The Hopeless Hoyden (14 page)

             
Once Gabriel cleared the stallion's back, Ajax bolted.  When he saw that Emily wasn't in danger of falling, Gabriel pushed off Marabell and hit the dirt ignobly on his rump.

             
Freddy and Chesterfield shouted, "Well done!" and "Great show!" while Ellison interjected, “Have a care!" amid shrieks of concern from the ladies.  Emily, after regaining her balance, slid off Marabell and landed on her knees beside Gabriel.  With both hands anxiously fluttering over his chest, she asked, “Are you injured?"

             
Gabriel slowly rose up on his elbows and was about to reassure her when Cecil came up behind Emily.  Reaching around her, Cecil offered Gabriel a hand up and drawled, “In need of help, Cuz?"

             
Gabriel caught Emily's violet eyes narrowing at the sound of Cecil's voice.  He recognized trouble brewing and quickly accepted his cousin's hand.  “Thanks," Gabriel said as he bent down to brush his clothing off. 

             
“Are you all right, my lord?" Emily asked again.

             
Gabriel gave her a lopsided grin.  “All save my pride."

             
“Be serious," retorted Emily, stamping her foot in the dirt.  “You might have been killed."

             
“She's right," said Freddy, still sitting atop his horse.

             
“I’m fine."  Gabriel retrieved his hat, which had somehow escaped all damage except a little dusting, and slapped it against his thigh.  “I fell off a horse, nothing more."

             
He could tell Emily wanted to say more.  But he leveled her with a look that said he didn't mean to discuss the incident further.  Thankfully, she understood, as her lips remained tightly pressed together.

             
“What a horrid experience."  Sylvia edged her bay closer to where Gabriel stood.  “Are you absolutely sure you are unharmed?"

             
“Absolutely," Gabriel said, then turned to Fordyce to quell any further queries.  “Freddy, mind if I hitch a ride back with you?"

             
“Well, ah, tell you what," the baron hedged. “Need to think of me horse."  At Cecil's wicked laugh, Freddy's cheeks turned beet red.  “Ride with Ellison, why don't you?"

             
Gabriel's head had started pounding again, so he didn't argue but climbed up behind the dandy for the trek home.  When Emily eased Marabell beside Ellison’s mount, Gabriel thought she meant to keep an eye on him.  But as he listened to the dandy entertain Emily with a detailed discussion of the various shades of the color green, Gabriel found he was irritated with the dandy for having developed a possible
tendre
for his wood sprite.

###

              Tom arrived for dinner, and Emily watched with disgust as he proceeded to make a cake of himself over Prudence.  While she didn't begrudge her brother his little romance, she did think it traitorous of him to completely ignore her as she sat off to the side of the drawing room, banished as she was by the other ladies. 

             
The conversation naturally centered about the Viscount's disastrous day.  After Gabriel joined them, however, he flatly refused to hear another word of the hunting accident or his tumble from Ajax.  And while he stood somewhat apart from where Emily sat, she was willing to swear he'd voiced his decree staring straight at her.  It was of little consequence, though, for he never came within ten feet of her the whole evening.

             
The evening dragged on.  Gabriel may not have wanted to discuss those suspicious accidents among the others.  But if she had to sit up half the night, she planned to waylay the Viscount Lindemann.  He owed her a few explanations, to say the very least.  Finally, Emily, with her bruised ego, trudged up the stairway before the others were prepared to retire.

             
Gabriel frowned.  He hated to see Emily exit the drawing room.  The moment she'd left, he was conscious of a lack of genuine warmth in the atmosphere.  He acutely missed her bright smile, twinkling eyes and spontaneous laughter whenever she wasn't about.  Life was fun to Emily, and she made it fun for him.  But he couldn't afford to give her the opportunity to ask any questions.

             
He had successfully eluded her, though it had hurt him to do so.  He wasn't fooled, either, when she excused herself so early.  Thus, to avoid passing her door and possibly being hauled into her bedroom, he slipped up the servants stairs after everyone had gone to bed.

             
The next morning, he rose earlier than usual and went to the stable to check on Ajax.  His head groom had sent word last night when the stallion had returned around dusk.

             
“Come tearing into the yard, he did, milord," Gresham explained to Gabriel.  “And a fine mess he was, too."  The grisly old man punctuated this by spitting on the ground.  “Lathered like a rabid fox.  Ain't no wonder, though.  Found this devil's piece of work under his blanket."  He opened his gnarled hand and revealed a thin, bloodied plank of wood pierced with several brads.

             
After inspecting the stallion, he returned to the house and purposely hid in his study.  He despised such a cowardly maneuver but felt the circumstances warranted extreme measures.  The longer he could evade his inquisitive imp, the better.

             
But mid morning, when he heard Emily address the butler out in the hall, he knew his luck had run out.

             
“Where's the Viscount, Pickering?"

             
“I believe his lordship is busy this morning, Miss Pendleton."   Good man, thought Gabriel.  If anyone could divert her, it was Pickering.

