To Win a Viscount (Daughters of Amhurst) (11 page)

Edmund licked his lips. Unless she wanted his kisses to settle the very insecurity she touted. With practice, repetition…and a very willing advisor. Men, while proclaiming to covet innocence, enjoyed the confidence of an experienced lover. Should an earl’s daughter not only know how to kiss but enjoy and return the intimacy, he suspected she would garner many proposals. All Lady Albina required was confidence earned through practice and the affirmation of a job well done, which he could readily offer with direction and well-placed encouragement.

“My compliments are genuine, my lady. They have no bearing on your requital, as it was agreed upon prior to my instruction.” He lowered his face, tilting it toward her. “I know, whether you succeed or fail, a kiss awaits me at the end of every lesson. Flattering you is not necessary for me to receive compensation.” His lips hovered above hers. “So when I say you rode well this morning, I mean precisely that. You are deserving of my praise, and I wish for you to hear it.”

She swallowed. “Well, then, I believe a thank you is in order.”

“I believe it is. As is a kiss,” he added.

A breath of air escaped her lips. “Yes, right. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you, Mr. White.”

“You are most welcome, Lady Albina.”

A smile touched upon her lips, fading before fully forming. She lifted her shoulders in a large inhale. “Well then I suppose I should get to the kiss.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I suppose you should.” She trembled in his arms, her heart beating so hard and fast he could feel it through both her waistcoat and his. “It might be easier if you closed your eyes, my lady.”

“But then, how am I to know where to place my lips? You are the one who insists I kiss you, and not the other way around.”

He held back a smile, knowing her sentiments to be sincere and not an attempt at flirtation. She was a perfectionist, unwilling to settle for anything less than her absolute best, as he had quickly deduced during their time together this morning. Yes, instruction was definitely needed to lift her confidence. And he happened to be an excellent teacher.

“A kiss is guided by emotion and touch rather than by sight.”

“I am to feel my way toward you? And hope by happenchance I come upon your lips?”

He lowered his face further, his lips a breath away from hers. “I’d say you have a small margin for error.”

“Are you ready then, Mr. White?” Her eyelids fluttered closed.

He was more than ready, his mouth eager to devour her pillow-soft lips. Ravishing her, however, would only scare her away. Patience was required, of the meticulously slow variety.

She moved toward him, her lips brushing across his, soft and light as a butterfly. Edmund closed his eyes, restraining his hands from clutching the roundness of her bottom. He held his ground, waiting for her to continue, but she pulled back, her lips gone as quickly as they had come.

He snapped his eyes open to see her skin flushed red, her gaze darting everywhere but on him. “Is that sufficient?” she whispered.

Not by half, but it appeared she required more assurance and a bit of guidance. Time was not on his side, nor was his body, its ache for her straining through his breeches, but he had worked hard this morning and was owed recompense. Were he to demand it, however, he had no doubt she would deny him. He must proceed with grace. Kindness. And soft words of encouragement.

“For an initial impression, you are off to a good start.” He continued to hold her, the trembles in her limbs intensifying. “You must first relax, my lady. A kiss is not meant to be executed, but felt.”

“I cannot—”

“Then do not think of what you cannot, but of what you can. Better yet, do not think at all. Allow yourself to feel. Let go.”

She nodded and licked her lips, the motion nearly undoing his control. He clenched his jaw and waited. He had patience. In spades. Waiting for Lady Albina’s courage to bolster was a very small price to pay for this morning’s accomplishments. He would wait for her to come to him. This was, after all, another lesson. Unless, of course, the student was not receptive.

Edmund pulled back to express as much, when she leaned forward, her eyes shut tightly closed, her lips pressed together in a pucker resembling something meant more for an obliging pet than a man. He would have laughed at the awkwardness if the sound would not have killed the moment dead.

“Relax,” Edmund whispered against her lips. He ran his hands up her back, pressing his palms flush against her spine. “Don’t think, only feel.”

With tentative, small movements, she pressed her lips against his, sighing as she did so, her mouth softening. He held back, allowing her to set the pace, and she deepened the kiss, increasing the pressure on his lips, allowing her mouth to move over his.

His head spun at the innocence of it all. Never had he dreamt her inexperience would intensify his desire. His body warmed with every feather-light kiss she placed on his lips. His breath quickened, his control slipping through his restraints…

Edmund returned her kisses with a fervor. Following his own advice, he allowed his body full rein over his mind, his thoughts centered on the pleasure of the moment.

