He shook his head. “We exchanged only a brief tête-à-tête. But I’m glad her presence pleased you.”
She offered him a cluster of grapes. “Perhaps I shall invite her for a visit. I’d like to arrange a birthday celebration for you. Do you think she will accept?”
My God, she was serious! He took a swallow of wine. He didn’t want to abate his wife’s hope, but the dowager believed the more distance between family, the better. Yet he found himself fascinated by his wife’s insatiable concern for people. “My mother has caused you nothing but grief. Why do you still care about her feelings, my dear?”
“Your mother reminds me of someone who has been very hurt. Sometimes it’s those who act unlovable who need love the most.”
How fresh and unspoiled Alicia was. She could never understand a woman as complicated as the dowager. “My mother prides herself on not showing emotion. She considers stoicism a virtue.”
“That’s false pride speaking. She believes everything she’s done in the past was for your and the family’s best interest. She cares very much for you, Dalton, but she’s unable to show love.”
He hid a smile as he wondered what his mother might say if she knew of Alicia’s sentiments. “You’re most generous to a woman who has done everything to ruin you.” He couldn’t take his eyes from her. “Yet you’re willing to forgive her. Why?”
Her dark eyelashes lowered, her cheeks pinked quite becomingly. “Because without forgiveness, there can be no healing.” She put her hands in her lap, then looked up with what he almost thought was shyness.
“I don’t understand. Why would you care, Alicia?”
She gave him a coy look. “Perhaps I’ll tell you later.”
“Alicia,” he said gently, extending his hand, “if you wish to invite her, then do so.” He felt suddenly in need to protect this lovely young woman. “But promise me you won’t be hurt when she refuses.”
She clasped her fingers around his hand, her only answer a gentle smile that tugged on his heart.
While they finished their meal in silence, Dalton wondered if Alicia might better understand his mother if he told her the one secret he vowed never to share. “Alicia, there’s something I think you should know,” he said with hesitation.
She glanced up over her wineglass.
“When I was two and ten, my favorite horse was an Arabian mare, Quicksilver. I was delighted when she gave birth to a foal. I had been up most of the night with her, and when she finally had the colt, I could hardly wait to tell my mother. My father was in London, on business. I raced up the stairs to her bedroom suite. There were no maids or footmen around. I rushed into my mother’s bedroom and—”
Her eyes widened, waiting. “And what?”
Dalton glanced away. “I found my father’s brother, Uncle George, with her. My mother was beside herself. She ran after me, trying to explain. I ran off. I took refuge in the hunting lodge where one of the gamekeepers found me.” His eyes met hers again, and he saw the shock and pain in those large dark eyes. “I’ve never forgiven her for deceiving my father. I never will.”
Alicia laid her hand on his fist. “Did your father know?”
“He never behaved as if he did.”
Alicia rose and came to his side. Her fingers touched his cheek. No words were needed as his arms pulled her across his lap. He felt her rapid heartbeat against him as his mouth settled against hers. As their kiss deepened, he was fueled with a passion that would be his undoing.
Her mouth was like a sun-kissed rose, silken, honeyed, intoxicating. She drew in a little gasp, drawing him closer.
He parted her lips, his tongue stroked and explored. How he wanted her.
Far off, a horse whinnied, barely breaking his consciousness. He lifted his head in time to see a flash of sunlight. Or was it?
Gunfire exploded from the woods nearby. The whine of a bullet stopped in the oak beside them as bark flew in the air.
“Get down,” Dalton cried, dropping to the ground with Alicia. He rolled over her, shielding her with his body. The flash of light he’d seen had been the glint from a rifle barrel.
Bashshar, tethered beneath the tree, raced in circles, screaming. The whites of his eyes glowed as he yanked on the leather lead. Beside a stand of firs, nearly twenty feet away, Jupiter danced uneasily, ears pricked.
Alicia struggled from his grip. “Bashshar!” she gasped. “I must go—”
“Stay still, Alicia,” he said, pulling her back down in the shelter of the high grass. “Someone’s firing at us. We don’t know how many.” He raised his head, his gaze scanning the trees and shrubs for any sign of their attacker, but the forest was silent. Too silent. “Keep your head down,” he whispered, gripping her wrist to make sure she stayed with him.
