Julia London 4 Book Bundle

by The Rogues of Regent Street

  Now what in the hell was he to do? “Saddle the mare,” Adrian snapped, and whirled around, glaring out the door. That parish princess, that Thief-of-Stallions would be very, very sorry indeed that she had pulled such a childish, foolish stunt. For all he knew, she had already broken her silly neck. What was she thinking? Of course he had given her leave to do whatever she wanted, but he had thought she might at least use a bit of common sense! What was in a woman’s mind? Hell, it hardly mattered, because—

  A thought suddenly struck him, and slowly he folded his arms across his chest, quietly seething. Was it possible that the little featherbrain was still pouting about something? Was she trying to anger him? Well, the evil country bumpkin had succeeded admirably. Lord help her when he found her scrawny little hide!

  He glared at Bottoms as he swept up onto the mare, demanded to know which direction she had taken, and sent the horse galloping after her.

  His humor did not improve, given that he had quite a time finding the little wretch. Several of the tenants had seen her, beaming with idiotic grins as they pointed in the direction she had ridden. What a darling, some of them said. A darling all right, he thought, still seething. A darling of the devil!

  He was on the verge of giving up and assembling a search party—convinced the stallion had killed her by now—when he saw Thunder grazing peacefully under a tree. He jerked the mare hard right and galloped across the field. As he neared his horse he could see the banks of a small stream. A young man—a boy, really—was lying on his woolen riding coat next to the stream, his feet crossed at the ankles, his arms pillowing his head.

  But there was no sign of Lilliana.

  He reined the mare to a violent halt and swung down.

  Intent on an explanation, he started for the boy but drew up short when the lad scrambled to his feet. Squinting, he peered at him … that was no boy.

  For the third time that day Adrian was badly startled. Startled? He had to remind himself to breathe, because this time, the Princess of the Grange had succeeded in knocking the wind from him. What in bloody hell had she done? Astounded, he stared at Lilliana—the only thing recognizable about her was that smile and that single dimple in her cheek. He took an unsteady step forward as his gaze landed on the top of her head and the riot of blond curls, then slowly traveled to the waistcoat, for chrissakes, and the boy’s trousers that fit her like a glove, and the pair of men’s leather boots that fit snug around her calves. That … that boy was his wife!

  And he was infuriatingly, positively captivated.

  “Ah, my lord husband! How marvelous that you should join me!” she called, and with a beguiling grin tossed her coat over her shoulder and started walking toward him. Adrian forced himself to tear his gaze away from her hips as they swung softly in those buckskin trousers, leaving nothing to his imagination. She stopped in front of him and, still grinning, pushed a curl from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Glorious day for riding, isn’t it?” she chirped. “Awfully warm for this time of year.” Adrian exhaled sharply—the lawn shirt and waistcoat she wore clung to her round bosom.

  “I have never seen the estate, you know, and today seemed a grand time to do it,” she added, and cocked her head to one side, peering up at him with those smoky green eyes.

  Hell, there was something different about them, too, he thought madly. They were … sparkling. Ah yes, there was a definite glint to those pretty eyes—a demonic little glint! “It is indeed a lovely day,” he said, and forced a polite smile to his lips.

  She grinned fully then, and he noticed that flashing back at him in a rather gleeful smirk were teeth that were straight, white, and even. “Do you think so? I thought—judging from your expression, I should say—that you might not be terribly inclined to a long ride today.” Still grinning, she clasped her hands behind her back and rocked up to the balls of her feet and down. Then up. Then down again.

  “My expression? Why madam, I am merely relieved you are quite alive,” he drawled, his eyes narrowing slightly.

  Incredibly, she practically laughed at him! “Of course I am quite alive! Thunder and I had a wonderful time of it—we’ve taken quite a liking to one another,” she said cheerfully.