Lady Albina’s hands flitted up his chest to his jaw, her fingers spreading over the beginnings of a beard he had yet to tend. He pulled her closer, darting his tongue across her lips and tasting the slightest hint of salt…

A firm push in the small of his back made him stumble forward. The kiss broken, he righted both Lady Albina and himself before glancing at the intruder.

His black stallion snorted and shook his massive head.

“I believe your horse thinks my debt filled.” Lady Albina stepped out of his grasp and straightened her hat. “As you said before, time is of the essence, Mr. White. Shall we resume our training tomorrow at the same time and place?”

He lifted off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “I-I, yes,” he stuttered, not having fully recovered from the interruption and the break of their intimacy.

“I look forward to seeing you then.” She hoisted herself onto her horse. “If I do not see you this afternoon.”

Returning his hat to his head, Edmund nodded. She jabbed her heels into the horse’s side and turned toward the barn, the mare’s tail swishing behind.

His hand reached idly for the stallion’s seeking nose. Neither heaven nor hell would keep him from the barn this afternoon. That much was certain. Not when he might, for the first time, see Lady Albina in a dress.

Chapter Eight

A dress was precisely what Albina wore as she strolled into the barn less than five hours after succumbing to Mr. White’s instructions and allowing herself to “feel.”

Oh, she’d allowed herself to feel all right. Every inch of her skin had tingled with his touch, as though prior to his ministrations her flesh had been an unfeeling, dead mass. Even now, as she peered into the dimness of the building, her body prickled with anticipation of having his hands, his bare, ungloved, calloused hands, sliding down her arms, pulling her toward him…

She was a hoyden. A brazen woman of ill manners and base urges. For what else was she to be called when all she could think about was Mr. White and his opinions? Even the gown she wore had been selected with him in mind.

Simple, worn, and soft, the faded blue-floral print provided easy maneuverability and a broader range of motion, allowing her to ride astride with ease. If she were able to find Mr. White, of course. She couldn’t very well allow just any groom to assist her; he alone must be the one to select both her saddle and her mount. And should he glimpse a hint of her white stocking while she rode out to the pasture practicing the very posture and form he had taught her just that morning—so be it.

A hoyden to be certain. Albina’s cheeks warmed. She fiddled her fingers, the supple leather of her gloves doing little to distract her. She was strung tighter than her painter’s canvas and had to remind herself to breathe—and steel herself against the possibility that Mr. White might very well refuse to heed her request. In which case, she had to have an argument ready.

“Lady Albina?”

Mr. White stepped out of the shadows, wisps of his ginger hair ablaze in the beams of the afternoon sun.

“I, well, I…” she stuttered. He was, in two words, ruggedly handsome this afternoon. It had been less than five hours since she had seen him last, but somehow in that space of time he had acquired an endearing dimple in his left cheek. A more defined jaw. And, well, a broader chin. His charm had multiplied, much like her waistline after having a fourth helping of plum cake at her morning meal.

Devil take it
.

“Might I fetch a horse for you?” he asked, amusement lurking in the depths of his cerulean eyes.

All she could do was nod, her tongue having lost all feeling.

As she clenched her hands, he turned. She had to get ahold of herself. Mr. White was hardly the first handsome man to be employed at Plumburn. He, however, was the only one who had ever captured her attention, or engaged her in conversation, or offered to teach her how to race in a derby.

He was certainly the only one she wished to kiss.

She flung her hands to the side, stretching out her fingers. Somehow, she had to rid herself of such ridiculous thoughts and focus her attention on the present. And how Mr. White was not walking toward the cross saddle to his right, but a well-oiled sidesaddle to his left.

“I had hoped to ride astride, Mr. White.” She lifted a finger.

“No.” He hefted the sidesaddle off the shelf. The leather creaked as his large hands gripped its edges.

No? She frowned. Some resistance was expected, she supposed, but she had asked so nicely. She had thought, had assumed, really, he would cede to her request. Albina stepped in front of him, halting his progress. “But I—”

“No.” His voice was firm, his gaze hard, and his stance rigid. He presented an impenetrable fortress.

She, however, refused to yield to his stubborn, oafish, and irrational ways.

