Authors: Jennifer McNare
His gaze slowly moved downward, following the buttons on her shirt to the waistband of her breeches. He couldn’t recall having ever seen a woman garbed in masculine attire or riding astride before, and despite his anger, he was utterly captivated by the sight of her long shapely legs, clearly outlined by the thin layer of fabric. While shocked by her blatant defiance of social convention, he also felt the undeniable stirrings of desire as his gaze remained riveted on her enticingly well-defined limbs. It abruptly occurred to him that any woman who could ride a horse like she did could probably ride a man equally well.
The sudden and unexpected erotic image caused an immediate and unwelcome tightening in his groin, causing him to shift uncomfortably in his saddle.
When at last he was able to force his eyes to move back to her face, he was surprised to find that it still bore traces of amusement. That it was apparently at his expense, quickly served to rekindle his ire. “Who the blazes are you?” he demanded, though he voice wasn’t quite as loud, nor his tone quite as harsh. “And what on earth possessed you to go tearing across my land like a madwoman?”
Startled out of her amusement, Ashleigh took a closer look at her would be rescuer.
His land?
Shifting in her saddle, she moved so that his body blocked the blinding glare of the sun. Despite the aggravated set of his features, she could now see that he was quite handsome, remarkably so. In addition, his eyes were the deepest, most beautiful shade of blue she had ever seen.
Oh dear Lord
, she thought in dawning horror, realizing at that moment that she was looking into the disgruntled countenance of none other than the Duke of
Sethe
, the man whose image had haunted her dreams for the past three nights. Inwardly she cringed, for this certainly wasn't how she had envisioned their first introduction.
When she didn't immediately answer his question, Nicholas chose to enlighten her as to his own identity. “I am the Duke of
Sethe
, Madame, and
you
are trespassing on my property.”
She knew she was staring, but she couldn't seem to take her eyes off his face. It should be a sin to look as gorgeous as he did. His portrait hadn't done him justice. As her gaze swept along his large physique, she couldn't help but notice how his broad shoulders stretched the rich material of his riding jacket, and when her eyes moved lower, she saw that his dark-colored riding breeches fit him like a second skin, perfectly outlining the muscled curves of his rock-hard thighs. Her pulse seemed to quicken and her breath caught in her throat as her earlier amusement was replaced by something altogether different. Realizing the direction her thoughts were taking, she was shocked and instantly jerked her gaze up to meet his own.
Nicholas was well accustomed to the open admiration of women, but for some reason, he was acutely conscious of her appreciative perusal. Who was she, he wondered again? She obviously wasn't a lady, for no young woman of breeding would dare to dress and behave in such a shocking manner. However, she was riding a stallion that was clearly worth a small fortune. Could she be some local lord's by-blow, the spoiled and overly indulged result of some nobleman's illicit affair? Or perhaps she was the pampered mistress of a generous and tolerant benefactor.
“I know who you are,” Ashleigh announced softly, finally finding her voice.
The rich, throaty sound of her voice immediately wiped what was left of the annoyed expression completely from his face. Under normal circumstances that comment might have put him on guard, however, as he gazed into her wide green eyes, he seemed temporarily robbed of all common sense. Christ, the sound of her voice had sent shivers down his spine it was so breathy and sensual. He couldn't remember a time when a woman had affected him so profoundly and so quickly. His reaction was immediate and intense. He felt the sudden throbbing of his manhood as it strained against his breeches. It was desire, plain and simple. He was no longer aware of his mount’s restless movements beneath him or the cause of his earlier anger. Nor, did he hear the sound of another rider approaching from the distance.
As Ashleigh watched, spellbound, the irritation faded from his expression and much to her surprise she saw an entirely different emotion reflected in his gaze. In that moment, something passed between them, something powerful and shockingly intense. She felt an odd, almost dizzying physical attraction that seemed to pull at her like the tug of a string. Unconsciously she swayed toward him, the movement so slight it was nearly imperceptible. Their gazes locked and held, and then something, a movement caught out of the corner of her eye diverted her attention. She blinked and shifted her gaze slightly to the left. It was another rider, moving in their direction. Instantly, she regained her senses. Good heavens, what had just happened? She’d never experienced anything like it. Something had taken place between them just then, something extraordinary. Her mind reeled as she quickly readjusted her position in the saddle, causing Raider to toss his head in agitation.
Nicholas, noting her sudden distraction, also became aware of the approaching rider and unconsciously relaxed his hold on her horse's reins.
Utterly unnerved by her first encounter with the handsome Duke of
Sethe
, Ashleigh was at a complete loss for words. Glancing toward the approaching rider, she was immediately reminded of her current state of dress and groaned inwardly. It was bad enough that the duke had seen her garbed as a lad, but the last thing she needed was for someone else to witness her shockingly unconventional attire. Madeline assuredly wouldn’t be pleased. Better to make a hasty retreat and explain later. “Please excuse me, Your Grace,” she said, snatching the reins from the duke’s now lax grip. Wheeling Raider around, she touched her heels to the stallion’s sides and they were off, the horse’s great hooves thundering loudly beneath her as she rode swiftly away. Heading toward the estate, she cast one last glance over her shoulder as the distance between them widened.
As Nicholas watched in frustration, horse and rider were once again a fast moving blur against the scenic backdrop. Cursing the unwelcome intrusion, Nicholas turned to observe the advancing rider, whom he now recognized as his neighbor, Roger
Lyndwich
, Viscount Montville. He doubted the girl was Roger’s mistress, for Montville was far more interested in his bloodhounds and hunting rifles than he was in hot-blooded, voluptuous young women. He was probably searching for one of his wayward hounds.
