by Dawn Ireland
“Lady Catrina, I’m sorry about the knife incident. I’m not used to having someone of your caliber come to visit.” Alex tried to look sincere. At least that part was true. She’d never had a guest who was so mean-spirited. “Can you ever forgive me?” She hung her head, trying to appear repentant, but her head snapped up at the sound of Morgan’s cheery voice.
“Go on, forgive the chit.” Morgan announced as he approached from the stable on a dappled gelding. “If you don’t, we’re liable to be here all morning.”
He must be joining them. She gave Morgan a smile, and he grinned back. Relief washed over her that she’d have at least one ally on this unwanted expedition.
Catrina’s smug voice sounded loud and clear on the crisp morning air. “If you’re truly sorry, it would be wrong of me not to accept now, wouldn’t it?”
The hairs on the back of Alex’s neck stood up. It took all her control to look at Catrina with what she prayed was a hopeful expression. “Then you’ll still help me with my Season in London? It would mean a lot to me.”
“If Lord Worthington wishes it.” Catrina smiled in Declan’s direction, then turned back to her, the smile gone. “But you will do exactly as I tell you.”
“Of course.” Alex didn’t dare glance at Declan. As it was, she caught a suspicious glint in Morgan’s eye. Did he know she was lying?
John, the stable boy, brought Blade out. Alex knew John had been up for hours, but his hair made him look like he’d just rolled out of bed. He tried to saddle Blade, but the horse seemed to have an aversion to the sidesaddle. Alex came forward and made some adjustments to the straps as she whispered soothing words to her horse.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t take Blade. We don’t need any more accidents.” Declan’s voice held disapproval. “You aren’t used to a sidesaddle.”
Was Declan questioning her ability? She could ride almost as well as she fenced, in spite of this foolish saddle.
John brought Blade over to the mounting block and in one smooth motion, Alex found her perch. How did women stand this uncomfortable position for very long? “I suggest we go north. The scenery is spectacular in that direction.”
Declan gave her a look that told her he didn’t like having his suggestion ignored, but he didn’t say a word as he started down the path.
She’d love to challenge him to a race. Even riding sidesaddle, she’d hold her own. She started to call him back, but for once curbed her reckless nature. Racing probably wasn’t on Catrina’s list of acceptable pursuits for a lady.
Alex dropped back next to Morgan and allowed Catrina and Declan to lead. She watched the two for several minutes, but from what she could observe, Declan seemed, at best, to tolerate Catrina. Why would he want to marry her?
“Lord Morgan, have you known Lord Worthington long?”
“Several years. We were at Eaton together.”
“And after that?”
“I was fool enough to follow Worthington into the military.”
A friend of Alex’s grandfather had described the horrors of war when she was thirteen. The man was a consummate storyteller, and the images he’d created hadn’t faded with the years.
For some reason, the thought of Declan deliberately putting himself in harm’s way disturbed her. “Were either of you hurt?”
“It’s lucky we were.”
The way he said it made her suspect they’d experienced firsthand the terrors she’d heard about. “How long were you there?”
“Long enough to wish we’d never joined.” Morgan gave a mirthless laugh. “We were young and thought we needed a bit of adventure. At least that was my reason for enlisting.” He shook his head. “Worthington’s father was furious. The old earl tried to keep his only son from going—which, of course, meant he had to go.”
“I take it they didn’t get along?”
“You could say that.” Morgan’s expression held a pensive edge. “It’s glad I am the old man’s dead. If he hadn’t died, Worthington would have killed himself in one outlandish stunt or another.”
“And now?”
“I’m not sure. He’s repaired his fortune, but I’m thinking scars to the soul don’t heal as easily.” Morgan pinned her with a look. “You like him, don’t you, Wee One?”
“Why do you call me ‘Wee One’?”
“Lady Lochsdale doesn’t seem to fit. When we first met, you reminded me of pictures I’d seen of the fairies and other wee folk in my native Ireland.” Morgan gave her a knowing smile. “Now I’ve answered your questions. It’s only fair you’d be answering mine. You like him, don’t you?”
“I haven’t known him long enough to form an opinion.”
“Mmm?”
“Oh, all right. He is the most exasperating, overbearing, headstrong man I’ve ever met. In spite of all that, I like him. God knows why.”
“Same reason I do. He makes you feel at ease around him. I’ve never known him to be judgmental.”
“That hasn’t been my experience.”
“Hasn’t it?” A secretive smile lurked in Morgan’s eyes. “Then perhaps you’re the exception.”
Declan searched all Alex’s usual haunts and had a moment of panic at the thought she’d run away. She’d seemed agreeable, if rather quiet, on the ride this morning.
That might have been due to Catrina’s badgering. He’d speak with her tonight. Her constant baiting of Alex had to stop. If it didn’t, the trip to London would be a disaster. Odds were good Catrina wouldn’t last a day in an enclosed carriage with Alex.
They were leaving in the morning. He had so much to finalize concerning the estate. He’d hoped Alex could answer some questions. Where was she?
He went in search of Eleanor and found her in the room that had once belonged to Alex’s mother. She was carefully storing away the gowns Alex wouldn’t be taking with her to London.
