"I won't be suffering. I plan to enjoy his visit. He came here to indulge in a bit of sport."
Brie gave Julian a look that clearly labeled him a traitor as she stood up. "Come, Caroline," she said, squaring her shoulders.
When she marched from the room, Caroline flashed Julian an apologetic glance, then tagged meekly behind her angry cousin. Julian followed, still frowning.
When he had seen the cousins safely away, he went directly in search of his guest. He found Dominic in the gun room, seated at a table, carefully cleaning the breech of a fowling piece.
"I have servants who are paid to keep my weapons in prime condition," Julian said testily. "They can see to yours as well."
"I prefer to care for my own firearms," Dominic replied without looking up.
Julian pulled out a chair and straddled it, crossing his arms over the back. "Well?" he said impatiently.
Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Well, what?"
"You know what I mean. Did you have to be so hard on her? Brie is only a novice with foils, and she didn't realize—"
"You would defend her?" Dominic asked, his tone as smooth and hard as steel. "Your Miss Carringdon may be a novice, my friend, but hardly an innocent. She had fire in her eyes. She knew very well what she was about."
"I think you are mistaken, Dom. You frightened her quite badly, at any rate."
An imitation of a smile twisted Dominic's mouth. He was not proud of his conduct, knowing that he had responded far too emotionally to Brie's blind attack. He should never have allowed his anger to get so out of hand, particularly since terrifying Brie had not been his intention. She had deserved some form of punishment, certainly, but it was not part of his plan to frighten her away.
One glimpse of her fear-widened eyes and ashen cheeks had made him realize how greatly he had overreacted. And as he had stood looking down at Brie, at her breasts rising and falling beneath his rapier, at her thighs parted in open invitation, the quickening heat in his loins had abruptly outstripped the heat of his anger. At that moment, the desire to plunge the sword of his masculinity deep inside her had been almost overpowering. It had far outweighed the urge for revenge with his blade of steel. If he had been alone with her, he doubted that he could have prevented himself from savagely taking her then and there, no matter how unwilling she might have been. He had deserted the scene of battle before his control could be put to the test.
And now Julian was frowning at him. "You didn't tell me you had met Brie," Julian remarked.
"Should I have?" Dominic replied, wondering just what Brie had told his host. "What did she say?"
"Only that you two had some kind of confrontation while she was out riding."
Dominic gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. "I came across Miss Carringdon unexpectedly while I was exploring. The bay she was on shied and she took a hard fall. I suppose you might say she misinterpreted my intentions when I came to her aid."
Hearing the reasonable explanation, Julian visibly relaxed. He would not have enjoyed challenging Dominic. "A bay?" he mused. "She must have been riding my new hunter. A few months ago I unwisely bought a gelding from a friend in Ireland, sight unseen, and he turned out to be as green as they come—spooks at his own shadow. Absolutely worthless on the field. Brie agreed to take him for a few weeks, primarily as a favor to me. I sent him to her for training."
"Training?"
"Brie runs the stables her father started. It's called Greenwood. I'm sure you've heard of it, since you've ridden with the Quorn."
Impressed in spite of himself, Dominic glanced up from his work. "I've heard of it. I'll bet a quarter of the Quorn's members have mounts that were either bred or trained at Greenwood."
"I suspect that's true of the Cottesmore and Belvoir hunts as well. Greenwood is close enough to Melton Mowbray to be convenient, and it's known for turning out quality horseflesh. It is quite an operation. They have a few racers, but they specialize in hunters. A fellow by the name of John Simms is the head trainer. Brie spends most of her time managing the place, although she sometimes works with the more difficult horses."
Dominic's mouth twisted in a grin. "Perhaps that explains why she tried to take my head off. I ridiculed her horsemanship. My comments probably stung her pride as much as did her fall."
"I think you did more than hurt her pride. I've never seen her so livid."
"She seems to me to be somewhat headstrong, not to mention foolish," Dominic said, inspecting the bore of his weapon.