Bashshar’s screams, like an animal in the throes of death, rent the air as he reared and kicked at the end of his lead.
“Dalton, please.” Her eyes shut against the heart-wrenching sounds. Beneath him, he could feel her heart hammering with his. Dear God, if anything were to happen to her…
“Alicia, lie still, love. There’s nothing we can do for him,” he whispered. There was a good chance the shooter was using Bashshar to lure them out into the open. But he couldn’t tell her that. “The shooter may have only wanted to frighten us,” he whispered instead. Yet the reality was that whoever fired the shot would probably try again.
Alicia’s eyes rounded in horror. “You think he purposely shot at us?”
“I’m not sure,” he whispered. He lifted his gaze to scan the horizon. Nothing.
They lay hidden, listening, for what seemed to be hours, but may have only been twenty minutes. Bashshar had finally stilled, more from exhaustion than lack of fear. But Dalton was certain the horse wouldn’t have quieted if there was still a shooter nearby.
Dalton lifted his head and glanced around. The woods appeared peaceful, birdsong filled the air. “I want you to inch your way toward Jupiter,” he whispered in her ear. “He’s behind those trees and can’t be seen by the shooter.”
“No, I won’t leave you.”
“Alicia, listen to me.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Take Jupiter and ride the path along the hedgerows. You’ll be out of sight if the gunman is still there. But the noise will confuse him long enough for me to untie Bashshar and get him to safety.”
“No, you might be killed. I can’t leave you here—”
“Alicia, please. By the time you reach the back meadow, I’ll join you. If I’m not there, keep riding until you reach the manor. You can bring help.” He held his breath, hoping he could convince her. It was the only way to ensure she would be safe.
“Do you promise to follow immediately?” she asked.
“I promise.” He couldn’t help admire her bravery. Most women, when confronted by an unknown attacker, would be hysterical. Not only had she kept her head, but her thoughts had been of him and Bashshar. He also realized that she trusted him, the feeling giving him heartfelt pleasure.
She glanced at the black stallion, and her anguished look told him she knew the animal was severely exhausted. The sooner they try to escape, the better.
She finally nodded her agreement.
“Carefully work your way toward Jupiter,” he coached. “I’ll be right behind you as soon as I untie Bashshar.” He watched as she crept toward the thick fir. Within minutes, he saw her mount Jupiter and gallop toward safety.
Easily, he moved steadily to where Bashshar stood, his eyes wary. He spoke softly while he untied the reins, all the while watching the leafy horizon. Still no sound or movement from the woods. Dalton wasn’t fooled. If the gunman had wanted to shoot them, he and Alicia had been open targets. No, whoever the shooter was, he’d only wanted to frighten them.
Dalton mounted Bashshar and urged the horse toward the open meadow. Cold fury threatened to break Dalton’s calm exterior, but he forced it back. Now wasn’t the time. But he made a silent vow that whoever was doing this was going to pay.
Jupiter t
ossed his head just as Dalton, riding Bashshar, appeared through the hedge. Thank God they were all right. Alicia felt the relief all the way through her. When he rode up beside her, she brought her horse in step as they rode along the path that wended away from the gaming fields.
They walked in silence, the only sounds coming from the creak of tack as the horses’ hooves drummed upon the clumps of grass. A slight wind, bringing the scent of hawthorn berries from the hedgerows, ruffled the horses’ long tails.
A disturbing thought crossed her mind. She made a stern effort to keep the fear from her voice. “How can you be sure that you’re not the intended target?”
Dalton gave her a sidelong glance. “If someone wanted me dead, he would have had his chance by now to do the job.”
How she wanted to believe him, but she thought he might be trying to protect her from the truth. “Has the inspector from Bow Street ruled out that you might be the shooter’s target?”
“Mr. Humphrey Leary has a meticulous mind. He leaves no stone unturned.”
She lifted a brow. “That’s not what I asked.”
The smile he gave her erased all tension from his face. “Are you wondering if my life is in danger out of curiosity, or do I detect that you care about me, my love?”
