Sweet Enemy

by Heather Snow

  Yet he suspected something else drove him to recklessness this morning.

  Or rather someone else.

  For the third night in a row, he’d been kept awake by thoughts and dreams of Liliana Claremont. Damn, but she’d gotten under his skin.

  He’d done his best to ignore her since dinner three nights past, but his body hummed with awareness anytime they were in the same room. His eyes were drawn to her every efficient yet graceful move, his ears attuned to her husky voice. Even his nose smelled apples and lemons where there were none.

  Like now. Geoffrey drew in a deep breath of crisp morning air to clear his senses.

  This had to stop. But ignoring Liliana wasn’t working…The harder he tried, the more she haunted his dreams. Last night, his “fantasy Liliana” had come to him in the library clad only in a filmy ivory dressing gown. Her creamy golden skin had glowed against the lighter fabric, the hints of red in her hair glinting in the firelight. She’d said nothing, simply beckoned him with her violet gaze. She’d knelt before him and—

  Dear God. His entire body hardened at the memory. He couldn’t go around like this for the remainder of the house party. What was it about that woman that attracted him so, against his better judgment?

  Gringolet’s ears perked and the stallion raised his head, alert. Geoffrey looked in the same direction but saw nothing. Nor did he hear a sound out of place amidst nature’s morning cacophony. He’d learned years ago to trust Grin’s instincts, however. Geoffrey sat motionless, tense in the saddle, ready for whatever came.

  The horse burst through the woodland into the meadow like a covey of grouse at first shot. Geoffrey could hear the echo of the nonexistent gunshot, so real was the impression. Then he realized it was simply his own heart pounding in his ears.

  Liliana.

  He wasn’t sure how he knew it was she, for the rider was in breeches and sitting astride. A cap covered her hair and she was at least fifty yards to the other side of the lake, but there was still no doubt. He prickled with that singular awareness he’d come to associate only with her.

  She bent forward, leaning over the horse’s neck as she said something to the mount. Encouragement, most likely, if the burst of speed was any indication. Only a few of his stock could fly like that…

  By God, she rode Amira. She must have convinced Griggs she was a capable rider, or the stable master would never have saddled Geoffrey’s favorite mare for her. Still, he’d have to have a word with the man. Amira was too valuable for guests to take out.

  His concern eased as horse and rider raced closer. Amira was in capable hands, and Liliana’s obvious skill told him she rode astride often.

  Yet another trait that supported Geoffrey’s growing opinion that Liliana Claremont was no ordinary miss.

  He accepted that he’d been wrong about her. She’d proven she had no interest in winning him. Rather demonstrably. She’d insulted him, ridiculed him, challenged him and bested him. After his anger had abated, he’d realized she also intrigued him.

  Liliana slowed the mare to a canter, then a trot. She’d been coming from the east…Something squeezed within him. Aveline’s holdings lay just over the park. Geoffrey’s fists clenched. While he’d been overly aware of Liliana these past three days, she’d had eyes only for Aveline, rot him. Did she return now from a night in his arms?

  No. Geoffrey gave his head a shake. Amira had been in the stable when he’d saddled Grin, and he’d been riding only an hour. And while one could certainly do the deed in less time, Geoffrey had never known Aveline to seduce innocent young maidens.

  The urge to throttle the other man eased, and Geoffrey relaxed his shoulders. He’d forgotten how easily jealousy could make one think like a fool.

  Jealousy? Of course not. He straightened in his saddle, unease creeping in. Jealousy was a precursor to love, and he adamantly refused to succumb to that debilitating emotion. Just because he’d been intrigued by the chit didn’t mean his feelings had been moved. Admittedly she provoked a powerful attraction, but that had nothing to do with finer emotions. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall victim to his father’s fate. Look what love had gotten him.

  Still, his curiosity roused. Why was Liliana out riding unaccompanied and so very early, not to mention scandalously dressed? Well, he wouldn’t know unless he asked.

  Geoffrey knew the exact moment Liliana became aware of his presence as he and Grin emerged from the greenery. Her face went blank and her eyelids fluttered down. She glanced toward the house, probably judging whether she could pretend she hadn’t seen him and flee to the stables.

  Instead she waited in the meadow.

  Amira tipped her head and nickered a welcome that Grin returned. Liliana greeted Geoffrey with a tight smile and a nod. She looked prepared to bolt.

  “A lady who rises before noon,” Geoffrey marveled. “I thought surely this would be the last place I would encounter one of my female guests.”

  Liliana’s brow creased, then smoothed as she tilted her head. “An eligible lord who is wealthy, handsome and not well into his dotage?” She shrugged. “I’m surprised you’re not being stalked from hill to dale, regardless of the hour,” she said, her tone full of irony.

  And she smiled.

  And that smile lit him, drawing one in return. “Is that what you are doing, Miss Claremont? Stalking me?” he teased. “First the library and now on my morning ride…I do believe that’s a pattern.”

