The Duke Can Go to the Devil (19 page)

Ever unpredictable, as always. Even as he was taken aback by her response, there was no denying the swell of pride that she would be willing to face her fear like that. “No, no. If the lady wants a carriage ride, we shall take a carriage ride.”

She looked around her as though searching for something. “And where is this lady you speak of. Lady Radcliffe perhaps?”

He made a face. “
No.
Let me see if I have this straight: You wish to climb atop a large, muscular beast full of sharp teeth and iron-plated hooves simply to prove a point?”

“Absolutely.” She nodded for emphasis.

He laughed. He couldn't help it. The woman was absolutely incomparable. “Very well. We can depart after breakfast tomorrow morning. If you lack appropriate clothing, I'm certain we could find something here you may borrow.”

She flashed him a quick smile that made his heart thud behind his ribs. “I look forward to it. Good night, Radcliffe. I shall see you tomorrow at breakfast.”

As absurd as it sounded, he disliked her calling him Radcliffe again. Hearing his first name on her lips was the next best thing to a caress.
Not
the thing to be thinking about right then. Swallowing, he nodded. “Until then.”

He watched her as she turned and slipped from the room, her shoulders squared with that proud, confident bearing of hers. When he had first seen her before her performance, before he had known what a sharp tongue
and bedeviling personality she had, he had thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Remarkable to think, then, that she seemed even more so every time he saw her. He shook his head and leaned back against the edge of the desk. Should he have said he was too busy tomorrow to spend time with her? Absolutely. Was he sorry?

Not in the least.

No matter what, he was certain it would be a very eventful day.

“T
his is the part that must surely defy the laws of nature.”

May eyed the odd-looking saddle perched atop the pretty black mare. The thing looked more like a torture device than a seat. Despite her efforts to be calm, nervousness swirled like a whirlpool in her belly.

William smiled, his golden eyes bright and warm in the burgeoning morning light. “I assure you, it is perfectly safe and normal, especially with a horse as docile as Blackella.”

“Blackella?” She chuckled, knowing the children had a hand in that particular name. And for the first time, she realized that he hadn't named his own horse out of a distinct lack of imagination, but rather with brotherly indulgence toward his siblings. Though the nervousness remained stubbornly in place, the rest of her melted just a little. “Better than Orangey, I suppose.”

He shook his head, a smile gracing his lips. “Naming animals is Clarisse's very favorite pastime. Unfortunately for the animals, she tends to go with the obvious. I'm just lucky none of the horses are pink or purple. Blackella is technically her horse, or will be when she's older. We've been training her with the sidesaddle with that in mind.”

The groom finished tightening straps and checking whatever it was grooms were supposed to check. Giving a nod to the duke, he said, “She's right as rain, Yer Grace.”

William nodded and turned to May. “We've already gone over the basics, and thanks to your routine, I'm confident you will have excellent balance. Just remember to use gentle, calm movements with the reins. And
relax
.”

Right. Why wouldn't she be relaxed? She was only about to trust her life and limb to a stilt-legged beast she'd met not five minutes earlier. “This is as relaxed as I'm going to get. Now what?”

He gestured to the three-step mounting block the groom had positioned beside the horse. “Up you go.”

This was when her blasted stubbornness tended to make trouble for her. She was sincerely regretting not swallowing her pride and agreeing to the carriage ride into town. But she was here now, and far be it from her to back down from a challenge. She expected the groom to get her settled, but William extended his hand, along with a welcome smile of encouragement. Though amusement still glinted in his eyes, he wasn't being flippant or careless.

Drawing a breath, she slipped her hand into his. His fingers tightened reassuringly and she savored the warmth and strength of his grip. He was in control, and he wasn't going to allow her to fall on her face. Yet, anyway. Once they were under way, all bets were off. She knew she was gripping his fingers too hard, but damned if she could make herself loosen her hold. Squaring her shoulders, she marched up the block.

“Excellent. Now, you really just turn and sit very naturally, as though into a chair.”