“Eleanor, have you seen Lady Lochsdale?”
“Did you need her for something?” She brushed imaginary dust from her gown.
“I have a few questions.”
“Perhaps I can answer them for you?”
“No, I need to speak with her.” Declan watched in fascination as Eleanor gripped her skirt with her hands. She probably wasn’t even aware of her actions. Why would Alex’s whereabouts cause her distress?
“I need some information about the estate.” Declan held up a hand. “Information only she can answer.” He tried not to let the irritation he felt at Alex’s disappearance show. “Where is she?”
Eleanor fumbled with the cameo at her neck, closed her eyes, and let out a long sigh. “Alex asked me not to tell. Please don’t be angry.” She opened her eyes and gave him a pleading look, then laid her hand on his arm. “It’s her last day on the estate as a free woman. She wanted it to be the way it was in the old days.”
“I’m not angry.” Did Eleanor think he was an ogre? Is that how Alex viewed him as well?
“She asked her fencing teacher to give her a final lesson. They’re in the south meadow.”
“Thank you.” He took Eleanor’s hands. “Don’t worry, I only want to ask her a few questions.”
“I know, only...” She removed her hands from his and turned away.
“Only what?”
“I wish you’d try to understand Alex.” She turned and held his gaze. “She may be impulsive, but what she really wants is a stable life with people who love her in spite of, or perhaps because of, her idiosyncrasies. Is that so different from you and I?”
“Perhaps not, but it’s up to me to decide what’s best for her future.” Declan gave her a small smile. “I’d never hurt her. I doubt if she’d let me.”
The ride to the south meadow took forever. In spite of his impatience, Declan slowed Knight to a walk as they entered the trees. Alex should never have gone off on her own. Why didn’t she trust him enough to tell him about the fencing lesson? Was she afraid he’d forbid it? Alex valued freedom above all things. Freedom to make choices. Freedom to have a fencing les
son if she wanted one.
He’d never really thought much about women having fewer choices in their lives than men. He supposed they did. Alex didn’t want to marry, but then neither did he. In that way they were alike. She would just have to learn, as he had, that life rarely gives you options.
The clearing appeared suddenly. For a moment, he was blinded by the sun and didn’t see the figures engaged in a contest at the far corner of the meadow.
He kept to the edge of the trees. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t interrupt. This was the perfect time to satisfy his curiosity about Alex’s abilities. He worked his way around until he was close enough to have a good view.
Alex wore a silk shirt and breeches with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her opponent was a small wiry man who periodically called out instructions.
Mesmerized, he watched her graceful movement with a sense of awe. When he’d been on the other end of her blade, he hadn’t had the opportunity to admire her technique.
She carried herself well. Her thrusts were clean and concise, with no wasted motion. Small beads of sweat covered her face, causing damp curls to stick to her forehead. The silk shirt clung to her breasts, while her breeches exposed every curve.
His arousal was almost immediate.
It was ironic Alex believed she had no effect on him. But then again, he’d gone to great lengths to make her think that.
For once, Catrina’s interference was advantageous. If he’d been left alone with Alex for the next week, could he have resisted her? He doubted it. He was drawn to her like no woman he’d ever known, and for that reason alone, he had to stay away.
Alex lunged at her opponent. They were using button-tipped practice weapons, but injury was still a possibility. He held his breath with each new counterattack. Her opponent was good. His speed and agility forced Alex back across the meadow.
The match seemed to go on forever. He noted Alex no longer tried to press for an advantage. Instead, she simply defended herself. He almost interrupted, but at that moment, Alex’s instructor called a halt.
They walked to the edge of the forest and sat on a fallen log. The little man talked intently as he held his weapon out in front of him.
A look of concentration appeared on her face as she tried to imitate his grip. She gave a few tentative thrusts. It was an awkward hold, but after several minutes her skill improved. Declan felt an odd sort of pride in her accomplishment, but immediately squelched the feeling. Fencing would not help her find a husband.
Alex turned toward her teacher and smiled. It was a smile of love and trust. She hugged the fencing master, and Declan would have given anything to be the recipient.
They stood, and the instructor gave her a bow that would have been envied in King George’s Court. She in turn gave him a mock curtsey while holding out the edges of an imaginary skirt. Their laughter rang through the trees as they mounted their horses.
He backed out of sight, expecting them to ride past. He’d join them back at the manor. It wouldn’t do for Alex to know he’d been spying on her. She’d accused him of that once already.
The fencing instructor came within ten feet of his hiding place, but Alex wasn’t with him. Declan waited until the teacher passed before going to look for her.
When he reached the meadow, he noticed a faint path leading away from the manor. Following it, he expected to see Alex at every turn, but he’d ridden about a mile before the forest gave way to a valley.
It was a beautiful spot. Tiny blue and yellow flowers dotted the banks of a small lake nestled among the hills. He nudged Blade to the water’s edge, where the horse could crop the long grass.
Squinting against the sun, Declan searched the area. Where was she?
Alex gasped for air as she cleared the water’s surface. She hadn’t meant to stay under for so long, but after this morning, she was in the mood to nudge boundaries.
