The Rogue Prince (11 page)

As stirring as that thought was, it was unproductive. Thomas looked away and watched the changing scenery outside the window as he answered Zachary's plethora of questions.

 

Victoria's husband had not exaggerated in comparing Delamere House to Wynard Park. The estate Thomas had bought was palatial. A row of still-bare, mature oak trees lined the gravel drive, and it was obvious that the grounds were meticulously cultivated and waiting for spring plantings.

Lily was sound asleep when the carriage pulled up to the house. It was terribly impressive, with a massive stone staircase that led to a portico with numerous Greek columns supporting the crown. Thomas stepped out of the carriage first, and helped Zachary down the steps. Then he turned to Maggie. “I'll take her for you.”

She relinquished Lily to Thomas's capable hands, and felt more than a slight shiver of pleasure as she watched his gentle handling of her daughter. She knew of few men who had the slightest idea how to deal with a child as young and as shy as Lily. Thomas was neither impatient with the situation nor awkward with Lily, and Maggie watched him with admiration and a tinge of sorrow that her husband had not bothered to take such care with his own children.

Zachary ran up the steps ahead of them, but Lily did not awaken as Thomas carried her effortlessly up the staircase to the portico. The front door opened at Thomas's arrival and a butler appeared, asking quietly if he needed any assistance.

Thomas declined, carrying Lily through an echoing marble entryway, past a number of classically decorated rooms, to a small sitting room at the back of the house. Maggie took Zachary's hand as they followed him, watching as he placed Lily on a cozy settee while Zachary chattered quietly about horses, continuing his interrogation of Thomas about the horses and stable.

Maggie felt as though she was shimmering inside, the blood in her veins pulsing to the cadence of Thomas's discourse with Zachary. He was amazingly tolerant of her son, a boy who had more questions, and more energy than any other that Maggie had ever encountered.

If only Julian had been so attentive….

Maggie supposed she should be grateful that he had not. For she had no intention of allowing her
son to grow up in the image of his sire, the wasteful gamester who'd neglected his responsibilities. She intended to see that Zachary became a man who understood duty, who learned to use the power and privilege of his position conscientiously.

A man like Thomas.

Maggie knew she should not think of him in such terms. When he was gone, she would still have to cope with her own difficulties here, including her overexuberant son. But she could not imagine how exposure to the sensible prince could hurt Zachary. They led an isolated existence at Blackmore Manor. Her son needed to interact with gentlemen more often, and not the self-absorbed type like Shefford, or the pompous peers her sisters had wed.

“Do you ride?” Thomas asked Zachary.

“I had a pony once, but…” He turned to Maggie, frowning. “What happened to my pony, Mama?”

“Papa took him to Town,” she replied, hoping that would be enough explanation, but it was not.

“Why?” Zac asked.

“There was a…a family that needed a pony, and Papa thought they should have ours.”

It was a quick, insufficient answer, but Maggie had no intention of telling Zachary that his father had callously sold his beloved pony along with most of the other horses. He'd kept only one for himself to ride, and another two for Maggie's carriage.

She felt Thomas's questioning eyes on her, but did not look up at him. Her embarrassment over
Julian's lack of regard for her and the children cut deep.

“I think there might be a pony in my stable, waiting for a young fellow to ride him,” Thomas said to Zachary.

Zachary grabbed Maggie's arm. “Mama! Is it all right if I ride?”

She looked at Thomas then, and his expression reassured her. He would never allow Zachary to mount a dangerous horse. “I suppose so, but shall we wait until Lily awakens?”

“Perhaps that won't be necessary,” Thomas said as the two gentlemen who'd accompanied him the previous night came into the room.

“Ah, Your Highness,” the tall one said, “you're back.”

 

Edward Ochoa came into the sitting room with Nathaniel Beraza, and Thomas introduced the two men to Maggie. “Did you meet my good friend, Ambassador Beraza, last night, Lady Margaret?” Thomas asked.

Nate smiled without cynicism as he bowed over her hand. “I did not have the pleasure.”

