A Hint of Seduction Page 2

  Suddenly she very much wanted to know who he was. She opened her mouth to ask him to identify himself when she remembered Victoria’s parting words and Catherine’s promise to her not to stop. What was she doing standing here and allowing this man to fascinate her when she needed to get the carriage to Mills?

  Catherine had to make a hasty retreat.

  She looked around where they stood but saw only the stranger’s gelding. “If you are quite finished with your merriment, would you please tell me where my horse is so that I can be on my way?”

  He cleared his throat and quickly wiped the grin off his face as best he could and answered, “I’m afraid she ran off after throwing you.”

  She gasped. “You let my horse run away?”

  “Forgive me for having more interest in whether you were hurt than if your mount hightailed it out of the park.”

  “Merciful goodness,” she mumbled to herself as she took in a deep breath, realizing her ribs were sore and her head was pounding.

  What was she going to do? She must get to the carriage and take it to Mills and Victoria. It was best she not tell this stranger about her sister. Victoria was strict about her rules, and she would not approve of Catherine talking to this man no matter the unusual circumstances.

  “Might I add that a proper young lady should not be out riding alone,” the man added.

  “I wouldn’t be alone and at the mercy of a stranger if you hadn’t frightened off my horse. Now, sir, I need to borrow yours.”

  She reached for the reins he held in his hand and just as her fingers would have closed around the strips of leather he whisked them from her grasp.

  An inquisitive expression settled across his face. “Are you daft? I can’t let you have my horse.”

  “Why not?” Catherine asked in her most sensible voice. “I’ll return him.”

  That handsome, roguish grin returned to his face, and Catherine knew without a doubt that under different circumstances this man could do what no other man had ever done—capture her fancy.

  “For one, he’s not accustomed to strange riders. The other is that no gentleman I know would give a lady his horse.”

  Fighting her attraction to the man and beginning to feel more her confident self, Catherine said, “So you have no concerns for my needs although you nearly collided into me, causing my mare to unseat me and run off. What kind of gentleman are you, sir?”

  He bowed and said, “One who will put you on my saddle and walk you to wherever it is you need to go.”

  “Rubbish. That is completely unnecessary and will waste time for both of us. You need have no fear I shall harm myself or your horse. I have managed untrained horses before.”

  “Yes, I see how well you handle horses.”

  Catherine’s blue eyes widened. His retort stung. “Must I remind you that you are the one who rode out in front of me?”

  “No. But I must say again, I’ve never had to worry before about a lady riding on this path so early in the morn.”

  Catherine opened her mouth to tell him about Mills, but thought better of it. There was still a chance she could keep Victoria from knowing she had talked to this man.

  “Sir, I’m on a serious mission, and I don’t have time to argue with you over who is at fault for my current predicament. I really need to borrow your horse.”

  With that, she reached for the reins again and this time her hand covered his.

  They both wore gloves, but that didn’t keep Catherine from feeling a shock of awareness as her fingers closed over his tight fist. Teasing warmth prickled across her breasts and settled low in her stomach. She was sure she’d never met a man who stirred up her senses like this one.

  By the look in his eyes he also felt the same strange sensations. His dark gaze looked deeply into her eyes before sweeping down her face, past the front of her riding habit, down to her waist and back up to her eyes. A strange thrill skittered through her.

  “I daresay I’ve never met a young lady as bold and as unconventional as you.”

  She let go of his hand as quickly as if it’d been a hot poker.

  “And I’ve never met so stubborn a man. Sir, I don’t have time for your obstinacies. There is something I must take care of immediately and I can’t do it without a horse.”

  “Tell me where it is you wish to go, and I will help you onto my horse and walk you there.”

  “That will take longer than I have. Merciful goodness, you try my patience.”

  That enchanting smile played along the corners of his lips again. “And you’ve worn on mine.”

  The daylight brightened the sky to a light powdery shade of blue. He was obviously as strict about rules as her half sister. He would not be swayed from doing the proper thing.

  She’d lived all her life in the country, but she’d often read about the rigid rules of London society, getting old copies of the Times and other broadsides when the mail coach came to her town. She knew there was nothing to do but get on the horse and let this man lead her to the carriage. She could only hope that Victoria would not consider her reputation ruined for talking to this man.

  “Very well, if it is the only way I can leave immediately, I’ll acquiesce to your wishes.”

  He bowed. “Thank you.”

  She looked into his eyes and held out her gloved hand. Their gaze held for a moment longer than was necessary and Catherine’s breaths grew uncommonly short. A heat she couldn’t explain coiled deep inside her abdomen and rose up to tighten in her chest.

  He ignored her hand and instead, settled both his around her waist. They were strong, and comforting. She shivered with pleasure at his firm touch and her arms immediately went up and her hands grabbed onto his broad, firm shoulders so she could help steady herself.

  Catherine liked the feel of his body beneath her hands. She liked the warmth that emanated from him and flowed to her.

