riders. To look at her, one would never guess there had been a confrontation between them.
The pack of foxhounds were set loose, covering the field with their frantic snuffling. Then a scent was found. "Reynard is out!" came the call as a fox broke cover. A rich note pierced the air as the master blew the horn and the riders set out on the chase.
The hunters rode to the copse in a fever of exultation, shouting madly. The field fairly shook under the onslaught of horses and dogs, hooves tearing at the ground, eager cries renting the air.
"Gone away!"
"Tallyho!"
"Halloo!"
As the congregation spurred their mounts onward, the hunt took on the expected formation, the huntsman riding close to the foremost hounds, the whippers-in following the dogs and keeping the occasional stragglers in pace with the pack. Lily Lawson rode like a woman possessed, rushing at the highest obstacles and taking them as if she had wings. She seemed to have no concern for her own safety. Usually Alex would have ridden ahead with the others, but for now he held back. He was driven to follow Lily, watching her take suicidal chances. The course was filled with noise and revelry, while Alex went through a living nightmare. His horse strained over the jumps, hooves biting into the ground with every surge. Caroline . . . Long ago he had closed it all away, stored every recollection in the back of his mind. But he had no defense against the thoughts that came
without warning, the feel of Caroline's mouth beneath his, her silky hair in his hands, the sweet torment of holding her close. She had taken away a part of him that would never be restored.
You fool, he told himself savagely. He was making the hunt into a macabre reprise of his past. A fool chasing after lost
dreams . . . and still he followed Lily, watching her leap through gaps and over reinforced hedges. Although she did not look
back, he sensed that she knew he was there. They rode for nearly an hour, crossing from one county to another.
Lily spurred her horse onward in determination, her nerves crackling with excitement. She had never cared much for the end
of a hunt, being in at the kill, but the riding . . . oh, there was nothing like it. Gleefully she approached a towering "double oxer,"
a quickthorn braced on each side with an ox rail. In a split second she realized it was too high and too much of a risk to take,
but some devilish urge impelled her forward. At the last moment, the palfrey refused to jump. The arrested motion of the horse threw Lily out of the saddle.
The world seemed to spin, and she was suspended in mid-air. Then the ground came rushing up at her. Shielding her face with
her hands, Lily felt her body slam into the mossy earth. The breath was forced from her lungs. Writhing on the ground, she
gasped for air, while her hands clutched reflexively around bits of leaves and mud.
Dazedly she felt herself being turned and her shoulders lifted. Opening her mouth, she fought to pull in air. Red and black
danced before her eyes. Slowly the mist cleared away to reveal a face above her. Wolverton. The golden glow of his skin
was infused with ashen gray. Lily stirred against him, discovering that she was held securely in the lee of his muscular thighs.
She was as limp and helpless as a doll.
Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she tried to regain her breath. His hand was tight on the back of her neck . . . too tight . . . hurting her . . .
"I told you not to hunt," Wolverton snarled. "Were you trying to kill yourself?"
Lily made a small sound, looking up at him with hazy confusion. There was blood on his collar, a splotch of scarlet from the
wound she had given him earlier. His hand was powerful on her neck. If he chose, he could snap her bones if they were twigs. Lily was aware of the weight and sinew of him, the sheer power lodged within his body. There was a primitive expression on
his flushed face, a mixture of hatred and something else she couldn't identify. Through the roaring of her ears, she thought she heard a name . . . Caroline . . .
"You're a madman," she gasped. "Good God. You belong in Bedlam. Wh-what's going on? Do you know who in the hell I am?
Get your hands off me, do you hear?"
Her words seemed to bring him back to awareness of what he was doing. The murderous gleam left his eyes, and the contorted shape of his mouth softened. Lily sensed an enormous tension leaving his body. He dropped her abruptly, as if the touch of her
had burned him.
Falling back among the leaves and dirt, Lily watched with a glare as he stood up. He did not reach down a hand to assist her,
but he did wait until she struggled to her feet. Assured that no serious harm had come to her, he hoisted himself onto his horse.
Finding that her knees were weak, Lily braced herself against a tree. She would wait until she felt stronger before mounting
her palfrey again. Curiously she stared at Wolverton's expression-less face. She took a few steadying breaths. "Penny is too
good for you," she managed to say. "Before I was afraid you would only make her miserable. Now I believe you'll cause her bodily harm!"
"Why do you pretend to give a damn?" he sneered. "You haven't seen your sister or your family in years. And obviously they
want nothing to do with you."
"You know nothing about it!" she said hotly. To think of this monster crushing all the happi-ness from Penelope's life ... it would make her sister old before her time. Outrage leapt inside her. Why should an ogre like Wolverton be allowed to marry Penelope, when someone as dear and gentle as Zachary was in love with her? "You shan't have Penny," Lily cried. "I won't allow it!"
Alex regarded her with contempt. "Don't make an even bigger fool of yourself, Miss Lawson."
