She gave Thorn a knowing smile.
“It took me a lifetime to learn, Alicia.”
“I learn quickly, you will find. Are you a good instructor?” she asked, coyly.
“It all depends on the student,” Thorn answered in a low growl.
“Perhaps I will surprise you.” She folded her napkin and placed it at the side of her plate. “I also have prowess — where horses are concerned.”
“You will find that our Alicia is a competent horsewoman who will challenge your skills at every turn. Much like her aunt. Her competitive spirit can overwhelm even the hardiest of men,” said the Duke.
“I am up to the task, sir.” Thorn gave a sly smile of his own. “But there is a condition.”
Thorn leaned forward and faced her.
“And that is?” she asked, calmly.
“You will listen to instruction and not put yourself in harm’s way. These are large animals, and to be respected. In other words, you will obey.”
“Obey?” She exhaled. “That is a strong word. I’m not used to being commanded,” she cautioned.
“Nonetheless, it is part of the lexicon of my instruction.” His voice softened. “I could not bear to have you hurt.”
Alicia placed her hand on the table and absently fingered the handle of the knife.
“Very well, I agree… for the moment.” Then she laughed and her voice sweetened. “I believe that I will come to like having you around.” She looked away from his gaze. “A confession to all.” She turned to the family. “I’ve been practicing how to flirt. There is a young man, the brother of my friend, who piques my attention. So how did I do?”
“I’m relieved,” Thorn answered. “I do not have time for such foolishness, but you did very well.”
“Foolishness,” Alicia tilted her head toward him. She rolled her eyes. “So say you?”
“Alicia,” Cassandra intervened. “You do not have to practice. It is part of your nature.” She addressed Thorn. “I don’t envy you your task.”
“On the contrary, Your Grace, I look forward to it. It’s much like taming a wild-spirited horse.”
“Have I just been compared to a horse?” Alicia spoke in a haughty voice. “I’ll show you when we go riding just how some horses do not wish to be tamed.” Alicia rose. “Come, Thorn, I’ll show you the library. There are a lot of books on breeding — horses, that is. Also, on how not to curtail their innate spirit. May we be excused?” she asked.
Thorn stood.
“Your Grace, thank you for a lovely meal. I bid you all good night.”
“Thorn, please do stop the formality, call me Cassandra, if you will – we are family, after all.”
Thorn bowed.
“As you wish, Cassandra, and thank you.”
“Good night,” said the Duke. “I’ll drop by your rooms before I retire.”
“I’ll await you, sir.”
Alicia continued her chatter as she led him to the vast library.
*****
Once thorn and Alicia had left the room, Cassandra turned to young Gordon with a smile.
“Off you go, up to your rooms. You may read a little before bed – but not too long, mind.”
The child slipped from his chair, and scurried from the room, making Cassandra smile – the offer of a book always worked.
The Dowager rose and kissed Cassandra and nodded to Althorn.
“I have the feeling that we’re in for excitement in the days ahead. Our lives have brightened up in so many ways. I will see you tomorrow.”
The Dowager left the room, and when the Duke and Cassandra were alone, he inquired, “What was that all about?”
“I found a rather scandalous penny novel in Alicia’s room. Poor Thorn. She’s blossoming into womanhood, and it appears that she has chosen to practice on him.” Cassandra paused, then added, “I will have a talk with her… about a lot of things that she should and should not do with just any man.”
The Duke’s mouth held a mischievous grin. She reached for his hand.
“Gordon, I suddenly feel quite old.”
“But more beautiful than ever,” he whispered. “How is our child doing?”
“Kicking up a storm.”
Cassandra took his hand and placed it on the growing curve of her midsection.
His thoughts provoked strong emotions within him. He loved his wife more than she could imagine, and the life they led was a good one. While he was a powerful Duke and well respected, Thorn presented a problem. He determined that he would do everything in his power to secure a place of legitimacy for his newfound son. It was important that the family as a whole accept Thorn not only in the eyes of society, but in their hearts. There was no doubt that they would face a number of problems. It was not a simple matter.
He returned to the present.
“That’s a solid kick. Are we to have a rugby player?”
“Are you all right, my love? For a moment there, you looked as if your thoughts were somewhere else altogether - this must have been a difficult day for you.”
“There aren’t words to express how I feel. Let’s retire. I’ll see that Thorn is settled and then I’ll come to you. I need your arms around me tonight. Thank you. Thank you for being who you are. Most of all, thank you for loving me.”
Chapter Eight
Thorn realised that the family had tried to make his first night in London a comfortable one. But all this small talk wasn’t for him. He’d become aware of the strong chip on his shoulder — his mother had mentioned it often.
His problem was that he’d started to like his father, but where had this man been when his mother had needed him? Where? Where? Where?
It was unreasonable, he told himself, to think so harshly of the man. Thorn had been told that his father had been ill, on the brink of death, when he had been brought back to England from Barbados. He questioned though, why the Duke had not returned to Barbados, once he had recovered from his illness.
How could he have simply left Thorn’s mother behind, whether he knew of her pregnancy or not? It was as if he’d travelled on a ship when he was ill, landed in England, and then completely forgotten about her? What kind of man was he, to abandon a woman he’d made love to, a woman he now spoke highly of?
