.
Yet, how could she know that her well would be fouled and that the horses would be in the pasture with them?
So, was it merely a happy accident? Marcus bent low and encouraged his stallion to more speed. If so, then he meant to take advantage of it.
He easily came abreast of her. She cast him an exhilarated smile. The path entered the wood and he edged his mount closer to hers.
Abruptly, he leaned in and swept her from her horse with one arm. She squeaked in alarm, but nimbly twisted as he sat her across his lap. He slowed the stallion, letting her mare run ahead.
She brushed her fallen hair back from her face. She was plainly furious. “Why ever would you do such a thing? You could have harmed Miel!”
Marcus blinked. Well, hell. Women! He thought fast. “Branch,” he said, cocking his head back the way they’d come. “A very low branch.”
Her eyes narrowed and she leaned to peer behind them. “I saw no branch. And I ride this way often.”
He nodded emphatically. “A branch. Very large. It had to be done.”
She wriggled a bit in his lap and his eyes nearly crossed.
“Well, we must catch Miel.”
“Will she not merely return to the stable looking for her oats?” Marcus tugged very carefully on the reins. The stallion’s walk slowed to an amble. “I hate to press my mount when he must carry two.”
As he’d suspected, her concern for his horse overrode her uneasiness. “Oh, of course you shouldn’t.”
Marcus said nothing more, only letting his easy, respectful hold and the rhythm of his horse’s walk soothe her fears. Of course, in his mind he’d already thrown her to the leaves and divested her of her gown, but that was a harmless diversion. His intent was not to ravish, but to ensnare.
“ ‘Tis a lovely evening,” he observed mildly. Damn, she smelled remarkable. For the rest of his life, he was going to become aroused by the clean scent of lake water.
Julia felt what was happening near her hip, but Marcus was behaving so admirably she forgave him for what he certainly could not help. Besides, it was lovely riding along in his arms, the gentle rocking of his horse allowing her to relax against his broad, hard chest.
“You were wonderful today,” she told him. “I cannot thank you enough.”
He smiled down at her. “It was nothing. I enjoy a bit of toil now and again.” He chuckled. “I think even Elliot enjoyed himself, although he made sure we wouldn’t think so.”
Julia laughed. “Elliot fears if we catch him enjoying it, he’ll be made to do it more often.”
His laughter rumbled up through her and she felt a tiny quiver run over her skin. His clean manly scent was all over her and his heat burned off the chill of her dampened gown.
“Are you cold, my lady?” His arm tightened slightly about her. She allowed it, for she longed for nothing more than to drop her head on his shoulders and close her eyes to the world.
Dangerous.
It was odd how that reproving voice grew fainter and fainter by the hour. Now it was hardly more than an echo in her mind.
Absently, she noticed that the stallion was scarcely moving now. Marcus’s heart was beating faster, she could feel it. The heat and tension between them rose in the silence and cocooned them from the real world.
She drew back to gaze up into his eyes. He was looking down at her, his hunger apparent and ferocious. She waited breathlessly for his control to break, for she longed for him to remove her from doubt and logic, but again, he did nothing but watch her.
She licked her lips. His gaze shot to her mouth. She felt him swell against her—heavens, who would have thought it could become yet larger?—but he did not so much as twitch in her direction.
He could be hers. All she need do would be to reach out her hand …
She was promised—to the Four and to Elliot, although for the life of her she could not remember why she thought she could bear to wed Elliot. However, she was not the sort to break a promise.
She swallowed. “Marcus, you are a fine man and I … admire you a great deal. But Mr. Elliot and I have an understanding—”
“I know. He told me.”
She nodded regretfully. “It would be for the best then if you and I did not …” She drew a breath. “If we did not share this …”
“This what?”
God, he was without mercy: “This attraction. Yes, that is the word. Attraction.” She straightened away from him. “I will not break my word to Mr. Elliot.”
The stallion stopped. Marcus dropped the reins and took her by the waist. She gasped and pressed her hands to his chest, gazing up at him in alarm.
He smiled slightly. “My lady, I am not going to assault you. We are but half a mile from the house. I am going to dismount to walk the remainder and I don’t want you to fall.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “I do not fall off horses,” she added, by way of awkward explanation.
His green eyes were so close. “You will if you do not release me,” he said, a teasing tone creeping into his voice.
She looked down to see that her hands were fisted tightly in his shirt. She released her grip with a small embarrassed sound. “My apologies—”
He slid easily from the stallion, leaving her feeling cold and alone and very, very disappointed.
He took up the reins and stood at the stallion’s shoulder, looking up at her. “I admire you as well. You are intelligent, capable, and stunningly beautiful. I desire you, my lady, and I will not deny it. I think you’re a fool to wed a fop like Elliot simply because you believe you can control him. A woman who keeps a lion for a pet need not be afraid of a man like me. I would lend you my strength and I would contest you when required. You would not find me convenient, for I will not be dismissed. I would never be your lapdog, but I would be much, much more.” He moved closer. “I would be your lover and your mate. I would inflame your nights and own your dreams. I would tire you to exhaustion and never, ever get enough of your luscious, naked, lovely flesh or the look that you have in your beautiful storm-sky eyes right now. You would never find me easy, Julia, but you would find me passionate, voracious, and entirely mad for you.”
