Love With the Perfect Scoundrel (22 page)

“
Friendship
, sweetheart?”

She snorted. “Well, I suppose I should be happy you didn’t say something coarser.”

“Darling, friendship is all I’m looking for.”

“Said the fox to the hare.”

He chuckled. “Can a man not be friends with a lady then, Countess?”

She looked at him dubiously. “With enough distance I suppose anything is possible, Mr. Ranier. Perhaps if you were to remove to Portugal and I to Prussia, our friendship would flourish quite nicely.”

He scratched his jaw in that familiar way she remembered. “Well, if you really can’t trust yourself around me and need that much distance, you’d best begin packing—because I’m not leaving, at least not straightaway.”

“You never give up, do you?”

“No…It’s one of my most endearing qualities, I’m told.” He paused. “Now are you going to tell me why you are afraid of horses, or not?”

She muttered something under her breath, unable to hide her exasperation. “Look, it should be obvious I’m no good with horses or really any animals. Always seem to fall off horses. Can’t catch a fish. Can’t fly a falcon. Fur makes me sneeze. Even Ata’s canary always pecks me.”

He looked as if he didn’t believe her.

Words came from her without thought. “I fell off three times the month my riding lessons commenced as a child. The last time, my foot got caught in the stirrup and I was dragged over half of Mann. But no harm was done—aside from a few scratches and a twisted ankle. My father shot the poor horse, though. Yes, that’s when I decided not to ride again.”

“I wish you’d told me before now,” he murmured.

“Would that have stopped you from insisting I try again?”

“No. But now that I understand the root of your fear, as your
friend
—”

“You are
not
my friend.”

“Well, then as your former—”

“No! Don’t you dare utter out loud what we once—oh, botheration.” She looked at him mutinously.

He tilted up the front of his hat and squinted. Lines furrowed his brow. “Well, you’re wrong about one thing, sweetheart. You’ve got a fine touch with animals. Have you forgotten Pearl? If not for you he wouldn’t have survived.”

“Pearl is male?” she asked incredulous.

A grin teased the corners of his wide mouth. “He only responds to the name you gave him. And he keeps wandering among the ewes, looking for you, Blue Eyes. He misses you. And Timmy misses you. And I’ve missed you”—his head tilted—“
terribly
.”

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He took a step toward her and she backed away.

At that moment, she felt something prickly touch her wrist. Grace turned to find the muzzle of Michael’s huge black horse sniffing her hand.

“No,” Michael said firmly, and the horse swung her massive neck away after staring at Grace with her large intelligent eyes.

Grace was desperate to turn the conversation, tired of playing the charade. “Your horse is very beautiful.”

“She’s a powerful mix of breeds. Built for endurance and strength—named after the warrior Indian tribe. Only her big, floppy ears give away her gentle nature.” He stroked his mare’s neck, his smile disarming her as always.

She cleared her throat.

“Yes?”

“I do hate being such a pea goose around horses. And…”

“Yes?”

“Well, do you think…”

“Think what?”

“No, forget I—”

“Can’t.”

“No, really, I—”

“Won’t.”

“Will you stop interrupting me?”

He grinned again. “Only if you’re ready to try again.”

Without thinking, she rushed on. “I’ll do it if only to stop your incessant pestering.”

“Smart woman.”

Realization of what she’d agreed to do swept through her. Pride kept her from reneging. “I’ll only try with Sioux. I feel safer with her.”

“All right.” He moved his mare into position before she could utter another word. “She responds to
whoa
or
easy
or
steady now
. And she stops on the spot at the word
no
. But if you cluck to her or use your heels, she’ll move on. Here, put your hand out, palm up, and touch her muzzle.”

She followed his directions and the mare nickered sweetly. Grace was in awe.

“She likes you.”

“I like her too,” Grace said softly.

“Don’t be afraid of her height or her strength.”

“I’ve never been afraid of height or strength.” Grace watched Michael’s Adam’s apple dip as he stared at her with eyes that flared with a poignant mix of hope and sadness.

