Corey McFadden (13 page)

She moaned deep in her throat and began to match his rhythm, slowly at first, then faster and faster as he thrust at her again and again.

The feeling of power was exhilarating. She was putty in his hands. He would make her grovel, as she had made him crawl all these months. With a cry, he slumped forward, shooting his seed hard into her, not noticing that she cried out herself and shuddered against him.

All was silence for a moment except for their panting, jagged breathing. Hawton didn’t move, afraid to say anything, afraid to break the spell and find himself the servant once more. At last he felt her shift beneath him and he pulled away. He looked at her, reading her eyes. Yes, it was still there, the raw need, not physical—no, it was more subtle than that and more basic. He smiled slowly into her eyes and she smiled back, but now her smile was hesitant, uncertain; there was none of the hauteur about her that had characterized all of their previous couplings, when he had performed for her like a trained horse. This time she had serviced him, and from now on it would stay that way.

Lazily, he got to his feet and cleaned himself with his handkerchief. Eleanor was rearranging her dressing gown, covering herself.

“I’ve managed to cover over the tracks of our little financial indiscretions with some interesting bookkeeping techniques,” he said, deliberately leaving out the ‘my lady’. “I don’t think Sir Giles will be any the wiser, unless he wishes to probe much more deeply into the household purchasing accounts.” As he spoke he was refastening his breeches. It was gratifying to see that she had not taken her eyes off his crotch while he had worked at it. “But I think we’ll need to figure out something safer for the future. It was unwise to trust to Sir Giles’s utter disinterest in the household.” He had brought up the subject of Giles’s unexplained renewed concern on purpose, to put her insecurities back into her thoughts. It worked. Eleanor looked up at him, alarm in her eyes.

“What shall we do, Hawton? I lost again this week, rather heavily, I’m afraid. I’d counted on getting enough from you to cover my losses.” She was breathless, afraid, and she needed him to solve the problem for her. This was a new Lady Eleanor, all right, and he was enjoying it.

“Well, don’t worry your beautiful head about it, my dear,” he said softly, tracing a finger down her cheek.” They had graduated from ‘my lady’ to ‘my dear’, and he didn’t think she’d even noticed his temerity. “I will solve the problem. Leave everything to me. And as far as our little governess is concerned, she cannot hold a candle to you, so put her out of your thoughts entirely.” He gave her a chuck on the chin, then turned abruptly and strode from the room. Once outside in the hallway, he allowed a huge grin to spread across his face, but it wasn’t until he was sure he was out of earshot that he started laughing out loud.

* * * *

Giles stood in the entrance to the stables and watched the young woman hurrying toward him. He could see that she seemed a bit anxious.

“I am so sorry, Sir Giles,” she exclaimed, breathlessly, stopping before him. “I know I have kept you waiting but I wanted to make sure the children were properly settled before I left.”

“Indeed, you have not kept me waiting. The horses are only being saddled now, Miss Carpenter.” He eyed her dress with some misgiving, noting that it was a modest, serviceable cotton gown.

“I should have realized you would have no riding habit, Miss Carpenter, since you rarely ride. I’d hate for you to spoil your gown.” She flushed at his words and he cursed himself. He should have stopped to think it would embarrass her for him to comment on her meager wardrobe. Indeed, looking at her, he noted that the dark blue gown, though simple, was clean, well pressed, and closed tightly at the throat with a white, pretty lace collar. It was so different from anything he had ever seen on Eleanor or Violet.

“Never mind,” he said quickly to cover her discomfort. “It won’t be a hard ride, and Angel hasn’t worked herself into a lather since she was a filly.” He took her arm and gently led her into the stable. If she was nervous about the horse, it would do well to show her what a docile mount she would be riding. Angel was worse than docile. Most of her unfortunate riders swore that she snoozed while she walked.

Joanna’s arm felt warm beneath his fingers, and he thought he detected a hint of a tremble. Was it the horse she was afraid of or himself? They stopped before a small, wide mare who was being saddled by Jims, the ancient stablemaster.

“There, Miss Carpenter. Behold your steed.”

The horse turned a baleful eye in their direction. One could almost see the indignation in the brown depths. Angel loved nothing so much as to get her nose into her feedbag, and nothing so little as whatever exercise was forced upon her.

