‘Adeline came to retrieve a book she left in the drawing room earlier,’ Grant said, in a voice that struck Adeline as amazingly calm, considering what had just transpired between them. ‘She was just returning to bed.’
Paul looked sternly from Grant to Adeline. ‘That is no excuse. You should not be wandering about in your night attire.’
‘I was unable to sleep, and didn’t think anyone would be about at this hour.’
‘Then you were wrong,’ Paul retorted stony-faced as he glanced at Grant. ‘Excuse us, will you? I’ll escort Adeline back to her room.’
Bidding Grant goodnight, Adeline left the room without a backward glance. Not until Paul had left her outside her door and she had closed it did she lean against it and close her eyes, her mind racing beneath the force of what had just occurred.
Grant stood for several moments after they had left, thinking about Adeline Osborne and the impact she had made on him. She was a young woman of many contrasts. Possessed of a bright and brittle intelligence, stunningly direct, polite but candid, she also had a provoking sensuality and was brimming with deeply felt emotions.
Despite having lost her virginity to him, there was no disguising the fact that she was still an innocent girl whose life was slowly pushing her out into the heady stream of sexual maturity—like a boat on the Thames River. She had no idea how desirable she was, how captivating—for, unlike Diana, she had not learned—nor ever would—how to use her attraction cruelly or cynically, simply for the pleasure of seeing her admiring swains dancing on a string.
Adeline rose early the following morning. It was a fine, sunny day. Wearing a tweed riding jacket over a silk shirt, and a bowler clamped to her head, her hair secured at her nape by a red ribbon, she went to the stables with a spring in her step. Apart from the grooms saddling horses, few people were about. She was pleased to see Lettie, who had ridden over from Newhill Lodge, where she lived with her mother.
‘Glad you decided to join us,’ Lettie said, striding across the yard, her dark blue riding habit flattering her trim figure.
‘I always like to ride early when I’m at home. Have you seen Paul, Lettie? He said he would be riding.’
‘About ten minutes ago. He was already mounted and ready to go. He rode off on his own towards Ashford—which isn’t half as pleasant as riding through the park.’
Adeline’s head jerked up. ‘Ashford? Oh, I see.’ To hide her suspicion and sudden anger, she turned away. To her knowledge Westwood Hall was between Oaklands and Ashford, and she strongly suspected that Paul was calling on Diana. Deliberately shoving the matter to the back of her mind to be dealt with later, she determined not to let thoughts of Paul spoil her ride, and concentrated all her attention on the next hour.
Her eyes lit on the rather splendid chestnut stallion with a black mane one of the grooms was leading out of the stalls. The horse whinnied as she approached him with her hand outstretched, and nuzzled her with affection, blowing his warm breath onto her cheek.
‘What a magnificent animal,’ she breathed, running her gloved hand over his coat, which rippled like satin. Eyes aglow, she turned to Lettie with unconcealed excitement. ‘Please say I can ride him?’
‘If you like—but I must tell you that he’s highly strung and not easy to handle—he’ll also bite you as soon as look at you. His name’s Crispin, by the way.’
‘He won’t bite me—will you, boy?’ Adeline whispered, rubbing his nose. ‘I’m not afraid of him. I’m sure we’ll get along nicely.’ She turned to a groom. ‘Saddle him for me, will you? And I don’t ride side-saddle,’ she was quick to add.
The groom gave her an appalled look before turning to Lettie for permission.
Seeing Adeline was determined, and that it was plain she was comfortable with the horse, Lettie laughed and nodded. ‘Do as she says, Ted. I’m sure we don’t have to worry about Miss Osborne falling off.’
When the horse was saddled, Ted linked his hands to receive a well-polished boot and give her a leg up. She was up in a flash, her feet feeling for the stirrups. Ted’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he saw she was wearing buff-coloured breeches beneath the skirt of her riding habit. He’d never seen anything like it.
