She shrugged. “The land is still good, and the house is sturdy enough. All it needs is someone willingly to work, and work hard, to get it going again. its nots Gwen’s beauty that will draw them into compete, but rather the prospects of all the free land.”
“I don’t get it. What would your family give-not to mention your cousin-to a complete stranger?”
My daddy stands to make a great deal of money from this venture, Michael. It’s as simple as that.”
Michael, who thought he’d heard everything, felt shocked. This wasn’t some object Jervis was using, for even a piece of prime life stock; this was his blood. Michael had never claimed to be a saint, when he came out looking fairly angelic compared to this vulture. For all his advantages, with all the worthy pursuits in his world, Jervis at shows and be a parasite, living off the dead carcasses of his brother’s estate, using his own flesh and blood to attorney profit.
“Besides,” Edith went on, “that he has no intention of losing Roseland. He means to keep it in the family, as if it were, by making certain Lance wins the contest.”
“So you cheat. Should have known.” Michael shook his head in disgust. Each time he thought his contempt for the family couldn’t get any stronger, they managed to prove him wrong again.
“Neither daddy nor Lance considers it cheating. I believe the term they use was protecting their best interests.”
“And what does your cousin think of this protection?”
“I doubt Gwen has stopped to consider it at all. She’s always wanted to marry Lance. This just makes it easier.”
Was Gwen so willfully blinded that she couldn’t see she was being offered up like some sacrifice of a lamb? Crawling the paper, Michael felt the same sense of outrage he known the day he watched Lance pusher in the dirt. As old-fashioned as it sounded, even raised to value words like respect and honor. Dementia protect the woman he says he loves. He shouldn’t subject her to scorn and ridicule, and certainly never for money. “Just how do they plan to ensure Lance victory? Drug all the competitor’s horses?”
“Nothing so drastic, I assure you. That is in charge of the lists, and can determine in advance will compete. And should a worthy opponent slip past his notice, there is a barely known rule in the competition.”
“Etched in at the bottom and extra small writing?”
“Exactly.” With a ghost of a smile, she reached into the bag again and presented a copy of the rules. “As you’ll note, there is a provision stating that in case of a tie, or any disputed call, the issue must be settled with a joust. As Lance put it, anyone can snare those silly rings, but staying atop a force when another’s trying to unseat you take special training, for both men and animal. By the time the other entries learn about the new rule, he means to be the only one with both the skills and the mount to win.”
“How clever of them.”
Smile went tight. “Yes, well, as it stands now, he will win the competition. And he’s arranged to have a clerk on hand, ready to step in and hear their vows the instant you wins.”
A wedding, there on the field of play? “He certainly taking no chance your cousin will change mine.”
“One isn’t hoarsely in polls of. Is no predicting what she will do next. And, as Lance says, she has been a bit skittish of late.”
Skittish? Michael thought, feeling an odd little thought. “I thought you said your cousin wanted this marriage.”
Edith shook her head. “What you want is neither here nor there. My father and Lance are determine that their marriage to place at the politician, and it shall, unless someone does abuse stop it. You, Michael, are the only one I know who beat Lance before.”
“That, too, is neither here nor there. As you said, your father is in charge of the lists. He never allowed my name to be on it.”
She smiled. “Sure enough, but you see, the actual copying of the lists have been regulated to me. It might not have been my daddy’s to intention, but I have the ultimate say over who is and is not included.”
“I don’t have the money”
She waved off his protest. “Since I keep the records, too, can easily disregard entrance fee. That is already set the same for Lance.”
Michael eyed her suspiciously, press in spite of himself by the intelligence and determination she hid from the world. “We seem to have given this great deal thought, either. But in all your calculations, did you stop to consider I might not want to compete?”
“Why not? I’m told you’re far from a wealthy man. Think what you have to gain.”
Nothing was gained in his life without a price, he learned. “As hard as it may be for you to believe, I don’t want the Willows. It holds too many memories I prefer to put behind me.”
“No one says you must keep the plantation, Michael. Indeed, you could sell it back to us, for say that amounts my father owes you?”
So this is what where she’d been leading? Michael stared at her, long and hard. “How efficiently you tied everything up. Can’t help wondering what you hope to gain from it.”
She looked away, biting her lip, her hands fidgeting again. “My motives are not important. Do we have a deal or not?”
“I don’t think so. I’m not good at lies.” He turned to go, suddenly tired of the whole thing.
“Wait,” she called out. “Please, at least take the time to think it over. You just might find it that it’s your only hope.”
God forbid, he thought, continuing through the trees. Breaking into the clearing he brushed past Colby to treat his horse, knowing he couldn’t leave this place soon enough.
Pointing himself in the saddle, he knew he’d been a damn full to do what she asked. In his rash youth, he might’ve tried rushing in to save Gwen like some hero, but he now knew the lady neither wanted-nor deserved-to be rescued.
Angry with entire situation, especially his own part in it, he turned his horse towards the swamp, deciding it was time to be getting back home. Let this family sort out their own dirty laundry; he had not the energy to – about like some hero. It was none of his business-and even less concern-what happened to the high in mighty Gwen. Come what may, she would end up with her Lance, and nothing could change that. A painful lesson Rafe had learned from the lady herself.