Joanna returned the glare. Ever since she had agreed to go on this excursion, she had been growing more and more apprehensive about it. It had been so long since she’d been on a horse, she’d forgotten how little she cared for it. Big, smelly things who didn’t care a whit for what she wanted them to do. Never mind all that nonsense about a firm grip on the reins and an infinitesimal tug this way or that to communicate one’s innermost wishes to one’s valiant steed. Hah! Every horse she’d ever ridden had been quick to establish control over her. The last time she’d ventured forth on one of Squire’s allegedly ‘docile’ creatures, the dratted thing had nearly knocked her head off on a branch, going at a dead run back to the stables, in spite of the fact that the rest of the party was nowhere near completing the outing. This Angel had that same look in her eye. Angel didn’t like her. Angel was not going to cooperate. Angel was going to make her look like an idiot, and it wasn’t going to be too hard to do, at that. Oh, why hadn’t she pleaded other duties and spared herself this humiliation?

“There, see, Miss Carpenter? She likes you. Don’t you, girl?” murmured Giles fondly, slipping the horse a bit of sugar.

Joanna could not bring herself to make a light-hearted reply. The horse had a very smug look about her. Oh, they were enemies all right and they were going to war.

“Are we ready, Jims?” Giles asked the wizened old man standing at his elbow.

“Aye, sir. I’ll take Angel to the mountin’ block and help Miss Carpenter to mount. Your Red Devil is all ready for you, snortin’ and stampin,’ he is.”

Giles walked away, leaving Joanna staring morosely as Jims led Angel to the block. What on earth had possessed her to agree to this awful outing? She could have taken a nice walk, for heaven’s sake. There was no reason whatsoever to get up on this infernal horse. Still, she would look like a fool if she turned tail now, so with a sigh she made herself walk over to the wicked beast. Angel turned to regard her as she approached. The large brown eyes gleamed with absolute malevolence; there was no doubt about it.

“Here you are, miss. Angel is as sweet as her name. You’ll have no trouble with her, not a bit,” said Jims.

Were they all blind? The horse was the devil on all fours! Joanna stepped up onto the block, refusing to meet the horse’s maleficent eye. With a discreet boost from Jims, she found herself astride. She tugged at her skirt on either side, but she was aware that her ankles were showing over the tops of her low boots. Well, modesty was going to be the least of her problems for now.

“There now, miss. Ain’t Angel a grand lady? Just the slightest tug on the reins and she’ll go just where you want her to go,” Jims said, stepping back and touching his cap to her.

Joanna rolled her eyes. The horse beneath her was trembling slightly. Laughing, no doubt. Drat! Drat! Drat!

Giles, mounted on a beautiful sorrel, drew alongside Joanna. He hid his smile as he noted the expression of terrified determination on her face. Perhaps he should offer to cancel this outing and get the poor girl back on the ground where she so obviously wished to be.

“You know, it might rain, at that, Miss Carpenter,” he said, feigning a frown at the cloudless blue sky. “Perhaps we would do well to make this jaunt some other day.”

“Oh, no, Sir Giles,” replied Joanna through clenched teeth. “I’m sure it will be a lovely day for a ride.” She’d made it this far and she would be damned if she’d let the beast have the satisfaction.

Good. The girl had some pluck. Well, Angel would give her no trouble. Giles touched his knee to his mount and started forward.

Joanna gently dug her heels into Angel’s sides and waited expectantly. Nothing happened. Naturally.

“There now, pretty girl, you go on with Red Devil and have yourselves a nice ride.” Jims gave Angel a pat on her rear and she ambled off.

Giles slowed Red Devil and turned to wait for Angel and Joanna. The expression on the girl’s face was comical, but he knew better than to laugh. At last, Angel managed to catch up and he started forward again. Angel was following obediently.

“I would suggest we ride down into Caldbeck Fells a bit, Miss Carpenter. It’s still somewhat barren at this time of year, but then when you see it in a few weeks’ time, it will be all the more beautiful.” He kept their pace to a slow walk. The trails were rocky and some were steep, and although Red Devil could howl through the fells like the wind, Giles was quite sure neither Angel nor Miss Carpenter was up to a wild ride.