Julian shook his head. "Brie may be stubborn and have a temper, Dom, but she is far from foolish. She happens to be the most intelligent woman I know."
"That isn't saying much," Dominic returned cynically. "But I will agree that Miss Carringdon is definitely unique, traipsing around in her breeches. I've seen street urchins who were better dressed. I expect more than a few of my acquaintances would appreciate her unusual style of fashion though—all male, of course."
"She doesn't dress like that all the time."
"I should hope not. How did you come to know her, anyway?"
Julian shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his friend's penetrating gaze. "Do you remember when I first met you in Vienna a few years ago? I told you I was suffering from a broken heart. You laughed in my face, I recall."
"Some girl in London, I believe? Ahh, Brie Carringdon?" When Julian nodded, Dominic once again experienced a surge of irrational envy. "Is she your mistress?" he asked, trying to keep his tone bland.
Julian looked up with a start. "Brie? Good God, no! She's a lady."
"Ladies have been known to overstep the bonds of propriety before, my friend."
"Well, she is not my mistress. I wanted to marry her, but she wouldn't have me."
"Why not? Your fortune not large enough?"
Julian stared hard at Dominic for a moment, not liking his implication or his sardonic tone. Then suddenly he laughed.
"Dom, Brie inherited everything from her father. Her fortune is more than adequate and she certainly doesn't need mine. No, she didn't love me."
"I see," Dominic drawled.
"No, you don't see. Damn it, I tell you you're wrong about her. She could have any man she wanted. She's beautiful and kind and honest—"
"Spare me a catalogue of her virtues," Dominic interjected, rubbing his cheek. "I've already sampled her kindness."
Julian grinned. "Brie told me about hitting you."
"She did, did she? What else did she say?"
"Nothing, other than to call you an insufferable tyrant. Completely justified, if your behavior today was any indication of how you treated her then." Julian chuckled. "I would have given a monkey to see the look on your face after—"
"I assume she was the reason you found Rutland so fascinating," Dominic interjected, wanting to know more about his friend's relationship with Brie.
"In part. When I returned to England, I saw Brie again in London and we became friends. I came up here last year with her aunt and uncle when they were visiting. I liked the area, so I bought this place. You might know Brie's uncle, Sir Miles Langley. His wife Arabella was Carringdon's sister."
"I know him," Dominic said with a twisted smile. "And I pity the poor bastard. Lady Arabella is a veritable dragon."
Julian laughed. "Quite. And that's precisely what Brie calls her."
"Umm, perhaps your Miss Carringdon has more sense that I credited her with. Are you over your infatuation with her then?"
Julian gave a thoughtful frown. "I suppose so."
"You suppose?" Dominic said dryly. "Don't you know?"
Shrugging, Julian drew an imaginary pattern on the table top with a forefinger. "You know, I've asked Brie to marry me a dozen times, but she only laughs as if I am joking and says we wouldn't suit. I still love her, but I'm beginning to believe she is right about a marriage between us. She is . . . difficult to handle when she's in one of her tempers."
"You could always turn her over your knee," Dominic suggested, finding some pleasure in
the idea.
"You must be joking. That would be the last way to win her affection. She wouldn't stand for it anyway." Seeing the gleam in Dominic's gray eyes. Julian eyed him suspiciously. "You aren't thinking of doing something like that, are you?"
"Not unless she means to use me again as a target for her various weapons. It is unfortunate that she dislikes me so much. I was looking forward to some pleasant entertainment during my stay."
"Dominic, Brie is no lightskirt. If you're planning anything, you had better be serious. But I'll tell you now, she isn't your type. Besides," Julian added with a grin, "Brie is the tiniest bit angry with you at the moment."
Dominic raised a mocking brow. "I'll be damned, I do believe you are warning me away. I find that novel, coming from you. Like the pot and the kettle, isn't it?"
"If it were any other woman I wouldn't object, but you hurt Brie and I'll carve your liver out."
