by Gill, Tamara
“You would not have enough funds even if I were to ask that of you.”
His words irked and she came to stand not a foot away from him. “I have plenty of blunt, duke. And I’m sure had your father still been alive, I could’ve bought Titan ten times over by now. So tell me, since the apple never falls far from the tree, what is your price? What will it take for me to have Titan?”
His attention moved over her face and her stomach fluttered at his inspection. What was he thinking? Did he think her much changed since he’d seen her last? Up close, Ava could see the slight shadowing of stubble on his jaw. His clothing, instead of buckskin breeches and superfine coats cut to perfection to fit his form, were tan breeches, knee-high boots, shirt and brown coat. No cravat or waistcoat, no highly starched shirt or polished boots. Ava glanced down at his chest where the tie had come loose on his shirt and the sprinkling of chest hair could be seen. Her fingers itched to feel it again. Once, when they’d been alone, they’d kissed with such passion that she had touched his person, and he too her.
The memory of it made her ache and she ground her teeth, hating that her body would deceive her with the enemy before her.
“He’s not for sale,” he said, staring down at her, his hardened words brooking no argument.
She narrowed her eyes. “Still stubborn I see, Your Grace.” She turned about and started for the door, the click of his boots following quickly behind her. “America didn’t cure you of that trait,” she threw at him.
He clasped her arm and spun her to face him. She gasped, slapping his hand off of her as his touch left her burning for more. For five years, she’d not reacted to a touch as she’d reacted to Tate’s and the hunger in his eyes told her he damned well knew what his presence did to her.
“What do you know of me or how I am? Do not throw insults, Miss. Knight, simply because you’ve not got your way. I could say myself that your stubborn streak has not been trained out of you either. I would’ve hoped the French finishing school would’ve been more thorough in your education.”
Ava fisted her hands at her sides. “Oh, do not worry, Your Grace. My education taught me a great deal. The most important of all was which what type of gentleman to stay away from, vile lechers such as yourself.” It had not taught her so very well though, and she pushed that ugly memory away, not wanting to relive that horror that had nothing to do with the man she was currently arguing with. Ava strode over to her horse and hoisted herself up. “Which I intend to do right now.”
“Lecher?” he said, his eyes wide. He caught the reins of her horse and stopped her parting. “You know as well as anyone I was never a lecher.”
She raised her brow mockingly. “Really, so the gossip in London about you is wrong? You’re not a rake? A man who has too many lovers to count? A man who prefers folly to looking after his many estates? Tell me, duke, did the women of New York not satisfy you enough that you had to return home and sow your wild oats here? How very changeable you are from the young man I once knew.” Ava shut her mouth with a snap. How had the conversation about Titan escalated into an slaying match between them? All of which was too personal, and too telling. She didn’t want him to know that he’d hurt her all those years ago. Had broken her heart.
“I beg your pardon, Miss. Knight, but I fail to see why you should care. Do not lob your insults at my head when you’re no angel.”
“What?” she said, aghast. “What do you mean by that?”
He glared at her. “And now you play me a fool. Good day to you, Madam.” He stepped back, giving her leave to go. Throwing him one last glance, she kicked her mount into a canter and left. The ride home was a blur, her blood pumped loudly in her ears over a conversation about a horse that had turned into a fight about their relationship and broken engagement.
Not to mention her lack of manners in bringing up the fact that he’d slept with half of London. The rumors that his estates lacked attention, of which she had no solid proof, was true. She cringed. What was wrong with her?
Ava took a calming breath and nudged her horse into a gallop. She would not allow his boorishness to rile her. He wasn’t worth it, and yet, the hurt that had been etched on his face when she left just now had opened an old wound she’d thought long healed.
* * *
Tate ran a hand over his jaw as the delectable bottom of Ava’s galloped off up his drive. What woman rode about Berkshire in men’s breeches? It would seem Ava did so and with little care as to who saw her or what they thought.
The moment that she’d walked into his stables, his heart had jumped in his chest at seeing her again. He’d had to physically stop himself from taking her in his arms and telling her how much he’d missed her. Within a split second of the thought, the memory as to why they’d not married had reminded him why he would need to be wary of the woman before him. She’d pushed away his love for a chance to travel abroad and study. To run away from being a duchess as it was so very distasteful to her, or so her letter had said.
But, blast it, she was as pretty as he remembered her. Her long dark locks tied loosely at the back of her head, a delicate red ribbon the only article holding it in place. Her eyes were as fierce as ever, burning with passion, or loathing in his case, but still seeing her again had quenched his thirst after being thirsty for so long. He frowned when he lost sight of her, wanting her to come back and give him another set down if only to see her perfect little nose rise high in the air.
“Was that Miss. Ava Knight?” his closest friend, Lord Arthur Duncannon said, looking up the drive and in the direction Ava had disappeared. His lifelong friend never missed anything he thought might be fodder for gossip. If it looked juicy and worth commenting on, he always had an opinion.