  It was all Adrian could do to keep from snatching her up and shaking some sense into her. But he was extremely practiced at maintaining his composure, and with a grin of his own, inclined his head toward Thunder. “Shall we see about him?” he asked pleasantly, and signaled for her to precede him. With a careless shrug of her shoulders, she walked to where the horses were grazing. Adrian gamely tried to look anywhere but at the round little derriere bouncing along in those tight buckskins. Where in the bloody hell had she gotten those? When they reached the horses, Lilliana tossed her cloak across Thunder’s neck and began stroking his nose. And that traitorous horse of his actually dipped his head to nuzzle her.

  “You’ve cut your hair,” he observed bluntly.

  She self-consciously ran a hand through the curls. “It was getting a bit bothersome.” A deep smile appeared on her lips again, dimpling on one side. “Do you like it?”

  “It is quite nice,” he begrudgingly admitted. He would not have believed it but there was something terribly erotic about that mass of curl, the shimmering intermingled shades of wheat and flax. The smile faded from his wife’s lips and she blinked up at him, an unmistakable cloud of disappointment shadowing her eyes, confusing Adrian completely. “I’m a bit surprised, I will admit,” he added. Surprised, hell—he was quickly coming to the conclusion that the Princess might very well be mad, because Lilliana grinned at that remark.

  “Oh, you are surprised? How wonderful! And I thought you wouldn’t notice.”

  All right, she was mad. How could he not notice her hair, her trousers—enough! She might be a mad fool, but he wasn’t going to allow her to come to harm because of it.

  “Lilliana,” he began patiently, working hard to keep his voice even, “Mr. Bottoms tells me you did not care to ride the mare.”

  That wicked little smile appeared again. “That’s very true. I prefer a faster horse, and Thunder is more to my liking.” As if to prove it, she buried her face in the horse’s neck and glanced at Adrian from the corner of her eye.

  She was a demon. “He is indeed a fine horse. However, I am concerned for your safety. Thunder is a powerful horse, and I fear you will have difficulty controlling him.”

  Much to his great irritation, she laughed roundly, as if that had been a perfectly absurd thing to say. “Thunder is quite easy to handle! Really, I am surprised at how easily he handles! One would think he is quite powerful, but he is really docile. Very docile.”

  Adrian pressed his lips together and looked heavenward for a long moment until he could speak civilly. “I assure you, he is not docile. You may ride whichever horse you please, whenever you please, but I would ask that you leave Thunder to a more experienced hand.”

  The Princess’s eyes narrowed as her gaze boldly swept the length of him and her hands found her waist. “A more experienced hand. I suppose you think that is you?”

  Adrian blinked. “Naturally! I am a horseman, and you are a—”

  “What?” she demanded heatedly.

  “A novice,” he calmly informed her.

  Something hard flashed in those green eyes, and Lilliana suddenly flung herself at him, crushing her lips to his as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Stunned, Adrian stumbled backward as he grabbed her waist to steady them both.

  And then she bit his lip. Adrian started to protest, but her tongue was in his mouth, painting him with light little strokes. God Almighty, he was suddenly on fire! Pure male instinct kicked in, and he crushed her to him, deepening the kiss. One hand roamed the round curve of her bottom, the slender waist, the full breasts encased in men’s clothing. It was horribly seductive, and he was madly wondering how to get the trousers off her when he realized anyone passing by might think he was kissing a boy. Instantly, he broke free and hastily set her awa
y from him.

  “But might you allow me to ride him when you are with me?” she asked breathlessly, and swept the back of her hand across her lips.

  What? His blood was still pumping furiously, his eyes riveted on her breasts. “I suppose,” he muttered unthinkingly. He had to get out of there, quickly, before he took her on the banks of the stream. “If you will excuse me, I really must get back. I have quite a lot of work to do.” He moved toward Thunder, intent on trading mounts with her, but Lilliana quickly stepped in his path.

  “Then I shall ride back with you. On Thunder. I shall be with you, after all, and you did just agree.” She did not wait for his answer; he clamped his jaw firmly shut as she eagerly gathered Thunder’s reins. Lord God, she was exasperating! When he silently acquiesced and moved forward to help her, she startled him again by scrambling up unaided. Sitting high atop his very own stallion—astride, naturally—she smiled down at him with a look of decided superiority. “Come on, then,” she chirped, and quickly shrugged into her coat.

