Recklessly Yours (25 page)

He raised his eyebrows in puzzlement.

“When you raced beside your brother. You hardly flinched, for all you might have both been killed.” She shook her head, smiling in spite of herself. “Everyone, and I do mean everyone, underestimates you, don't they?”

A twig snapped, and a voice from just inside the trees said, “I certainly have. I've underestimated both of you.”

“L
ord Drayton!”

The exclamation came simultaneously with Geoffrey's calmer, “Brother.”

“Good afternoon, you two,” Colin said mildly. Having tied the colt securely to an oak some dozen yards behind him, Colin led Cordelier out onto the road. “Isn't this the oddest of coincidences?”

Holly was frowning down at him, obviously dumbfounded. With an amused smile, he angled his chin in her direction. “You're wondering why I should be hiding in the trees, Miss Sutherland. The answer is simple. I sensed I was being followed, and I was correct.”

“Would one of you like to explain to me what the devil is going on?” Geoffrey demanded.

Despite the damned inconvenience of his brother's presence, Colin couldn't help feeling proud of the boy. Now, if he could only get rid of him before Geoff became any wiser about matters he was better off not knowing . . .

“Actually, whelp,” he said with a laugh, “no. But I do thank you for delivering Miss Sutherland to me safely. I shudder to think of harm befalling her on the road.”

He kept his tone light, but he wanted to hold her, shake her, assure himself that she was all right and at the same time make her swear never to behave with such recklessness again. Damn, but what was it about these Sutherland sisters that made them take such unfathomable risks? First Ivy pretended to be a man so she could attend university and assist Simon in his laboratory. Now this reckless, obstinate woman followed him.

They had played cat and mouse long enough.

He swung up onto Cordelier's back as if to continue on his journey. “The road is no place for a woman alone.”

“I beg your pardon. I've as much right to travel the road as anyone else. And what do you mean, he delivered me?” Holly's horse lurched at the harshness of her tone. Colin recognized the animal from among the Ashworth personal stock: Maribelle's Fancy, a surefooted and dependable mare. Holly ran a reassuring hand down the animal's neck and said more sedately, “I came because . . . well . . . because I have an imperative question I must ask you.”

“I can well imagine.” He chuckled, then said to Geoff, “It's time you turned around. If you go now you'll make it back to Ascot just as it gets dark.”

Geoffrey had the audacity to scowl. “What about Miss Sutherland?”

“She is under my protection now.” He ignored her indignant huff. “She has questions for me and I shall answer them, but not here.”

“Where, then?” Her chin came up; the question seethed with defiance and distrust.

“Devon,” he told her.

“You're taking Miss Sutherland to Briarview?”

Colin nodded. “If she'll come. Otherwise she is free to return to Masterfield Park with you.”

“It's hardly proper,” Geoff protested.

“I assure you, it is,” Colin replied. “We're traveling on horseback. Nothing improper about that. Along the way Miss Sutherland and I will secure separate rooms. You needn't fear for the lady's virtue, Geoff. You have my word on it.”

Geoffrey looked unconvinced. The sun sank lower, nearly disappearing behind the tall trees; in another half hour it would be too late to send the boy home, and Colin would be stuck with him all the way to Briarview. He couldn't have that.

It was Holly who sent the boy on his way. “There is a favor I need you to do for me,” she said. “If I am to ride on to Devonshire, I must assure my sisters that all is well, and that I shall see them in a few days.” She glanced at Colin for confirmation. He nodded, and she went on. “You would be doing me the greatest kindness, Lord Geoffrey, and I should be forever grateful.”

With a slight wheedling that reminded Colin of just how young his brother was, Geoffrey demanded, “And I am to learn nothing for my pains?”

Colin considered threatening the bounder with pain if he didn't hurry up and leave, but he dredged up a shred of patience. “If all goes well, I'll explain when we return. Until then, I believe Miss Sutherland would also be greatly beholden to you for watching over her sisters.”