Was it because she had become a woman he no longer cared to know, because she could be an embarrassment to him?
Shallow, greedy man, if that was the case.
No, Thorn didn’t mean those words, could not truly imagine the man thinking like that. He greatly admired the Duke. His emotions were a-jumble, and he felt lost.
He wondered how he could get back to Barbados. At least there, he knew his friends and his enemies. Over here, he was a target for bias and slurs.
No more. No more. No damn more.
Again, he asked God to forgive his cursing.
Yet, his grandmother was sweet. Cassandra was a lovely lady to accept all of the possible scandal that he brought by his very existence. Yes, that’s what he was, a scandal not only waiting to happen, but already having happened.
Little Gordon was a bright young boy without a blemish on his record. Alicia was an attractive pretty young girl, easy on the eye and flirtatious. He’d have to guard his heart from the charmer. Most of all, he liked her undaunted spirit. A competitor. A champion?
His father? His father was the Duke of Althorn, yet was ready to accept him into the bosom of his family and pave the way for him.
I don’t need anyone to pave the way for me! I’ll pave my own way. Dammit.
He rarely cursed. The missionaries would not approve.
The fact that he did so now stopped his internal rambling, and made him truly think hard.
What was he to do?
He wasn’t a coward who ran away from difficult situations. He would show these aristocrats a thing or two. He would prove to his father that he could stand tall in his ideals. Yes, that was it. He would stay and make a name for himself — one everyone would be proud of. He was a
fighter.
What about his mother? The dead can harbour secrets. Had she told him everything? He was beginning to suspect that she had not.
His beautiful, loving mother who had died in his arms and made him promise to go to England — where he didn’t want to go.
He found his thoughts returning to Alicia and her brazen, wonderful behaviour. She seemed a bit of a rebel — like him. She was vibrant, with her blue eyes, flushed cheeks, full lips, and a smile which would tempt any man. All the assets of a girl who was about to become an alluring young woman.
Something deep inside him stirred.
Trouble.
Definite trouble.
Trouble I don’t need.
He flipped the pages of the General Stud Book and started to read.
Thorn had no time for women at the moment, but Alicia, somehow, she challenged every bone in his body. What would the future portend for both of them?
It would take a strong man to tame her independent spirit, and he might just be that man.
Indeed, time would tell, after he’d proven himself. In the meantime, though, there were the golden horses he knew, and the English horses he had not seen yet.
Chapter Nine
Three Years Later, 1820
Alicia loved to waltz and tonight the quartet was in rare form with their Viennese music. Her mood was light and the dance so lovely that she floated on air as they swayed. Her head tilted from side to side in time to the steps. She completed a twirl around the ballroom with Mr George Claven, the son of a Viscount. She’d come with Thorn as her chaperone to this event, where they met other young friends of long acquaintance. The chandeliers cast flickering waves of light onto the decorated ceiling. Wall sconces glittered and sent undulating shadows against the walls. Guests chatted, laughed, stared, and some sipped champagne provided by a coterie of servants.
It was the start of what she hoped would be a perfect night, because Thorn had consented to escort her. Though they were close, Alicia wished they could become more – she certainly didn’t think of him as a chaperone, although she had not said as much to him.
At the completion of the dance, Claven turned to her, smiling.
“You look delightful, as usual, and your tea rose coloured gown suits you well.” He smiled. “I know that this does not come as a surprise to you, since you seem to favour the colour.”
“My lord, I favour many colours, but thank you for the compliment.”
Her tone was gracious as she replied to his flattery, yet her eyes sought Thorn’s as he spoke to a young female friend of hers. The look of adoration on the young woman’s face made her blood surge, but then, she had to admit that Thorn had that effect on a lot of women.
Claven whispered an invitation.
“It’s such a crush in here, a bit of fresh air would be appreciated – do you agree?”
She adjusted the bracelet on her gloved wrist, paused a moment, and nodded.
“It’s a grand Ball, but I do agree that the heat in here is unbearable.”
She allowed him to lead her to the terrace. They strode to the top of the steps which led down to a garden area where hanging lanterns in multiple colours cast a gentle light. The scent of roses perfumed the air, while the music from the Ball drifted out on the scented air.
“I don’t suppose you know how long I’ve waited to have you to myself.”
Claven spoke, his voice low, leaning close to her. She turned her face from him, somewhat uncomfortable, and unsure whether she liked him at all, whether she wanted to be alone with him, yet he was most persuasive.
“We may be alone now, but not for long. It’s cool out here.”
“Would you like me to fetch a cape for you?”
His practiced smile was too slick for her taste. Alicia couldn’t help comparing all men to Thorn, only to find that there was no comparison. Thorn would stand out like a petunia in an onion patch.
“No.”
She sighed in contemplation of a good excuse to return to the dance floor. Claven moved closer, took her in his arms, and tilted her chin to bring her mouth towards his.
“You are breath-taking in this light.”
Alicia responded sharply, finding his embrace unappealing.
“What do you think you’re doing?” She pushed him back. “Do you say that to every woman you lure away into the dark?”
