‘I agree with you,’ Simon replied. ‘There are so many other more interesting things to do than drink—such as discussing the state of the nation, world affair, politics—’
‘All of which are completely boring topics that would be of no interest whatsoever to William,’ Christina interrupted, laughing lightly, unable to imagine her brother sitting down to discuss matters of such a serious nature,
‘I am sure he has an extensive knowledge of local matters. He would probably enjoy discussing that.’
Christina gave him a dubious glance. ‘Is Henry from these parts?’
‘No.’
‘Then I hardly think local matters could possibly be of interest to your valet.’
‘You’d be surprised. Henry has a wide range of interests,’ he said, in such a way that made Christina wonder just what William had discussed with Lord Rockley’s valet when he had been in his cups—and how much that clever valet had managed to glean from her brother. ‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry he was worse for wear. It can’t be easy for you having to deal with the guests on your own,’ Simon went on.
‘I’m used to it—and you needn’t feel sorry for William. It is entirely his own fault that he imbibes too much. Like a lot of men he will ruin himself with anything he has a taste for. Unfortunately, in his case it is strong liquor. Hopefully, with advancing age will come the wisdom to avoid excess.’ On a sigh, she looked at Lord Rockley and smiled as he cocked a dubious brow. ‘I know you are probably thinking that this is rarely the case, but I live in hope.’
‘Then I, too, hope he sees the error of his ways and begins to think about you for a change. You deserve better than having to deal with an inebriated brother. It’s a fine morning. Do you usually ride alone and so early?’
‘Why should I not?’ Christina retorted, but her tone was mischievous rather than affronted. ‘I ride on our own land and I am perfectly capable. I am used to riding in all weathers. They are generally solitary pursuits—unless William is not engaged with other matters or suffering the effects of a hangover. But I don’t mind being on my own. Actually, I enjoy it.’
‘Then I hope I am not intruding. I could ride in the other direction if my presence offends you.’
She smiled. ‘Of course it doesn’t. You are our guest, after all. You are welcome. Perhaps we can work up an appetite for breakfast.’
‘Will you be joining me?’ His brow arched questioningly, but it seemed more like a plea than an enquiry.
‘Of course. It would be ungracious of me to let you eat alone.’ A smile slowly spread across his face, showing his even, white teeth. ‘I am sure you will want to be on your way directly afterwards.’
‘I’m in no hurry.’ His grin widened as he looked ahead. ‘A wager. If I beat you to those trees in the distance, you will allow me to stay for luncheon. If you beat me, I promise to be on my way after breakfast.’
‘Then you leave me with no choice but to throw the race.’
‘How so?’
‘It would be most ungracious of me to set you on your way when you clearly have a desire to prolong your stay.’
‘Then the wager is pointless, for should I win, it will look for all the world like I’ve invited myself.’
‘Which would be true, I suppose, but you are most welcome to stay for luncheon. Might I suggest that we simply ride for the pleasure of riding, for the thrill of it, and we both go all out to win.’ Without waiting for his reply, she kicked her horse into gallop.
Chapter Four
Admiring the spirit in which her own wager was made, Simon laughed loud and gave chase with no intent to lose, knowing that his own horse, with its fierce temperament and lightning speed, his muzzle drawn back over his teeth as he scented the air, would outpace the smaller chestnut mare.
Already several lengths ahead, Christina careered over the land towards the trees in the far distance, exhilaration speeding through her veins as she urged her horse faster. She could hear Lord Rockley’s horse thundering behind her, closing in on her, but by exerting all her skill, she managed to keep in front. Ahead of her, a fallen log lay across her path. A less experience rider would have skirted round it, but Christina knew her capabilities; without slackening her pace, she urged her horse over it. Now, with their destination close, she truly thought victory would be hers, but like a lightning bolt, Lord Rockley, who had held his stallion back so that he could admire her skill, sped past her, his lips stretched in a broad smile of triumph, reaching the trees first.