The water felt wonderful on her heated skin. It wouldn’t be wise to stay in too much longer, but this might be the last time she could swim in her favorite place.
Water plastered the hair to her face. She shoved the thick mass aside and opened her eyes. After a quick glance, she closed them again. Declan stood on the shore about fifteen feet away.
His quiet roar echoed off the water. “Damnation, Alex. What do you think you’re doing?”
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Swimming,” she sputtered, as water tried to find its way into her mouth.
“In mid April.” Declan crossed to her neatly folded pile of clothes on the rocky shore. “And to whom do these belong?”
Alex shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.” He knew to whom they belonged. The man was just being difficult.
“Come out of there now. You’re going to make yourself sick.”
She’d been thinking the same thing before he arrived, but now it was a matter of honor. She couldn’t come out with him standing there, and she wasn’t going to let him ruin her enjoyment.
“I intend to stay right here. Please feel free to leave if you must.” She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she’d lay odds the twitch in his jaw was back.
“Stop acting like a child. You’re going to come out in the next two minutes or suffer the consequences.”
“Just what might those be?” She hated to admit her toes were getting numb.
Declan sat down on a rock and started to remove his boots.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming in after you. I can’t very well do that with my boots on now, can I?” Declan finished with his boots and removed his jacket.
“You wouldn’t!”
“Wouldn’t I?” He started to undo the buttons on his waistcoat.
He was bluffing. The water was cold. Now that her body wasn’t so heated, she realized how cold. Was she more afraid of her humiliation or Declan’s anger?
He removed his shirt. Suddenly the cold didn’t matter. As a child she’d often seen him naked to the waist, but he hadn’t been so...developed...had he?
In spite of all the water, her mouth went dry. She had to swallow, then remind herself to breathe.
His shoulders were broad and well muscled, as was the rest of his torso. Fine dark hair covered his upper chest and tapered downward.
Her eyes followed the line to where Declan was starting to unbutton the flap on his breeches.
She should stop this and come out of the water. But she felt an overwhelming desire to see him as nature intended. This memory of how he looked, naked at the edge of her lake, would have to last a lifetime.
Declan hesitated, forcing her to look up. “Are you coming out?”
“No.” Even from her position, she could see his raised eyebrow.
The cramp hit without warning. She doubled up, tried to straighten, then tried to kick her legs. It was pointless. Nothing worked. Terror engulfed her as she began to sink, the surface a light blur she desperately needed to reach.
Her lungs were bursting. She tried clawing her way upward. God, she didn’t want to die like this. She had to breathe. Unable to fight back, she felt herself being drawn toward the bottom.
Declan.
His name still clung to her lips when the lure of the warm, soothing darkness overcame her struggles.
Chapter 9
The ice cold water took his breath away. Declan dived deep, praying this was the spot he’d seen Alex go down. The murky lake allowed for visibility of no more than two feet in each direction.
He stayed down as long as he could. At the last moment, he shot upward, filled his lungs with air, then plunged again.
On the third time, he found her. She floated about ten feet below the surface. Drawing near, he could see small bubbles escaping from her mouth. Her glorious hair did a mesmerizing dance around her face.
He grabbed her waist with both hands, thanking God she wasn’t wearing any sodden clothing that would have forced her to the bottom. Straining every muscle, he swam upward toward air and light.
When their h
eads cleared the water, Declan drew in a quick breath, then faced her. He cleared the water out of her mouth and kept her head above water as he towed her to the shore.
She hadn’t moved. The fear that he might be too late gnawed at his gut. With the last of his strength, he put her facedown onto a sun-warmed rock. He turned her head to the side, then rhythmically pressed down on her back, mimicking the motions he’d seen Paddy use on a sailor who’d been fished from the ocean.
That man had died.
Declan prayed long and hard for one of the few times in his life. Making all kinds of promises he wasn’t sure he could keep, if God allowed Alex to live.
After what seemed like an eternity, water spurted out of her mouth. She drew in several ragged breaths and started to cough.
He turned her over, cradling her head in his arms. She opened her eyes and tried to speak, her voice low and raspy. He had to lean close to hear what she said.
“You’re wet.”
“So are you.” He gave her a weak smile, trying not to look at her naked body, but his peripheral vision still allowed him a titillating view of her creamy breasts with their puckered nipples. In spite of the cold, his manhood hardened.
“Thank you,” Alex whispered. Then her eyes fluttered closed.
She was alive, but they’d both be in big trouble if they couldn’t get warm and dry. He grabbed his shirt and settled it over her head. It went to her knees, but he didn’t think her silk clothing would offer much warmth or modesty if her moist skin plastered it to her womanly curves.
Knight came at his whistle, and he jerked a leather satchel from the saddle. He stuffed Alex’s clothing inside and slipped his jacket on over his wet breeches, then stepped into his boots. With care, he lifted Alex in his arms.
His horse seemed to sense the urgency and stood still as he maneuvered her inert form onto the saddle. With difficulty, he climbed up behind her, then huddled her shivering form against his naked chest. The top of her damp head rested under his chin. He wrapped his coat as far as it would reach around them both, then urged Knight to a gallop toward the manor.