“Curiosity,” she said teasingly.
His deep laughter was infectious, and she found herself grinning. Despite his nonchalance, the question hammered at her.
“You’ll keep me informed?” Alicia glanced away at the squares of ripening green and gold that covered the rising hills, hoping he couldn’t read the concern that she knew was on her face.
“You are adorable, sweet one.” His odd, husky voice drew her eyes to him. “It’s been a long time since anyone worried about me.” The heat in his blue eyes warmed her as no blaze could have, and she was aware that he, too, was savoring the moment.
I care because I love you, she wanted to say, but knew better. He might feel obligated to say the words I love you, too. And that would be worse than never having him say what she longed to hear.
Chapter Fifteen
For the next three weeks, Dalton spent most of his spare time watching Alicia train Bashshar to overcome the fear of loud noises. She was fascinating to watch. Besides her patience and boundless energy, Alicia’s movements around the horse were as fluid and graceful as a dancer’s.
The horse appeared to sense what she wanted and obeyed her slightest commands. In fact, their timing was so perfect that if he were a fanciful man, he might believe that woman and beast could read each other’s minds.
Of course he knew better. Yet when he was around her, she brought out a side of him that wanted to believe anything was possible.
He stepped on the lowest fence railing and rested his arms over the top, watching Alicia wave to Ulger, who stood in the middle of the pasture with a shotgun slung over his shoulder. She tightened her rein on Bashshar as Ulger lumbered toward her. When he was within a hundred yards of where she and Bashshar stood, she called out, “Stop. That’s close enough.”
Ulger nodded, then loaded the weapon and fired into the air. The shot cracked the silence. Alicia rubbed the stallion’s neck in soothing circles, crooning in his ear while gripping the lead. Bashshar barely flinched. “Good boy,” she whispered.
Penn dropped a carrot into the horse’s food bucket. “Thank you, Penn,” Alicia said as Bashshar’s massive head dove for the treat.
The lad’s eyes widened as the horse chomped the carrot. “It won’t be long ’fore Bashshar is cured of loud noises, eh, yer ladyship?”
Alicia stroked Bashshar’s glossy flank. “I’ll know better after we gradually lessen the distance between Bashshar and the gunfire.” She smiled at the young man’s natural curiosity. “You have the knack with horses, lad. You’re going to be a fine trainer one day.”
“I’d rather be a healer like ye,” he said with a grin. “Me dad says yer the best ’ealer ’e’s ever seen.”
She felt a warm glow at the compliment. “Well, be sure and thank Ulger for me. Coming from a man as experienced with horses as your father, that’s fine praise.”
Penn’s grin widened. “Course I’d like to be a jockey, too. Maybe I’ll be a ’ealer an’ a jockey.”
“You’ll be exceptional at whatever vocation you choose, Penn.”
“Can I ride Bashshar back to the stable?”
She smoothed her hand along Bashshar’s glossy mane. “No, Penn. The horse has never had anyone ride him except his lordship and me.”
Penn’s face dropped. “Please, yer ladyship, I’m ten and four. Big enough. Besides, ’ow can I ’elp ye with ’is trainin’ if I can’t ride ’im?”
She studied the lad’s serious face, and her heart melted. Responsible and bright, Penn had worked as a stableboy for Bashshar longer than anyone. He was indeed big enough. Strong and wiry, he was also the perfect height. Most jockeys were no larger than he. Besides, the horse appeared comfortable with the lad.
Resisting the urge to ruffle his hair, she said, “Very well, but you must promise to do exactly as I say.”
Penn’s smile brightened. “I promise, yer grace.”
“Climb to the top rail of the fence, and I’ll walk Bashshar over to you.”
Penn scurried to the top rung as she brought the stallion around. “Now, Penn, very gently, ease yourself onto the saddle.”
Bashshar flicked his ears, but remained still while Penn carefully lifted his foot over the side of the saddle.
Alicia stroked the horse’s neck as Penn settled into the seat. With her fingers clenched firmly on the lead, she whispered encouraging words to the horse. She glanced up at Penn. “For the first time, I’ll walk you around the pen, then we’ll see how he takes to you.”
