The Duke of Morewether’s Secret (11 page)

“You look every bit as ravishing as I knew you would,” he complimented her. “Do you have a maid to bring with you?”

Blast these English and their desperate attempts at propriety. She had completely forgotten the need for a chaperone. “I’m Greek,” she said, as if that would excuse everything. “Must I have one?”

Christian chuckled. “Dare you go anywhere with a scourge of maidens such as myself without one?”

It was Thea’s turn to smile. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. Besides, I’m not here for a husband and will not trap you into being one.”

“I’m not sure if that settles me or not,” he confessed as he handed her into the curricle. “Should I feel insulted?”

“No, Your Grace, you should feel liberated.” Thea adjusted her hat and made sure the bow was secured under her chin. “Shall we?” she asked, excitement bubbled and released itself in the form of a giggle when he snapped the reins and the matching gray pair leapt forward at a swift trot.

~~~***~~~

Thea was a consummate horse woman. Christian didn’t know why he should be surprised. The woman constantly amazed him.

The drive out to his farm had been filled with their chatter. She asked a million questions about his breeding methods and training theories, countering his ideas with philosophies of her own acquired, she said, from her extensive readings and interviews with other breeders in Greece.

She was no less enthusiastic once they neared his farm. Their carriage raced down the lane; a pasture stretched long and green on the right. She had bade him to pull over and had launched herself from the vehicle almost before it had even stopped on the berm. He joined her at the fence where she had climbed to stand on the bottom rung, all the better to see the young colts frolicking in the field of wildflowers.

“The roan over there,” he said and pointed to a frisky reddish fellow leaping about on the edge of the group. “He’s the one I promised to Olivia.”

“Fine looking fellow, isn’t he?” Her voice was filled with admiration.

Christian adored that she saw the promise in the foal just as he did. “Indeed.”

He had a boy saddle his giant black horse, Nabatean.

“The Arabian god of war,” Thea noted while stroking the horse’s massive black neck. Her hand slipped into her pocket and reappeared with a small carrot. His horse was bound to fall in love with her as quickly as his stablemen. “He is a night deity, too, is he not?”

Her ability to impress him was boundless. “You have the right of it.”

“Your master named you well,” she told Nabatean as she stroked his nose. The great beast nudged her looking for more treats.

“I’ve picked out a good mare for you,” Christian told her as Marigold appeared between the stalls.

Thea said eyed the horse and turned to him with a pointed look. “Would you rather I think of a more hideous opportunity for your supplication?”

“Marigold is a lovely horse, aren’t you Mari.” Christian reached over and stroked her ear.

Thea clearly did not agree. Christian wanted to chortle at his jest, but he maintained a serious expression for a while longer. “I only think of your safety, Miss Ashbrook. My stallions have quite a spirited reputation.”

Thea huffed a disappointed breath and looked at Nabatean with longing. “I had hoped for a faster ride.”

Christian kept his grin in check. “You are experienced, you say?”

“Certainly,” she declared with mounting frustration. “My horse at home is almost as big as Nabatean.”

“I will be vastly disappointed if you break your neck.” What a lovely, lovely neck it was, too, attached like it was to her beautiful face which presently glared at him. “Perhaps I can find someone more to your liking.” He signaled the boy and Atepomarus was brought around.

“Now there you go,” Thea said with admiration. “Aren’t you just the thing?” Younger than his own mount, Atepomarus stood only slightly shorter, but his flanks were massive, his legs long and powerful. “What is your name, handsome?”

“Christian George Arthur Belling, Duke of Morewether,” he said with a grin. “Oh, you mean the horse. Allow me to introduce Atepomarus named after a Celtic horse god.”

Thea introduced herself with a piece of carrot and whispered to the horse, “You were what I was hoping for.”

Christian thought it absurd to be jealous of a horse. He had no one to blame, of course, he introduced them. “I don’t suppose you want a side saddle either, do you?”

Thea was distracted. “Hmmm. Oh, no, I’d rather ride him astride.”

Of course she would.

Saddled and clattering over the cobblestones of the drive, Christian led the way through a pasture and out to the wild fields. Thea gave her horse its head, and they flew across the grass, her laughter wiping through the wind. She was right. She was a fantastic horsewoman. That didn’t stop his stomach from lurching to his throat when she leapt the first hedge and then the second, but she kept her seat — a seat which he enjoyed watching immensely.