  The Princess had duped him with a searing kiss. Muttering the things he intended to do to her under his breath, Adrian fetched the mare. Absolutely boiling that she had maneuvered him into it in full view of God and Lord knew who else, he swung up into the saddle and frowned lightly at her.

  Obviously delighted, she flashed a charming smile. “Do you think you will be able to keep up?” she asked, and with a throaty little laugh suddenly spurred Thunder forward, galloping across the field at full speed. Astounded, Adrian spurred the mare forward, slapping his crop mercilessly on the horse’s hindquarters. But Lilliana was too far ahead, and Thunder was too much horse for the mare. After a few minutes the mare began to labor, and growling, Adrian watched his demon-wife disappear over a hill. He cursed the mare for several minutes before finally sighing with frustration and giving up.

  She had bested him. Openly, purposely, and dammit, rather artfully. He really did not have the patience for capricious feminine games, but the demon in buckskins had started it, and by God, two could play! He did not understand why she was doing her damnedest to goad him—that would require an understanding of the female brain—but he would not be goaded, never again. He had been goaded once before to the point of distraction, and it had ended in the disastrous death of his cousin.

  Well, the Princess of the Grange would be the last person on the face of this earth to rattle him. She was going to have to do a lot more than cut her hair or steal his horse.

  ———

  When he at last reached the stables, Lilliana was sitting on the top railing of the paddock fence, watching Mr. Bottoms unsaddle Thunder. As he trotted through the gate on the despicable mare, she laughed. Laughed. “Oh my, she is not terribly fast, is she?” she unabashedly observed. Mr. Bottoms looked as if he would be ill at any moment, and turned his attention fully to Thunder. A groom tentatively came toward Adrian, his steps measured and cautious. Exasperated, Adrian tossed the reins in his direction. Lilliana bounced down from her perch, wearing a brilliant smile that suddenly seemed all dimples. “Thank you again, Mr. Bottoms! I shall see you again on the morrow!” she called cheerfully.

  Adrian cast a dark look at the stable master. “Mr. Bottoms, Lady Albright has agreed she will not ride Thunder without my accompaniment. Isn’t that so, Lilliana?” he asked with a menacing frown.

  She snorted her opinion. “It is true, Mr. Bottoms,” she said grudgingly, and with a pert toss of her head she blithely started for the house. Adrian quickly caught her arm, forcing her to walk with him. She wanted to play games? All right, he would play.

  “Lilliana, I understand you would like to use the library,” he remarked casually.

  She jerked her head up; her eyes widened slightly, but she quickly recovered with a smile. “Oh yes, the table there is perfect for dress patterns and such. I used it this morning—I hope you don’t mind, but as no one was about, I rather thought it was all right. It’s very quiet, you know. One can do a lot of important work there.”

  Ah, so she knew very well what she had done. In spite of himself Adrian somehow managed to smile graciously. “I often use the library to work,” he agreed. “It is very conducive to long periods of intense concentration.” Her grin began to fade, and he silently applauded himself. Obviously, the Princess had hoped for a little more from him. “It must suit you. For your dressmaking and such,” he continued. “So I shall move my things to my private study. You may feel free to use the library whenever you would like.” And he would bolt the door to his study, she could count on it.

  “Oh. That is very generous of you, Adrian. Very kind,” she muttered. A slight frown creased her brow, and she dropped her gaze to the gravel path in front of them as they strolled toward the house. “Is there … is there anything else you would say to me?” she asked hesitantly.

  There was no end to the things he would say to her! But habit forced him to indifference. That, and the vague discomfort that he didn’t know all the rules to this particular game. “Only that whatever you would like, you need only ask. Whatever you may wish to do, I don’t care—except when it comes to your safety, naturally,” he said, and released her elbow.

  “Naturally,” she muttered, the frown deepening.

  “I shall leave you to your own devices, madam. Good afternoon,” he said politely, and shoving his hands in his pocket, he jogged up the terrace steps, whistling.

