Scandalous Love (18 page)

Upon arriving Nicole and
Regina were shown to the room they would share, as were their parents. Supper
was at eight, they were told, and they were asked if they would like hot baths
drawn and tea served. Both girls replied in the affirmative.

While Regina flopped
down on one of the four-poster beds, Nicole wandered to the tall windows
overlooking a small balcony and the sweep of emerald-green lawns below. Her
heart was in her throat and she was trembling nervously. She wondered if the
Duke was already there.

In the middle of the
week, when gossip held that Elizabeth was quite sick and bedridden, Nicole had
thought that they would not come—and she had been disappointed. She knew it was
the height of foolishness to want to see him, when she could not have his
attention and when he would be with his fiancee. Yet she could no more rein in
her emotions than she could a maddened, runaway horse.

But Elizabeth had
recovered. Nicole had become an avid fan of gossip, pretending great interest
in all the goings-on of the set, much to Martha and Regina's suspicion, while
actually only seeking information about the Duke. She knew he had taken
Elizabeth out twice this week; there was no reason the couple would not come to
Maddington this weekend.

She sighed, aware of how
foolish she was, watching a carriage pulled by six white geldings roll up the
long, graveled drive, and not caring who it was because it wasn't his majestic
black coach with the blazing trio of lions embossed upon the doors.

"What a beautiful
home," Regina sighed lazily. "Lady Isobel is renowned for her
elegance."

Nicole nodded, having
barely looked at the room. The walls were covered in a blue and white fabric,
the sofa in rose damask, the beds done up in mountains of white lace with blue
and white pillows. One huge, cherry-colored Oriental carpet covered most of the
floor, and as the room was large enough to accommodate two guests in separate
beds quite comfortably, it was no small feat.

"She is also
renowned for her skill in matters of business," Nicole remarked. Before
meeting the Dowager Duchess she had heard of her. Who hadn't? Very few women
ran several business enterprises as she did, and none of them were of the
peerage. Nicole had known she was reputed to be attractive, but her reputation
was more that of a strong, clever woman, and before Nicole had met her she had
expected someone else entirely, someone more handsome and more masculine, not a
woman of timeless feminine beauty and extraordinary kindness.

"Renowned?
Notorious is more like it," Regina tossed. "They say she is named
after an infamous ancestor of hers, a woman who had several husbands and was
the mistress of a Turkish sultan and the king."

Nicole smiled, not
believing such a tale. "A Turkish sultan? Which king?" she asked
dryly.

"I guess it was one
of the Conqueror's sons," Regina said. "It was ages ago."

Another carriage was
rumbling up the drive, and Nicole quickly turned to the window. But it was not
him.

"What will you do,
if he comes with Elizabeth?"

"Of course he's
coming with Elizabeth," Nicole said sharply.

"Maybe he
won't," Regina said, ignoring her sister's tone. "Maybe he's so
smitten with you he—"

"Regina, please
stop it!" Nicole cried, wringing her hands. If her sister continued with
her silly schoolgirl fantasies, she would drive her out of her mind—and feed
the tiniest sparks of hope that Nicole was determined to douse. Nicole did not
want to hope. Hoping was too painful.

"But she doesn't
hunt," Regina said pointedly. "So why should she come?"

Nicole controlled her
temper. "You are not hunting either tomorrow, and neither is Mother. Nor
is Father, for that matter!" The Earl had pulled a muscle in his leg
earlier in the week and was under strict instructions to recline whenever
possible, and riding was out of the question.

"I guess you are
right," Regina said, when a knock on the door interrupted her, signaling
the arrival of their tea.

Gratefully, Nicole let
the servant enter. She continued to keep a not-so-discreet watch on the
driveway below. But by the time they went downstairs, the Duke of Clayborough
had yet to arrive. And as it turned out, Regina was right. Elizabeth was not at
supper that night. But then neither was the Duke.

The hunt was scheduled
for nine that morning. Prior to that, all those participating attended a large
breakfast, where spirits ran high. Nicole was as excited as the other guests.
The night before she had been disappointed that the Duke of Clayborough had not
been present and that he was not even at Maddington. She had not slept well.
But now all traces of fatigue and disappointment vanished as her pulse
quickened in anticipation of the upcoming hunt.

Most of those hunting
that day were men, but several ladies were present, including the Dowager
Duchess. She had the reputation of being an excellent horsewoman. Every year
she had several fabulous hunting weekends, and invitations to these events were
highly coveted and hard to obtain.

The Dowager Duchess'
guests were always the creme de la creme of English society, and this weekend
was no exception. Those eagerly awaiting the call to mount up consisted of
several dukes, a half dozen marquesses, many earls and the Prince of Wales.
There were a few foreigners present as well, including several royal members of
the House of Hapsburg and two Russian ex-patriate noblemen. The one thing
everyone had in common at these gatherings, other than power and blue blood,
was their love of horses.