They rode for some time in companionable silence. Giles and Red Devil led, picking the easier trails along the stony incline. Joanna was feeling better as they proceeded. Angel was being nice, just moving along, not making any trouble. Joanna felt a little of the tension leave her, and she began noticing her surroundings. Away to the east stretched miles of rolling hills, wild and solitary moorlands, stark in barren winter beauty.

They reached a level spot in the trail, wide enough for both horses to stand. Giles stopped. “We are nearly surrounded by mountains here, Miss Carpenter,” he said, breaking into her thoughts. “To the east are the Pennines, to the north are the Cheviot Hills, and south of us are the Cumbrian Mountains. That’s why our weather is so unpredictable. With an ocean to the west we can never be sure what sort of day it will be.”

“It’s splendid, sir,” Joanna said. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anything quite so beautiful.”

Joanna was alongside him now as they started down, and he could see the appreciation in her eyes. The wind had put color in her cheeks and she was smiling ear to ear. Her hands had relaxed on the reins, too, he noted, and she had so forgotten her fear that she leaned forward in excitement on the horse, almost straining to go faster. Unbidden, the thought of his first ride out with Violet came to mind. He had been so proud of his homeland, eager to show off its wild beauty to his beautiful bride. Violet had managed about twenty minutes on the horse, complaining all the while about how she disliked the country and wished desperately to return to the pleasures of London. There had been nothing in her eyes then but contempt for what she called a bare, godforsaken hole in the earth.

“There are some rather pleasant lakes, too, Miss Carpenter, to the south of us,” he ventured again. Of course, it was always possible that she was just being polite. Most of the women with whom he came into contact these days—Eleanor’s friends, when he hadn’t managed to avoid them—hung thus on his every word. But there was always something else in their eyes, something that had nothing to do with the topic of conversation, and nothing to do with being polite either.

“I am just longing for my watercolors, Sir Giles. See, there is just a hint of green budding.” She gestured with her right hand, forgetting that the rein was tangled rather tightly in her fingers.

With a snort of annoyance. Angel skittered, then lost her footing on a rock which slipped beneath her hoof. Losing her purchase, the horse began to slide down the trail, a hail of stones flying beneath her hooves.

Joanna gave a shriek, then, abandoning the reins altogether, threw her arms about the horse’s neck, holding on as tightly as she could, eyes squeezed shut. Beneath her she could feel the horse bucking and straining wildly to regain its footing on the precarious scree.

Suddenly Joanna felt the horse’s neck jerk beneath her head. The horse quieted immediately as its hooves found purchase. Slowly she raised her head and met the anxious eyes of Sir Giles. His hand held Angel’s reins short and tight, and his face was inches from hers as he half lay over Angel, stretched as far as he could from his seat on Red Devil.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I—I am fine. I’m so sorry, I should never....”

“Let me get you down before she slips again,” he said quickly, his voice tense. “She is favoring her hoof and I need to see if she is hurt.” He slid with fluid grace from the back of Red Devil, never releasing his tight grip on Angel’s reins. He reached up and put his one good arm around Joanna’s waist.

“You’ll have to let go, you know, if you want to get off,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

With chagrin, Joanna realized her arms were still tightly clenched around the horse’s neck. She forced herself to loosen her grip, surprised at how her muscles screamed with the strain.

“It’s a wonder you didn’t strangle that horse, Miss Carpenter,” came his voice, close to her ear as he lifted her down.

Red with humiliation, Joanna stood quietly while he bent down to examine Angel. She was keenly aware that she stood between the two large beasts, on a narrow incline with precarious footing. Well, if one slipped and swept her down the steep, rocky trail, at least she wouldn’t have to look Sir Giles Chapman in the eye again.

“Well, she’s lamed, but I don’t think it’s broken,” said Giles, kneeling by the horse’s foreleg. “I’d hate to have to shoot her, and I didn’t bring my pistol out with me in any case.”

“Shoot her?” asked Joanna, shocked. “Why on earth would you shoot her?”

“Well, if the leg is broken, she’ll have to be put down,” he said calmly, standing and wiping his dusty hands on his pants legs. “Horses can’t stay off their legs long enough to heal a break. Just can’t be done.”

He looked up at the sound of a strangled sob and saw her face crumpling.

“What on earth? What’s wrong?” he asked in alarm, reaching out and taking her arm. “Oh, I am sorry. I should have realized you’ve had a frightening time of it. Do you want to sit down for a minute?”