Thomas felt a twinge of alarm as Maggie smiled innocently at Nate. He frowned and reminded himself that nothing untoward was going to happen to Maggie today. In any event, there was no room in his grand scheme for any proprietary feelings…or whatever they were.

“And here is my foreign minister, Edward Ochoa,” Tom said, collecting himself.

“How do you do?” Maggie said to the short, balding American.

“Are these your children?” Nate asked, shooting Tom a quick glance of pure malice.

“I'm Zachary Danvers,” said the boy, stepping in front of his mother. He put on no airs, but gave a perfectly correct bow. Then he turned to his mother. “Can we wake Lily now? I would like to ride.”

“Ambassador Beraza, perhaps you would send for Oliver Garay.” He turned to Maggie. “He is my driver. Ollie will walk out to the stables with Zachary while his sister finishes her nap.”

“Of course,” said Nate. “If the lad's mother agrees.”

Maggie seemed taken aback by the quick proposal, but Thomas reassured her. “Mr. Garay is an expert horseman. He will make certain nothing goes awry.”

“Well then, y-yes—I suppose it's all right. See that you behave yourself, Zachary. We'll come out soon.”

Zachary jumped up with delight. “I will, Mama!”

The boy left with Ochoa and Beraza, and Thomas contained the slight uneasiness he felt. No matter how bitter Nate was, he knew better than to act without Tom's authorization. Zachary would be safe with him.

Tom looked back at Maggie and knew he should not allow himself to feel so damned pleased to have her alone. Well, essentially alone, for Lily was sleeping nearby. His plan for seduction was clear,
and there was no room for hurry, or sentimentality. He wanted her, but there was a new dimension in play now, one that Nate wasn't going to allow him to forget.

He took Maggie's hand and stole her away from the settee and her daughter. He led her to a far corner, then drew her into his arms and skimmed one finger along the side of her face. “How long have we?”

“How long?”

“Before Lily wakes up.”

She looked up at him uncertainly. “A few minutes, perhaps ten.”

“I've thought of naught but kissing you in the hours since we parted.”

“I don't understand. You…you brought the children with us.”

“We will have ample time to be alone,” he replied. He slipped his hands down her back and to her hips, then pulled her close enough to feel his erection. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breath caught.

“Aye, feel how I want you, Maggie.” She filled his senses, far more than any thoughts of luring Shefford out to Delamere House. Shifting against her, he leaned down and took her mouth with his, and when she opened for him, he sucked her tongue into his mouth.

Her body quivered in his arms, and when she tipped back slightly, he deepened their kiss. He did not open her bodice, but brought one hand up to her breast. Cupping it, he flicked his thumb
over the turgid peak and felt her knees buckle. The intensity of her reaction took his breath away, and though he knew they could not finish anything he started, naught could induce him to stop now.

He caught the scent of her arousal and felt the silk of her hair against his cheek. Longing to taste more of her, he pressed his lips to her jaw, then her throat. His arousal became more acute, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when she touched it, sliding her hand over his rigid member.

“Maggie,” he said, his voice a raw gasp.

“I…Oh…” She sounded breathless, and Tom knew then that it had been a mistake to touch her. To kiss her. His desire had grown out of control. He had to bed her. Soon.

Her eyes were glassy with a desire that mirrored his own, but when he took her hand to take her from the room, she halted. “We cannot…”

“Lily,” he said, suddenly remembering.

“She'll awaken all alone.”

“I'll find someone to stay.”

She licked her lips and Thomas groaned. “No. She'll be frightened if I'm not there.”

“God.”

Maggie extricated her hand from his and walked unsteadily to the settee. She pressed a hand to her breast and composed herself while Thomas did the same. He should know better than to kiss her or touch her intimately when there was no possibility of making love to her. He wanted her far too desperately for that.

The child stirred. “Mama?”

“Right here, darling,” said Maggie. She circled around the settee and crouched before her daughter. “Did you have a nice rest?”

The little girl sat up and nodded, rubbing her eyes. “Where Zac go?”

“He is outdoors. Shall we go and find him?”