Both of them knew his threat wasn't to be taken literally. In the first place, Julian was far too civilized to carve out anyone's liver, and in the second, he didn't have Dominic's prowess with pistols or swords, even if he was quite a skilled sportsman. But he wouldn't hesitate to defend Brie if she were threatened— not even against his closest friends.
Dominic clearly understood Julian's position, but in spite of the warning he didn't mean to relinquish his pursuit. He hadn't had a challenge like Brie since the war, and he wasn't about to give it up now. And there was still the mystery of why she was so afraid of him.
Dominic smiled blandly. "My dear Julian, I have absolutely no intention of harming the lady. I shall be perfectly charming. In fact, I'll wager that by the time I leave, she will have no reason to fear me."
His reply was not particularly reassuring, but Julian decided not to press the point. Instead he exerted himself to make his guest feel welcome, beginning by telling Dominic what he had planned for their entertainment.
Dominic listened with only half an ear, for his thoughts were centered on Brie. He hadn't liked the fact that she had lied to him about her identity, and he still wasn't sure why she had done so. Some women, given similar circumstances, would have tried to force his hand. Society expected a gentleman to marry a young woman he had compromised—and being stranded in a hunting lodge, with a man of his reputation and without a proper chaperon, certainly qualified asa compromising situation. Not that he would ever have bowed to that kind of pressure. But Brie would have had the perfect opportunity to attempt it.
Of course she might truly be uninterested in marriage or in landing a title for herself. But Julian had to be mistaken about her level of sophistication, Dominic decided. No woman that beautiful could be as chaste and innocent as Julian had made her out to be. Besides, he knew from personal experience that Brie was no innocent. She might not be some elderly gentleman's mistress and she might not be particularly expert at lovemaking, but her response to him had been far from virginal.
Dominic's lips curved in a smile as he remembered the feel of that lithe, feminine body in his arms. She has responded to his kisses with her own brand of passion, very sensual and very desirable. He wanted her, despite her hot temper and sharp tongue. And he would have her, he didn't doubt. Very few women had been able to resist Dominic Serrault when he chose to be charming and persuasive.
Not even the haughtiest and most reluctant.
Chapter Six
"What do you plan to do, Brie?" Caroline at last ventured.
They had ridden home without speaking a word, and when they reached Greenwood, Brie had gone straight to her room and flung herself face down on her bed. Caroline had followed, appropriating a corner of the bed while she waited for Brie's misery to diminish.
At the question. Brie rolled over on her back and flung an arm up to cover her eyes, "I don't know," she said bleakly.
"I expect you are too upset now to reflect on the situation calmly, but in my opinion, you have only one choice."
"Murder is a capital crime, cousin, I don't think the satisfaction I would get would be worth hanging for."
Caroline smiled, pleased to see Brie's spirits reviving. "That isn't what I had in mind. I think you should apologize to Lord Stanton."
Brie opened her eyes to stare at her cousin. "He wouldn't forgive me, especially not after what I did to him two weeks ago. He thinks I knew my point was unguarded and that I purposely attacked him."
"I declare, Brie, one would think you were a child. How can you know so little about the male ego? I suppose it comes from living for so long away from society and not having the opportunity to watch your sisters grow up like I've had. Of course he would forgive you. In fact, I doubt if anything could make his lordship feel more wretched than a sweetly worded, humble apology."
Brie considered the advice, but then shook her head. "I couldn't do it."
"It might hurt your pride a bit, but believe me, it would be effective. You cannot keep fighting him the way you have, on his terms."
"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.
"Merely that you aren't using what advantages you have. Men hate it when a female challenges their masculinity—and most particularly when one competes in what they consider their natural domain. I had never met Lord Stanton before today, but I'd heard rumors about him. He's credited with being a rake, the kind who always has a string of mistresses in keeping. So, play the game Lord Stanton understands. You're a very beautiful woman, but dressed as you are now, in breeches and top boots, you can hardly hope to attract a man like him."
"But I have no intention of trying to attract him!"
A twinkle lit Caroline's brown eyes. "Antagonizing Lord Stanton further would not be very wise on your part."
