Seducing Anne (5 page)

“Might I show you how to break in your horse properly?” Guy offered, extending his hand to her.

Nick handed him a cloth to deal with his wound.

Guy narrowed his eyes at Nick, but took it all the same and pressed it to his ear.

“Sir, you assume I trust you with my finely bred animal? Why should I think you better at handling my horse than my very own sovereign lord, the king himself?”

He grinned and leaned toward her, using a low, soft tone. “Ah, so the man has shown you the way of a keen rider, has he?”

She blinked and leaned forward, whispering back with a wry smile, “He knows how to ride better than any man in the kingdom.”

“Yes, I have heard of his riding skills with various types of mares, but a fine specimen such as yourself must be treated better than that,” he teased, smirking.

She smacked his knee and her eyes laughed at him. “You, sir, have a wicked tongue and most likely deviant skills with the mares.” She stood up and motioned for him to follow. “Very well—show me your legendary feats of skill then. Impress me, and I shall share what I witness with Harry. He rewards accordingly, and he trusts my opinion.”

“And what man would not trust
you
?” He stood and towered over her. Lord, she was tiny—thin with some decent curves—but it was those dark, luminous eyes that held him transfixed.

The descriptions he’d read of her had said she was
tall with black hair, an oval face and sallow complexion. The only part they got right was her face shape and hair color. If she was considered a tall woman, then he’d probably accidentally trample down the
short
women.

“You have not heard? I am the great whore of the country,” she said, her face dropping a little, though it was clear she was trying to maintain an air of impassivity.

“You are the soul of this country, and the heart of the king—that is all that matters.” He extended his palm and when she took it, his right brow arched up. “And maybe the drive that gives him courage to face trials that come his way.” He leaned in close so she could hear him when he went almost silent. “You, my great lady, are worth it. I can tell.”

She swallowed silently, but he saw her throat move. “You know nothing about me.”

“Nonsense.” He straightened and strolled toward the door. “I know you can ride like a dove on a cloud. Show me so I can regale the story to all I meet in town tomorrow. I must have something to give me an edge.” Her brows arched, and he continued. “More of an edge than my sword, my lady.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and said, “The day I am flattered by such tiny statements such as these is the day I close my eyes and forget I have a brain for use.”

“Well said, and I agree. You need not fall for idle prattle from an oaf such as myself, but I do ask you allow me to help you onto your horse.”

She nodded, stopped in front of the door he’d entered moments earlier and then she picked up his boots, slipped off her shoes and put his on.

“Madam, do you not recall those were large on
my
feet?” He lifted his large left foot and wiggled his toes.

“I do, and I use Harry’s frequently. I need sturdy boots to dig in to my steed. You, as a horseman, know the value of a good grip on a green mare.” Her eyes traced down his body and slowed at his groin.

His chest flared up. Good God, she was a skilled flirt. “I do, my lady, but have had little occasion to break in any that were worth that much preparation and care. I find bare skin often works just fine, as long as I get a good grip on the mane.”

She chuckled. “A whipping boy—you
need
one.”

“I am certain a whipping boy would fail to work on me, for I would find that a good enough reason to take my whip to the person that tried to take my transgressions out on an innocent soul.”

Her mouth parted, and her eyes filled with empathy. “It’s a crude method for royals, but it works.”

“Has it worked for Henry? I have heard talk of how he throws tantrums more than any toddler howling at his nurse.” He chuckled. “Besides—not one soul in these parts is better with a whip than me.”

“Is that so?” She pursed her lips.

He bowed.

“Perhaps, after I show you how a lady can manage a horse, then you will show how a respectable gentleman can use a whip,” she said.

Nick turned to them both. “If anyone were to overhear, they might think Guy is suggesting he is the man to teach the king a lesson himself on both accounts.”

Guy dropped his head to hide his smile, because, yes—that was exactly what he intended to do.

Chapter 3

On first inspection, Anne’s palfrey looked like any other. There was nothing extraordinary about it.

Guy tucked the cloth he’d been using to staunch the flow of blood from his ear into his shirtsleeve.

“Madame, I await the chance to help you get atop your horse,” Guy said, grinning.

“And I await you demonstrating your prowess with a whip. I truly think you must go first, since you are the man to ask this of me.”

He choked on his breath. Hadn’t she volunteered it?

He couldn’t remember. Already she’d stirred him up and disarmed him.

“Very well, my lady. Exactly what would you like me to whip? And am I to assume you have one I may borrow? I came here without anything more than the clothes on my body.”

“And a grin on your naughty face.” She laughed, and it was throaty with a rasp. Very seductive.

Yes, this minx did not have to work hard to gain Henry’s affections, but it would take a little more than some skilled flirting to move Guy.

He’d seduced so many women over the years, he saw no reason she would be any different.

And he always delivered the package that was required as his job dictated.

“I beseech you—good lady, do not make me wait. I can scarcely contain myself over the thought of watching you ride.”

She blinked, her lips parted and she pulled a whip off the horse that had been tucked away.

“Will this suffice for your needs?” she asked.

“Will it suffice for yours?” he shot back.

“Depends on what you intend to do with it.” She watched him as if waiting for some great calamity to befall him.

“Have I already lost your esteem, fair woman?” He gazed in her eyes.

“That’s to assume you ever had it.” She chuckled, then pointed at a flower a few feet off. “Hit that mark, and then I might be inclined to ride you.”

“Oh . . . ?” His voice went low and husky.