He finally withdrew a small folding knife from his coat. “We’ll have to cut your habit since you’ll be astride.”

“It’s a good thing no one ever appears to come here in the morning,” she said dryly.

Grace turned sideways to him and he leaned down to cut cleanly through each of the side seams. She glanced at Sioux and nearly faltered at the sight of the mountain of horseflesh in front of her. The mare’s hooves were almost the size of dinner plates.

“Check the girth, first,” he directed and then took up her wooden fingers, showing her what to do. “And let’s shorten the stirrups.”

The mare’s neck swung around as she watched their efforts with a baleful expression.

“All right,” Michael said with obvious false cheer. “Ready?”

“No,” Grace muttered.

He chuckled and locked his hands together in front of him. “Go slowly, now.”

She stepped into his hands and he lifted her for an eternity before she saw the top of the saddle.

“Swing your leg over,” he commanded and she obeyed.

She could feel him fixing the ball of her boot in the stirrup and then going to the other side to do the same. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him gather the reins of the other horse to lead her, too. The entire time, a flood of calming words came from his direction. What he said exactly Grace wasn’t sure. She could barely breathe, let alone hear properly.

The mare shifted one hoof and it felt like the horse was about to crumple to the ground.

“Steady, now. Grace—you all right?”

She couldn’t speak, but she tried to focus on him and nodded.

A moment later, she looked down to find the reins being woven between her fingers.

“You don’t have to do anything with the ribbons. Just hold them—or the mane. Now tell me when you’re ready and I’ll lead you along the path. We’re only going for a very short walk.”

For a long time they just stood there, the mare pricking her ears up and looking across the lake, the man in front of the two horses, stroking their noses while watching Grace.

“I’m ready,” Grace murmured, finally.

A moment later, the mare moved forward, her large shoulders rolling rhythmically between Grace’s knees. The slow clop of the animal’s hooves hitting packed earth was steady and sure.

“Look up, Grace. Don’t look down.”

She forced herself to obey.

“How are we doing?” His voice came from somewhere, Grace was not sure precisely where. She was too busy looking forward, beyond the horse’s large ears.

“Your seat is excellent. Your back is supple, yet arched, your heels at the proper angle. Lift your hands off her withers if you like.”

She didn’t dare.

For long minutes, they continued on until Grace chanced to notice how lovely the view of the lake and the pleasure gardens were from this high angle. And, without knowing what she did, she lifted her hands.

And Michael began to hum a tune.

Ranelagh was so beautiful this early in the day. The night frost on the evergreens had turned to dew with the rising winter sun. It was unseasonably warm, Mother Nature being in a particularly fickle frame of mind this season. A flock of geese formed a
V
in the sky, honking as if to announce their arrival. At the half-mile marker, Michael turned to go in the reverse direction.

That was when Grace realized she had relaxed. She looked at the man in front of her, his shoulders so broad, tapering down his immensely powerful frame to his hips. And yet, despite his great size and blunt humor, he was so very gentle with every living thing. It was all in his eyes, each time he glanced back at her, each time he touched his horse.

After a quarter hour, the mare stopped at his command and he was at her side, disengaging one boot and then the other. “I’m going to lift you off, all right?”

Grace nodded, mutely. And then his large hands spanned her waist entirely and he was swinging her off his horse.

“Can you stand?”

She tried her legs and they felt odd, pudding-like. “Yes, I think I can.”

He exhaled sharply. “Good. And how are we feeling?”

“We are feeling perfectly fine. Why?”

“You had me that worried. You said not a word.”

“No? Well, I assure you I was having a delightful conversation with myself.”

A measure of relief and amusement flooded his expression. “Really? And what were you discussing?”

“I was telling myself that I now understand what you were trying to explain to me, albeit very wretchedly, when I left Yorkshire.”

“And what thing was that?”

“That while you enjoy leading someone else about, you are not the sort who can tolerate being led yourself. You don’t follow others. And you prefer living alone. I can actually understand that. But…”

“Yes?”