Swearing, dredging up the foulest language she could think of, Lily watched Wolverton ride away. "You won't have her,"
she vowed under her breath. "I swear it on my life. You won't have her!"
Chapter 3
Upon his arrival at Raiford Park, Alex went to bid good morning to Penelope and her parents. By anyone's standards, Squire
and Lady Lawson were an odd pair. George was a scholarly man, occupying himself with books of Greek and Latin, closeting himself in a room for days at a time with his texts and having all his meals sent in. The squire had no interest in the outside
world. Through sheer carelessness he had badly mismanaged the estate and fortune he had inherited. His wife Totty was an attractive, fluttery woman, all round eyes and bouncing golden curls. She adored society gossip and parties, and had always
set her heart on a splendid wedding for her daughter.
Alex could see how the two of them could produce a child like Penelope. Quiet, shy, pretty Penelope was the best of them combined. As for Lily . . . there was no accounting for how she had emerged from the Lawson family. Alex didn't blame them
for casting Lily out of their lives. Otherwise there would have been no peace for any of them. He had no doubt that she thrived
on conflict, that she would meddle and torment until those around her had been driven insane. Although Lily had left the Middleton estate after their encounter on the course, Alex hadn't been able to stop brooding about her. He was grimly
thankful that she was estranged from her family. With luck he'd never have to abide her presence again.
Happily Lady Totty informed him that the wedding arrangements were progressing nicely. The vicar would be coming to visit
later in the afternoon. "Good," Alex replied. "Inform me when he arrives."
"Lord Raiford," Totty said eagerly, gesturing to a place on the sofa between her and Penelope, "won't you take tea with us?"
Wryly Alex noted that all of a sudden Penelope looked like a small rabbit in the presence of a wolf. He declined the invitation, having no desire to endure Totty's chatter about flower arrangements and wedding fripperies. "Thank you, but I have business concerns to attend to. I'll see you at supper.
"
"Yes, my lord," both women murmured, one in disappointment and the other in poorly concealed relief.
Closeting himself in the library, Alex regarded a pile of documents and account books that required his attention. He could have allowed his estate manager to handle most of it. But since Caroline's death he had taken on more work than was necessary, wanting to escape from the loneliness and the memories. He spent more time in the library than in any other room of the house, enjoying the sense of peace and order to be found there. Books were categorized and grouped together neatly, furniture was carefully arranged. Even the decanters of liquor on the Italian corner cupboard were placed with geometrical precision.
There was not a speck of dust anywhere, not in the entire mansion at Raiford Park. An army of fifty indoor servants saw to
that. Another thirty took care of the outside grounds, gardens, and stables. Visitors had always exclaimed with pleasure over
the mansion's domed marble entrance hall and the great hall with its barrel-vaulted ceiling and exquisite plasterwork. The
mansion possessed summer and winter parlors, long galleries filled with artwork, a breakfast room, a coffee room, two dining salons, countless sets of bed-chambers and dressing rooms, an immense kitchen, a library, a hunting room, and a pair of drawing rooms that were occasionally combined into a massive ballroom.
It was a large household, but Penelope would be capable of managing it. Since early childhood she had been reared to do
exactly that. Alex had no doubt that she would be able to take her place as lady of the manor without difficulty. She was an intelligent girl, albeit quiet and docile. She had yet to meet his younger brother Henry, but he was a well-behaved lad, and it
was likely they would get along quite well.
The silence in the library was broken by a tiny tap-tap on the door.
"What is it?" Alex asked brusquely.
The door opened a crack, and Penelope's blonde head appeared. Her overcautious manner annoyed him. For God's sake, it seemed as if she considered visiting him to be a dangerous undertaking. Was he really so fearsome? He knew his manner
was abrupt sometimes, but he doubted he could change even it he wanted to. "Yes?" he demanded. "Come in."
"My lord," Penelope said timidly. "I-I wish to know if the hunt was successful? If you found it enjoyable?"
Alex suspected that her mother Totty had sent her to ask. Penelope never sought his company of her own accord. "The hunt
was fine." he said, setting aside the papers on his desk and turning toward her. Penelope shifted nervously, as if his gaze made
her uncomfortable. "Something rather interesting happened on the first day."
A vague expression of interest crossed her face. "Oh, my lord? Was there an accident of some sort? A collision?"
"You could call it that," he said dryly. "I met your sister."
Penelope gasped. "Lily was there? Oh, dear ..." At a loss for words, she closed her mouth and looked at him helplessly.
"She's quite extraordinary." Alex's tone was far from complimentary.
Penelope nodded and gulped. "There is usually no middle ground with Lily. One either likes her tremendously, or . . ."
She shrugged helplessly.
"Yes," Alex said sardonically. "I'm of the latter persuasion."
"Oh." Penelope's forehead puckered in a dainty frown. "Of course. Both of you are rather decided in your opinions."