Penn’s freckled face held a mixture of happy excitement and serious concentration. As Alicia led them around the ring, the stallion carried Penn easily, never threatening to bolt or rear.
Later, when the lad had finished several laps by himself, he returned to the fence and flashed her a triumphant smile. “See, I told ye I could ride Bashshar, yer ladyship. Can I ride ’im tomorrow?”
She stroked the horse as Penn climbed down from the saddle. “Providing you show me later how well you’ve practiced your sums, I think you can ride tomorrow.” She glanced up to see Dalton and Ulger standing by the fence. They had been watching her all the time. Her heart skipped a beat at Dalton’s approving grin.
Ulger scratched his beard. “If I’d not seen Penn ridin’ Bashshar, I’d not ‘ave believed it.
“Your son has the makings of a fine jockey,” Dalton said to the stable master, but his eyes remained on Alicia. “Most lads would be afraid to ride Bashshar.”
“Aye, Penn’s always been a plucky lad.” Ulger hooked his arm around Penn’s wiry shoulders, his leathery face beaming with fatherly pride.
Alicia handed the lead to Penn. “Have the groom put Bashshar in his stall. I’ll see you later.”
When the horse was led away, she turned to Dalton. “You really don’t mind that I permitted Penn to ride Bashshar?”
“I trust your judgment completely. Besides, Penn has a natural affinity for horses. He truly cares about them. And it speaks well of your training that Bashshar allows Penn to ride.” His gaze held such admiration that she could have basked a lifetime in it.
“Thank you, Dalton. I hope you’ll always trust me.”
He regarded her quizzically for a moment, and she saw something disturbing flicker in his eyes. “Trust is a value that one earns, Alicia.”
There was a seriousness in his voice that wasn’t there before. Was he referring to Bashshar’s training or something else? Her uncertainty increased as he studied her intently. Why wouldn’t you trust me, Dalton?
Of course! His mother’s infidelity. The thought crashed down upon her like lightning. He hadn’t mentioned the incident since he first spoke of it the morning after their wedding, but she hadn’t been able to forget how horrible it must have b
een for a young boy to carry the shock and betrayal for so long. The idea that she could be unfaithful to Dalton was ridiculous, but that he might instinctively harbor a doubt wasn’t as far-fetched.
She ran her fingers along his slightly cupped hand. “I’ll never give you reason to distrust me, Dalton. You know that, don’t you?”
His shuttered look was gone, and just as quickly, his mouth tilted in his familiar grin. “I agreed to place Bashshar in your capable hands, my dear,” he said, “and I’m a man of my word.”
She returned his grin, but was well aware that he hadn’t answered her question.
Dalton pulled an envelope from his inside vest pocket and handed it to her.
A thrill of excitement shot through her. “Is it from your mother?” she asked as she opened the flap. “I hope she’s coming to your birthday celebration. I wrote and invited her and—” Her happiness faded when she unfolded the letter and saw the letter was from the Newmarket Classic Racing Board. She glanced up at Dalton. “I don’t understand.”
Dalton’s smile faded. “I was hoping it would be a surprise.” He glanced away. “I’m sorry, Alicia. Don’t expect to hear from my mother. I thought I made it clear—”
“Yes, you did, Dalton.” She forced a smile. “I—I’m sorry, I was foolishly hoping…” She recovered her composure. “This looks like a registration form,” she said brightly.
“Yes,” he said, taking the letter. “The forms are to enter Jupiter. Once we fill them out and pay the hundred guineas entrance fee, Jupiter will be registered in the Newmarket Classic.”
She was completely caught off guard. “I don’t think he’s ready. He hasn’t been worked since I’ve arrived at Havencrest.”
A look of tenderness crossed his face. “You’ve given so much of yourself for Bashshar, I’d like to show my appreciation by entering Jupiter in your name. I’ll help train him, and between the two of us, we’ll make him ready in time.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. Dalton was an expert horseman who had guided Bashshar’s early training, which resulted in the remarkable animal he became before the accident. Her heart swelled with gratitude. “You would do that for me?”
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