‘You won’t mind if I ride off by myself, will you, Lettie? I’m dying for a good gallop.’ Feeling the thrill of excitement, the throbbing expectancy of the ride to come, Adeline was unaware that Grant had just entered the stableyard, and had paused in astonishment on seeing Adeline being hoisted onto the huge stallion.
With no idea where she was going, except that it was away from the house, and oblivious to the hush that had descended on the stableyard, putting her heels to the stallion’s sides she was away.
‘Did my eyes deceive me, Lettie?’ Grant murmured, coming to stand beside his sister, his eyes glued to the disappearing speck moving across the park.
‘No. That was Miss Adeline Osborne. She insisted on riding astride—and she was wearing breeches beneath her skirt.’ Lettie smiled, unable to hide her admiration. ‘There’s nothing commonplace about that young lady. She certainly doesn’t conform to the usual mode of riding. She was eager to be away—as you will have seen for yourself.’
‘Without a groom?’
‘The way she was riding that horse, she’d leave him standing.’
‘I am intrigued by our Miss Osborne, Lettie—intrigued and fascinated. I must see which way this phenomenon has taken.’ Without more ado Grant shouted for his horse to be saddled immediately.
The stallion was fresh, his spirits high. Adeline set an easy pace, but she had her hands full for the first ten minutes. When he settled down, she bent to his ear. ‘Now, let’s see what you can really do.’ And she gave him his lead.
Nostrils flared wide, Crispin swiftly exploded under her. Sure-footed, he moved like a dream, easy and fluid. Adeline laughed, the trees becoming a blur as they fairly flew over the ground. Her skirts ballooned over the horse’s flanks, to reveal her long breechered legs, and her mane of deep red hair flew out behind her, her red ribbon flapping like a kite. Cresting a hill, she slowed him to a canter, exhilarated by the ride.
Hearing hooves thundering over the turf, she paused and looked back to see who it was. Recognising Grant, perched atop a great black horse which showed all the compressed power of good breeding, she waited as he approached. He looked so dapper in his tan coat, fawn breeches and waistcoat. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and his hair flopped over his brow. Recalling what had passed between them the previous night—the way he had held her and kissed her, and how her body had responded just like that other time—she felt her spirits soar as she looked at his darkly handsome face.
Drawing rein beside her, Grant smiled broadly, his white teeth gleaming from between his parted lips. He’d watched her ride across the park, seen she was light in the saddle, handling the usually difficult mount with expert skill. His eyes appraised the long, lean legs encased in breeches astride the stallion. She was full of energy and emotional vigour, her cheeks poppy-red and her eyes sparkling green, and in that moment he thought she was the most striking-looking woman he had ever seen in his life. He was fascinated by this extraordinary young woman.
‘Well, young lady, you are full of surprises. If my eyes do not deceive me, there is not much anyone can teach you about a horse. One can tell a born rider by watching the way he…’ He paused and smiled. ‘Or she. After watching you ride, I can see you certainly speak their language.’
Seeing the way Grant controlled his animal effortlessly, without thought, as fluidly and as softly as the horse himself moved, Adeline was thinking the same thing about him. She returned his smile, and for a moment there seemed to be only the two of them in the whole world.
‘Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment—although he is a splendid horse, almost as fast as my own beloved Monty.’ From beneath carefully lowered lids, Adeline slanted him a long, considering look. ‘Shouldn’t you be with your other guests?’
‘Letti
e will take care of them—although most of them won’t surface until mid-morning. When I saw you riding out on Crispin I couldn’t resist coming after you.’
‘I love riding.’
He quirked a brow in amusement. ‘Oh, I can see that. Do you hunt?’
‘Absolutely.’
He grinned. ‘A girl after my own heart.’
She darted him a sideways glance. ‘Really? And I was sure you were wishing you’d never laid eyes on me.’
‘Shall I tell you when I did first set eyes on you?’
‘I already know. It was when I was boarding the train to Westwood Hall. You got off at Sevenoaks. When I dropped my book you picked it up.’
His eyes widened with surprise. ‘I remember. Was that you?’
She nodded, giving him a puzzled look. ‘If that wasn’t the time you were referring to, then when did you first see me?’