Christina slowed her horse to a walk. She was breathing heavily and her face was flushed. ‘A good ride, Lord Rockley. The race is yours—although I never thought I could win. I would be a fool to rely on my weight and stamina against a man on a horse of such superior strength. He is a superior animal.’
‘He certainly is and he’s got me out of many a scrape, but against such a very lovely opponent, I concede defeat.’
The admiration in his voice made Christina’s heart pound faster. ‘You are gallant, sir, but you are the clear winner. Come, let’s have a steady ride back. I can promise you a hearty breakfast.’
They traversed a winding lane, looking over fields where a small herd of cattle grazed, and nearby was another field of ripening corn. They rode on leisurely for a while, then, passing a wooden copse, they halted near a large oak that dominated a knoll beside a rippling stream. The tree’s widely spreading branches furnished abundant shade.
‘Let’s walk a way,’ Simon suggested, dismounting.
Christina did likewise, and side by side, leading their mounts, they strolled along a path that twisted and turned through the trees on the edge of a wood that overlooked the rich vale of Oakbridge, with its wide river and water meadows. Christina stopped to take in the view, familiar with every aspect. She breathed deep of the earthy forest scents, conscious that she was not alone in this secluded leafy spot. The pale trunks of ash, beech and oak lifted their foliage-draped limbs to the sky, guarding like sentries the pathways winding about their feet.
Just as appreciative of the view as she was, Simon said, ‘How pleasant the countryside is here at Oakbridge. I cannot imagine that you would ever want to leave it.’
‘It is so beautiful,’ she breathed, as the trees seemed to beckon her with their timeless mystery, drawing her closer, pulling her into their dark, whispering company. ‘I shall hate to leave it, but I know I cannot remain here for ever.’
‘It is so different from London, where I’ve just spent several weeks.’
‘So it is,’ she replied, turning to look at him with sparkling, humorous eyes, ‘if you can ignore all the frightening rumours of highwaymen and the like. People complain about them all the time—how they rob the rich and break into their houses, no matter how hard the magistrate tries to calm their fears by promising to hunt them down.’
‘I thought we promised not to speak of highwaymen,’ he remarked, reminding her of their conversation the previous night.
‘So we did,’ she replied, beginning to saunter on, ‘but that was last night—and you were far too inquisitive, as I recall.’
‘I have to be if I am to bring the offenders to justice.’
‘And what did you expect to find at Oakbridge, sir?’ Her delicately boned chin raised a notch as a smile flitted across her lips, and she met his gaze with a brow pointedly raised in a challenging mode. ‘Highwaymen hiding behind curtains and under every bed?’
‘In truth, I did not know what I expected, but certainly not that.’ He grinned sideways at her. ‘Nothing so easy.’
‘We hear rumours of the villains being seen here and there, but the best William and the magistrate have done has been to catch a poacher on our land snaring rabbits.’ She turned her head and looked at him gravely. ‘Was it wise to reveal yourself and your mission? Aren’t spies supposed to work—undercover? I believe that is the correct word.’
‘I am not a spy.’
‘No, I suppose not, but isn’t there a danger of the thieves going to g
round until you give up and return to wherever it is you came from, having failed in your mission?’
‘I did think about that, but unfortunately your magistrate has a loose jaw. My decision to accept the Lord Lieutenant’s request was well broadcast before I reached the area. I’m not unduly worried. Mark Bucklow is so confident that I don’t think he will allow my arrival to upset his routine. I find it curious that no one seems to know very much about what he does—where he goes during the day—or perhaps those who do know are reluctant to say in fear of reprisals. No doubt he has some snug retreat where he can stay hidden until nightfall.’
‘Do you know anything about him at all?’ Christina dared to ask, wondering what he would do were she to tell him she might know the exact location of the snug retreat he spoke of.
‘I know he is an astute businessman and that he’s developed a fast and profitable turnover from his life of crime. What he receives from his thieves is taken to his receiver in London. He is known to be handy with his fists, skilful with pistol or sword, and to possess a powerful presence. Therefore few people give him trouble and he enjoys a widespread respect. As with most of his counterparts, I intend to see that his career will end predictably in a one-sided meeting with the hangman.’