“Yes,” Tate said, starting back toward the house. He didn’t want to discuss Ava any more than he wanted to discuss why his heart wouldn’t stop pounding in his chest. Or why her words cut him like a sword. She seemed angry at him, considering she’d pushed him aside for foreign shores.
Duncannon caught up to him. “The very one who jilted you? The same Ava Knight who runs the horseracing stables next door?”
Tate glared at his friend and hoped Duncannon would get the hint that this conversation and Ava were not up for discussion.
“Tell me, Your Grace. Or I shall have to find out another way.”
“You will not,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. “All that you need to know is that we’re neighbors and certainly not friends. The past was nothing but a foolish childhood infatuation that is well over on my behalf. And from my conversation with Ava just now, so too it would seem is hers.”
Duncannon threw him a disbelieving look, even so much as to scoff a little at his words. Tate halted. “What now, man? What is it that you’re concocting in that minuscule mind?”
His friend grinned. “From watching you two from the stables, I would suggest that the feelings that are so very over between you two are not. In fact, I would lay good blunt down and say that, if anything, you both still care for each other more than you’re willing to admit.”
Tate fisted his hands at his sides. “I do not care for Miss. Knight and you need to keep your opinions to yourself lest you’re shuffled off to London to live with your mother.”
Duncannon held up his hands in defeat. “Very well, I shall not say another word. But do tell me, what did she want to discuss? It seemed she wasn’t very happy when she left.”
Unhappy was calling what Ava was feeling lightly. She was mad as hell if he knew her at all. At one time, there hadn’t been another person in the world who knew her as well as he did. In the past, after a disagreement such as the one they just had, Ava would ride home going over the fight. More than likely cursing his name and spitting fire. He could only assume she would’ve reacted today in the same way.
He half smiled at the knowledge of it. “A stupid thing really. She had agreed with Mr. Tuttle to have Titan cover her mare, Black Lace. By purchasing Titan, that deal is now void.
She simply asked me to uphold the agreement, which I refused.”
“Why did you refuse?” Duncannon asked. “Was it not your plan to breed Titan and race him? Why not breed with one of the best breeding stables in England? She owns Knight Stables, does she not?”
Tate started toward the house again. “She does, inherited it after her father died twelve months ago.”
“So what is the problem?”
The problem was that he was being a stubborn bastard who didn’t want to give her what she wished. Not even when she’d asked him so nicely at first. Seeing her again had exacerbated all the injuries of her jilting him. Of wanting something else, books of all things over his love. What type of woman turned down a future duke? Turned her back on the love he’d thought they’d shared? What kind of woman could be so callous with words of sentiments and matters of the heart? A woman who put her own ambition before anything else. And Tate would do the same. With Titan in his stables, the stallion was one step toward becoming real competition to the Knight Stables, to start his own breeding program and produce future horseracing winners. He would not give her the opportunity to best him again, not in business or on a personal level.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, shrugging.
“You’ve changed your mind? Really? Seems to me you’re basing your decision on what happened between you all those years ago. Maybe you should accept her offer, but put a stipulation in that should the mare birth a foal that looks promising for racing, any wins the horse might have during its lifetime you’d be entitled to half the profits.”
Tate turned to face him. “She’d never agree to such terms. The stables have offered to pay for Titan covering her mare, they will not want to share the profits.”
“The stables have bred fifty winners in the last ten years. You could get a piece of the pie. If she wishes for Titan to be used for her breeding program, she’ll have to agree,” Duncannon said, his business mind coming forth for a moment.
Duncannon was a shrewd man, and some of what he said made sense. It would certainly help financially should the mare breed a winner, and having a horse jointly owned by the renowned Knight Stables would only lift his own name within the racing community.
He thought on the prospect a moment. Ava would not be pleased by this development, and Tate grinned at the idea of annoying her further. If only to see her eyes flash fire at him. “I will think upon it,” he said, entering the house. Would think about all the ways he could tell Ava these were his terms and watch the little hellion become further displeased.
Tate pushed the idea away that he’d offer such an idea simply to spend more time with her. She did not deserve his attentions, and yet, walking into his library, Tate’s steps were somewhat lighter than when he’d walked out of the room earlier that day. He could not fathom a guess as to why…
Chapter 3
As I look out over the French landscape, so very similar and yet different from where we grew up, I wonder if we’ll ever see each other again…
– An excerpt from a letter from Miss. Ava Knight to the Duke of Whitstone
A week later, Ava lay on her bed, staring down at the unread book in her lap and thinking about a certain duke who had been thrust back into her life.
Three short miles was all that separated them, and yet it wasn’t far enough. If only an ocean still kept them apart she would be well pleased. After their disastrous conversation last week, she’d not seen or heard from him. Not that she hoped to, but there was a time when she wouldn’t go a day without being near him. If only to tell him how much she had missed him and possibly sneak away for a kiss or two.
Shouts down in the yard caught her attention and dropping the book on the bed, she raced to the window. Ava glanced toward the stables which she could see from her bedroom but couldn’t see anything amiss. The men were running toward the barn where the carts were kept, and hearing them yelling orders to grab hessian bags and buckets, feared that the stables located on the opposite side of her home were on fire shot through her.
