Patrica Rice (7 page)

“Maybe it’s all in your head, after all. That plank could have been loose, you said so yourself.”

Evan closed his eyes and leaned back against the hard rock behind him. He remembered that night all too clearly. The plank might have been loose, but it wasn’t the plank snapping that had sent his horse rearing into the air and into the river at its most dangerous point. He’d been at war far too long to mistake that sound.

He transferred his thoughts to the interfering female Rhys had accused him of daydreaming about. Why in hell he had stopped that carriage that night was beyond his capability to imagine.

He never stopped females. They were more trouble than they were worth. Even under civilized circumstances he tended to avoid the respectable kind. They expected him to make elegant comments when they giggled and fluttered their fans.

That wasn’t his style and never had been. He’d always left the wooing to Gordon, who was the heir after all and was expected to make a proper match. Evan had spent his time with the Fashionable Impures who might sulk if he didn’t compliment them, but smiled happily enough when he presented them with baubles. That was the kind of transaction he understood.

The only reason he thought of Daphne Templeton at all was that she was the one person who could reveal his identity. He couldn’t trust such knowledge in the hands of a female. Gritting his teeth, Evan swung around and contemplated the campfire Rhys was starting.

“I’m damned sorry I started this. I’ve solved nothing.”

Rhys shrugged with his usual fatalistic nonchalance. “You didn’t have much choice. You intending to rise from the dead now? That should be a show to be seen.”

Restlessly, Evan skittered a pebble across the dry leaves. “I can’t rely on Gordon to convince her we’re one and the same. She has him wrapped about her finger already.”

His former sergeant raised a skeptical eyebrow. “What makes you think that?”

“He’s read me the riot act twice now, and his choice of adjectives is revealing. Miss Templeton is by turn a ‘delicate’ lady, ‘too sensitive’ for my crude behavior, and ‘too kind and gentle’ to be treated rudely. I wonder that he thinks he’s wooing some saint instead of a fire-breathing termagant.”

Rhys snickered. “You’re the one sitting in trees watching for a glimpse of her. Are you afraid she will catch you unawares again?”

Remembering how the female in question had looked when she shed her jacket with a gleeful smile and threw her head back to bathe her face in the sun, Evan warranted he had good excuse to spy.

He couldn’t decide whether he liked the sight of her better in tailored linen with her breasts pushing at the fine fabric and her hair caught in tight pins waiting to be plucked, or in lacy batiste with wisps of curls and feminine frills to tease his eyes. She was a torment and a temptation, and he would be wise to keep an eye on her.

“She’s too sharp by far,” Evan admitted irritably. “
Coward
, she calls herself, but she identified me faster than my own brother.”

The sergeant’s grin grew more wicked. “Doesn’t that tell you anything, Captain? It’s coward you are yourself, if it don’t.”

Evan scowled. “It tells me she has a nose for trouble. Why else would she follow me into a common inn where no respectable lady goes?”

Rhys chuckled and gave his friend an almost affectionate glance. As an officer, Evan Griffin was a hard man and a demanding one, but as a friend, he was generous and loyal beyond the bounds of friendship. Unlike those of the other officers, Evan’s hands bore the calluses of hard work, and his noble features wore the evidence of harsh weather as much as those of his men, though much had faded with the passing of time and circumstance.

Evan was the kind of leader who demanded loyalty by his actions, not his words. He had personally saved the lives of several of the men here, risking his own in the process. Rough lot that they were, there wasn’t a man among them who wouldn’t lay down his life for Captain Griffin. And that bold and brave officer sat there like a besotted fool, not knowing what had hit him. Rhys chuckled again.

“Why else, indeed?” his friend repeated cheerfully, adding a bit of kindling to the fire. “Why does any young lady follow a gentleman except to get him into trouble? You have her pegged, indeed, Cap’n.”

“You’re a mincing fool if you believe that, Welshman. She was protecting my brother. Females do the strangest things in the name of love.”

“Aye, and they do that. That’s why she dumped the ale over you, ain’t it? In the name of love?”

Evan threw a stick at the fire and stood up. “In the name of loathing, I should say.”