  He boldly took hold of her, lifted her off the ground and onto the saddle. Her black velvet skirt pooled around her legs as she tried to fit her bottom sideways into a saddle made for riding astride a horse. With deliberation, he took the stirrup and was attempting to shorten it to fit her.

  Catherine looked down and saw the slack strips of leather in his black gloved hand.

  Temptation rose up inside her.

  Should she?

  Without further thought she reached down and grabbed them from his grasp.

  She glanced at his eyes and saw a flicker of shock just before she kicked the horse’s flank with the heel of her boot and shot past him.

  Catherine held on tight and didn’t turn around as she quickly put distance between herself and the handsome stranger.

  Two

  SHE HAD THE face of an angel, the tongue of a shrew, and the heart of a thief.

  John Wickenham-Thickenham-Fines, the Fifth Earl of Chatwin, bent double in the park. The chase had wrung him. Exhausted him. He placed his hands on his knees trying to suck in enough wind so he could keep going, but it was no use.

  He’d had too much to drink and not enough to eat to run like the devil was after him. And the fact that he’d been up all night gambling with his friends didn’t help, either.

  Besides, his horse and the lady were long out of sight.

  “Damnation,” he managed to whisper between deep gulps of chilling air.

  Who the hell was she? And what was she doing out at dawn anyway?

  She’d been outspoken, bold . . . and refreshing. Refreshing? Where the hell had that thought come from? She’d stolen his horse!

  She wasn’t refreshing, she was a highwayman.

  But even as the thought filtered through his mind, a smile slowly eased across his face. A beautiful, intriguing horse thief. Who would have thought it? A slow chuckle rumbled in his throat as he straightened.

  Damned if she hadn’t gotten his attention in a heartbeat.

  He had been trying to make amends for nearly ramming into her, trying to be a gentleman in every way, and she’d hoodwinked h
im like no one else ever had.

  He laughed out loud and shook his head in bemusement.

  What kind of young lady had the nerve to steal a man’s horse right from under his nose? Obviously, one who had no fear of being caught or the dread of being punished if she were apprehended.

  And obviously one who did not know who he was.

  She was lovely with French blue eyes, a small nose, and full generous lips that were made for kissing. Yes, soft and sweet and long and deep kisses that satisfied all the way to the soul’s core. An unexpected yearning of desire splintered through him and confused him.

  No woman had ever confused him, but this one had. She’d met his gaze without flinching and ridden off on his horse as if she were his master.

  Had she bewitched him? He shook his head.

  No.

  Yes.

  Maybe he was just light-headed from all the wine he had consumed over the course of the night. Maybe he was just tired and not thinking clearly from lack of sleep and chasing after the fastest horse in London. Anything was better than thinking he had been seduced by a golden-haired angel who had stolen his horse.

  How could he be captivated by her?

  John couldn’t believe he’d actually let the young lady outfox him. He shook his head and chuckled again. By her clothing and her speech he’d known she was a lady of quality, but what was she doing out before daybreak?

  Alone?

  Was she someone’s wife, someone’s mistress, or just a mischievous miss?

  Something told him she wasn’t a titled man’s mistress. Even though she had been quite bold, he sensed innocence in her that women of pleasure no longer had. She didn’t look at him as a lady who’d known the intimacies shared between a man and a woman.

  And if there was one thing John knew well, it was women.

  Stealing his horse wasn’t the only reason she caught his attention so quickly. Her challenging replies had stimulated him more than any woman he’d ever talked to. But what was even more astonishing was that she didn’t seem the least bit impressed with him. That was certainly a change from most of the young ladies he met.

  Whatever her purpose for being in the park, she certainly didn’t want him knowing about it, or she would have let him take her where she was going. She mentioned she had a pressing mission, yet he observed no fear in her. But something had made her take his horse, and that fascinated him.

  And that’s what made him want to know more about her—after he got his horse back.

  She had to be the excellent horsewoman she’d claimed to be to handle his gelding. The General wasn’t an easy animal to master, and he didn’t usually accept unfamiliar riders. She obviously had a way with horses.

  There had never been a lady John couldn’t instantly enchant until now. This lady had not been interested in his charm.

  Her only interest had been in his mount.

  She had been self-assured and more than capable of taking care of herself. He didn’t think a woman had ever caught him so unaware before. A sly smile returned to his lips. Unlike all the other young ladies he’d met over the years, this one had ensured that he would try to find out more about her.

  Everyone in London knew how he valued his horse. Either she didn’t know that or didn’t care.

  Maybe that was what made her so appealing that he wanted to know more about her. Her saucy tongue had pleased him and made him laugh.

  For ten years he’d been known as one of the Terrible Threesome, which had now been reduced to a twosome. Chandler Prestwick, Earl of Dunraven, had married during the Season last year. Much to John’s surprise, the love-bitten fellow actually seemed happy as a bird singing in a tree.

  The gossip sheets hadn’t let up on John or his good friend Andrew Terwilliger, the Earl of Dugdale, though he had to admit that the gossips were hardest on his friend about his light pockets, a subject John had never discussed with him. Andrew always seemed to have enough money whenever he needed it, so John didn’t intrude.