“I demand it.” Albina’s hands fell to the swell of her hips.

He chuckled and edged past her. “You can demand whatever you like, Lady Albina. The stables, however, are my realm. I am, as appointed by the earl, the master of this domain.”

“Yes, but…” She paused and glanced around the barn bustling with the activity of multiple stable hands, all of whom were in possession of two ears and could undoubtedly hear their conversation. Lowering her voice, she added, “I had thought after this morning’s display of my competence and your admission that I am to be Mr. Abbot’s successor, you would wish for me to ride. As much as possible.”

“Then you thought wrong.” He strode toward a docile-looking gelding and settled the sidesaddle over the back of the stall door.

Was he playing a game? One with unfamiliar rules where she was some ignorant fool? Albina followed behind him, lengthening her steps to reach the stall with haste. “I don’t understand, Mr. White.”

Picking a comb out of a wooden box, he sighed. “If you wish for your intentions to remain a secret, then you must do so under my instruction, my lady. As you can see”—he motioned toward the nearest stable hand, but a stall away—“your indiscretion will be seen and noted. After the sun rises, you ride aside.” His gaze lowered, lingering on the gathered neckline at her chest. “Dress or no dress.”

Heat crept up her neck. Though, she would never admit it was more from the pleasure she found in his appreciative gaze than any humiliation born out of embarrassment or frustration at his refusal. Especially as he had a reasonable argument. She did not want the earl tipped off to her odd riding habits, especially after Henrietta had made him aware of her interest in Emberton. The earl was not a fool—he would see her astride runs for the true training they were.

Which meant she would have to abide by Mr. White’s wishes. Her acquiescence did not mean, however, that he could not give her instruction while she rode.

“I would ask that you accompany me out to the lake, Mr. White. Just last week I thought I saw a snake slither on the shore.”

“Then I suggest you do not visit the lake.” He tossed the comb into the box.

“But I enjoy the lake,” she ground out. She widened her eyes, attempting to alert him to her ulterior purposes. Was he daft? While snakes were present in the area, they were rare. Surely, he didn’t think she had actually beheld one of the creatures. She simply wished for a viable excuse to have him at her side in a matter suitable for both maintaining propriety and allowing for his training, of course.

Mr. White frowned before recognition dawned and a brow lifted. “You wish
me
to accompany you.”

“Yes, of course. You are the head groom, are you not?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “That I am.”

“Then, who better to guide me?” she asked with a grin.

“Who better, indeed.” He placed a blanket across the gelding’s withers and stared in her direction. Her insides churned, her stomach flopping in nervous anticipation as his eyes roved over her light-blue muslin.

“Very well, my lady,” he murmured. “I shall accompany you out to the lake.”

Albina clasped her hands together. “Excellent.”

Mr. White smiled, the dimple in his left cheek deepening. Her knees threatening to buckle beneath her, she gripped the stall door.

She closed her eyes. With a deep breath she composed herself, mentally replacing the groom’s smile with the marquess’s. Even if Lord Satterfield’s smile had never been given specifically to her.

Oh, this was ridiculous and utterly pointless.

“My lady?”

Albina opened her eyes. Mr. White had the gelding’s ribbons in his hands. His auburn brows were lifted in questioning silence.

Straightening her back, she shook off her foolishness and lifted her chin. “Have you finished readying the gelding?”

“I have. If you return to the entrance, I’ll have the horse brought to you while I have another readied for me to ride out.”

“Yes. Of course.” She spun around and made her way to the end of the barn. Brushing off a layer of dust from her sleeves, she cleared her throat and lifted her gaze to the sky.

He was a groom, yes, but one she enjoyed being around. He shared a keen interest in her beloved horses. He made her feel…wanted. Desired. And like she was worth the second glance the Marquess of Satterfield always gave her sister. There was no harm in enjoying herself whilst in his company. She was, after all, only human. And in need of his racing insight, as he was an excellent teacher. She was hardly guilty of anything beyond a mutual appreciation for horseflesh and a business agreement.

She smiled. That they were of two different sexes meant nothing. Did not Sarah share an easy relationship with her dearest friend’s brother, Mr. Annesley?

Of course, Mr. Annesley was not requesting kisses as compensation for his company, at least not that Albina was aware.

A horse snorted behind her, and Albina turned. Mr. White led a chestnut gelding alongside hers. “Ready, my lady?”