“That's very true,” she said eagerly.

Geoffrey shook his head. “You don't need me for that. Bryce is already looking after Lady Harrow and Miss Willow.”

“Need I remind you there is also Sabrina,” Colin continued. “She is still angry and hurting, and I don't want her left alone.”

Holly looked remorseful. “Yes, I'm sorry to have left her.” She turned back to Geoffrey. “Please don't let your sister ride alone, or do anything alone, for that matter. She needs someone to keep her safe,” she concluded in a whisper.

Geoff's scowl betrayed the silent argument raging inside him, yet he nodded finally and swung his horse about. As he set off at a brisk walk, Colin called out to him. Geoff stopped his mount and waited.

“You did a good thing today,” Colin said quietly. “The honorable thing. I'm proud of you.”

Geoff started to shrug. With a weight of disappointment, Colin witnessed his brother's obvious effort to keep his scowl in place. But just before Geoff turned and set his horse in motion, his mouth curved in a wide grin and his chest expanded. His own chest swelling, Colin watched the retreating figure until Geoff disappeared around a bend in the road. Once the hoofbeats faded, Colin dismounted again.

“What are you doing?” Holly looked nervously down at him, alarm sparking her eyes as he strode to her side and caught her around the waist.

“It's time you and I had a little chat.”

She swatted at his hands. “Release me!”

“Down you go, my dear.”

“Do not call me that. I am not
your
anything.”

Panic lent her protest a hollow ring. He lifted her from the saddle, but when her feet touched the ground, he didn't release her. For the moment he had her exactly where he wanted her, where she could not run off. Soon enough there would be questions and each would demand their answers, but first . . .

He leaned his face over hers, his senses melting into heat, his body sinking into the fragrance of her skin, her hair, until their lips touched and he lost himself to the aching pleasure of having her in his arms again.

She stood stiffly for the span of time it took him to part her lips with his tongue. Then she pressed her body into his, wound her arms around his neck, and opened her mouth to admit him. Desire tightened his groin and opened his heart, and for several moments he indulged in the delight of crushing her to him as if she belonged in his arms, belonged to him. He drank her in, inhaled her, and swallowed her soft, sweet whimpers.

A whicker from within the trees prompted him to break the kiss, lift his head, and remember that, dear God, they were on a public throughway, and while their mounts partially shielded them from the view of anyone in the fields across the way, someone could come riding or walking along the road at any moment.

Even Geoffrey might find a reason to return.

She stared up at him, her lips parted and moist, her breath heaving in and out, matching his own rapid panting. “What now?” she asked.

Indeed. Now that the curtain was slowly being opened to reveal the truth behind the props and costumes and lies, how did they proceed?

“I have something I suppose I must show you,” he said. “Because I've given up believing that you're simply going to go away.”

A slight furrow gathered above her nose. “Do you wish me to go away?”

“No, damn it. But once I show you, you'll forfeit your right to leave. You'll have no choice but to continue on and see this play through.”

“Play?”

“Oh, yes,” he said softly. “We have both of us been playing parts, haven't we?”

“Yes.” Her lashes swept downward to cast shadows over her cheeks.

He set his fingertips beneath her chin and raised it. “Shall we agree not to judge until we have learned all?”

The steadiness of her gaze as she raised it to his gave him all the answer he needed.

“Are you strong enough, or will the truth frighten you?”

“I won't be afraid,” she said bravely. Her expression smoothed to one of quiet confidence, the serene look of a child at prayer. “After all, I have done no wrong and . . . I might even be able to help you.”

Her sincerity pierced him through yet sent a smile to his lips, a smile of irony, and of regret. He released her chin and stepped back before he surrendered again to temptation. “Ah, but in this play the innocent are not always rewarded, and villainy often goes unpunished.”

“Riddles.” Her shoulders squared. “Why don't you show me whatever it is you've been hiding. Although I'll admit I'm fairly certain what it is.”

