Velvet Embrace (12 page)

Fortunately, she had been able to rely on John Simms. Upon Sir William's death, John had taken on the responsibility of dealing with the clients, while Brie had handled the training programs for the horses. They had reversed their roles gradually over time, so that now many of the clients dealt directly with her. John had been offered numerous positions elsewhere with the lure of sizable increases in salary, but nothing had been able to entice him to leave Greenwood or shake his devotion to Brie.

Brie's spirits lifted a little when she reached the stables. The anticipation of a brisk ride on a glorious winter's day always held excitement for her, but the smile on John's grizzled face as he saddled her mount made her recall the duke's letter and his promise of patronage. John had worked as hard as she for this moment, Brie reminded herself. She returned his smile, determined not to let her low mood spoil his triumph.

Her costume had been his idea. While boy's clothes might be eccentric on a woman, they were both practical and sensible for the work Brie undertook. And by now most of her neighbors had grown used to her unusual attire. That the slim country lad who sported an ill-fitting blue jacket and rode spirited Thoroughbreds with the abandon of a wild Indian was, in truth, Miss
Carringdon
of Greenwood was even a source of pride.

Her clothes served her well this morning for they insulated her from the cold. It was still quite chilly. Great curls of steam rose from her horse's nostrils as Brie rode out of the courtyard. The cold air stung her lungs and tinged her cheeks with color, but she breathed deeply, enjoying the fresh scent of snow.

Her mount, the Court Jester, was a young Irish hunter belonging to Julian. At Julian's request, Brie had undertaken to school the horse for the field, for while the bay's action was superb, he was far too excitable when confronting the sights and sounds of the hunt. In the quiet of the winter morning, however, Jester was relaxed and responsive. He cantered easily along the lane, his footing solid in the melting snow and mud. When Brie put him at a low hedge, he took it effortlessly.

She held the horse to a canter, even though his strong pull on the reins indicated his eagerness. Leaving the lane, they bounded over a low stone border and followed a path through the woods to the south field. There were few tracks in the snow, and the only sound disturbing the silence was the muffled beat of Jester's hooves.

The path narrowed at its end. Brie ducked to avoid the low- hanging branches as they whipped by her, but not before the tip of a limb caught her shoulder, loosening a shower of snow. Laughing as a wet clump hit the back of her neck, Brie brought the horse to a halt. Jester snorted impatiently, pawing the ground, but she spoke softly to the animal, calming him as she shielded her eyes against the bright glare and surveyed the lovely scene.

A snow-covered meadow stretched invitingly before her, the sunlight reflecting off its crystalline surface, creating a shimmer of silver and gold. Beyond, the barren browns and grays of the surrounding woods contrasted sharply with the pristine white. Above, the sky
sparkled
a clear, watery blue.

Brie completely missed seeing the dark horseman who blended into the shadows of the opposite trees. Unaware of his scrutiny, she stood in the saddle and tossed her head back, laughing in sheer delight.

The musical sound carried across the snow to capture Dominic's attention. He had no trouble recognizing Brie, for while a stranger to this particular part of Britain might have mistaken her for a lad, Dominic had held her in his arms and knew quite well the extent of her feminine charms. He laid a soothing hand on the neck of his own restless mount, and from the cover of a thicket, watched.

The field was laid out in the shape of an L, with the two sections separated by a stream. A dozen or so obstacles of varying shapes and sizes had been set up to form a training course. Brie rode Jester in a large circle as she prepared for the first jump, gradually increasing the bay's speed to a steady canter. They took the first fence soaring, while Dominic caught his breath at the unexpected beauty of their winged flight.

Jester settled into a rhythmic stride. Jumping the swollen stream with ease, he cleared the sloping, snow-covered banks with room to spare, before Brie urged him on to the next obstacle. They swept around the bend of the meadow, hugging close to the dense wood, and at the end, turned,
making
their way
upfield
again at a steady gallop.

They were approaching the stream when Jester caught sight of the rider in the distance. His ears shot up,
then
he shied violently, swerving and throwing Brie off balance.

Seeing the icy banks stretching wide before them, Brie tried desperately to regain her seat, but she was still clinging precariously to the horse's neck when they left the ground. The bay cleared the water, but on the far bank, he slipped and stumbled. Giving a mighty lunge, he scrambled up the treacherous slope, while Brie lost her grip entirely. Feeling herself falling, she threw her weight to one side, free of the flailing hooves.

She tucked her body into a tight ball, and the snow softened the impact of her fall, but still she was dazed and breathless by the time she rolled to a stop. She lay there a moment, curled on her side, aware of a painful throb in her shoulder and a loud drumming in her head. When she recognized the sound as approaching
hoofbeats
, she shifted slowly onto her back, wincing as the bright glare of the sun hurt her eyes. Then she blinked.

For an instant, the dark image of a horse and rider was etched vividly against the sky. The horse was a giant black stallion, its coat a glossy shade of midnight rippling with blue highlights. Brie had seen that horse before at the Lodge stables, but it was Dominic who arrested her attention. He seemed to be an extension of the beautiful animal he sat so effortlessly. He was hatless, and his ebony hair, nearly the same shade as his horse, glinted in the early morning sunlight. The black coat he wore made his broad shoulders seem even more powerfully built and gave him an aura of strength that was almost tangible to Brie's dazed senses.