At the close of the
breakfast meal, Isobel rang a small silver bell to gain everyone's attention.
"Shall we?" she asked smiling, her eyes sparkling.

A rousing cry greeted
Isobel's words as everyone lunged to their feet, including Nicole. She turned
toward the doorway with an excited smile, her mind no longer on the Duke. But
then she froze.

He stood there, dressed
for the hunt in tan breeches, gleaming black high-top boots, a scarlet hunting
jacket and a top hat. His gaze was fixed upon her.

Nicole had learned last
night that, although he and Elizabeth had been invited for the weekend, they
would not be coming. Elizabeth was ill again and confined to her bed. A maid
told her that speculation ran rampant as to what, exactly, was wrong with the
young lady, and the several physicians who had attended her could not reach an
agreement upon what malady afflicted her. Seeing the Duke now was a distinct
shock, but not an unpleasant one. Already keyed up, Nicole began trembling.

He swept his gaze away
from hers and strolled casually to his mother, kissing her cheek and offering
her a lazy good morning. He was promptly surrounded by many of the guests, all
greeting him heartily and offering him sincere condolences for his fiancee's
health.

Nicole left him
responding politely to his mother's guests and followed those who were already
gathering in the courtyard outside. Soon the rest of the group joined her as
the grooms began bringing out their mounts. Everyone had brought their own
hunters with them, including Nicole. Although she had wished to bring her bay
stallion, that would have been foolhardy, for he was too much to handle riding
sidesaddle, which propriety dictated she must do. She had brought a big black
gelding instead, and now she went to him and stroked his neck. He snorted and
shook his head, sensing her excitement, restlessly moving around her. But it
was not the sixteen-hand hunter she was thinking about, it was the Duke of
Clayborough.

He was here, he had come
after all.
Without Elizabeth.

Instantly she hugged her
gelding's neck, her back to the small crowd. Whatever was she thinking? It did
not matter that he had come alone. Even though Elizabeth had not come, the few
words they might share, the few moments, were only that, a few moments, and
could not be more. Not ever.

She had to stop her
errant thoughts, she had to. Not just because they were hopeless, but because
hunting was a dangerous sport and she needed all of her concentration to
participate in it. It was easier to focus on the hunt than on her heart.

But just when it seemed
that she might successfully do so, he stopped behind her. She did not have to
turn to see him to know it was he, nor did he have to speak to identify
himself. She just knew.

"Good morning, Lady
Shelton." The greeting was offered politely, yet Nicole thought that she
heard more.

Reminding herself to be
casual, reminding herself that no one but she herself could possibly know how
rapidly her heart beat, she turned to face him. Their gazes met instantly. It
was a moment of extreme intimacy even though the courtyard was a madhouse,
filled as it was with two dozen restless horses, their excited riders and all
the grooms. He could not seem to tear his gaze from hers, and Nicole felt the
full force of his power, for he seemed to be attempting to reach into the
depths of her heart and soul. In that instant, she knew that something had
changed between them. She dared not consider what it might be. "It will be
good sport today, the weather is perfect," she said as lightly as she
could.

"Nevertheless,"
he said, moving to the black's side and checking the girth, "we have a
large group. Hunting with so many riders invites accidents. Stay far to the
back."

Nicole's eyes widened in
surprised protest, for she never rode in the back, although that was where
ladies were supposed to ride, and she had no intention of doing so now. Then it
occurred to her that he might be worried for her safety. She had a flashing
remembrance of how he had rescued her at the charity picnic. Was it possible?
Did he actually care for her, just a little? She found herself staring up at
him. The Duke stared back at her.

Very abruptly he held
out his hands, cupped for her knee. Nicole allowed him to help her mount, hooking
her leg over the sidesaddle and taking up her reins. "Thank you."

"Good
hunting," he said curtly, turning away.

"Good
hunting," Nicole echoed to his back. She watched him as he strode away to
his own mount, a big black stallion with a bold blaze and two socks. Nicole
exhaled, her senses running riot. Her hunter began to dance impatiently,
sensing her mood, and Nicole had to concentrate on calming him.

Five minutes later they
were off. The hounds had picked up the scent of the fox and were braying madly,
racing across the first meadow. Nicole allowed herself to be jostled into the
back with the other ladies as they started. Now, as the herd of horses and
riders cantered across the rolling meadow, following the hounds, she couldn't
help but be attuned to where the Duke was, riding far ahead of her at the
front.

The group began to
spread out as they approached the first fence, a low stone wall. Whoosh!
Whoosh! Whoosh! A dozen horses cleared it, then a dozen more, some nearly in
tandem. The group was stretching out as each rider found his own pace, the
ladies falling back. Nicole moved forward, ahead of the ladies. She passed the
Dowager Duchess whose first look of surprise changed to a smile.

The several gentlemen
whom she then came abreast of were not so charitable. They were more than
startled as she galloped by them, they were shocked. Only a Russian nobleman
grinned at her daring.