  She huffed. “Since I arrived in the library well before you, I couldn’t possibly have followed you there. This morning, however, I shall admit to nothing.” She looked up at him in her direct way but gave him a decidedly mysterious smile that told him he’d been forgiven for his erroneous assumption in the library that first night. “I shall leave you to wonder.”

  Geoffrey grinned. He couldn’t help it. “Then my ego shall, of course, believe you are stalking me most shamelessly.”

  Liliana ducked her head on a smile. How unexpected.

  Satisfaction spread through Geoffrey like a warm salve. Liliana might not want marriage, as she claimed, even to the Earl of Stratford. But she did want him—Geoffrey.

  And he was happier about that than he should be.

  Still, she hadn’t satisfied his curiosity.

  “You’re quite a horsewoman,” he remarked. His eyes roamed over her tawny pants, which showcased long, slim thighs and shapely calves. The flowing white shirt gave cover to her derrière, but Geoffrey could easily imagine the fabric clinging tightly to her.

  She followed his eyes, then seemed to remember her unorthodox attire. She clearly wanted to groan, but good manners won out.

  “Thank you,” she said, choosing not to address her apparel or saddle choice.

  He smiled at her aplomb and tried a different tack. “Amira fits you well. How did you get Griggs to part with her?” Geoffrey asked, though he had his suspicions. If Liliana had smiled at Griggs the way she did at him, he couldn’t possibly take the stable master to task with good conscience.

  Her face flushed. “Is that her name? It means princess, does it not?”

  “In Arabic, yes,” he replied. “I thought it fitting, as her sire’s name is Sultan.”

  “Ah.” Liliana nodded to Grin. “And who is this handsome gentleman? Arabian as well?”

  “Close,” Geoffrey answered, tapping his ring finger impatiently upon his thigh. Was she avoiding his question? “Gringolet’s a Barb, a breed similar to Arabian but originally from North Africa.”

  “Gringolet?” she inquired, raising an eyebrow. She leaned toward Geoffrey, just slightly, which brought to mind his fantasy of last night. “Fancy yourself Sir Gawain, then?”

  Now he felt himself flush. “Not quite. The other soldiers in my regiment gave me that moniker, though Gringolet’s name did spring from it.”

  Liliana raised both eyebrows this time. “Sir Gawain is portrayed as the consummate ladies’ man. Is that how you earned your name?” she asked boldly, but her ears turned pinkish. />
  “King Arthur’s nephew was also known as the friend to young knights,” he defended. “I took it upon myself to look after the new recruits. I like to think that is what inspired the name.” He wasn’t about to tell her it was likely a bit of both. And how had they come to be discussing him? “Griggs didn’t give her name when he saddled Amira for you?”

  Liliana’s lovely features pulled into a grimace. She shifted in her saddle.

  “Ah…well. As to that. I—” She wrung her hands, her leather gloves creaking as they twisted together. She took a deep breath before meeting his gaze. “I horsenapped her.”

  Geoffrey blinked once, wondering if he’d heard her correctly. Then he blinked again. He couldn’t have been more shocked had she told him she was the illegitimate daughter of Maria Fitzherbert and Prince George himself.

  Liliana swallowed, the sound audible only to her ear, she hoped.

  Stratford’s head dropped slowly as he fixed her with his intense stare. “You horsenapped my prize mare…?” he repeated.

  At least he sounded more confused than angry.

  Perhaps she could yet brazen her way out of this situation.

  She’d nearly lost her breakfast when Stratford had appeared like a wraith out of the mist. Of all persons to encounter when she’d been so close to returning unnoticed.

  But as he’d approached, the oddest thing had happened. Her fear had dissipated, to be replaced by something warmer. Something that prickled her skin and caused her to shiver as fear would, but then settled pleasantly in her middle.

  Now, however, nervousness returned. She thought she’d managed the conversation well so far, but what could she say to that?

  “Y-yes,” she admitted. “Though I didn’t know she was your prize horse. She was most beautiful, of course,” Liliana praised, knowing men liked to be flattered. “And the most…convenient,” she finished lamely, but didn’t look away.

  Stratford sat upon his steed, mouth agape, regarding her as if she’d just escaped Bedlam. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen such a befuddled look on a man before, unless, of course, she were trying to explain John Dalton’s theory of chemical atomism to them.

  An absurd urge to laugh overtook her. She knew it was only her mind’s physiological response to the strain, because truly, this wasn’t the least bit comical.

  Stratford closed his mouth, then opened it again. Then closed it like a sturgeon out of water.

  All right, perhaps it was a bit funny.

  “But why on earth would you feel the need to steal my horse?” he finally asked.

  Why indeed. Liliana glanced to her right. She couldn’t possibly tell the truth. Yet Penelope had accused her time and again of being a terrible liar. She should be as honest as she could and pray for the best.

  Why would she feel the need to steal his horse if not to sneak to the village to ask questions about him and his family?