Tom didn't know how she managed to sound so normal, so unscathed, when he felt as though he'd been dragged behind a horse without a carriage. He thrust his fingers through his hair and thought of Norfolk Island and the Marquess of Shefford, both sure ways to kill an arousal as fierce as the one that spoiled the line of his trews.

T
om was counting on Shefford arriving soon, so he'd had the horses turned out into the paddock for him to see, to evaluate. It was all part of the plan to entice the marquess into the final, most devastating stage of the scheme.

He had barely noticed the gardens before, but as they walked toward the stable, he saw that Maggie was impressed with the grounds as well as the house. He'd wanted a palace, and that was what he had. It gave him the credibility he needed.

Maggie took Tom's arm and he tamped down yet another rush of desire and slowed his pace to match hers. He had to focus.

“You have a magnificent garden,” she said.

Thomas nodded. He'd had nothing to do with planning it or maintaining it, so he took no credit. “Delamere kept up his property satisfactorily.”

“I admit I am surprised that he sold you this house so easily,” she remarked.

He laughed. “I assure you it was hardly easy.”

“I should have said ‘quickly.'”

“Aye. I knew what you meant,” he said. She smelled
of roses again, far better than any garden Tom had ever visited. He breathed deeply as they walked to the door of the stable. Workmen were inside, making the improvements Tom had specified.

“Would you like to see the horses, Lily?”

Maggie's daughter looked up at him with those big, softly lashed eyes, and nodded. He reached down and picked her up, holding her in one arm as he walked to the paddock with her mother.

Maggie seemed surprised that Lily allowed it, but she gave a small, incredulous smile and walked on. “You brought horses from Sabedoria?”

He nodded. “My best racers. I don't like to be away from them too long.”

“Then,” she said hesitantly, “you're planning to stay in England for some time?”

He shrugged, glad that she hadn't asked about the logistics of travel from Sabedoria to England. Six or more months aboard ship with twelve restless horses? Tom couldn't imagine a worse voyage. Luckily, they'd only had a three-week trip from New York. “I haven't decided.”

“I see,” she said quietly, and he realized his mistake. She must have known he would not remain in England permanently, but would likely reconsider their affair if she thought he was staying only a few weeks.

“No, I don't think you do, pretty Maggie.”

She looked up at him in surprise and he had the distinct impression that no one had ever called her pretty.

“We'll be here through the summer, at least,”
he said, suddenly realizing he wanted it to be the truth.

She was quiet for a moment, then changed the subject entirely. “Someone told me last night that you learned to speak English from pirates.”

He smiled, genuinely amused at the way his lie had been altered in the telling. “Indirectly, perhaps. Several years ago, some Sabedorians were captured by English pirates. When they escaped and returned home, they taught us your language.”

“You learned it very well.”

“Thank you,” he said, even though the lie did not settle well with him.

They arrived at the paddock, where all but one of his horses grazed or trotted restlessly. His ringer, Arrendo, remained hidden in the barn on the other side of a thick stand of trees, tended by his trainer, Dickie Falardo. Tom had yet to pay a visit to the huntsman's cottage not far from it, but as he stood close to Maggie, he decided to make his exploration very soon.

“Would you like to ride?” he asked, his tone low and suggestive.

Her expressive eyes darkened at his evocative words, and she bit her lip, clearly understanding his meaning.

“I would very much like to ride,” she said, her tone soft and provocative. “But I have not practiced in some time.”

Her words made Thomas feel as though someone had punched him. Christ, she made him burn.

She swallowed, and he watched the delicate muscles of her throat. “I was thrown from a horse when I was very young.”

Tom barely heard her. He wanted to take her somewhere and lay her bare.

“…and when my fractures finally healed, my mother did not allow me to ride again.”

“What? I beg your pardon?” he said. “Your fractures?”

“Such a clumsy rider…I broke my leg and my arm in the fall.” She rubbed her thigh unconsciously, and Tom realized that was the cause of her slight limp. “At least my arm healed well.”

“But your leg?”

“Not exactly. It was a very bad break and didn't mend quite properly. The doctor said that kind of fracture seldom does.”