Bloody perfect timing Montville
, he thought irritably as the dull throbbing in his loins went
unassuaged
.
Oh well, despite the untimely interruption, he would discover her identity; it shouldn’t be that difficult. He would find out who she was and then determine whether or not a physical relationship could be pursued. In a rare turn of events, he would be the pursuer, rather than the pursued. It was an intriguing and surprisingly pleasant notion.
After dismounting, Ashleigh hurried from the stable, uncharacteristically leaving Raider’s care to one of the grooms. Upon entering the house, she raced up the stairs and went straight to her chamber, closing the door behind her. Flinging herself onto the bed, she immediately analyzed every detail of her encounter with the duke. Once he had gotten past his initial ire, he had been attracted to her, she was sure of it. For perhaps the first time in her life, she felt truly grateful to have been blessed with a pretty face and pleasing figure. Her only regret was that he had seen her dressed in her breeches. A man of his stature would surely view that as unsophisticated and decidedly unladylike, she realized in frustration.
Drat!
If she had known that he was coming, she would have been better prepared. Oh well, she mused regretfully, there was nothing she could do about it now.
Her thoughts then turned to the evening ahead.
Assuming that they would be formally introduced at dinner, she was determined to make a good impression the second time around. She would wear one of her new gowns and dazzle him with her feminine charms, she decided. The oh-so-handsome duke would find her not the least bit unfeminine or ill bred, she would make certain of that. In fact, she could hardly wait.
When Nicholas arrived at
Sethe
Manor he immediately sought out his grandmother, intending to rectify the matter of his unwanted houseguest as soon as possible. With only a quick word to his startled staff, he then strode directly to her private salon located on the second floor. Having sent one of the maids to inform the dowager duchess of his presence, he threw himself into the nearest chair, impatiently tapping his fingers against the upholstered arms as he awaited his grandmother’s appearance.
As he had ridden the remaining distance to the house, his mind had been consumed with images of the flame-haired beauty and their brief, though shocking encounter. Such an instantaneous and overwhelming physical attraction was rare, even for him. Now, as he waited for his grandmother’s arrival, her image once again filled his thoughts. He realized that it wasn’t just her beauty, but also her scandalous behavior that intrigued him. She was unique, and he found that remarkably exciting.
His silent musings were interrupted however, when he heard the sound of someone’s approach a few moments later. Rising from the chair, he turned toward the door, smiling as his grandmother entered the room.
“Nicholas, I wasn't expecting you for another week,” Madeline exclaimed, delight evident in her voice.
“I know Grandmother, it was a sudden decision.” Bending down to place a light kiss upon her cheek, Nicholas inhaled the familiar scent of the expensive French perfume his grandmother favored. This wasn’t going to be easy. “Come sit down,” he said, leading her over to a velvet-covered settee, making sure she was settled comfortably before voicing his objections concerning Lady St. John.
“Grandmother, I have returned because I wanted to speak to you about Lady…”
“Oh Nicholas, you must have gotten my note,” she interrupted, cutting him off before he could finish his statement. “I am so glad you wanted to return early and meet Ashleigh. She is such a lovely young lady and an absolute joy to have around. In fact, I couldn’t be more pleased with her presence.”
Damnation, the calculated glint in her eye told him that she knew exactly what he was going to say, and apparently she wasn't going to make it easy for him. “Actually….” He tried to interject, but his grandmother deliberately cut him off once again.
“Without you and Brendon here I tend to get a bit lonely you know.” Her tone grew somewhat wistful for a moment. “Having Ashleigh here is just what I needed to raise my spirits.” Her expression brightened then and she smiled enthusiastically at her grandson. “I know you will adore her the moment you meet her, just as I did.”
Nicholas regarded his grandmother's beaming countenance and knew he had lost the battle before he had even begun to fight.
Damn she's good
, he thought to himself with a touch of admiration, promptly resigning himself to the fact that Lady St. John was apparently there to stay, at least for the time being.
With that matter decided, they spent the next twenty minutes in pleasant conversation.
Nicholas then withdrew to his study, where he spent the better part of the afternoon going over the estate books and dreading the upcoming meeting with his temporary houseguest.
Later that evening, as Ashleigh sat before the large oval mirror positioned above the dressing table in her bedchamber, she regarded the young woman who stood behind her, attempting to tame her riotous curls into an elegant chignon. Annie, a petite, slightly plump brunette in her early-twenties had been assigned to serve as her lady’s maid, and she had quickly discovered that not only did she possess a sunny disposition and an exuberant personality, but she also had a remarkable talent for hairstyling. Ashleigh, who had never had much luck controlling her heavy mass of fiery curls, was amazed at Annie's seemingly effortless skill. Annie also possessed a very talkative nature, which she quickly realized might be helpful in learning more about the duke.
“Have you been employed at
Sethe
Manor for long, Annie?”
“My yes, since I was fifteen,” she said, nodding her head up and down. “My father has been the
Sethe's
head groundskeeper for nearly thirty years now, and my mother has worked in the kitchen for almost as long.”
Ten minutes later, Ashleigh knew more about Nicholas Leighton and the
Sethe
family than she had ever intended. Annie was a natural born chatter-box and it had taken only a few subtle questions to get her going. Now, after hearing everything that Annie had told her about the
Sethes
, she was shocked and saddened by the tragedy that had befallen their family, and felt more than a little guilty for unintentionally soliciting such personal information. However, according to Annie, everything that she had told her was apparently common knowledge.
Rising from her seat at the small table, Ashleigh stood and smiled graciously at Annie. “You did such a beautiful job,” she marveled. “Thank You.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she replied cheerfully. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“No, Annie, thank you.”
“All right then. Enjoy your evening, My Lady.”