             
“Ah, so he is in the study.  Thanks, Pickering."

             
So much for diversionary tactics, Gabriel mused.  Maybe if he didn't answer her knock.

             
But no knock sounded.  The door was simply pushed open.  Gabriel kept his head bowed over the papers scattered on the desk, pretending ignorance of her presence.  However, he was startled into glancing up by her demand, "Teach me to shoot, Gab."

             
“Don't you know when a door is closed, you should knock before entering?" he asked, raising an imperious eyebrow for emphasis.

             
“Oh, pooh, you cannot put me off with that sort of silly nonsense."  She dismissed his argument with an airy wave of her hand.  “Besides, you probably would not have answered."

             
“Now why would I try to avoid you?"               

Angry sparks danced in her violet eyes.  “Because you refuse to face facts."  She marched up to the front of his desk.  “Someone wants you dead--"

              “Now, Emily--"

             
“And that someone was at Cleeve Hill yesterday!"

*** Chapter 7 ***

             
"Gabriel, you must teach me to shoot!"

             
Gabriel dropped his eyes to the estate reports he'd been studying, then stacked them into a neat pile and slid them to one side.  When next he raised his eyes and met Emily's, they no longer sparkled with anger but had dulled with worry.  Getting up, he came around to the front of the desk, leaned against it, and folded his arms across his chest.

             
“Listen, Emily--"

             
“I examined Ajax's back this morning and talked with your head groom."

             
“You shouldn't have done that."

             
She studied his face before replying.  “You really are not going to let me help you, are you?  So far, there have been two attacks on your life, yet still you refuse to take the matter seriously."

             
“If memory serves me right, you attacked me on our first meeting.  That would bring the tally to three," he said, attempting a lighthearted tone. 

             
“So you admit I can take care of myself," she said with a twinkle in her eyes.

             
Frowning, he shook his head.  “That's not what I meant to imply.  Besides, Em, you can hardly call falling off a horse life threatening."

             
“You were also shot."

             
“By Jove, Em--"

             
“You could have been grievously injured.  You could be laid up long enough to contract a putrid fever, and then you would die."

             
“I'm not hurt, nor am I bedridden, and I boast a hale and hearty constitution."

             
“But for how long?"

             
“Emily!"

             
“I know, a lady of Quality would not argue with her host," she said, lowering her lashes.               

             
For a moment he was non-plussed by her submissive demeanor.  But before he could recover enough to take advantage of her docility, she half whispered, “It is just that you may not be so lucky next time."

             
“There won't be a next time," he said with deadly calm.

             
“How can you be so sure?  Besides, you will not let me help."

             
“And just what is it you propose to do?"

             
“First, you must teach me how to shoot."

             
“Why must I do that?"  Egads, she was a real beauty, and so alive, he thought, taking in her flushed cheeks framed by her honey-colored locks.               

             
“Because I do not know how to shoot," she said tossing her head back, giving him a challenging glare.

             
“Why is that?" 

             
“Because my brothers would never teach me.  Well..." she amended reluctantly, “they did try once.  But they never really gave me a chance to perfect my aim."

             
“Exactly how bad was your aim?" he asked suspiciously.

             
She hesitated, a mere fraction of a second, enough to put him on his guard.  “I do not precisely recall."

             
“Try."

             
“I never hit the target."

             
“Which was?"

             
“A tree, way off in the distance."

             
“And probably as broad as a barn."

             
“Will you teach me to shoot or not?"  She propped her fists on her hips.

             
Gabriel found himself momentarily distracted by the sight of the delicious curve of her hips.

             
"Well, will you?" she demanded.

             
“I'm curious, Em?  You're an enterprising young lady.  Why haven't you taught yourself?"

             
“If you have no intention of instructing me, just say so."  She was obviously avoiding the question.

             
“Give over, Emily.  Before I put a gun in your hands, I want an answer to my question."

             
Her eyes studied him for a full minute before she conceded with a shrug of one shoulder.  “If you must know, Tom ordered the guns locked up afterwards and forbade the staff to help me."

             
“And he won't help you now?"

             
He detected a mulish glint in her eyes, but she answered him anyway.  “He claims the neighbors would lynch him if they found out he let me run loose with a weapon."

             
This admission forced Gabriel to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling.  “I see.  But, ah, how will teaching you to perfect your aim aid me?"

             
“I have been thinking that what you need is a bodyguard, and who better than someone no one would suspect?" she said with an artless smile.

             
“Yourself?" he added unnecessarily and with an obvious note of disbelief in his voice.

             
“Yes."

             
“I think Tom has the right of it," Gabriel said a little more kindly.

             
“If you do not help me, then I. . . I will ask the baron."

             
“Don't be ridiculous."  Gabriel pushed off his desk and took a step closer to Emily.  "Freddy's probably a worst shot than you."  He gave her a long look before sighing resignedly.  “I can see you're determined, so we might as well get this thing done.  Besides," he added between her excited squeals, “it's better to learn the correct way than have Freddy fill your head with his bacon-brained theories."