By the time they climbed from their mounts, their horses were covered with lather and the sun was several hours on the other side of noon. The smile on Thea’s face seemed a permanent fixture and Christian was inordinately proud he played a part in putting it there.

Thea gave Atepomarus a kiss on the nose and scratched him behind the ears before she let the stable boy take him away. “Thank you very much, Christian.” She finally gave him her full attention.

Christian relinquished Nabatean’s reins to take her hand in his and nestle it in the crook of his arm. “Our debt is settled then?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.

Thea smiled at him, her lips spreading into a glorious, breathtaking grin that shone in her eyes and crinkled her cheeks, rosy from exertion. “I’d say we’re even.”

“Well, then,” Christian said in a low voice and pulled her closer to his side so the skirt of her habit swayed around his legs, “I shall have to think hard to find a suitable way to get in your debt again.”

Thea chuckled and Christian let it melt across him. “With your reputation, I’m sure you won’t have to think too hard. You do have quite a resume of scandalous behavior to fall back on.”

“And yet, I find myself singularly devoted to scandalizing you.” Christian had led her along the flagstone path from the stables to the house and now steered her through the exterior glass doors into his study. His desk faced the wall of windows so even when he was tackling the mundane record keeping involved with raising prized horses, he could still watch the animals training in the ring.

“You don’t think to scandalize me right now, do you?” Thea’s eyes were big and round with false innocence. Christian delighted in how riding today had put her in such good humor. There were few people who enjoyed a fast ride on a magnificent horse as much as he did. There were fewer still who could tell a magnificent horse from a good one.

“I’ve been thinking of scandalizing you all day. ‘Should I do it here?’ I thought to myself when we raced across the pasture, ‘or maybe here?’ when you darted into the woods and I followed. ‘Here is perfect,’ I thought when we crossed the stream and your hem got wet.” Christian released her hand and deposited her on the sofa so he could summon tea.

“Why when my hem got wet?” she grinned and played along. She pulled the tips of each finger until her form -fitting gloves slid off revealing slim, white hands. The act was captivating.

“I wouldn’t want you to catch cold, riding around in wet clothes.” Christian sat in an arm chair opposite her. He was afraid to actually sit next to her, to be that close. Teasing her was one thing, but he well remembered the feeling of panic that descended upon him when he kissed her in that garden. He would like to avoid that embarrassment again if at all possible — on the other hand, never let it be said he was a quitter.

“My constitution is quite hearty, and I doubt a damp hem could cause serious illness.” She paused when a servant entered with the tea service.

“And yet, I could think of little else besides removing your habit.”

Thea’s eyebrows rose at the suggestion. “Well then, you’ve managed it. I am feeling quite scandalized just now.”

Satisfied, Christian set the tea cup and saucer on the table between them and leaned back in his chair. He had no desire for tea. “I am very pleased you enjoyed yourself today.”

“I did. In fact, it may be the best day I’ve had in months.”

“So, if I kissed you, would that make your day better or worse?

Chapter Ten

“I’m not sure.” Thea placed her cup next to his on the table and looked at him contemplatively. “It would depend upon the scoring criteria.”

Christian laughed. “Can I ever get an easy answer out of you?”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

Christian rose from his chair and stalked, yes stalked, around the table and sat next to her. Thea wiggled to her left until the arm of the sofa impeded her progress. She turned so her knees were between her and the duke, who took up more than his fair share of the furniture.

“What is the scoring criteria?”

“It depends, I guess.” Her flirty banter faltered when he reached out with one hand and took possession of one of hers. “Is it going to be a good kiss?”

“I should hope so.” His voice rumbled, deeper than usual. He seemed distracted by rubbing his thumb over her palm and wrist in silky, fluid movements. “Have you been disappointed in my kisses before?”

“It’s never been your kisses that were the problem. It’s afterward where all the bungling comes about.”