  “I am accustomed to riding every morning,” she explained, able to make eye contact again. That was true, at least. “I did not wish to ask your permission, given we are so much at odds.” She bowed her head and tried to sound contrite. “I do apologize.”

  There. She peeped at him from beneath her lashes. A gentleman would accept her apology and send her on her way, perhaps with an admonishment.

  Stratford leaned back slightly in his saddle, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “And you hadn’t time to pilfer a sidesaddle, I gather,” he remarked drily.

  Liliana’s head came up as she fought off a scowl. She composed herself. She’d stick to as-honest-as-possible answers.

  “It is my habit to ride astride,” she stated. “I find it more practical when out collecting specimens and data for my experiments. It is much easier and safer amidst the brambles and bogs I frequent.”

  “Your experiments?” he asked, drawing his brows together.

  “Yes,” she said. “I am a chemist. And a healer.” Liliana felt her chin rise, expecting him to ridicule her as he had that night in the library when she’d offered him her help.

  But he didn’t scoff today. “I should like to hear more about your experiments,” he said, quite shocking her to her toes. “However, before we get to that, I must admit to a different curiosity. I’ve known some first-rate horsemen in my life, many of whom looked no better in the saddle than you. This isn’t the first time you’ve raced through the countryside at breakneck speed,” he guessed.

  A laugh escaped her, neither rich nor brittle. It sounded something in between, something bittersweet that she feared revealed more than she’d wanted to.

  Blast. She should leave, should whirl Amira around and race back to the stables. But Stratford leaned toward her, his face awash with interest. A genuine interest no man, save her father, had ever shown her, and she couldn’t help answering, “No. Nor do I consider myself a great horsewoman, though I rarely miss a morning. Riding for me is simply…” She searched for the right word.

  “An escape,” they both said at the very same moment.

  Silence hung between them. What could a rich lord like him possibly feel the need to escape from?

  “Escape from what?” Geoffrey voiced her question, but to her.

  “From the strictures of my life. From the frustrations of being born a woman with a scientific mind in a man’s world. From being pressed by my aunt to always—” She clapped her mouth shut, shaking her head. She’d shared quite enough, and she wasn’t even certain why. “You wouldn’t understand,” she demurred.

  “You might be surprised,” he answered, his voice quiet and solemn and just a touch rough. Her breath caught as well, and she couldn’t look away from him. His eyes held a haunted quality she’d never noticed before—something lurked in their depths that called to her.

  And discomfited her, greatly.

  She turned her face from him. “That might be true. However, as both of us will be expected at breakfast, we haven’t the time,” she said, grateful her tone sounded brisk. She sat up straight, pulling Amira around. “I am sorry I took your horse without permission, my lord. It won’t happen again.”

  “No, it won’t,” he answered as he, too, brought his horse around. “As you now have my permission to ride any morning you like whilst here at Somerton Park. I shall have Griggs leave a saddle in Amira’s stall, to make it easier for you to nab her.”

  She must have looked stunned, because he smiled.

  “I can’t have you shocking my stable boys with your unusual attire.” He hitched his leg, bringing Gringolet even with Amira as they ambled back toward the house. “Nor can I deny such an able rider her morning pleasure.” His voice dipped low, sending thrills of sensation rioting through Liliana.

  “Th-thank you,” Liliana stammered. She felt rather off center. Stratford unsettled her. He hadn’t taken her to task for stealing his horse. He hadn’t berated her for embarrassing him in public. He hadn’t judged her for her unconventionalities and was now, in fact, conspiring to enable her. “You are very kind,” she said, and realized she spoke the truth.

  How awful. She didn’t want to think of him as kind. She didn’t want to think of him at all, except as a suspect or a relation thereof. Yet increasingly she was viewing him as something more than an adversary, which only complicated matters.

  “Miss Claremont?”

  “Yes?” She turned her head to look at him. His gaze was fixed out over the lake, his lips pressed together and his brow dipped, as if he contemplated something of great import.

  “I, too, ride alone every morning, just shy of sunrise.” He shifted his eyes, and his gaze captured her. “Would you care to join me tomorrow?”

  “I…” Couldn’t, she almost said. But she’d accomplished little during her foray into the village. Due to the earliness of the hour, only the baker’s shop had been open. She’d thought her search had finally borne fruit when she discovered the other customer in the shop was the maid of all work to Geoffrey’s father’s former valet. He could have been a wealth of information.


  Her hopes were quickly dashed, however, when she’d learned that the man, Mr. Witherspoon, was gravely ill and had been unable to receive visitors for many months. Liliana had asked several questions of the girl about his condition on the walk back to the man’s cottage. Then she’d quickly jotted down the recipe for a concoction she thought might help him. The maid had taken it dubiously but promised to pass it along to her mistress.

  Liliana held out little hope, however. Maybe she could sneak away one afternoon later in the week to check on him, or to interview other people in the town, but it would be risky.