The image shattered as he dismounted. Above the ringing in her ears, Brie heard him ask if she were injured. She shook her head to clear it and slowly raised herself up on her elbows.

"Are you hurt?" Dominic repeated, his piercing gaze sweeping over her body.

Brie frowned as she looked up at him. She was cold and wet and her shoulder was throbbing abominably, but she wasn't about to admit it to him. "No, I'm not hurt!" she muttered irritably, her denial sounding more like an accusation.

Her annoyance mounted when she realized Dominic was subjecting her to another of his brazen perusals. His dark eyes traveled the length of her slender frame, gliding slowly upward again to pause
measuringly
on the curves of her breasts. The warmth of his gaze seemed to penetrate her garments. She wondered if he would say anything about her choice of attire— and he did.

"Interesting," Dominic remarked mildly. "Can't your protector afford to clothe you in anything better?"

"What are you doing here?" Brie demanded, ignoring his question.

His eyes returned at last to meet her own, but he seemed undaunted by the fierce glare she was leveling at him. An annoying little smile hovered around the corners of his mouth. "You didn't say goodbye, ma belle. I was beginning to think that I had frightened you away."

"You did no such thing," Brie replied with a toss of her head. The gesture sent her cap flying and her hair tumbling down around her shoulders.

A lazy, mocking smile spread across Dominic's lips, showing strong white teeth. His grin unsettled Brie's composure. She felt at a distinct disadvantage with him towering over her. When he bent to help her up, she refused his outstretched hand and scrambled to her feet, unassisted.

Dominic's grin deepened appreciatively as his eyes took in the curves displayed by her breeches, but Brie tried to ignore him. Pressing her lips together and swallowing the hot words that were forming on her tongue, she brushed impatiently at the snow that clung tenaciously to her clothes and went after her horse.

Jester had not gone far. He stood quietly as Brie approached, allowing her to pick up the reins that trailed the ground. She led the gelding at a slow walk, looking for signs of injury.

Dominic came up beside her. "He's favoring his right fore.
Probably strained a tendon."

Brie didn't need the advice, nor did she appreciate Stanton's interference. She raised a glare of annoyance to his bronzed visage.

It disturbed her to find his gray eyes upon her, watching her closely. His persistent regard was unsettling, but before she could comment, his gaze shifted back to the horse.

Dominic casually removed his gloves, then bent beside the bay and ran a careful hand down the animal's leg. When he nodded his dark head, as if confirming his own opinion, his calm assumption of authority ignited Brie's glowing spark of ire. She rounded on him as he straightened. "I'll thank you, Lord Stanton, to leave the horse to me. In fact, I'll thank you to leave! You are on private property."

One of his dark brows shot up. "I was not aware—"

"I can certainly believe that! You seem to be aware of very little. Indeed, your lack of intelligence astonishes me. What did you mean, riding out of the woods like that, appearing like an apparition without any warning? If I had been a less accomplished rider, Jester could have ended with a broken leg and I with a broken neck!"

A look of sardonic amusement crept into Dominic's eyes as he contemplated her. "You have my profound admiration, mademoiselle, for your daring display of horsemanship. I have rarely seen such magnificent riding, certainly not from a woman. At least your skill matches your boastfulness." The corner of his mouth lifted slowly in a smile. "Tell me, does your master know you have taken that beast from his stable?"

Brie digested his statements with a certain amount of amazement. His words, rather than the contrite apology she expected, were little more than taunts. A warning spark flashed in her eyes, turning them a deep, sparkling green. "I do not boast," she ground out. "I am perfectly capable of handling any horse I care to ride—without your assistance. Besides, what I do with Jester is no business of yours. And my . . . master, as you phrased it, would not have stood for your interference for an instant. He would have had you shot for trespassing and frightening his horse, and asked questions later. I generally don't support such drastic measures, but I am beginning to. Now, will you leave, my lord? I have
work
to do."

He didn't comply. Instead, he raised a mocking brow and indicated her horse with a slight movement of his head. "You won't be able to ride him for a day or so."

"I realize that!" she snapped.

She was totally dumbfounded when Dominic reached out to lift a lock of her hair from where it lay curled on her breast. "You look a little absurd, standing there all covered with snow," he murmured. "Perhaps you have aspirations to become a snow fairy?" He let the curl drop, watching with a speculative gleam as it caught the fire of the sun.

Brie resisted the urge to slap his handsome face. She was suddenly uncomfortable with his closeness, with the way his penetrating glance lingered on the swell of her breasts. She turned from him abruptly, looking for her lost cap. Adopting her haughtiest tone, she flung over her shoulder, "You, Lord Stanton, are also guilty of a breach of manners. A gentleman does not argue with a lady, nor does he call her absurd."

Dominic's slow chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. "Lady?" he repeated, his voice heavy with satire. "Is that what you are,
chérie
?"