  John raked his hand through his hair and breathed in deeply as he looked around him. The early morning fog patchworked the park like a tattered blanket. His breath warmed the chilly air as daybreak continued to lighten the sky.

  He had to think about what he was going to do. He’d been racing Christopher Corey, the Marquis of Westerland, and winning until he’d run right into the path of that lady.

  Now, the Marquis would win the race and the money John and his friends had wagered. But that was the least of his worries.

  John couldn’t rejoin his friends on foot. How could he tell them that he’d been duped by a lovely young lady who had stolen his horse? His pride was already a bit bruised about that. They would never let him live it down if they found out.

  Hyde Park covered over six hundred acres. There was no way he could walk it and try to find her. She could be anywhere. It would be more likely that his friends would find him before he found her.

  The best thing for him to do would be quit the park as soon as possible. He needed some time to clear his head and think. He’d get another mount and come back later, after his friends left the park.

  He’d started walking toward the east rim of the park at a fast pace when he saw his best friend Andrew Terwilliger and two others ride out from under a stand of trees and head straight toward him.

  “Damnation,” John muttered.

  It was too late to try to hide behind a tree. It was clear by how fast they were riding they had already seen him. If it had only been Andrew approaching him, he would have jumped on the back of Andrew’s horse and asked him to get him out of the park as fast as possible. But with the talkative Phillips and quiet and studious Wilkins with him, that would be impossible.

  What was he going to say to them? He had to come up with a good story about why he was afoot, and he had to do it quickly.

  “John, are you all right?” Andrew asked as he and the other two men pulled their mounts up short beside him.

  “Yes, yes. I’m fine.” John pretended to be dusting off his fawn-colored breeches.

  Concern etched lines around Andrew’s eyes and along his forehead as he looked John up and down. “Did you get thrown?”

  “Well, not exactly,” John said truthfully, “but my horse seems to have run off.”

  “I knew something must have happened when Westerland made it back to the starting point before you and won the race. There’s no way that hack of his could have beaten The General.”

  “What in the devil’s name happened to you?” Phillips asked as his large eyes searched the surrounding area of the park.

  John looked up at the youngest and shortest of the three men. He should have known that if anyone was going to press the matter, it would be Phillips.

  “My horse was spooked and, well, here I am,” John said.

  “What spooked him?” Phillips asked.

  An intriguing young lady.

  John cleared his throat. “I’m not sure.”

  “It’s not like The General to throw you and run off,” Phillips said, refusing to let the matter drop.

  “Yes, you’re right. It’s not.” John refused to give more information than that.

  “So really, John, what do you think spooked him?” Wilkins spoke for the first time, after having studied the situation. “Do you think a wild boar roamed into the park?”

  John looked up at his heavyset friend who had a spotty complexion and thinning dark hair. “No, nothing like that, I’m sure.”

  “It was probably just a shadow,” Wilkins said. “Sometimes at dawn long tree branches can look as if they’re grabbing for you.”

  “What are you talking about, Wilkins?” Phillips asked with a scowl on his face. “That’s nonsense.”

  “I’m only saying it could have been a low branch, or maybe a large bird flew out of a tree and spooked his horse. Yes, that is probably what happened,” Wilkins insisted.

  John needed to get away from Phillips and Wilkins and find the lady and The General
before anyone else did.

  “Andrew, if you’ll give me a hand up behind you,” John said, “we’ll go find The General.”

  John reached for Andrew’s hand to climb up behind him. But before his hand made contact with Andrew’s, John heard horses’ hooves pounding on the hard-packed ground behind them.

  He lowered his hand and turned. Christopher Corey, the Marquis of Westerland, was racing toward them on his newly acquired jet-black stallion.

  John made a small, short sound that was almost a laugh, and then swore under his breath again. What else could go wrong?

  The Marquis was one of the few men that John didn’t get along with. It had all started last year when John flirted with a young lady Westerland later claimed he was serious about. When the young lady declined Westerland’s attentions in favor of John’s, a rivalry was born that had yet to be put to rest.

  To add insult to injury, later that same year, Westerland’s father had approached John, offering him his daughter’s hand in marriage. John had politely refused even though the duke was offering a large dowry.

  As the Earl of Chatwin, John had more than enough income from his estates, and a generous dowry wasn’t going to convince him to be leg-shackled. He enjoyed his freedom and had no desire for the responsibilities of a wife and heir. He had plenty of time for that.

  John usually stayed clear of Westerland, but last night the Marquis was insistent that his new stallion could beat The General, who was merely a gelding, but the fastest gelding John had ever seen. He’d paid a huge sum for the animal, but he’d been worth every shilling, winning every race—until today.

  And all because of a mysterious blue-eyed miss.

  When John had had enough of the braggart Westerland, he’d set out to prove him wrong and would have if the lady hadn’t ridden into his path.

  But right now John had to stop thinking about her and come up with something that would get him out of this awkward situation with some of his dignity intact.

  Westerland pulled his horse to a stop in front of the other men and very close to where John stood. The stallion nickered and stomped.