This time, he felt like gathering her into his arms and telling her that it did not matter. That some conventional notion of perfection was entirely too dull for his taste.

Nate came out of the second stable and started toward them, reminding Tom of their purpose out there. Grounding him. “Ah,” said Nate, smiling. “What do you think of our horses, Lady Blackmore?”

She gave them a cursory glance. “Very nice, I'm sure. Where is Zachary?”

“He is under the expert care of Oliver Garay,” Nate replied. “They're taking a turn around our little meadow, but I'm sure it won't be much longer before they return. You have a spirited lad there.”

“Yes. He is a very active child.”

Tom sensed Maggie's tension. She didn't like having her son out of her sight. In spite of Nate's presence, and Lily in his arms, Tom drew Maggie close, merely to reassure her. “Don't worry, Lady Blackmore. Ollie will be careful with Zachary.”

“It's just that Zac isn't very familiar with horses,” she said, trying to mask her nervousness.

Ollie came into the clearing just then, leading the pony Saret had borrowed early that morning from a neighboring farm, for just this purpose. Maggie relaxed and Tom released her as she returned her son's happy wave.

Lily took her thumb from her mouth. “Look, Mama! Zac!”

 

Lily squirmed to get down, but Thomas managed to hold her, his touch gentle, careful with her. “Come with me,” he said, starting toward Zachary as Mr. Beraza left them and returned to the house. “The ground is uneven—Can you manage it?”

He was solicitous, but gave no indication that he thought her incapable. Maggie rarely spoke of the fall she'd taken all those years ago, and had not planned to speak of the accident to Thomas or her disappointment in being forbidden to ride again. He hardly seemed to notice her limp.

Every cell and pore of her body still pulsed with awareness of his suggestive words, of his potent masculinity. Her nipples tingled and her womb clenched, anticipating a repetition of the pleasures they'd already shared.

She wanted more. Much more.

She forced her attention from her sizzling reaction to Thomas's nearness and watched Zachary. Her heart warmed at the sight of her son's happy face and she realized how much Zac missed the open spaces at home. Unlike the situation in London, there was little danger for the children at Blackmore Manor, and Zachary was able to run free there. He climbed trees, waded in the pond, and chased for hours with the other little boys on the estate under Nurse Hawkins's watchful eye. London was difficult for him, but Maggie had no choice now but to keep her family there.

She had done some computations, and knew it was going to take several months of attending social functions in order to acquire enough material for Mr. Brown's caricatures. They'd agreed on two drawings a week for
The Gazette
, but even if she managed to sell one or two prints made from each drawing, it would be a long time before she had enough money to pay Julian's debts and could return to Cambridgeshire.

“Thank you for this,” she said to Thomas. “Zachary will be talking about his pony ride for days.”

He took one of her hands in his and would have lifted it to his lips, but for Zachary's happy shout.

“Mama! Do you see me?”

“Yes, I do!” she called out happily. “You are riding!”

“Mr. Garay said I am a very good rider,” he proclaimed proudly. Maggie smiled at the man who
led the pony, and he grinned back. He was a small man, several inches shorter than Maggie, but many years older, the skin on his face as weathered as an old sailor's. He handled the pony as well as any of the expert grooms her stepfather had employed.

“Look at all the horses,” Zac said, pointing to the herd in the paddock.

“Yes, I saw them.”

“Do you race them, Thorne?” Zachary asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Are they very fast?”

“Of course. They're the best in Sabedoria.”

“Which one is the best?”

Thomas came up alongside Zachary and pointed toward the paddock. “See the chestnut with the white stocking?”

“Stocking?”

“Yes,” Thomas replied, smiling as he carefully placed Lily on the pony in front of Zachary. He kept his hold on her as they continued to walk with Maggie alongside him.

Lily's eyes grew huge, but she pulled her thumb from her mouth and grabbed hold of the edges of the saddle as she rode.

“In Sabedoria, we call it a stocking when a horse's leg is covered in white.”

Zachary frowned. “But there is only one.”

“True. Arrendo has only one, on his left rear leg.”