She stared down at him, her eyes wide and her mouth dry. He pressed the reins into her stunned hands and bowed. “Good evening, my lady.” He turned and strode away, leaving her on his horse in the middle of the path.
“Wait!” It was only a choked gasp, but he turned.
“Wait for what, Julia? You said it yourself. You belong to Elliot now.”
She didn’t remember making a move, but the stallion stepped forward, bringing her to him like an offering. The horse stopped when she was directly before Marcus once more.
“I—” She couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, he was so hazardous for her, but she could not let him walk away. She tried to draw breath into her lungs but the need inside her was like an iron band about her ribs. “I don’t want Elliot,” she managed. “I want y—”
Her next word was drowned out by the harsh clanging of the alarm bell at Barrowby. She jerked her head up to see a black cloud rising over the treetops just ahead.
“Fire!”<
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10
He is the flame inside me, that cannot be doused, that will not be stifled. When he is within me, I burn to joyful ashes in his arms.
The stables were afire. The stored hay was dry from the previous autumn and burned like paper in the high loft above the stalls. Smoke poured from the square hay door above, and the top of the large double stable doors below.
There were no horses within, Marcus was happy to remember, for the bucket brigade from the lake was nearly useless. There weren’t enough hands and the water was too far.
Marcus turned away in an agony of frustration and spotted the cistern cover awry. “The well!”
Beppo shook his head miserably. “No, sir! We spent half the day pumping it dry!”
Julia turned to them, her expression rigid. “Beppo, bring out the casks.”
“But my lady!”
“Now! Hurry!”
Beppo bobbed a bow and ran away to gather the bucket line back into the yard. They began to roll out the carefully collected water casks in a mad scramble that cost many a barrel on the cobbles.
“There will be no water tomorrow,” Marcus said.
“Then we will fill them again,” she said harshly. “I will not capitulate.”
“What?”
But she was looking about suddenly. “Quentin! Quentin, where is Sebastian?”
Quentin’s head jerked up, horror in his eyes. “Oh—oh, my lady!”
Marcus heard her draw a sharp breath. It was the sound of a hurt child. Then she lifted her skirts and pelted toward the stable. “Sebastian! “
Marcus caught her a few steps from flinging herself into the smoke-filled building. “Julia! You cannot save him now!”
She fought him, fists and nails, but he would not release her. She grabbed at his shirtfront.
“Marcus, he might still be alive! His pen is at the far end from the flames!”
Marcus eyed the burning building. “But you cannot reach it without burning to death.”
Unless …
Elliot appeared riding his ancient mount, his eyes wide at the inferno before them. “Good God! I cannot leave you lot for a moment!”
Marcus forced Julia’s tearstained gaze from the fire to his face. “Stay. Right. Here. I have an idea.”
He grabbed up some of the rope that had earlier bound the casks to the wagons and whistled for his stallion. The horse came, wild-eyed and reluctant, but he came. “Elliot! With me!”
He pulled himself up in a running leap and tore around the other side of the stables, to the newer addition. Elliot followed at a stumbling gallop. “Who are we rescuing?”
They were out of the smoke now and could hear the panicked roars. Marcus cocked his head. “Him.”
“Oh, joy.” Yet Elliot didn’t retreat.
Marcus used his mount’s height to tie the ends of two ropes securely about the eave supports. He dismounted to fashion the other end into a sort of harness to utilize the most powerful portion of his stallion’s chest. Elliot watched for a moment, then did the same with the other rope.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Elliot said warily. “I don’t fancy being cat food.”
“He’ll be too worried about the fire.” At least, Marcus hoped so. He didn’t cherish hopes of being a lion’s dinner either.
They led their mounts to the ends of their tethers. “Now!” Marcus cried, and pulled the reins.
The two horses strained obediently, but the stable was too sturdily built. “Again!”
This time they could hear the lumber groan over the lion’s roars, but the wall stood firm.
Julia came around the side of the stable on her mare. She knew instantly the plan wasn’t working, Marcus could see it on her face.
She rode closer. “Sebastian!” Her voice rose commandingly above the din. “Sebastian, come!”
The lion’s noise ceased for a moment. Julia rode closer.
“Julia, not too near!”
But she wasn’t listening. She raised both hands to cup her mouth. “Sebastian, cornel”
A mighty impact shook the wall before them, then another. The beast was trying to get to his mistress. Marcus noted the rhythm of the thudding blows. “Now!” he cried.
The horses heaved at the same moment the lion threw himself against the wall. With a groan, the nails gave and a corner of the planking pulled free. Immediately, a giant golden paw was thrust into the gap.
“Pull!”
The horses’ hooves slid, cutting deep grooves in the grass. Marcus took hold of his rope to add his strength. The gap widened and a great golden head pressed outward, twisting into the narrow space.