Ava raced to her closet and pulling on the clothes she’d worn that day, she stumbled into her dressing room, searching for her half boots when she saw an orange glow kiss the night sky. A sickening red radiance coming from the direction of Tate’s property.
She stopped for a moment, stunned still at what she could see. Was it the stables or the house? Ava quickly finished dressing, throwing on her boots without stockings.
She ran down the stairs, calling out for the male servants to follow her and within minutes, those who could ride were hard on her heels toward Tate’s property, the other men traveling as fast as they could in the carts and buggies.
The closer they came to the ducal estate, the larger the glow in the night sky became, and peeking at the hill she had ridden over only a week before her worst fears were realized. The stables were on fire and the men were fighting the flames, others trying desperately to axe through the side walls of the wooden structure to free the horses.
Leaving the horses in a nearby field, they ran toward the fire, her stable manager handing her a Hessian sack to help. The heat of the fire pricked her flesh as they came up close to it, and wetting the bag in a nearby trough, she started to bash it against the multitude of flames that were licking the wood of several buildings.
Horses were running wild and scared into the night, and all she could hope was that the horses had been spared. The buildings could burn for all she cared, but the life of the horses was paramount.
More shouts sounded from behind her and turning, she saw the second and larger stable catch alight, a pile of straw inside the double frontage doors smoldering and lighting to full flame. She shut her stinging eyes as the smoke blew in her face and opening them again, she could not quite make out who was the man who notified them as he took off in another direction.
“The second stable,” she shouted, running toward it. From where she was, Ava could see several horses sticking their heads out over the stall doors inside, looking at the fire, some ran about their stalls, kicking at the walls.
Without thought she ran inside, opening the stall doors as quickly as she could. She covered her mouth with the hessian bag, stumbling and feeling her way along the stalls until she felt the second stall door. Unlocking that too, the horse bolted and sent her flying backwards.
“Ava,” she heard Tate’s familiar voice yell, and getting to her knees, she blinked as her eyes stung with the smoke that filled the space.
“I’m well. There are more horses back here,” she said, getting up and heading toward where she could hear their fear. She would tell the duke after all this, that for a stable to be safe for animals and people, both ends had to have exits. A silly thought at such a time, but nonetheless, she had it. Ava released the last two horses on her side, and raced to the opposite, just as the duke met her at the last stall. He fought with the lock on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “It won’t open,” he yelled, coughing. “It’s locked.”
Ava turned about as the flames started to lick the walls of the stall doors opposite them. Looking about she spied an ax on a nearby wall, and running over to it, clasped it. “Here, Tate, use this.”
He stared at her a moment, as if she’d grown two heads, before a wooden panel behind them came crashing down and brought him to his senses. “Thank you.” He slammed the axe head down once, twice on the door lock and it broke away, allowing them to open the door and free Titan.
The stallion bolted outside, and as they were about to follow the horse, the front of the stable crashed down, trapping them inside.
“Tate,” she said, clasping his shirt. “Is there a window or door in this end?” not that she’d seen one, but these were his stables after all, maybe in the smoke and fire she’d not seen any.
“No,” he said, pulling her into a nearby stall and shutting the door. Not that it would keep the fire out, but it would halt the straw they were standing on from catching alight before it needed to.
“St
and back, Ava,” he said, swinging the axe high and coming down on the stable wall. The smoke grew ever thick and Ava went to the wall, trying to breathe the air that slid between small cracks in the wooden boards. On the outside, she could hear men hitting the wall in the same location that Tate was smashing through. She tried to concentrate on the small amount of fresh air she was breathing, but the heat of the fire on her back made panic settle in her stomach.
“Quick, Tate. I cannot breathe.”
A piece of wood smashed in toward them, then more, and with the intrusion of the men outside breaking through, so too did the fresh air. Unfortunately, with the fresh air, the fire behind them only increased its ire.
Her legs refused to move. She tried to crawl over to where there was escape, but her body wouldn’t cooperate.
“Ava,” Tate said nearby, before she was lifted into familiar, comforting arms. She coughed as he stepped through the hole in the wall, half running, and half stumbling them away from the stable before collapsing on the ground with her in his arms.
She rolled onto the ground, coughing and gasping for breath, and at some point someone passed her a cup of water. Ava turned to see Tate lying beside her, he too was trying to catch his breath. She went over to him and pushed his hair out of his face, waiting for him to meet her eyes.
“Are you well? Are you hurt at all?”
He reached up, running a hand across her cheek. The action brought tears to her eyes that he’d nearly been killed. That they both had. “You look like a chimney sweep.”
She laughed despite herself and despite the situation was not at all funny. “You’re making jokes, Your Grace? At a time like this,” she said, her voice scratchy, her breathing labored, and with a wheeze.
He threw her a mischievous grin. “I think in times like this, amusement is needed.” He struggled to sit up and she sat beside him. They were silent a moment as the stable burned before them, the first stable that she had fought to save was nothing now but a charred pile of glowing timber.