  He was insufferably unflappable, Lilliana thought as she lay watching the shadows of a tree play in the moonlight that came into her room. Completely devoid of normal human sentiment! She had cut her hair, ruined his papers, and ridden about his estate in full view of his tenants dressed like a man. On his prized stallion, for heaven’s sake, and none of it had moved him! He acted as if everything she had done today was a jolly little stroll in the woods!

  She rolled to her side and closed her eyes. After weeks of trying to be like her mother, to be the wife an earl should want, she had given up. Something had to move him—to anger, to disgust; she didn’t care, just as long as it was something. But her best attempts to provoke a reaction had failed at every turn. Even when she had eaten like a glutton at supper, he had merely smiled and said he was glad to see she had an appetite. When she had asked if she might have his untouched pudding—after devouring hers—he had pushed it toward her and had casually sipped his port, as if it were perfectly natural for her to eat her weight in pudding. That attempt to move him had earned her nothing but a ferocious bellyache, and because of it, she was thankful he hadn’t come to her tonight.

  But God help her, she missed him.

  Part of her needed to feel his strong arms about her body, his weight so carefully balanced above her as he lifted her to a higher plane. Yet part of her despised him, loathed him for making her want it, for making her desperate for his affection. And just when she had all but succeeded in convincing herself he was an ogre, the tenants had sung their praises of him. It was obvious what he had done for them as they proudly pointed to new roofs, barns, and fences. Their praise epitomized everything she loved about him. That a man of the world, a fearless scoundrel, would care for his tenants as he did touched her somewhere deep inside.

  She could not deny the truth—it was her. There was something about her that he found repulsive. But how could he show her such incredible passion at night without feeling at least a little something? A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and made its lazy path down her cheek and Lilliana squeezed her eyes tighter still. He was destroying her with his lovemaking. When he touched her, when he filled her so completely, he gave her a glimmer of hope that he might one day return her love. And then he would ruin it by leaving her alone and empty when he was finished with her body. It was a searing emptiness. Without true affection, without intimacy, she was like a fruit dying on the vine.

  Lilliana swiped angrily at the wet path on her cheek. All she had ever wanted was to soar, and he had given her leave to do that. The only thing he had asked is that she not ride Thunde
r. She could generally wreak havoc if she wanted, and he did not give a damn, did not so much as lift that imperious brow. How terribly ironic that she finally had leave to do as she wished, but did not want her freedom. He had taken the joy out of that, too.

  She hated him.

  Oh God, but she really loved him, and it was killing her!

  Adrian glanced again at his steward and frowned. Mr. Lewis had sidled over to the window at least half a dozen times now to stand on tiptoe and peer around the corner of the house. “I beg your pardon, Lewis, but may I know what you find so terribly interesting out that window?” he asked blandly as he jotted a number in a column.

  Lewis glanced sheepishly over his shoulder. “The match, my lord. I hoped to see a bit of it,” he admitted weakly.

  “Match? What match?”

  “Why, between Bertram and that groom, Roderick. Surely you have heard of The Match?” Lewis asked cautiously. When Adrian replied he had not, Lewis hesitantly explained to him what was obviously occurring, at that very moment, in the old stables; a little boxing match to settle an old score going back many years between a footman and a groom. It had to do with a woman, naturally, and as they could hardly be civil to one another, Lewis explained it was Lady Albright who had suggested the boxing match as a way to settle the argument once and for all. When Lewis finally admitted he had a few pounds riding on the outcome, Adrian wryly suggested they go see about his wager.

  Given Lewis’s description, he expected a little mayhem, but the sight that greeted him was astonishing. Lilliana stood in the center of the ring with the two contestants, whose hands were wrapped in shorn wool. The old stables were packed to the rafters with servants and tenants, all anxiously waiting for the contest to begin. Even Polly Dismuke was on hand, perched on a barrel in the first row, loudly proclaiming her lad would be the easy winner. More surprising was that finicky Max glared at her from across the haphazardly fashioned ring and shouted back that his lad would be the easy victor. Then Lilliana beckoned Mr. Baines forward—who Adrian had thought was hard at work clearing a small field on the east side of the river, and said as much to Lewis.