Before his friend could stride away, Rhys threw in the last word. “Aye, and in the name of loathing, she hid your hide from the soldiers, didn’t she?”

Not deigning to reply, Evan stalked off into the protection of the trees. Who was he to know the mind of females? All he knew were their bodies, and damned if Miss Daphne Templeton didn’t have just the body he had in mind.

Coward, indeed, he snorted as he made his way to the roadside. Had she full courage, she would be a lethal weapon. All he could see in his mind were those flashing green eyes, the impertinent dimple at the corner of those luscious lips, and those fully feminine curves that beckoned a man’s hand. He didn’t want to consider what his other senses told him. He was already in well over his head.

* * * *

Jane Dalrymple seemed to prance as excitedly as her horse as she rode up next to Daphne. The swooping feather of her hat bounced pertly and her blue eyes danced with laughter as she whispered, “Have you ever seen such handsome gentlemen as Captain Rollings and Lord Griffin? I cannot decide between them. The captain is so dashing in his uniform, but there is something about a title ...”

Daphne laughed at this nonsense. It was very easy to see that Jane was a mischievous minx, but there was no harm in her. Freedom from her mother’s overprotective presence had only released her high spirits.

She glanced at the two men riding ahead. Both rode exceedingly well, with the aristocratic grace of hours in the saddle. Lord Griffin was noticeably taller, but Captain Rollings appeared broader in the shoulder. Perhaps that was just the uniform.

“Why don’t you choose on the basis of color? Lord Griffin, I have noticed, favors blue that looks well with his light-colored hair. The captain, of course, wears scarlet and looks quite dashing since his hair is so dark. I should think you would favor the captain since he provides such a striking contrast with your own light coloring,” Daphne announced judiciously.

Jane’s peal of laughter brought both men to a halt. Allowing the rest of their party to ride ahead, they waited for the two slower horses to catch up. No one questioned Daphne’s cautious pace. The party had alternately slowed and spread out so that she was not always alone or in anyone’s particular company. Their graciousness endeared them to her. Her leg did not grip as well as it should.

Lord Griffin gave Jane a mocking grin of familiarity. “Are you saying shocking things to Miss Templeton, Jane? I’ll not have her thinking badly of us already.”

Jane wrinkled her nose at him and turned to the more serious mien of the soldier. “Do I look the sort to say shocking things, Captain?”

Having only just met the lady a few days before, the captain was extremely reluctant to put his foot forward. He took only the most cautious of steps where the blonde handful was concerned, but his dark eyes shone with admiration as he replied. “You could never be anything but what is proper, Miss Dalrymple.”

Daphne grinned. “Then saying shocking things must be proper, and we must all indulge in it from now on. Am I correct, my lord?” She threw Lord Griffin a laughing look that brought a twinkle to his eye as he drew closer.

“Undoubtedly, Miss Templeton. Shall I begin by calling you Daphne? It is a most enchanting name and one I have been eager to use.”

He was swift on the uptake; there was no doubting that. Before Daphne could reply, the remainder of the party swarmed down the hill, shouting with excitement, and she was saved the need of response.

Despite Jane’s protestations to the contrary, the neighborhood did boast a number of young people. Some were not old enough to be out yet, and some were already married and looking for diversion on a sunny day, but they made a group of nearly a dozen. Captain Rollings was the only officer in the area, and his introduction to the group had resulted in a number of spontaneous invitations to impromptu routs and entertainments. At the moment, the boisterous riders inundated the laggards, demanding a race across a nearby field to the clapper bridge in the field beyond.

Daphne froze at the thought of racing an unfamiliar path on a strange horse. As daring as she might be on some occasions in her attempt to return to normal, even she knew the dangers of racing when she did not know the terrain. But to refuse to join in would be humiliating. She was not yet certain enough of her mount or her ability to control him to know which choice to make.

The decision was easily taken from her by Lord Griffin. “Line up on the hill there, and Miss Templeton and I will give you the signal to start.
We should be able to judge the winner from that height.”

There were protests that they did not join in, but only half-hearted ones. The Griffin stables sported some of the finest horseflesh in the shire, and the outcome would be a given should Gordon join in.

