A School for Unusual Girls (21 page)

Curiosity peaked Phobos's ears as he watched me slip off my shoes. I wiggled my bare toes against the tickly grass, and grabbed hold of the lowest branch. Using my feet to push against all the grooves and crevices of the knobby bark, I pulled myself up and scrambled onto the first branch. Pleased with my progress, I maneuvered to a standing position and tucked my skirts up into my stays so that they hung just above my knees, and scaled another branch.

Phobos put his forepaws on the trunk and issued a quick yip. Ordering me down I supposed. “Hush.” I ordered. “Sit.” He dropped back.

I succeeded in hoisting myself up onto the next bough, but it looked a very long way to the ground. I stayed on my belly. All I needed was to go out five or six feet to that promising clump of leaves, where I counted at least four large galls. With my legs hugging each side of the gnarled branch, I inched along on my belly out to the smaller branches and that cluster of leaves.

That's when I saw Tess on the other side of the hedge. Running. And Lord Ravencross galloping his horse across his neatly mown grounds on a dead run collision course. Just as I was about to shout a warning, he pulled up short, swung off his brown stallion, and marched up to her like a great growling bear. “I warned you not to run on my land!”

Tess stopped and leaned forward to catch her breath. “You knew full well I would be here. I always run here. The grounds at Stranje House are too wooded.”

He pointed his riding crop at the fields stretching beyond the hedges. “Then run on the sheep pasture at the back.”

“Can't. Lambs start chasing me and that upsets the ewes.” She straightened and planted her fists on her hips. “Aside from that, you practically dared me.”

“I did no such thing. I told you to steer clear of my property.” He slapped his riding crop against his palm threateningly.

“I distinctly remember you saying,
or else
.”

“
Or else
next time you might not be so lucky,” he recited. “It was a warning—not a dare.”

“Was it?” Tess didn't even flinch. Nor did she back down. “Suppose I draw a line right here.” She dragged the toe of her shoe across the grass between them. “If I say, don't step over that line or else I might do terrible things to you, what would you do?”

“I wouldn't put up with such nonsense.” He promptly stepped over the line.

She glanced down at his feet. “Exactly my point.” Ravencross's horse pranced over and nuzzled Tess's neck. She stroked the big brown's nose and gently pushed him aside. “You would want to know exactly what I planned to do about it, wouldn't you?”

The stallion pushed between them again. This time he whickered and thrust his muzzle into her hair.

“Zeus! Stand down.” Ravencross shortened his hold on the reins and stepped his horse back. “What in blazes have you done to him? Either you've got apples hidden in your hair or you've bewitched the animal.”

Tess shrugged. “You're far too jaded to believe in magic, my lord.”

“At least you've got that much right,” he grumbled, but then in a louder, angrier voice he demanded, “Are you going to get off my grounds or not?”

“If I were you, my lord, I would not shout or make any sudden movements.” She nodded toward Zeus who had arched his neck and was blowing through flared nostrils. “Your stallion is taking a defensive attitude on my behalf.”

“What the devil?” He turned to Zeus. “Maybe I ought to rethink that witch idea.”

“Maybe you ought.” She shook her head and stared off into the distance, away from him and his horse. “I've been accused of it before, on several occasions. And, I might add, by men older than you. Men who ought to have been long past silly bedtime stories.”

Frowning, he led his agitated horse to the nearest tree and looped the reins into a clove hitch. The stallion tossed his head and pawed the ground. Warily, Ravencross returned to Tess and the line she'd drawn. He stood far too close to her. “Well then, what am I to do with you for trespassing?”

She glanced down to his feet, standing just barely on his side of the line. “How should I know, my lord? It was you who dared me.”

“I've a good mind to take my riding crop to your backside.”

She tilted her head speculatively. “Now, there's an amusing idea.” She glanced around his shoulders at Zeus pawing the ground. “If I promise not to cry out, there is a slim chance your horse won't dash you to pieces.”

“Stand down, Zeus,” he called at his stamping horse. “You agitate him.”

“It is you I agitate, my lord. Your horse is simply confused by your anger, because he senses something else.”