Still and all, it wasn’t her rejection he thought about. It was her face the night as he kissed her, all flesh and soft and so incredibly vulnerable.
“Damn,” he said, spurring his horse down the road.” Damn, damn, damn.”
***
A few days before the competition, Gwen stood in the field to watch Lance practice, hoping the last three hours at her toilette had not been wasted. It was no easy thing, looking her best. Even with older clothes, she was fast running short of clean clothing.
She’d been saving the rose patterned morning dress for a special occasion, and while she couldn’t like it’s snug fit, or how it’s lace trim drag in the mud, this was a dire emergency. She just had to charm Lance into charming Lavinia. Someone must convince the stubborn old servants to do her laundry, or Gwen would soon be down to her shift.
Twirling her dress, he started forward the instant he brought his horse to a halt. “Why, Lance, if you don’t look like a champion already,” she drawled. “I declare, the way you snared those rings, I can’t see how there’s men alive who can best you.”
He smiled broadly as he dismounted. “It may prove a trifle more difficult on the day of actual competition.”
“But surely you will win?”
“Of course.” Still smiling, he grabbed the reins of his horse. “But you cannot have come out in this hot sun to discuss my performance. Tell me, while we strolled over to the shade, to what do I oh this pleasure?”
Gwen fell step aside him. “Lance, can’t a girl watch her champion practice?”
“She most certainly can, especially when she looks so lovely. Have you done something new with your hair?”
She flushed with pleasure. “Not really,” she lied, ignoring that hour
she had spent with the curling iron. “But how sweet of you to say I looked nice, especially in this old thing. I will soon have nothing to wear, if Lavinia does not do the laundry. I declare, I think she’s the delaying just to spite me. You know she’s never much liked me. She was always more like to listen to you.” She looked up, batting her lashes. “I bet if you were to talk to her, washing would get done tomorrow.”
Her words pleased him; she could tell by the upward shift of his shoulders. “I have an idea. Why don’t I intercept in your behalf?”
“Oh, would you Lance” Gwen was willing to pretend he had come up with the idea, if it got her clean clothes, but she couldn’t help a small spurt of resentment. There was little fun in being clever, if no one noticed. “Lance, you are my hero,” she gushed nonetheless.
Stopping his horse near a tall stand of oaks, Lance gestured back to where he’d been practicing. “Just wait until the competition. Picture it, Gwen, horns blasting, the crowd shouting and cheering, while I thunder past. And when I have one, after I have vanquished all challengers, I shall come kneel in worship. There, in front of everyone, your Lancelot shall claim you. At long last, you and I shall exchange our vows.”
Gwen, who had been swept up by the colorful image, snapped back to the here and now. “Vows?” She asked. “You cannot mean a wedding?”
He frowned. “You said you wanted to wed as soon as possible.”
“No. I mean, yes, of course, I do, but I have always imagine a church, with a lovely new gown, and hundreds of guests dancing at a grand and elaborate party. I don’t want to be wed on some dusty field.”
His frown tilted, became a tight smile “but, of course, darling, I wants all that is much as you. Still and all, the crowd will expect excitement in ceremony, and we can’t disappoint them. They’ll be expecting Lancelot and Gwen to stand up before them, swearing to cherish each other forever. The least we can do is give them their money’s worth in entertainment.”
“And we shall, provided it’s a mock ceremony, only for show,” she said, faking a smile of her own. “We will wait to have a real wedding later, won’t we?”
His smile eased. “A mock ceremony. Of course. But I shall arrange it so no one will guess it’s not real. Trust your Lancelot to take care of everything.”
She did, truly she did, so why this nagging apprehension? “You will win, won’t you?” She found herself asking. “Jervis says he’s already had thirty entrances, yet so few have names I recognize, and none of those men are men I would care to marry. I cannot bear being tied to some ill bearded ogre who eats with his hands and snores in the sleep.”
“Haven’t I already promised? I swear to you, Gwen, I shall let no other man have you.”
It was a wonderful declaration, delivered with the right touch of finesse, yet it failed to make her feel better. Odd that she should find less emotion in his gaze then she’d seen in Michael’s the night he kissed her.
“Lance,” he found herself asking, “why is it you never kiss me?”
He hesitated, clearly taken back, before smiling with his usual assurance. “What a question. You must know, I hope that’s I respect you too much to so compromise your reputation.”
“I know, and I treasure that, but here, Lance, with one to see, what would it hurt? Aren’t you at least bit curious how it feels to touch my lips? Don’t you yearn for the excitement, the… The magic?”
Again he pause, turning to fuss with his horse. “Of course, but only a complete clown would force himself to his lady before their wedding. That is why I am so eager for us to be married.”
“Yes, but-“
“It will happen, Gwen, and soon, as we must be patient.” Smiling grimly, he took up the ropes of the horse. “In between the time, my horses and find sweats and easy rubdown. Come, walk with me back to Bell Oaks, and I’ll drive you home in my mother’s carriage.”