Under Gordon’s direction, they lined up and dashed off at the drop of his crop. Daphne couldn’t help but feel superfluous. Lord Griffin didn’t give her time to feel that way for long. When the others had set off, he moved his restless mount next to hers and took her reins.

“I daresay we can judge the winner while resting in the shade of that hedge, don’t you agree?”

Daphne suddenly felt nervous that Lord Griffin had singled her out to this degree, and her mind worked feverishly to discover the reason, but she acquiesced when he dismounted and lifted her off to stand by his side.

A sapling sprouting from the hedge gave adequate shade, and they could easily see the entire field spread out below them. Daphne wasn’t certain she could discern the narrow wooden clapper bridge, but she could see the riders galloping wildly toward it.

“There is room for only one horse to cross the bridge at a time. It will be easy enough to judge the winner without our help.”

His warm voice murmured startlingly close to her ear, drawing Daphne from her daze with a jolt. The accents were so much those of the highwayman that she had difficulty separating the two, and for the first time, she caught a faint scent of bay rum. Her mind froze, and she stared up at him with the frightened eyes of a trapped rabbit.

Gordon had the urge to apologize for his similarity to his brother. She had the fairest skin, with just a touch of color from the sun despite her fanciful hat. Beneath the curled beaver brim, a pair of terrified green eyes stared back at him, and he had to wonder at the depth of their terror. Gently, he brushed back a wisp of curl on her cheek.

“I did not mean to startle you, Miss Templeton, or may I call you Daphne? It would give me much pleasure to hear you address me as Gordon. I still think of ‘Lord Griffin’ as my father.”

Said that way, she could scarcely refuse his request. His proximity was beginning to unnerve Daphne as much as his brother’s. She sent him a hesitant look before staring resolutely back to the riders in the distance. It appeared the scarlet coat was in the lead.

“I’m not at all certain that is proper, my lord. Our acquaintance has been very short. I daresay you will be returning to your grandfather’s estates before long and would find it dismaying to be on terms of such familiarity with a country miss such as I intend to be.”

That wasn’t at all what she had wanted to say. Daphne bit her lip and cursed herself mentally. She never used to be so backward. London gossip had diminished her more than she had thought.

A firm hand gently touched her shoulder, causing her to look up to him in startlement. She admired the mobile curve of his mouth as he gazed down on her.

“I am not planning on leaving Devonshire any time soon, and even if I should, I would be honored to call you friend. Perhaps our acquaintance has been short, but I think we are both mature enough to recognize a friend when we see one.”

A friend. Yes, that would be right and proper. One did not have this easy companionship with a suitor. Daphne had seen that from observation of her cousins, not from any experience of her own. Courtship was a stiff formality with one intent in mind. Friendship was a freer flowing feeling, an easiness and a familiarity that she felt in the company of Jane Dalrymple, or Lord Griffin. Relaxing, she smiled up at him.

“You are very persuasive ... Gordon.” She tried the name cautiously, waiting for some sign of repulse from the charming man beside her.

“I can be when I know what I want ... Daphne.” He paused before her name for emphasis, smiling as he lifted her gloved hand and bowed over it.

Now. She should act now. Ask if he knew his brother were alive and well and stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Or perhaps that wasn’t Evan Griffin in the woods, but this man. The scent of bay rum confused her. How could she insult him by asking such questions? How could they be friends without knowing the answers?

There was no time to find out. The shouts and yells from below declared a winner, and with a gentle squeeze of her hand, Gordon assisted her back into the saddle.

The thought came to her then that she could be riding beside a thief, an impostor, and once again, fear and confusion froze her into silence.

Chapter Six

This way lay madness, Daphne declared to herself as she urged the young pony down the lane.

Her aunt had remembered a long neglected pony cart buried in the stables and the grooms had dragged it out, repaired it, and given it a fresh new coat of green paint. It wasn’t fashionable, but Daphne had little use for fashion. Going to the village in the pony cart was much more comfortable than walking on a weak leg. She had already made the journey once without mishap, so she was feeling fairly confident.