That slowed him a bit. His gaze met hers then he gave a little roll of his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “I can’t explain what happened in the garden. I can only apologize and make it up to you.”

“Which you have. I’m sorry I brought it up,” Thea said, thinking she’d bungled it this time, and the talk of kisses was now off the table. Drat. “Honestly, I’ve had an exhilarating day.”

Thea broke their gaze and swallowed hard. She would have liked a kiss. She couldn’t help thinking there was something about her that made Christian run away that night, that her foreignness or lack of experience somehow displeased him. She didn’t look like the English beauties the duke was used to — she didn’t have the alabaster skin or willowy figure the men of England desired.

How could a woman of intelligence, of which she’d like to think of herself, vacillate so severely from one extreme to another? One minute she didn’t want him or any part of him and the next she was pining for kisses that wouldn’t come.

“You know, I don’t really feel like asking.” Then his lips were on hers.

His hand slid behind her neck to hold her head in place while he took his time. This time the kiss wasn’t frantic. Instead, Christian’s lips moved slowly over hers, and when she opened her mouth to sigh, his tongue slipped inside to caress the inside of her mouth with more care and tenderness than Thea had ever thought to expect from someone like him.

Someone like him.

She hated to admit it but her opinion of him was rapidly disintegrating, or growing immeasurably.

“Stop thinking, Thea,” he whispered against her mouth.

How can he possibly know that?

He kissed her chin, her jaw, under her ear. “I can feel you thinking.” This time, she felt the words against her skin as much as heard them, his lips brushing against the sensitive place behind her ear. She leaned ever so slightly into his voice, against his lips, unconsciously seeking his lips on hers again. “What has you preoccupied?” he asked.

What he was doing felt delicious. “You.”

Christian’s fingertips slid lightly over her neck and throat. Her skin was on fire. “Do you think of me often?”

She shouldn’t give him any more power over her but she found she couldn’t lie. “Yes, much more than I should.”

He kissed her again. A reward for her confession? Thea didn’t know. She didn’t care. When his deft fingers slid into her hair and cradled her head to kiss her more thoroughly, she didn’t care about anything but the taste of him and how what he did to her made her feel. A soft mewling sound came from deep inside her. She’d never made such a piteous noise before, but then she’d never felt such a keen absence until Christian wasn’t kissing her anymore.

Thea blinked at him as he smiled at her.

“You think of me?” he asked but he wasn’t teasing. His eyes, a deep and endless mahogany, weren’t laughing at her.

Thea nodded. She forgot to be wary of him.

A kiss on the lips. “I think of you, too. All the time.”

“That’s not a very rakish thing to admit.” Thea played with the lapel on his jacket, pinching the fabric between her fingers and sliding along the seam.

“I know,” he admitted. “You seem to have transformed me, Miss Althea Ashbrook.”

That sounded lovely to her. His confession had her feeling braver than was prudent. Plugging her ears to the insistent reminders of vigilance that ran endlessly through her head, Thea tilted her face to invite another kiss.

When his lips met hers, she made a soft noise of appreciation, of encouragement, which joined with an equally enjoyable moan from him. Her hand slid inside his coat jacket, underneath the waistcoat to find his shirt. She slid her palm next to his heart and felt the steady, rapid beat pulsing strong with only the linen of his shirt between his flesh and her hand. Thea knew she was bold and this impetuous gesture was surely not wise, but she couldn’t stop herself. Maybe that made her weak willed, no better than all the other women the duke had seduced before her, but, just now, she didn’t care.

She wanted to let go and pretend everything would end with a happily ever after like a fairy tale. In her story, the Duke of Morewether was everything she wanted: a loving family man and a devoted husband. He’d already proven to be a strong family man. Could Christian also prove to be a devoted husband? Thea could never settle for less.

But maybe she didn’t have to settle. Perhaps she could enjoy a mutually beneficial physical relationship with this most renowned rake in London. She wasn’t an English maiden he would be forced to marry if he dallied with her. Thea was going home to her own family as soon as she took care of all her business in England and, like the chant which had grown louder and louder in her head with every passing encounter with the duke, she was not looking for a husband.