‘It is a nicely balanced gamble you play, Lord Rockley. Are you not afraid, working alone as you do, that you yourself will become the victim?’
‘I’m used to gambling, Miss Atherton, and I’m very good at it. I risk all to gain all, and I work best when I am alone.’
Despite herself, Christina smiled. ‘I admire your confidence. Even if it leads to the most dangerous difficulties. You seem to enjoy it, but would you enjoy it quite as much if there weren’t the risk?’
‘Do you suggest that I do this for my own enjoyment?’ He seemed genuinely angry for the moment, then he smiled. ‘I think you are determined to make me see the worst in myself.’
‘No, not at all. I am merely warning you of the danger.’
‘I thank you for your concern—if that is what it is—even if I cannot heed the warning. I confess I do enjoy what I do sometimes. In this instance, I am personally involved,’ he said quietly, looking into the distance, ‘which makes me determined to succeed in catching these criminals and bringing them to justice. If they know I am on to them, it might make some of them nervous. That is when they make mistakes, and if they do, you can be assured I shall be watching closely.’
Simon looked at his companion and smiled, utterly charmed by her. Watching her as she walked beside him, with her cheeks pink from the exercise and her glowing blue eyes, he had no wish to become embroiled in another discussion about highwaymen with her. However, there was another aspect to the matter. He found himself becoming increasingly attracted to Christina Atherton. He did not want her to be hurt by anything that happened and he feared that was highly likely if she had anything to do with Mark Bucklow. He truly hoped she was not involved in any way. A young woman, tender hearted—how could she not be hurt and distressed by such things?
Christina glanced at her tall, long-limbed companion, conscious of his presence and how handsome he was. And then she remembered with a sudden stab, as if a knife had been thrust into her heart, that his only reason for being here was to find Mark and his cohorts. William was one of those, and his very life was in danger from either side.
Her face must have paled and her eyes clouded. As if he read her thoughts, Simon paused and said, ‘You know, Miss Atherton, if anything is worrying you, I want you to know that you can trust me.’
His voice was urgent and compelling. Standing in front of him, she peered up at him through long silken lashes, giving him an enigmatical smile. ‘Why, Lord Rockley, should I believe I am in danger?’
A well-defined eyebrow over gleaming eyes jutted upwards. ‘Of the worst possible kind, I fear.’ His gaze settled on the softness of her mouth and his lips curved in a slight provocative smile.
‘I presume you mean from the forces of evil at work in these parts?’
‘What else?’
‘What else is there?’
‘Me.’ He moved closer to her. Taking her hand, he lifted it to his lips and kissed the pale fingers while his eyes warmly probed the depths of the deep blue orbs, finding there a myriad of emotions.
Nervousness was taking the place of Christina’s usually natural calm. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked when his hard hands took her upper arms and his long, lean body pressed itself close to hers.
‘I’m going to kiss you.’
Christina paused to let that sink in. He was very sure of himself and he had a clever approach. But they were alone in the woods, which, she realised, made her extremely vulnerable to his whims. She was overpoweringly aware of his strong hands clasping her arms, and her bosom pressing against his broad chest. When his arms went round her, she tried to twist free, acutely conscious of the brush of his hardened thighs against her own and the manly feel of his body branding her through her clothing as he held her in an unrelenting vise of steel-thewed arms.
‘But—you can’t be serious.’
‘I am very serious.’
‘You have a sly way of getting what you want, Lord Rockley.’
A devilish grin slanted across his lips. ‘Where you are concerned, Miss Atherton, I can be downright devious.’
‘Are you sure you want to?’
He nodded silently.
‘You’ve probably been in situations like this many times, but it’s completely new to me.’
‘I thought it might be. But I am still going to kiss you—to see if your lips really are as sweet as I remember.’
It hit Christina for the first time that, despite his teasing attitude, he was very serious. She tried to steady her confused senses, while he continued to hold her close, towering over her, his broad shoulders blocking out her view of anything but him. ‘Absolutely not,’ she said. ‘The very idea is insane.’