‘When I was staying with an old schoolfriend of mine—Frederick Baxter. I saw you out riding early one morning—dressed as you are now. I’d no idea who you were—until now. You were riding a grey stallion. I remember it was a huge beast—I thought at the time it was too big and spirited for a woman to ride, but you soon put me right. You are one of the most skilled riders I’d ever seen mounted. I can see you are no ordinary young woman. I’m impressed by your prowess.’
‘I had no idea I was being watched.’
His grin was boyishly disarming. ‘How could you? You were flying like the wind at the time.’ A crooked smile curled his lips as he let his leisurely perusal sweep over her. ‘Nice breeches, by the way.’
Grant’s smiling eyes captured hers and held them prisoner until she felt a warmth suffuse her cheeks. ‘I always wear them when I ride. They’re so practical.’
‘I’m sure they are. I also remember what you look like without them.’
Her flush deepened and she lowered her eyes, seeing the hard muscles of his thighs flex beneath his own tight-fitting breeches as he sat his horse. ‘You do remember something about that night, then?’
‘I never forget what a woman looks like when she is naked in my bed, Adeline.’
‘My bed,’ she was quick to remind him, the light of mischief dancing in her eyes.
‘Very well—your bed,’ he amended with a low chuckle. ‘Where’s your fiancé this morning, by the way? I thought he was to join us.’
‘Paul rode out early—in the direction of Ashford.’ Briefly their gazes met, and Adeline wondered if he knew the nature of the relationship that existed between Paul and Diana. The direct look he gave her told her he did.
‘Ah—I see.’
‘Yes, so do I.’ She wondered if he minded, and decided not to ask.
Grant’s horse was becoming restive. ‘Come—I’ll race you back to the stables.’ His eyes twinkled roguishly and his mouth curved in a devilish grin. ‘I’ll beat you.’
Adeline tossed back her head and threw him a confident smile. ‘I don’t think so—you’ll have to be content with second-best.’
‘Never,’ he declared with laughing certainty.
‘You’re very bold with your challenge, sir,’ she stated, a flicker of mischief in her eyes.
‘When I’m allowed to be I’m not easily dissuaded, and I usually take the initiative when I know I can win.’
‘So it would seem—with a race.’
His eyes glowed and he smiled at her. ‘With everything, Adeline.’
Adeline did not dare to contradict him, nor ask him to enlarge on his statement. ‘When you lose I’ll be magnanimous in my victory, I promise.’
‘Adeline,’ he threatened, in a soft, ominous tone, while his eyes danced with amusement, ‘if I lose you’d better ride for your life in the opposite direction.’
‘You’ll never catch me.’
Grant gave a shout of laughter as he kicked his horse into action. ‘If that’s your game, Miss Osborne, lead on. I will welcome your attention and the challenge—and I’ll make you eat your words.’
Together their horse’s hooves thundered over the hard green turf in long, ground-devouring strides as each fought to take the lead. They vaulted a low hedge effortlessly, then another with flourish. At one point Adeline gained a lead on Grant, but he soon closed the gap.
They rode at a breakneck pace. Leaning forward, Adeline felt exhilaration and jubilation, at one with her mount. Her hair, losing its ribbon, became unbound, and the glorious tresses unfurled like a pennant behind her. They soared over a ditch in perfect unison, and then turned their mounts at full speed towards the open stableyard gates.
‘Good God, what a ride!’ Grant exclaimed with an admiring laugh, his horse having finished alongside Crispin. Swinging his leg over the horse’s back, he dismounted and strode to Adeline as she landed on both feet in front of him. Her colour was gloriously high and she had a wide smile on her full lips, her eyes liquid-bright. The sight of her almost stole his breath.
‘Miss Osborne, you are quite the most outrageous, outstanding rider I have ever had the privilege to ride with. A draw,’ he declared.
‘No, it wasn’t,’ she objected laughingly, determined not to let him off. ‘I beat you by a head and you know it.’
‘A nose?’ he beseeched, looking almost humble.