A wary stillness fell upon both Zeus and Lord Ravencross.

“He senses what I can see plainly writ on your face, my lord. That scowl does not hide your feelings so well as you might think. I know what you want from me.”

I covered my mouth to silence a sharp intake of breath and nearly slipped from the branch. How did she have the nerve to say such a bold thing to him? Perhaps she didn't realize what she'd said. Or how flirtatious it sounded. Either way, if my mother had heard it, she would've condemned Tess as a brazen hussy and given her the cut direct for the rest of eternity. As for me, I felt a growing admiration for her and could not look away. Tess had pluck. I couldn't wait to see what she would do next.

Ravencross studied her for the longest time. “Now it is you who is daring me.”

“No.” She stepped back. “I am merely doing what I do every morning. Running.”

“No, you're not. You, my girl, are playing with fire. And I suggest you stay well back.” He dragged the heel of his bad foot across the grass, emphasizing the line between them.

She shook her head. “You ought not tell lies, my lord. In your heart you are
begging
me to cross that line.”

I could not believe it. Tess did precisely that—she stepped across it. They stood only a hairsbreadth apart. Exactly as a wolf strikes, with a growling flash, Ravencross grabbed her shoulders and pressed his mouth over hers.

Tess eagerly kissed him back.

I gasped, and clutched the bark of my tree so tight some of it broke off into my fingers.

Lord Ravencross pulled away abruptly, still gripping her shoulders, and straightened to his full height. “You see,” he snarled in a rough voice, “I never beg for anything.”

“Not out loud,” she answered calmly.

“Never.” He let go of her. “Not even silently.”

“Then you believe your own lies, for I have never seen a man so hungry for love.”

He paced sideways and glared at her. “You know nothing of such things. What can you know of anything? You're just a child.”

“We're nearly the same age. I'm seventeen, and if ever I was a child, my lord, that childhood ended long,
long
ago.” She said it quietly and with such profound sadness that even Zeus whickered sympathetically.

Lord Ravencross softened his tone. “Nevertheless—”

She interrupted him. “And I learned all those many years ago to stop listening to what people said, and listen instead to what they mean. Some people speak with honey and intend to serve us poison. You, my lord, speak with thorns but yearn for cake.”

“You don't know anything about me.” He backed away from her, his chest heaving as if she'd punched him. “You”—he pointed his riding crop unsteadily—“are a witch.”

“More lies,” she said, and took off running.

As Lord Ravencross watched her go, he brought the crop down, slapped it hard against his thigh, and slowly limped to his horse.

 

Thirteen

CAUGHT

“If you intend to fall on me again, I would appreciate a warning.” Sebastian stood on the ground below. He and Phobos stared up at me expectantly.

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against the rough bark, and hugged the branch even tighter.
Why?
I asked the fates. Why could I never get away with even the smallest of indiscretions? And it would be Sebastian who came upon me while I was straddling the upper branches of a tree with my dress hiked up to my thighs. Embarrassed beyond words, I tried to scoot my skirts down to cover more of my legs, but nearly lost hold of the branch.

A wicked grin dimpled his cheeks. “What, may I ask, are you doing up there?”

“Hunting oak galls,” I said, trying not to sound mortified while tugging at my dress, and hoping my naked legs would escape his notice.

“Hmm…” He tossed several plump galls in one hand. “Looked to me more like you were daydreaming. Communing with the birds, are you, Miss Fitzwilliam?” He made a whistling bird noise.

Could my humiliation get any worse? I prayed he didn't know I'd been spying on Tess and Lord Ravencross. I know I ought to have scrambled down the tree the instant I overheard them talking. Or at the very least, I should have looked away and gone on about my business. Except it had all happened so quickly, and I was worried for Tess and …

Oh, very well, I admit it. There's no excuse for my behavior. Drat my curious mind. I'm a scientist. I observe. Study things. Draw conclusions. I had to know what would happen between them. The sad truth is, I couldn't have looked away any more than I could've flown off that branch.

“How do you propose to get down?”

Naturally, I planned to climb down. But how to do it in a ladylike manner, while a gentleman observed, posed a prickly dilemma.