He chuckled. ‘I like being insane.’
He was laughing, but he wasn’t merely serious, he was resolute. She could hear it in his rich, too-hypnotically deep voice. The mere thought of getting so close to him—of kissing him, of exposing herself emotionally as well as physically—made her cringe with panic. ‘Please don’t,’ she said achingly. ‘Please don’t do this. We—we are strangers.’
‘What better way is there for strangers to get to know one another?’
‘But—I—don’t want to be kissed—not by anyone.’
Christina pulled back, but his powerful arms tightened about her. ‘You’ll have to tell me why—or I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘It would change everything. Let things stay the way they are.’
‘That’s not good enough. Try something else.’
Trapped by his nearness, her body and all its senses alive, she lowered silky lashes, wondering if her yearnings were so visible as she said softly and without conviction, ‘I wouldn’t like it.’
‘You had no objections before. Besides, how will you know if you don’t try?’
With a mixture of dread and helpless anticipation, she lifted her eyes and met his steady gaze. ‘I just do.’
‘I think you would.’
His powerful, animal-like masculinity was an assault on Christina’s senses. Somehow at that moment she found it impossible to be afraid of him or even to fear what he might do. It seemed to her that they were alone in a world that had no substance or reality. She felt her bravado crack for a split second, and reality nudged through the opening—along with something else that was completely alien to her. Against her better judgement, she allowed her captivated senses to become engaged, and, with an inner smile of surrender, she realised that Lord Rockley was still adamantly determined to kiss her. She also realised that she wanted him to. Very much. The suddenness of that yearning surprised her.
The instant Simon saw the sparkle in her glorious eyes and the pink, embarrassed tint mounting in her cheeks, he knew he’d won.
‘You are
awfully sure of yourself,’ Christina remarked.
He lifted his brows and arrogantly declared, ‘I am.’
‘And I suppose you’re good at kissing.’
‘I’ve never had any complaints.’
His deep voice abruptly became husky, and Christina felt it like a sensual caress. Her eyes became focused on his mouth. ‘I cannot believe this conversation,’ she murmured.
Neither could Simon, but it had got her where he wanted her.
‘In fact, I am quite shocked.’
He gave her a grin closely reminiscent of a leer. ‘If you could read my mind, Miss Atherton, you’d be doubly shocked.’
A dimple showed in the corner of her mouth. ‘It is evident your thoughts don’t need stimulating, Lord Rockley.’
‘Not as long as I can hold you in my arms. All I need to do is gaze at you and my aspirations—and other things—come to the fore.’
Raising her eyes shyly to his, she emulated a thoughtful vein. ‘Other things?’
A dark eyebrow angled roguishly upwards as the silver-grey eyes gleamed back at her. ‘You’re teasing me,Miss Atherton, and I’m wondering for what purpose. I think a private demonstration is called for.’
So saying, he pulled her more firmly into his arms and held her there, lowering his lips to hers. At the first touch of his mouth, Christina went rigidly still, her breath indrawn, though Lord Rockley hadn’t any idea if it was fear or surprise that paralysed her. At that moment he didn’t know and he didn’t care. His only desire was to hold her, to savour the sweet feelings swelling inside him and to share them with her.
‘Kiss me back,’ he urged, telling himself not to push her, not to force her. ‘Kiss me, Christina,’ he coaxed, using her name for the first time, his warm breath caressing her lips. His mouth was firm, yet tender and persuasive as his lips urged hers to respond, to open, and Christina, in her naïvety, hypnotised by those passionate silver-grey eyes and feeling her body begin to melt, needed no urging and yielded her lips to his.
When she obeyed and leaned into him, crushing her parted lips to his, Lord Rockley groaned aloud with the pleasure of it. The kiss began as a gentle questing, with his mouth moving slowly upon hers, but the fires ignited like dry kindling in a blaze of passion. It sparked and flared ever brighter beneath his scorching demands, turning Christina’s mind upside down and uncovering a need in her that she had not known existed. She moaned softly, moulding herself more intimately to his body.
The Bride Wore Scandal Page 9