The gleam of triumph in her eyes, and in her tone, was unmistakable. He only hoped the next few days wouldn't quash it completely. He stepped toward the trees and nodded. “Wait here.”

 

Holly leaned for support against Maribelle's shoulder as Colin disappeared into the trees. Only halfheartedly did she wonder where he had gone or why. She was caught up in a dizzying unfolding of events where she no longer felt the urgency to press for the truth; she had only to wait and watch and learn. Maribelle turned her head to peer at her with one velvety brown eye, and Holly welcomed the warm wall of protection the horse's shoulder and curving neck formed around her.

But there were no walls to protect her from her feelings for Colin; no rationale to stop her lips tingling, her heart racing, her womb aching at the memory of his body against her, his lips pressed to hers. . . .

The snap of a twig brought her up sharp. Stepping away from Maribelle, she peered into the near blackness between the trees. She saw his golden hair first, bright against the shadows. His face was grim as he raised an arm to move the branches aside. At his shoulder, a star winked—or so it appeared. She craned forward and realized there was no disembodied star hovering among the trees, but rather the white marking on a horse's brow, the distinctive Ashworth star. At another crackling of underbrush, Colin's mount, Cordelier, pricked his ears forward, stamped a foot, and whickered.

An answering whinny came from within the woods as man and beast made their way through the foliage like players parting the curtains and walking on stage. Lead rope coiled about his hand, Colin walked the horse straight across the road, circled at the far side, and then walked the animal back. They stopped a few feet in front of Holly. Colin's gaze held her, but he said nothing. Cordelier gave a snort. Maribelle blew through her lips.

Holly glanced from Colin to the horse beside him, and everything around her seemed to fall quiet. Even her heartbeat, previously thudding in her ears, seemed to fade away.

“Oh . . . my . . .” And all at once, her heart thrust against her breast.

She could not have said what, pound for pound, inch for inch, made the animal presently tugging at its lead rope different from any other sleek, powerful, meticulously bred Thoroughbred. Essentially, it appeared the same as the colt she had seen in Victoria's mews, similar to Maribelle or Cordelier. And yet . . .

“It's him. . . . It's . . .” She stopped, startled by her own voice ringing loud in the silence. “The colt,” she whispered.

A corner of Colin's mouth quirked.

She fought for breath, to control the panting she only now became aware of. “He truly does exist. The queen wasn't wrong.”

Colin said nothing and made no move, but stood on the balls of his feet as if ready to spring away.

“All this time you had him.” The truth should have astounded her, angered her. She had wished for his innocence—had believed, as early as that morning, that he
was
innocent. And yet somehow, this moment seemed as inevitable as . . . the warm press of their lips. “You took him,” she said simply.

“And I hid him,” he finished for her.

“In the vale.”

“In the vale,” he confirmed. “Until this morning, before dawn. Then I moved him to another location.”

“Because of me.”

“Because you are the most persistent woman I have ever encountered. More obstinate than even my sister.”

Her thoughts raced. She and Colin had just made admissions that could not be taken back or ignored. The truth was out and must be reckoned with. He had taken—stolen—the colt from the queen. Colin Ashworth, Earl of Drayton and heir to the Duke of Masterfield, was no better than a common horse thief.

She had kissed a horse thief. More than once and, if given the chance, she would kiss him again. That, coupled with the fact that she was about to trust this man and follow him all the way to Devonshire without contacting the queen, made her nearly as guilty as he. Perhaps more so, for she had made a promise, taken a vow.

She was Her Majesty's Secret Servant, but, heaven help her, she was also about to become his lordship's secret accomplice.

“May I . . .” She swallowed and stepped forward. “May I touch him?”

Colin nodded, but it didn't escape her notice that he also tightened up on the lead rope until his fist hovered beside the colt's bridle. Holly stopped in front of them both, so close to Colin that his heady, masculine scent made her knees watery all over again. He gave another nod, this time one of encouragement, though he remained vigilantly close as if either Holly or the colt couldn't be trusted.