Love's Guardian (29 page)

Alex’s back went rigid.

Declan stepped forward and put a warning hand on her arm. He knew the moment the vendor noticed him. Black teeth flashed a welcoming smile, but wariness draped the man like a shroud.

“My lord, might I show you a pistol?”

Declan found the man’s ingratiating voice, as well as everything else about him, annoying. How dare he treat Alex with such disrespect!

“Perhaps you’d like to see a rapier. From the look o’ you, I’ve no doubt you’d know wot to do with it.”

“I’m really interested in throwing knives. The one you're holding, in particular.” His strongest desire, at that moment, was to see it sticking out of the vendor’s gut.

“A wise choice, my lord.” The hawker held it up, running a tentative finger along the blade. “Right sharp, nice balance. You’ve got a good eye.”

“How much?” The question was out of his mouth before he realized what he intended. It infuriated him that someone would deal with Alex in this manner. Hell, she could probably out-throw the half-wit.

He could feel the tension in her arm and knew it was taking all her control not to berate the ingrate, as he deserved.

“Two pounds, me lord. An’ a bargain at that.”

“I’m not sure.” Declan turned toward Alex. “As this will be a gift for you, Lady Lochsdale, I’d like to know what you think.”

Declan was amused when the vendor went red in the face and his jaw dropped open. He was half tempted to let Alex show the idiot what she was capable of, but there were entirely too many witnesses from the Ton in the crowd.

The muscles in Alex’s arm relaxed. She turned toward him, a light of deviltry dancing in her eyes. “The workmanship seems solid.”

She took the knife from the vendor’s limp fingers, turning it back and forth in her hand. “It’s good steel. The chip carving on the handle has been smoothed to ensure an easy release when it’s thrown.” She gave a little shrug and handed it back, her voice laden with disdain. “It will do.”

Smothering the desire to laugh, he considered what he was about to do. Hell, her grandfather used to buy her rapiers; surely he could buy her a paltry throwing knife. “I’ll take it.”

The vendor had the sense to sheath the knife and hand it to Alex after Declan paid for it. Declan gave the man an icy stare. The vendor dropped his gaze first and began to fidget, organizing the wares spread before him.

Alex slid the knife into a pocket. They moved away from the booth, Declan’s hand in the small of her back, propelling her toward the track.

“Thank you.”

“For the knife? It’s nothing.” He didn’t want to talk about his gift to her.

Alex stopped and turned toward him, then put her hand on his arm. “The knife is beautiful, yes, but I really wanted to thank you for defending me. You acknowledged my skill with weapons and asked my opinion. No one’s ever done that before.” She dropped her eyes and studied the spot where her hand rested on his arm. “I know Grandfather was humoring me when he bought the rapiers I’d selected. He meant well. Most men act like the knife vendor.”

“The man was a fool.” Declan gazed down at her and shook his head. “And I’d be a bigger fool if I didn’t recognize your abilities. Come on, the first race will be starting soon, and there’s still plenty to see.” He wanted to show her all of it, all the wonderful things she might have missed, all the things that had seemed ordinary until today.

They stopped by several more vendors, and Alex insisted on buying him a small statue of a horse carved from obsidian. It had a small chip in the base, but Alex pronounced it a perfect likeness of his stallion, Knight. He had it in his pocket, along with the fischu she’d purchased for Eleanor, and a wager. Alex had given him a pound and asked him to put it on
Edward’s Folly
. If they’d let her, she would have placed the bet herself.

Making their way to the finish line, they slowly nudged toward the fence, until they could make out the turf course, its eighty-foot expanse meticulously groomed.

“We can’t see the other side from here.” Alex stood on her tiptoes to try and get a better view, but a hill blocked everything but the starting line on the other side.

“There’s a hundred-foot climb in the first half-mile and then an abrupt turn on the downward slope called Tattenham Corner,” he said. “You can just make out the sharp turn from here. If they get past that, the race becomes a question of speed. Look over to the right. They’re lining up.”

Alex wiggled in closer to the fence, trying to see around a rather large woman with a hat to match. “I see them. Which one is Edward’s Folly?”

“The chestnut with white stockings.”

A man with a booming voice that wasn’t hinted at by his girth announced from a platform, “The tapes are up.”

Almost immediately, a hush fell over the crowd. Even the horses stilled. Collectively, everyone seemed to hold their breath until they heard, “They’re off.” The roar of the crowd appeared to propel the horses forward, clumps of turf following in their wake.