“If it’s not true, don’t tell me. Otherwise, I don’t think I could continue our budding
friendship
. You do want to continue on, don’t you? Never in the fashion of those days in Yorkshire, but as casual
acquaintances
after today. That’s really why you came to see me before returning to Yorkshire, isn’t it?”

“Still carrying on both sides of the conversation, I see.” There was laughter in his eyes. “You, Lady Sheffield, are the most forgiving, most kindhearted lady I’ll ever have the pleasure to know.” He pushed back the hat’s veil that covered her eyes.

“That’s not how I wish for you to remember me,” she said archly.

“No? And how would you like me to think of you, then?” His eyes traveled from her eyes to her lips, and her throat constricted.

Inches away from the very thing that brought her such heartbreak, she found she couldn’t tell him the truth of it. “Well, I’ve always thought my restraint quite admirable. I should be given credit for not bashing your head when you threatened me with a horse twitch.”

“Actually, I believe I threatened to tie you up like a calf before his ballocks are removed.”

She tilted her chin. “What’s the difference, really?”

He pursed his lips to keep from laughing. “Well,” he scratched his jaw, “I’m sure the calf would have a thing or two to say about it.”

She opened her mouth but he stopped her with two fingers to her lips.

“You always change the subject whenever I try to flatter you, sweetheart, which leaves me few options on how to best soften your heart so you will look kindly on a request from Mrs. Kane.”

“But, you merely have to ask. There are few things I would refuse her.”

“She would like you to do her the great honor of joining everyone at the foundling home for a few hours on Christmas Eve. I’m afraid she has her heart set on it. Victoria Givan and I will be organizing all the activities for the children.”

Victoria Givan.
How could she have forgotten the ravishing Miss Givan?

“And then there will be the meal, of course.”

“Of course,” she echoed.

“Well, will you come? Or will you disappoint Mrs. Kane?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have an odd turn to your countenance just now. What are you thinking?”

“Nothing,” she lied.

“You were worried I was going to suggest more riding lessons, weren’t you?”

“No.”

The light of wry disbelief filled his yellow eyes. “Are you saying you’d actually enjoy another lesson in future?”

“Perhaps, although I don’t want you to trouble yourself about it. Actually, I think I know now what I was really afraid of all these years. Everyone thought I was terrified of falling off, of hurting myself, but it wasn’t that. It was something else.”

“And what was that?”

“I was afraid of being the cause of another innocent animal’s death. Of having to hear the sound of a pistol shot. I think I wanted to ride
your
horse because I knew you’d never blame me or Sioux if I was silly enough to fall off.”

“I’d never blame you for anything. I wouldn’t even blame you if you never wanted to see me again for the rest of your natural-born life.” But there was a glimmer of hope, or perhaps it was just mirth, in his eyes.

“I’ll come tomorrow night. If only for a little while. A very little while.”

He picked her up and whirled her about while his laughter filled the air. “Come anytime after six o’clock. Oh, and Grace?” His eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Yes?”

“Do you really want to know how I shall always remember you at Brynlow?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied.

He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Your unpracticed seduction will haunt me for the rest of my days.”

“I did
not
seduce you.” She would withstand this. She took one step away to put distance between them, yet she could not help but take a measure of pride in what he had said.

A grin decorated his face. “No? Well, sweetheart, I beg to differ. And you can rest assured I shall always follow your lead to one place at least.”

She snorted in exasperation. “And what place is that, Mr. Ranier?”

“To paradise, darling.”

M
ichael’s feelings of jubilation were soon extinguished when he found himself in the unfortunate position of escorting the Duke of Beaufort back to the edge of Mayfair from Ranelagh a quarter hour later.

“My dear sir,” began the duke. “You do me a good turn coming to my aid. Never been to those pleasure gardens in my life. Too much temptation, if you were to ask me. Too many hares, and not enough powder and shot.” The portly man guffawed.

“Forgive me for not leading you precisely to your door, Your Grace, but my lodgings are in the opposite direction,” Michael replied, full of discomfort. He hated Mayfair, hated the risk he took in coming to this well guarded portion of town. He tugged his tall hat as low on his head as possible.