The laugh she uttered was mocking, intended to insult, not to inflame his ardour.
“Frequently. It usually entices ladies to explore.”
She stepped back, freeing herself from his arms.
“I admire your honesty.”
They were still only a few inches apart.
“Honesty only goes so far, Miss Alicia, when I want to do so much more. I know that you have a fondness for that…”
He hesitated.
“Don’t say it,” she cautioned.
“We all know what Thorn is. He’s had the good fortune to have a highly placed nobleman accept him.”
“What point are you trying to make, Claven?”
His voice taunted and rang in her ears as he spoke again.
“I’m sure that he’s watching us now. I wonder what he would do if I kissed you in his full sight.”
“I warn you, Claven. It would be wise to not continue. I pack a wicked punch.”
“I know he’s trained you in horsemanship. Perhaps he has trained you in other areas too?”
She wanted to hit him, but she resisted the impulse. Her head pounded in loud drum beats. Was the ton gossiping about them? He leered; the expression on his face would have frightened a lesser woman, but Alicia was accustomed to having her way. Perhaps she was too modern for her own good, but she realised that her relationship with a Duke and Duchess afforded her great privilege. She looked into his eyes, searched, and would have sworn that she saw nothing but English guinea signs representing her dowry. Predictable.
Claven kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“That was a brotherly kiss,” she informed him in dismissal of his rather pathetic attempt.
“It will get better.”
He moved her gently, until she was pushed against the stone of the garden wall. She closed her eyes and puckered her lips. Curiosity drove her, more than anything else.
His raspy voice demanded, “Place your arms around my neck.”
She did so slowly, not sure why — for she was still seething about his earlier reference to Thorn.
Claven smiled and didn’t move.
“Open your eyes. I want to see the moonlight sparkle in them.”
“I’m not interested in what you like or dislike. Did you read that romantic phrase somewhere, or is it original to your repertoire?” It took utter control on her part not to strike him then. Her arms fell to her side as, with one hand on the wall, he leaned down to kiss her lips. She sighed, and when her lips opened, his tongue darted in. It was a messy, wet kiss, which sent a shudder through her. She pushed him. Nothing. But another shove, harder, stopped him. “That wasn’t brotherly at all.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
Her shoulders were rigid now, and her voice almost harsh.
“I would now prefer to return to the Ball, Claven. I see no point in prolonging this… conversation.”
She attempted to slip under his arched arm. With a rapid move, he raised his other arm, and she was captured in his grasp.
“No.”
His voice was feral and gruff.
“Kindly remove your body from my path.” Claven still refused to move. “If you think I’m being coy, you are incorrect.”
Her face burned with rising anger.
“You lured me here, Alicia.”
His body pinned her.
She held her reticule between them, a small defence.
“You’ve a vivid imagination. I did no luring. I chose to allow this – but only so far. As for you, you couldn’t lure a rodent into a hole.” He did not move, did not release her, but simply stood, his expressio
n shocked at her defiance of his wishes. She exhaled a too-deep breath. “All right then,” and quicker than quick, she sent her fist to his cheek, with all the force she could put behind it. Caught unaware, he stumbled to the side with a grunt, his hand upon his jaw. She walked past him with a grin. “Thank you.”
Her voice echoed quiet triumph. It was good to be a woman who had a Duke for her guardian.
Alicia adjusted the ring on her finger and went, with a gay smile, to find her friends, and soon found them. Tonight, Thorn wore a tailed jacket with a cerulean embroidered waistcoat which highlighted his tawny skin. His cravat was a froth of stark white with a sapphire pin. His trousers were black silk while his shoes matched perfectly. The light caught raven blue-black lights from his dark locks.
She wanted to run her hands through that silken hair. It reminded her of the mane of their dark horses. She thought him the handsomest man in the room.
How dare Claven attempt to denigrate him? Thorn had more nobleness in his little finger than that popinjay had in his whole body.
“There you are, Thorn. Did you miss me?” she cajoled, but her smile was forced.
“In fact, I did. I was about to look for you. The hour grows late.”
Her cheeks flamed at the thought that he might have found her in a compromising position on the terrace.
“Your hair is a little disarrayed, and your lip rouge is smudged.”
Thorn’s comment was inquisitive, his eyebrow raised in question.
“So it seems. May I ask you to take me home?”
He nodded, then peered over her shoulder. She turned to see what had caught his attention. Claven entered the room holding a hand over one cheek. When he dropped the hand to shut the door, Thorn chuckled. Alicia wondered what caused his amusement — and then realised that Claven sported a rather large bruise to his cheek. The deep indentation held the pattern of Alicia’s ring. She couldn’t quite repress the bubble of laughter which rose in her throat.
“Well, my dear?”
“I have no idea of what you speak.” This time she was coy. And glad to be, since it was Thorn who was the real object of her affections. He always brought out the flirt in her. She met his stunning blue eyes which she knew so well. He raised an eyebrow at her again – she relented, and answered. “You did teach me fisticuffs, in case I ever met a circumstance where they were required. I merely employed that education to accomplish my purpose.”
Thorn, Son of a Duke: Regency Romance (The Dukes of Desire Book 3) Page 5