He studied Alex as she watched the turn where the horses would come into view. A sun-burnished curl had escaped its bondage and was now doing a languid dance on the curve of her cheek.

He liked her. It was as simple as that.

When was the last time he’d enjoyed an afternoon more? What she expected and what he could give were two different issues, but was that any reason for them not be civil? Just because he made the decision not to love, especially the woman he was going to marry, didn’t mean he couldn’t like her and enjoy her company, did it? Like was not the same as love. So, he liked her.

The horses came into view. Each animal’s muscles strained, while their hooves beat out a rhythmic pounding in the soft earth. Edward’s Folly inched up on the inside, coming neck and neck with a large bay. Alex noted the larger horse struggling to keep pace. In the last moments, Edward’s Folly leapt ahead, and a great burst of speed made him appear to fly over the finish line.

Alex couldn’t believe it. In the excitement of the moment, she jumped up and threw her arms around Declan’s neck, her feet not touching the ground. He caught her. She felt him stiffen for an instant, before hugging her to him.

Finding herself at eye level with the cleft in his chin, her legs dangling, there was nowhere else she’d rather be. She raised her gaze to his smiling eyes, eyes that were no longer guarded, at least for the moment.

“We won.” She hugged him tight, then threw back her head and laughed. She felt the answering rumble in Declan’s chest before his laughter poured out of him, hesitant at first, then gaining in intensity.

He twirled her around, their joy forming a cocoon, shutting out the crowd around them. “Yes,” Declan shouted to the heavens. “We won.”

“How badly do you want to marry Worthington?” Luther adjusted his cuffs, appreciating the double layer of lace at their edge.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Catrina perched on the edge of a pink striped settee that graced her pink and white morning room. Her hands fluttered over her organdy silk skirt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.

He loathed pink, almost as much as he loathed the woman who had decorated this room. Oh, she had ambition, and could be clever, but she was weak. Something he could use to his advantage.

With deliberate steps, he closed the short distance to Catrina. He reached down, cupped her chin in his hand, and waited until she looked at him.

“I think you know exactly what I mean. Haven’t you heard? Worthington’s going to marry my cousin.” He tightened his grip. “If you’d kept him occupied as I asked, it never would have come to this.” He rubbed his thumb on the skin near her mouth. “Such a lovely face. It really would be a shame...”

Fear crossed her features. They both knew that without her looks, she would have no prospects for a future.

He allowed Catrina to jerk her head out of his hand.

“I did as you asked. Worthington’s mine. He’s only feeling sorry for Lady Lochsdale.”

“Sorry enough to marry her?”

“He’s not going to marry her!”

Catrina’s petulant voice grated on his ears. He raised an eyebrow in her direction, making certain the disbelief he felt showed on his face.

She dropped her gaze and toyed with the lace on her overskirt. “You’re wrong. You’ve been listening to rumors.”

“Have I? Alex told her maid, who happens to be in my employ, that the announcement is going to be made at the ball this Saturday.”

“He wouldn’t.” Catrina stood and practically knocked him aside as she headed for the door. She stopped short of opening it and turned. Bitterness robbed her face of its beauty. She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “The Countess can’t have him. I’ve worked too long and hard for this proposal. I’ve put up with his cold arrogance for almost a year now. He owes me his name.”

“I’m in total agreement with you.” He gave a slight shrug, his palms turned upward. “The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m not sure yet, but you needn’t worry. I’ll see to it he doesn’t marry her.”

He drew his snuffbox from his pocket and took a pinch, then waited. Catrina fidgeted with the pearls at her neck until he closed the box with a snap.

Catrina jumped.

He did so enjoy the little things. Smiling, he replaced the box and brushed at his sleeve with one long-fingered hand before looking at Catrina. “Might I suggest a solution?”

Wariness crossed her face, but she returned and seated herself on the chair closest to the door. “Continue.”

“My spies tell me Worthington hasn’t been spending much time at home. And his valet is willing to tell anyone who’ll listen about an agreement he overheard between Lady Lochsdale and Worthington.” He paused, savoring the brilliance of his plan. “This, combined with an item I now have in my possession, should work to our advantage.”

From his pocket, he drew a small obsidian statue of a horse, his thumb lovingly caressing the chip on the base.

He gazed into Catrina’s eyes and gave her a slow smile. “I understand it was a gift.”