“I am.”

Wrapping his hands around her waist, he lifted her onto the saddle.

And her head into the clouds.

“Thank you,” she said, far more breathy than she had intended.

“My pleasure.”

She didn’t doubt it was, his smug smile a firm testament to his statement. She clutched the ribbons and clicked her tongue. The gelding spurred forward, the usual exhilaration she experienced at being on top of a horse replacing the anxiety of being at Mr. White’s assessing side.

Adjusting her posture as she went, she led her ride outside the range of listening ears. It took but a moment for Mr. White to join her, the chestnut coming alongside her.

“I am not foolish enough to believe you have asked me to quit my duties to search for elusive reptiles, my lady.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course not.”

“I am to deduce then that your wish was for my exemplary company.”

“Humility, Mr. White, is not one of your finer points.”

“I never claimed it was.”

“It may surprise you, then, that I did not call you out for your conversation, but for your instruction.”

“My instruction?” he asked.

Truly. It seemed the man’s wits dimmed as the sun’s rays lengthened. She held up the ribbons clenched in her fist and swept an arm over her body. “I am on a horse, Mr. White.”

“As am I.”

“I do not have time for childish games.”

He quirked his brow. “Then please advise how you best wish me to instruct you.”

“In racing horseback. For the derby.”

“Ah, I see.” He narrowed his eyes and gestured toward her hand. “First, you must hold your ribbons in your opposite hand.”

“Like this?” She switched the ribbons from her left to her right.

He nodded. “And straighten your back. Thrust your chest forward.”

Albina did as he asked, altering her posture.

“Now let me see you ride at a nice trot.”

“A trot.”

“To the grouping of trees, just there,” he said and pointed to a copse of elms.

Albina nodded and urged the horse forward. She held her posture, her body bouncing on top of the gelding as she made her way to the selected copse.

Mr. White came alongside her.

“Excellent.”

Excellent, indeed. The rigid stance had her muscles aching and her back sore. While her body had protested against the rigorous demands of her morning runs, it had not screamed at her as it did now.

“Mr. White,” she wheezed, her breath restricted from both her posture and the rigid bones of her stays. “Is the posture crucial for winning Emberton?”

He shook his head. “No. Not at all.”

Albina brought her gelding up short, the beast snorting its displeasure. “Then why do you have me performing as such?”

“Because it best displays your figure,” he said simply.

Albina choked. “My what?”

“Your figure. You look quite fetching in your gown, and I wished to see it displayed to its best advantage.”

She hadn’t heard him correctly. The beating of her pulse had drowned out his words. For surely he wouldn’t be so brash as to have her parade about like some sort of strumpet on display for his perusal, when she had specifically asked him to instruct her on racing. Even if she had wished for him to glimpse her stockings.

That, however, had been on the stipulation she would be allowed to ride astride, not clipped to a sidesaddle as she was now, all prim and proper, and, well…very ladylike. And the farthest thing from an ill-bred woman.

“You would play me the fool, Mr. White?”

“Not a fool, my lady. A naïve, and far too trusting innocent, perhaps, but never a fool.”

“Too trusting.” She frowned. “I had thought you honorable in your methods. I have mistaken you for a gentleman.”

His smile thinned. “It is my duty to remind you of my place. Always.”

Albina gripped the ribbons and ground her teeth. “Of all the low-handed imbecilic—”

“Might I point out that I am unable to train you to race in your current…state,” he said.

“My current state, Mr. White, is one of humiliation and mistrust.”

“Humiliation?” he asked. “I realize my trust is not highly valued at present, but believe me when I say you have no reason to be humiliated. Your figure is most pleasing. If you are forced to endure a sidesaddle, why not display it to your fullest advantage?”

Albina blinked. Her figure was pleasing? And not only a mere pleasing, but a
most
pleasing? A simmering heat flared low in her belly, quickening her pulse.

“You find me attractive, Mr. White?”

His lips curled into a sensuous grin. “Very much so, my lady.”

Her mouth went dry. He found
her
attractive. Not Henrietta. Not Sarah. But
her
. She near burst into a smile at the compliment. He was, however, her teacher. Her trainer. And not the marquess. Clearing her throat, Albina sought to redirect the conversation. “Well, then. Shall we forgo the copse and head to the lake?”