“Oh, you know what I intended to say,” she said, waving with a flap of her right wrist.

“Yes, I daresay I do, indeed. What a wicked tongue you have. I would bet on you winning in a battle of wits any day.” He uncurled the whip, ran his fingers along and inspected it.

“Is it to your satisfaction?” She roamed around him.

Was she circling him like he was her prey?

His eyes lit up. Oh, she was going to be fun to spread out on his bed—once he acquired one.

“I am all for a man with confidence—God can attest to that—but you, sir, are too arrogant for your own good,” she said.

“You’re a shrewd assessor, are you?” And before she could quip back, he snapped that whip and took off the head of the flower.

She gave a silent gasp, her chest rolled forward and she bent at the waist, scrutinizing the beheaded plant.

“Close enough for you? Did you want it down to root level?” he asked.

She smiled, clicked her index finger on her teeth and hummed. “I rather like flowers. Especially purple ones such as the one you just dismantled. Maybe try something a little more sinister. Flowers do no one harm. Why aim your wicked whip at them?”

He smirked and stepped closer to her. “I find that most flowers love the touch of a good whip, and if you recall, you are the one that gave me the mark to target.” His eyes roamed over her.

“Might I suggest you try something more substantial, then, since the flower was to neither of our liking? Something that might enjoy the bite of a whip? For I fear if you even breathe on a delicate flower, the wind will knock its petals down, so what you have achieved a moment ago was merely luck. The trick of the whirlwind of your whip—it did not take skill to do that.” She cocked her head at him, then held out her palm, facing him. “I’d wager you cannot knock a ring out of my fingers if I extend my hand to the side.”

“What would you wager?” He licked his lips with a quick flick of his tongue.

Her eyes followed the quick movement and lit up. “What do you suggest?”

“A ride with you on your horse. You can direct the ride. I will give you the reins, I will sit behind and then I will have the best seat to witness your skill. Is this a bet you can accept?” He chuckled silently in his gut. He’d win. There was no way he’d lose.

“I am willing to bet you cannot knock this ring out of my grip.” She yanked a garnet ring off her right index finger and held it between that finger and her thumb. “But on the off chance you do, I will let you ride with me on Nicholas’s horse, not mine.”

“Why do you torture his beast rather than your own?” He couldn’t stop smiling at her.

“Because I do not know if you are a sweaty, smelly brute, and why should I stink up my horse for the likes of you?” she teased, grinning.

“Ah—you may take a whiff now and ascertain for yourself if I’d disgrace your horse. And rest your mind right this instant, because I assure you, I rarely sweat unless I am unclothed and working very hard.”

Her eyes darkened. “Enough. Step forward so I may take a whiff.”

He did as she asked, but took his time—casually strolling up to her. “Am I to your satisfaction? Might you consider allowing me to sit atop your palfrey? You can handle it, and so can your animal.”

She took a deep breath, scrunched her nose and sighed. “Yes, you smell like the river. Next time bathe elsewhere. Good Lord, do you not realize women care about such things as a man’s scent?”

He stepped closer to her, bent his head down and inhaled at her throat. “I do now.”

She made a growling sound, placed a hand on his chest and instead of pushing him away like he expected, she gripped his collar and yanked him forward.

“Bathe—and often. I know it is not the fashion, but I am telling you—it will do you much good.”

“Not as much good as
you
would do me.” He straightened his spine, and she released him.

“So, have I secured a ride if I can loose that ring from your grip?”

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

He jerked his chin at her hand she’d dropped with the ring held tight in it. “Devil woman—set yourself up for failure. Hold the ring aloft.”

She smirked. “You do realize the king gifted me this ring, and if it is lost . . .”

“I will replace it forthwith. A replica will do just as well.”

Another nod, but her expression was unreadable.

Would it bother her to lose it? Did she actually care for the king, or did she simply humor him?

“You may feel a slight brush on your fingers, and it may sting for a moment, but it will pass,” he warned, his smile bigger as she pinched the bottom of the ring between her thumb and index finger, angling the jewel upward so it was standing up.

“In my experience, a man that must breathe threatenings is a man that is all about bravado and less about skill. Get on with it, my lord. An aging lady is most unbecoming, and you make me wait longer than any woman can tolerate.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and pretended to sneer, then
snaaaap
!

The whip went flying, and a second later, the ring was gone—nowhere to be seen.

Her hand retracted at precisely the wrong time. The whip was recoiling, and it grazed the top of her hand.

She yelped, jumped away from the striking force and her hand flew to her mouth.

Her lips wrapped around the wound.

“Did I fail to mention you needed to keep absolutely still? I apologize, my lady.” He dropped the whip, raced to her side, pulled her fingers out of her mouth and inspected them.

Her long, slender fingers were very graceful.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“A welt is worthy of appreciation?” Her eyes searched his.

He kissed the red mark on her hand. “It is when it’s done for a salacious reason.”

She blinked. “Lord—you make the courtly rules of love seem like child’s play.”

He blew across her hand and kept it cupped in his. “They are. The only games I play are ones where I can win.”

She sighed like he was irritating her. “How will I manage to hold the reins well with a weakened, damaged hand?”

“You are a witty lady. I am certain you will manage just fine.” He gripped her hand he was cupping a little tighter and led her over to the horse.

“Your flippant attitude—it must get you in mounds of trouble,” she said, facing him directly.

“I’ll let you know when trouble catches up, shall I?” He bowed and then helped her on her horse before she could balk and change her mind.