She suddenly felt cross, not optimally visit with his overbearing mother. “I think I should stay closer to home. It’s nearly dinnertime, I do hate toward daddy.”
“I suppose it is getting late. I imagine I’d best be going.”
She had hoped he’d offer to walk her back to the house, and the fact that he did not merely grew her irritation. “I thought you were going to talk to Lavinia.”
“I will, first thing in the morning.” With his patented smile, he pulled himself on top of the horse. “After all, you must make certain you have a clean scarf. When I march into the fray, I expect to carry a Lily white token of your favor.”
Squirming with guilt, she watched Lance walk off. She did not like the reminder that she’d granted her token to another just how was she to get her handkerchief back from Michael?
As if he had appeared merely to answer her question, she saw him standing among the trees to her right, watching from beside his huge black stallion. As he led the animal closer, she was doubly annoyed to find her heart echoing the thuds of Lance’s retreating horse.
“Lance was just explaining the competition to me,” she said awkwardly when Michael reach her.
“I heard.” She cringed inside as she recalled the conversation. She hope Michael had not thought she was begging for Lance’s kiss-or worse, made any connection to his own.
“What are you doing here, Michael?” Was all she could think of to change the subject.
He looked behind him, for the distance swap. “Trespassing again, I suppose. Do you me to turn me in?”
“Must you always be so disagreeable? I had not meant to chastise you. I was merely curious.”
He flashed a rare smile, which did the strangest thing to her insides. “I’d meant to pass through, when I saw Lance prancing across the field, I felt myself stopping to watch.”
“He’s been practicing for the competition.” Gwen blushed. What a stupid thing to say; was it obvious what Lance had been doing? Why was it that being near this unpredictable man always left are so flustered? “Will you be competing, too, Michael?”
“As if I could afford to,” he muttered under his breath.
Too late, she realized how even a normal fee would be a normal obstacle to some. “If you’d like,” she offered, feeling bad that she been so carelessly thoughtless, “I can talk to my uncle, I’m sure he can arrange something. Perhaps even waive the fee.”
“You would do that for me?” His eyes narrowed.” But why?”
Good question. “Because Lance says it will be the event of the year. “She wondered why she persisted, when he was so unreceptive. “It would be a shame, if you missed it.”
“I will live.”
“Yes, I suppose you will, but it shall be such fun. Everyone who is anyone shall be there.”
“I won’t. We tried this once before, my lady. The last time I played your games, I did not have much fun at all.”
“But so much has changed since then. We were children. I do not think…”
Her voice trailed off, the words suddenly lame as she was caught up his dark, penetrating gaze.
“You don’t have to participate either, my lady.” He stood before her, so close she could see a slight softening in his washable gaze. “This could be your one chance to stand up to these people. To take charge of your life. Don’t you want to choose the man you will marry?”
“Of course, I do. But everyone knows Lance will win.”
He nodded, the softness vanishing from his gaze. “You were wrong, my lady. Nothing is changed you least of all.”
Gwen felt heat of his words run through her. “I don’t know why you must persist in your childish dislike. Lance is good and kind and wonderful-“
“While I’m not fit to lick his boots.” He took a step closer, grabbing her by the arm. “Tell me, what was that all about, asking him why he never kisses you? Were you hoping to make a comparison?”
Of all the conceited notions. But before Gwen could tell him how incredibly wrong he was, he dipped down and took possession of her lips.
This was no gentle exploration, but a man
staking his claim, and all-out assault taking no prisoners. Pulled to his chest, Gwen dropped her parasol, forgetting all else but his lean, hard strength pressed against her. The heat became urgent, given her no choice but to melt in his arms.
As she surrendered, she felt far more than a tingling; the magic seeped into her bones. Deep inside, she came to life, throbbing with a dark, pulsing force that left her hungry for more.
He pulled away roughly, long before she was ready. “That is how a lady should be kissed,” he spoke out as he went for his horse. “If Lance can’t do that for you, you should not be marrying him.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped at him. “Lance Loves me and I love him, with all my heart.”
“Your precious Lancelot is-“ He clamped shut his jaw as he pulled himself onto the horse. “God damn, maybe your rights. What do I know?”
“You are jealous,” she shouted up at him, but his horse began to sidestep and Gwen had to move out of its way. “You’re trying to get back at me for what happened when we were children.”
He looked down at her for a moment, his expression almost sad. “Have a nice life with Lance,” he said with a sigh. Then, spurring his horse into flight, he flung back over his shoulder, “you deserve him.”
He charged off in an opposite direction from Lance, leaving Gwen to stand sputtering in the field, looking from right to left, wishing Lance would reappear and stop her from making unwanted comparisons. Lance was the good and strong and noble one, she insisted. Michael was the… The…
Face facts, the man was a complete enigma.
Well, if the lousy lout thought she would waste one moment thinking about his kiss-either one-he was sadly mistaken. She’d made her choice long ago, she didn’t need to prove she’d made the right decision. Her Lancelot had magic all his own.
Yet she stood in that field, touching her lips, long after Michael vanished from her view.
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