Adeline’s eyes gleamed with laughter. ‘Very well, a nose it is—but I still beat you.’
They were both breathing hard, the exhilaration of the ride still flowing through their veins. Removing her bowler, Adeline threw back her head and her hair rippled and lifted on the breeze. A strand wisped across her face and caught in the pink moistness of her lips. Reaching up a hand, she brushed it away. She looked into Grant’s face, into his bright silver-grey eyes, and felt again the heat, the rush of sweet warmth she’d felt in his arms. Embarrassed by her thoughts, she took Crispin’s reins.
‘I’d better go,’ she said, beginning to lead him into the stableyard, where she would hand him over to one of the grooms. ‘I promised I’d have breakfast with Father, and I have to change.’
‘I’ll ride out and join the others. I’ll be along later.’ When she turned to walk away, he said, ‘Adeline?’
She turned and looked back. His face, devoid of laughter, had taken on a different look, more serious.
‘Thank you. It was a pleasure riding with you. We must do it again.’
‘Yes—yes, we will.’
Later, when Adeline had changed and entered the breakfast room, she found her father alone.
Horace glanced at his daughter as she helped herself to bacon and mushrooms from the large silver dishes on the sideboard, kept heated by rows of little spirit lamps underneath. As well as hot food there were cold hams, tongues and galantine laid out on a separate table, along with porridge, coffee, and Indian and China tea—China indicated by yellow ribbons and Indian by red. Adeline chose the Indian, which was more to her taste.
‘I didn’t expect to see you—thought you’d have gone on the ride,’ Horace remarked as she came to sit down, observing her still-shining eyes and flushed cheeks.
‘I did—and most enjoyable it was, too. Have you seen Paul this morning, Father?’
‘No. I thought he was with you.’
‘He rode off early—by himself.’
The harsh tone of her voice brought a frown to Horace’s forehead. ‘There’s nothing wrong between the two of you, I hope?’
‘No, of course not—at least nothing that can’t be put right when he condescends to show his face.’
It was almost lunchtime when Paul arrived back. Partnering Lettie, Adeline was just finishing an enjoyable game of croquet when she saw him ride up the drive and disappear round the house to the stables. He found her in the conservatory ten minutes later. The building had been added to the house in recent years. With its glass walls and high dome it was filled with rare, exotic plants—an explosion of flowers, colour and fragrance. There were others sitting around in white wicker chairs, gossiping quietly and drinking tea, but Adeline sat away from them in a quiet spo
t, looking out over the gardens.
On Paul’s approach she rose, annoyed to see there was a jaunty spring to his step. Suspicions dancing along her raw nerves, when he bent his head to peck her cheek she turned her head away. Although she was quaking inside, she rose and drew him to one side, out of sight and earshot of the few people present, who were too engrossed in their own conversations to pay them any attention anyway. She faced him with outward calm, not having realised until that moment how much she disliked him.
She had changed physically. Having tasted passion, she would want the same again—and Paul wouldn’t be able to give it to her. Grant Leighton might as well have branded her. When she had been with him earlier her heart had swelled, yet she had been forced to rein in her feelings. When she married she would want a declaration of unconditional love—it was a declaration she would insist on—and she would love in return. She would settle for nothing less.
Now the moment of confrontation with Paul was at hand she was strangely relieved. His sordid affair with Diana Waverley had given her adequate reason to break off their engagement.
‘Here you are. I’ve been looking for you.’
‘Have you, Paul? Why?’ She noted that he seemed more relaxed than he had been last night. Suddenly, above the scent of exotic plants, there was the smell of musk. She looked at him accusingly. ‘So my suspicions were correct.’
He glanced at her sharply.
‘I believe you’ve been well occupied at Westwood Hall, haven’t you, Paul?’
He paled visibly and averted his gaze, pretending interest in a rather splendid bloom growing out of a large terracotta pot. ‘Westwood Hall?’ he asked, his tone guarded. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘You’ve come straight from Diana Waverley to me.’ Adeline’s lips curled with sarcasm. ‘Her perfume is distinctive.’
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