“Do stop fiddling with your dress. Otherwise, you're going to come down the hard way.”

He was right again. I grabbed the branch just in time. “It's only that I…”
Oh, bother! I'm half exposed right now and that makes me more uncomfortable than the thought of falling.

“I hadn't anticipated an audience.” I went back to adjusting my skirts.

“That much is obvious. Don't stand on ceremony on my account.” His
not-so-subtle-ha-ha-to-himself
chuckle was exactly what one would expect from one of Satan's dark angels. “I assure you, Miss Fitzwilliam, I have seen female legs and feet before. Although, I must admit, yours are shaped quite splendidly.”

I jerked my bare calves up into my skirts, hiding them as much as I could.

“But I digress. We must return to the problem of your descent. Shall I climb up and help you down?”

“No. If you will turn your head I believe I can manage quite well on my own, thank you.”

“Yes,” he said coolly. “I've witnessed several times how well you manage on your own.”

“That is unfair.”

“Allow me to offer you a compromise. What if I close my eyes and hold out my arms thus.” He stuck out his arms directly beneath my branch. “That way, should you slip I'll be halfway prepared. I must confess. The night you fell from the spy hole it was more of a lucky catch than skill on my part. A split-second grab for the best.” He snapped his fingers to illustrate. “Had I missed…”

He shook his head mournfully, but ruined the sympathetic effect with a wry twitchy grin. “If I'd missed, the world would be minus one gall-hunter.” He smirked, as if picturing me splattered on the Elizabethan chest was frightfully amusing.

“I've had enough of your mockery. Act the gentleman for once and close your eyes.”

He complied with his arms extended. Phobos barked as if he expected me to fall, too.

I seriously doubt Lord Wyatt actually closed his eyes because he moved beneath me as if anticipating a fall.
The rascal
. Nevertheless, I crept along the branch, and kept a firm grasp while lowering myself onto the next limb. All the time I wondered exactly how much of my person he could see from his vantage point. I quickly edged over to the trunk, clutched it, and slid into the V of the tree. At that juncture I held my skirts together with one hand and jumped to the ground. Luckily, he caught my shoulders and kept me from stumbling and landing smack on my face.

“Thank you,” I gasped. What was it about his hands that seemed to warm me through and through, and simultaneously left me breathless? I looked up into his face and remembered Tess kissing Ravencross. I couldn't help myself, I wanted Sebastian to do the same to me.

“Are you quite all right?” He studied me with the concern of a brother for a sister.

I sighed and glanced at the grass beneath our feet. Phobos washed my leg with his tongue. It tickled and I shivered.
No, I was not okay.
I wanted Lord Wyatt to kiss me. And that was highly improper.

“You're blushing,” he said, steadying me while I slipped on my shoes. “You needn't fear,” he confided in earnest. “I won't tell a soul that I found the beautiful Georgiana Fitzwilliam climbing a tree barefoot. Your secret is safe with me.”

Beautiful
?

“You promise?” I asked.

He laughed and hugged me for a brief wonderful second, then let go. He tilted his face down to mine and, as we gazed directly into each other's eyes, he said with almost believable seriousness, “I solemnly swear.”

I knew he was agreeing not to tell anyone about me climbing the tree, but for one wondrous moment I pretended he was promising that he thought I was beautiful.

The merriment left his face and he blinked. His mouth softened.

And
I knew
. I knew, in that instant, he thought about kissing me.

Sebastian stepped back and cleared his throat. He plucked the galls out of his pocket. “Here.” He thrust them at me. “I found these on the way over.”

“Thank you,” I caught my breath and scooped the galls from his palm. “These will do splendidly.” I smiled. I wanted to dance, wanted to whirl, wanted to fling my arms around his neck. For one glorious instant he'd thought about kissing me.

Me!

The sound of thudding footfalls interrupted my delirium. I turned to see Tess running up the park toward us. Inwardly, I cringed for at least a dozen reasons. For one thing, I'd been spying on her. For another thing, she looked remarkable in her running dress, like an ancient warrior goddess, wild and free and carnal, like a … a … she-wolf.