“That's funny. I always wear two stockings!”

“So you do,” Thomas said with a laugh, and Maggie's heart clutched in her chest. She could not
recall ever having such a pleasant exchange with Julian and their children, and felt deeply offended that he'd avoided them to pursue his more stimulating pursuits in Town.

“Hello!” called Ambassador Beraza, coming out once again from the house. Maggie was surprised to see Shefford striding alongside him, rushing to match the pace of the longer-legged Beraza. He would not like that—feeling as though he had to hurry to catch up to another man.

She shielded her eyes against the bright, spring sunlight and watched her brother's dark eyes take in every bit of their surroundings, from the barns and other outbuildings, to the horses in the paddock and the empty fields beyond. It was the same calculating look that Maggie had seen in him many times before. Her brother could be a very shrewd man, and Maggie knew he intended to orchestrate a race against Thomas's horses. Somehow he would figure a way to ensure his own horse's victory.

“Margaret,” he said when he reached her, “I had no idea you planned on visiting here today.” She heard an edge of admonishment in his voice. As though he had anything to say about her activities.

“Nor did I, Shefford,” she said, lying just a little bit. She hadn't planned on coming out and visiting Thomas with the children, nor had she thought she would see her stepbrother there.

Shefford nodded toward a distant field. “You're excavating?” he asked Thomas.

Only now did Maggie take notice of the men in
the distance, working far afield with shovels. But it hardly mattered. The mood was ruined.

Tom nodded, then spoke sharply to Mr. Garay. “Take the horses inside, Ollie.” He seemed to be bothered by Shefford's presence near the paddock.

“Yes, Your Highness,” Mr. Garay said.

Thomas took Lily down from the pony and Mr. Garay lifted Zachary down. He took the horse's lead and trotted toward the paddock, as though it was imperative that he get the horses into the stable, and out of sight.

Thomas turned to Shefford. “We're merely smoothing out a patch of turf out there.”

“For racing?” Shefford asked.

“Aye. I do not travel without my horses, and they need their exercise.”

“Did you know that we have a racing tradition here in England?” Shefford asked.

“Do you.” Thomas's words came out like a statement, rather than a question, and Maggie felt a distinct change in his mood. He became cold and distant, and seemed displeased by Shefford's arrival. It was clear that he had not wanted her brother to see the horses.

“Our racers are Thoroughbreds and are registered with a very stringent organization that oversees races. The Jockey Club.” Maggie cringed at Shefford's superior tone.

She felt an underlying sense of rivalry at play, a kind of competition that seemed to occur often among men, though she'd known a fair number of women who engaged in the same kind of fool
ishness. Yet Shefford was the guest here, of a man whose wealth and station was far above her brother's. He should not be spouting off like a boastful schoolboy.

“It sounds very official, indeed,” Ambassador Beraza remarked. “We would not care to break any English laws while we're here, would we, Your Highness.”

“No,” Thomas said, frowning. “We will not be doing any racing. We just wanted the horses to have a reasonably clear course to avoid suffering any injuries when they exercise.”

“Seems a shame,” said Shefford. “You have some fine-looking horseflesh.”

Thomas looked pensively toward the paddock, where Mr. Garay was herding the horses back to the stable.

“Your big chestnut looks promising,” said Shefford.

A muscle in Thomas's jaw flexed. “Why don't we go back to the house?”

“I was thinking,” said Shefford, standing still, “that you might be interested in running a few races—unsanctioned, of course—English style. You can try your beasts against some fine English runners. See how they match up.”

 

Thomas could not have asked for a more willing subject than Shefford. The man's arrogance prevented him from entertaining even the vaguest possibility that he had been manipulated and was about to be duped.

He'd picked up Lily again, and found the weight of her small body against his chest strangely calming. She melded into his hard angles, the shy little girl who had become surprisingly accustomed to him, trusting him completely to hold her safe.

If things had been different, Tom might have had his own little daughter by now, or maybe a few sons. He restrained the urge to slip an arm around Maggie's waist and pull her close, as though the three of them were family. It would be a huge mistake to allow his emotions to become involved here.