Elliot’s horse slipped to one knee. The gap in the wall narrowed, trapping the lion’s head.
“No!” Julia rode forward, forcing Miel into Elliot’s rope. The tension allowed the lion to pull his head back inside just before the wall fatally compressed his throat.
Elliot’s horse was done, however. The gelding’s head hung low and his ribs bellowed.
The smoke was worsening on this side, which meant the fire was moving fast through the straw and wood of the stable. Julia slid from her horse and began to tug at the knots securing Elliot’s mount. “Quickly! We can use Miel—”
Marcus covered her hands with his own. “Julia, there’s no time!”
She was crying now, tears running unnoticed down her face. “No! We can—we can—” She halted, unable to muster any more ideas. Her face crumpled and she staggered to lean against the mare’s white side. She threw back her head. “Sebastian, come! “
The lion gave a cry that nearly matched hers and the wall shook as never before. Marcus saw the gap miraculously widen once more.
He handed his reins to Elliot. “Pull on three!” Then he ran to the wall and pulled himself up by the eave supports.
“Marcus, no!” Julia’s voice followed him. “Sebastian is panicked! He won’t know what he’s doing!”
Marcus locked one leg over the gable and braced the other foot against the still-sturdy portion of the wall. Wedging his fingers into the gap, he made ready to pull. “One! Two!”
“Marcus, no!” There was real fear in Julia’s voice. “Leave him!”
A giant paw forced itself through the gap, inches from his face. “By God, you better not eat me, you stupid overly endowed floor rug!” He took a breath. “Three!”
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, somewhere in the wall, a single crucial nail lost its hold and Marcus felt everything give way at once. He kicked off hard, hoping to get free of both the falling wall and the escaping beast, but to no avail.
Julia’s voice rose in a wail. “Marcus!”
The wall fell, pinning him by one leg. The shock of the fall knocked the breath from his lungs, and then the pain in his leg did it again. He lay on his back for an eternal instant, unable to inhale.
Above him, nearly on top of him, the lion planted himself on the fallen wall and roared loud enough to flatten Westminster Palace.
Just then, in that perfect moment of quiet when the lion’s roar had frightened even the insects into muteness, Marcus’s breath came back in a strident wheeze.
The already distressed beast started madly, then whipped his great head around to glare at Marcus with panic-maddened eyes.
Nice kitty. It would have been a lovely insouciant remark, fit to show the world his unconcern, but Marcus was scared spitless and could only muster a stutter. “N-nn—”
Sebastian sniffed deeply of him, then snorted a great gust of revolting predator breath and mucus spray. Marcus didn’t dare so much as wipe at his lips.
“Sebastian.” Julia’s soothing voice came from far too near. “Sebastian, come away, pet.”
Marcus jerked his head back to look at her. “Get. Back.”
The lion growled at Marcus’s hissed command. Then something caved in the stable fire and a scorching, spark-laden wind exploded from the gap in the wall. The lion leaped from the fallen wall and bounded into the dar
kening twilight as if he had the hounds of hell behind him.
Elliot and Julia rushed forward. “Marcus!” She knelt at his side. “How badly are you hurt?”
“Wipe my face! Wipe my face!”
She did so with her sleeve pulled over her hand, laughing damply. “Don’t be such an infant, Marcus. It’s only a bit of lion slime.”
Elliot managed to shift the wood and Julia helped Marcus scramble backward from beneath it. As he limped away, supported by the two of them, Marcus could feel the heat on his back as the fire roared into the space recently occupied by His Heinous.
“That creature owes me greatly,” he informed Julia.
She smiled at him gratefully, making him feel like a giant. “We both do.”
“I like fur rugs,” he said. “Big, hairy, yellow ones.”
She laughed and thumped him in the ribs. “Be nice. It isn’t his fault. He was so very frightened.” She sighed and looked over her shoulder at the darkness.
“He’ll come back.” Marcus said.
She turned back to gaze up at him, worry in her eyes. “Will he?”
Marcus smiled down at this mad, odd, astounding, splendid woman. “How could he stay away?”
There hadn’t been enough hands to stop the flames, only contain them. The stables were naught but blackened wreckage, wisps of smoke still drifting up from the piled char.
Julia stood in the yard, gazing at the debris. Her face was as pale as the ash in her hair.
“Who is doing this?” Her choked whisper carried back to Marcus as he came up behind her. “Who would hate me so?”
“You are only asking that now?”
She turned to blink at him dully. “I thought I knew who—or at least why. There are some people who do not wish me to succeed at something I am attempting …”
She believed the Three would do this to her? Well, yes, they might do such a thing if the situation warranted it, for mercy was not truly their business, but there was no reason for the malicious turn of the things that had happened at Barrowby.
She went on. “Yet I do not believe they would do this … at least not in response to anything I have done.”
Her thoughts matched his own, yet Marcus wondered. Lord Liverpool had been so very adamant … and the Prime Minister was not known for his mercy, either. Of course, he was back in London now, but everything was for hire, if the price was high enough.
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