A small stream lay
ahead. Her hunter flew over it gracefully without breaking stride and Nicole
laughed in sheer pleasure, caught up now in the thrill of the madcap ride. She
passed another rider, recognizing Elizabeth's father, the Marquess of Stafford.
He too looked rather stunned at her bold riding, but Nicole didn't care. Her
hunter was in a controlled gallop and Nicole was steadily moving him into the
middle of the pack. A large chicken coop blocked the trail. Ahead of Nicole,
two bays took it, one after the other, the first horse catching his back hooves
on the top rail and stumbling on the other side. The other rider was so closely
behind the first that Nicole decided there might be an accident, and she urged
her mount to veer slightly, already collecting him. They soared over the coop
at an angle, and she was glad to see that the two riders had managed not to go
down. A second later she passed them as well.

Two miles later, Nicole
was behind the Duke and the huntmaster, who were by now far in the lead. A four
foot stone wall loomed ahead and she had time to watch the Duke take it
effortlessly, and admire him as he did so. Her hunter, eager to move to the
front, was running hard now. Nicole fought to check him, the wall loomed, and
they hurled above it. They landed smoothly and she let him run.

He stretched out into a
full gallop, Nicole leaning as far forward as she dared without sacrificing her
precarious balance. Her hunter's nose touched the flank of the Duke's stallion.
He turned his head, saw her, and looked absolutely stunned.

Nicole laughed
exultantly as she drew abreast of him.

"Get back!" he
shouted as they galloped side by side, their two huge hunters tearing up the
ground, their powerful hooves thundering loudly and nearly drowning out his
words. "Dammit, get to the back!"

"Watch out,"
Nicole cried, still laughing. They were three strides from another four-foot
hurdle, this one made of split logs. The Duke had no choice but to turn his
concentration to his own mount. Both riders collected their horses
simultaneously, and in perfect unison, they soared over, landing side by side
and stride for stride.

Moments later he turned
to her again. "I mean it, you fool!" he shouted, furious. "You
will kill yourself! Get to the back now!"

"I always ride in
the front," she shouted back defiantly. But Nicole was enjoying every
moment of the wild ride— and his anger. Beneath her thighs, the horse was hot
and powerful, a ton of horseflesh she controlled with only her skill and her
body. And beside her, astride his own powerful, thundering stallion, the Duke
had just as potent an effect on her senses, handsome, male, virile, and now, enraged.

"Slow down,"
he commanded, shouting above the braying hounds and the furiously pounding
hoofbeats. "Ahead is a treacherous in-and-out."

Nicole only shot him a
grin, letting her hunter move out even faster. Behind her now, the Duke cursed.

The in-and-out was
treacherous, with only a stride between both fences, but Nicole was showing off
and loving it. She took both fences a tad recklessly, yet faultlessly, too.
Moments later the Duke moved alongside her again. One glance at his face showed
her how angry he was, but stoically he was accepting that he could not make her
slow down without interfering dangerously with her. They galloped together, the
two hunters well-matched, running in tandem. They did not speak again. The
sound of the animals' heavy blowing and the thunder of their hooves made it
almost impossible. Nicole was overwhelmed now by the feel of the hot, wet
horseflesh under her legs, by the physical sensation of being one with the
racing, powerful animal, by the speed at which they were traveling—and by the
Duke's proximity.

An hour later the hunt
had ended and all the riders had gathered, the last few ladies included. Nicole
had allowed herself to drop to the back of the group as they returned to the
manor, holding her horse to a tight walk, ignoring the animal's protests. She
understood the beast, for she felt the same way herself. Although tired from
the long, difficult ride, she was too exhilarated to want to stop, and if it
had gone on, she would have eagerly continued, too.

The Duke, of course,
rode far in front. He had left her the moment it was over, tight-lipped, eyes
blazing, apparently too angry even to speak to her. It was not his place to
chastise her, yet she had a feeling he would. Nicole was still too exhilarated
to be apprehensive. She had never enjoyed a hunt more!

She was so wrapped up in
the afterglow that it did not register at first that the other ladies were
regarding her quite coldly, with the exception of the Dowager Duchess, who was
riding somewhat ahead of the ladies and was oblivious to their stares. When
Nicole realized that she was the object of their disapproval she wanted to
laugh in their faces. Because they could not ride as she did, because they did
not have the courage to ride as she did, they condemned her for enjoying the
sport the way a man would. Nothing could dampen the joy that she was feeling,
not today. She slowed her hunter even more, not wanting their company and
allowing them to move ahead of her. A moment later she realized her mount's
gait was off.

Frowning, she pulled him
to a halt and dismounted, patting his corded, wet neck. An inspection of his
front left hoof showed her that a small stone was wedged there. Worried, Nicole
pried it loose, afraid it had been there during the hunt, which could mean a
serious, even crippling, injury to her mount. To her relief, an inspection
proved that the pad was only tender; he had only picked up the stone recently
and soon he should be as good as new.