Brie gave her cousin a reluctant smile. "I'm well aware of that. But what do you suggest? I've never been able to act the coy young maiden, and I wouldn't know the first thing about playing the coquette to a philanderer."
Caroline laughed. "You don't have to be completely wicked. If you go about it the right way, you will soon have Lord Stanton wondering how he could ever have treated you in such a boorish manner. You have only to be charming and civil to render him harmless. But you'll have to remember not to fly into a pet if he teases you or makes you angry. You must accept his provoking remarks with equanimity and grace, smiling sweetly at him to show he hasn't the power to affect you."
"He will think I am flirting with him."
"Of course he will, goose! That is part of the game. But what harm will it do? Your purpose is merely to convince Lord Stanton that his way of riding roughshod over you is abominable and entirely undeserved. I think a little flirtation will suffice admirably."
Caroline's smile was so innocent that Brie couldn't help laughing. "You are incorrigible, cousin. Not to mention devious. I hope you're around to advise me if your little plot goes awry. Stanton doesn't strike me as the type to allow some designing female to practice her arts on him. But I suppose I can at least humble myself enough to make an apology. I owe it to Julian to be civil to his guest, at any rate. We could always leave a little earlier for London if I find myself in a scrape."
"Well, it was just a misunderstanding, after all. Stanton is sure to let it pass. Actually he rather surprised me, getting so angry at you. When he first arrived, I thought he looked quite like he wanted to kiss you."
"He wouldn't dare try that again," Brie muttered.
Caroline's eyes widened. "Do you mean he already has?"
Brie shot her cousin a quelling glance. "I assure you, Caroline, I do not go around hitting perfect strangers without some provocation."
"There is no need to be nasty, Brie. I only want to help. And my plan will work, you'll see. Now come, I want to see your wardrobe. We have to choose your most becoming gowns in case Lord Stanton should call."
Brie reluctantly allowed Caroline to take the lead, but it was several days before she had an opportunity to speak to Stanton, and then it was under circumstances Caroline would not have approved.
The weather took
a dreary turn and it rained incessantly. During that time, Brie dutifully obeyed Caroline's strictures, dressing her part to perfection and even allowing her cousin's maid to tend her hair. But her meek acceptance was not destined to last. On the first day that rain no longer poured from the skies, she rebelled against her confinement, leaving the house early to avoid her cousin's watchful eye.
It was a miserable morning, for even though the rain had ceased, dark clouds obscured the sun, wrapping the countryside in a bone-chilling gloom. The ground had frozen hard, and even the puddles in the rutted roads were glazed with ice.
Brie rode one of her favorite hunters, but a long gallop did little to lift her spirits. When she returned to the stables, she ordered Julian's bay saddled, deciding to brave the south field for the first time since her disastrous encounter with Stanton.
She was relieved when she met no one along the way. The Expedition, however, brought a return of memories she would rather have forgotten. And for some reason, she couldn't dispel the notion of being watched by hidden eyes. The prickling sensation running down her spine made her glance frequently over her shoulder as she was making her way home. When she heard the distant staccato of hoofbeats, she drew up abruptly, her heartbeat quickening.
Although chiding herself for being a coward, Brie urged the bay off the road behind a bordering yew hedge which, in its overgrown state, sheltered her from view. She had no idea how long she sat waiting for the rider to pass, but she could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage. Jester also sensed the tension in her body and pricked his ears forward in nervous anticipation, his muscles quivering. When a huge black stallion suddenly materialized through the hedge, he shied in terror.
Brie caught a glimpse of the stallion, but she was too busy clinging to Jester's neck and trying to control the frightened horse to wonder at this seeming piece of witchcraft. When the bay at last came to a trembling halt, she looked up to find Dominic observing her.
The first thing she noticed was the elegant cloak and fashionable beaver hat he wore. The second was the deadly- looking pistol he had trained on her. Brie froze when she saw the pistol, while her throat constricted in fear, preventing her from uttering a sound.
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