"That's a tactful way of putting it." Alex stared at her closely. It was unnerving to see the echoes of Lily in Penelope's sweet, gentle face. "We talked about you," he said abruptly.
Her eyes turned round with apprehension. "My lord, I should make it clear that Lily does not speak for me or the rest of the family."
"I know that."
"What was said between you?" she asked timidly.
"Your sister claimed that I must frighten you. Do I?"
Underneath his cool appraisal, the color rushed to her face. "A little, my lord," she admitted.
Alex found her sweet shyness somewhat irritating. He wondered if she was capable of snapping back at him, if she would
ever take him to task when he did something to displease her. As he stood and walked over to her, he saw her flinch involuntarily. Coming to stand next to her, he put his hands on her waist. Penelope bent her head, but Alex was aware of her quickly indrawn breath. Suddenly he couldn't rid his mind of a disturbing image—picking Lily up from the ground, holding her lithe body in his
arms. Although Penelope was taller, more voluptuous than her older sister, she gave the impression of being much softer and smaller.
"Look at me," Alex said quietly, and Penelope obeyed. He stared into her brown eyes. Exactly like Lily's. Except these eyes
were filled with startled innocence, not dark fire. "There's no reason to be uneasy. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Yes, my lord," she whispered.
"Why don't you call me Alex?" He had asked it of her before, but the use of his name seemed to be difficult for her.
"Oh, I ... I couldn't."
With great effort, he suppressed his impatience. "Try."
"Alex," Penelope murmured.
"Good." He bent his head and touched her lips with his own. Penelope didn't move, only brushed his shoulder with her hand.
Alex prolonged the kiss, increasing the pressure of his mouth. For the first time he sought more than docile acceptance from
her. Her lips remained cool and still beneath his. All at once Alex was puzzled and annoyed to realize that Penelope considered
his embrace a duty she had to endure.
Lifting his head, he looked down at her placid face. She looked like a child who had just obediently downed a spoonful of
medicine and was suffering the aftertaste. Never in his life had a woman considered kissing him to be chore! Alex's tawny
brows drew together in a frown. "Dammit, I won't be tolerated," he said gruffly.
Penelope stiffened in alarm. "My lord?"
Alex knew he should play the gentleman and treat her with tender respect, but his full-blooded nature demanded a response
from her. "Kiss me back," he commanded, and crushed her against his body.
With a surprised squeak, Penelope twisted away from him and slapped his face.
Not exactly a slap. He would have welcomed a vigorous, hearty slap. This was more like a reproving pat on his cheek.
Penelope retreated to the door and regarded him tearfully. "My lord, are you testing me in some manner?" she asked in a
wounded voice.
Alex looked at her for a long time, keeping his face expressionless. He knew he was being unreasonable. He should not
expect something from her that she was not able or willing to give. Silently he cursed himself, wondering why he was in
such a devilish mood. "I beg your pardon."
Penelope gave him an uncertain nod. "I suppose you are still excited from the hunt. I have heard that men are very affected
by the primitive atmosphere of such events."
He smiled sardonically. "That's probably it."
"May I be excused now?"
Wordlessly he waved her out of the room.
Penelope paused at the door, looking back over her shoulder. "My lord, please don't think badly of Lily. She is an unusual
woman, very brave and headstrong. When I was a child, she used to protect me from everyone and everything that
frightened me."
Alex was surprised by Penelope's little speech. It was rare that he heard Penelope put more than two sentences together.
"Was she ever close to either of your parents?"
"Only to our Aunt Sally. Sally was an eccentric in the same way my sister is, always seeking adventure and doing
unconventional things. When she passed away a few years ago, she left her entire fortune to Lily."
So that was how Lily had obtained her means to live. The information hardly improved Alex'
s opinion of her. Probably she had deliberately courted the old woman's favor, and then danced upon the deathbed at the thought of the money she had inherited.
"Why hasn't she ever married?"
"Lily has always said that marriage is a dreadful institution devised for the benefit of men, not women." Penelope cleared her throat delicately. "Actually, she hasn't a very high opinion of men. Although she does seem to enjoy their company . . . going hunting and shooting and gaming and so forth."
"And so forth," Alex repeated sardonically. "Does your sister have any 'special' friends?"
The question seemed to perplex Penelope. Although she didn't quite understand his meaning, she answered readily. "Special?
Well ... er ... Lily keeps company quite often with a man named Derek Craven. She has mentioned him in her letters to me."
"Craven?" Now the entire sordid picture was clear. Alex's lip curled with disgust. He himself was a member of Craven's club. He'd met the proprietor on two occasions. It only made sense that Lily Lawson would choose to associate with such a man, a cockney who was disdainfully known in polite circles as "flash-gentry." No doubt Lily had the morals of a prostitute, for a "friendship" with Craven could mean nothing else. How could a woman who had been born into a decent family, provided with education and all her material wants, sink into such degradation? Lily had willingly chosen it, every step of the way.
Then came you, by lisa kleypas.txt Page 5