Nodding, she turned, said a small prayer for safety and forgiveness for her foolish pride, and slowly lowered herself onto the saddle. The horse adjusted its weight, eliciting a gasp of alarm from May as she reflexively crushed William's hand in her own.

“You're fine, I promise. Well done, Miss Bradford.” He didn't try to pull his fingers from hers. Instead he gave her a small, lopsided grin full of repressed amusement and something very close to pride. Her heart gave a little leap. The approval in his gaze was rather nice.

Resuming his role as instructor, he straightened his features and said, “Next, hook your, ah, lower extremity over the pommel, and take a moment to arrange yourself comfortably.”

She bit back a grin. Couldn't bring himself to refer to her leg, could he? His prudishness was showing once again. “Lower extremity? Can you be more specific?”

He lifted a reproving eyebrow. “You are a clever person, Miss Bradford. I feel confident you'll figure it out.”

Flashing a smile, she did as she was told. She was only willing to tease the man so much, seeing how his hand was her only link to stability. She tested her balance, leaning slightly forward and backward. The odd contraption was actually quite comfortable. It didn't feel nearly as awkward and unbalanced as it looked.

“Good?”

Good
sounded like a relative term to her. “I'm stable, I believe. Time will tell whether or not I am appropriately positioned to avoid death.” She was only half joking. It was odd to feel the power of the animal beneath her. Every breath, every movement, every shift of its body translated directly to her.

He gave her hand a little squeeze before pulling away.
“Excellent. Let me mount up and I'll lead you about the yard a few times.”

She waited, absolutely motionless, willing Blackella not to move as he mounted Gray in one swift, confident move. It wasn't fair, he being so at home, and she feeling completely out of her element. But really, wasn't that the way things had been with them from the beginning? She would love to see him aboard her father's ship, gripping the rail for dear life as they plunged from one wave into the next during a high storm. She enjoyed the mental image, even as she knew such a thing would never happen.

With the groom holding her reins, they started out into the center of the enclosed ring, moving roughly at the speed of cold molasses. Which, unfortunately, was still too fast for her comfort. She clutched the front of the saddle for dear life, and concentrated on learning the feel of the horse's gait. The duke might have called Blackella gentle, but as far as May was concerned, the mare walked with all the smoothness of a drunken monkey.

The lesson continued for an hour or so, first with the groom, then with William guiding her, until—miracle of miracles—she was finally riding alone, clenching the reins tight enough to make her fingers ache. When she had made her fourth circuit, she eased Blackella over to where William sat waiting patiently on his horse.

“I'm ready for the races, I believe. If you'd be so kind as to point me in the direction of the nearest track?” She lifted her nose in a parody of smug satisfaction, and was rewarded with a laugh.

“I'm afraid a ride through the estate will have to suffice.” He gave a vague gesture with his gloved hand. “Silly rules about female jockeys, you know.” There was
a lightness to his voice that made her smile. This must be his true element, where he was at his most relaxed and confident. And he really did cut quite a fine figure atop his handsome gelding.

She sighed dramatically. “Oh, very well. But I do hope you can keep up.”

“I suppose we will find out. Shall we?” He waved toward the gate, which would mean leaving this controlled little pen and unleashing Blackella into the world, with May completely at the horse's mercy.

The nervousness that had abated over the past hour surged back, and she adjusted the reins in her fingers. “Yes, of course. No time like the present.”

With an approving dip of his head, he directed the groom to open the gate and led her into the yard. She stayed close to his side, trying to breathe past the pounding of her heart. Honestly, it was much more fun to make one's pulse race with a passionate kiss than with the fear of imminent demise.

Keeping the pace to a gentle walk, he headed for the open land toward the north, where the last of the summer wildflowers were dotting the hillside. The sky was bright blue between the frequent clouds, and the temperature just shy of warm. Good thing. The navy blue wool of the habit Lady Radcliffe had permitted her to borrow would have been miserable on a warmer day. At least it fit decently well, besides being a few inches too short and a bit too large in the bodice.

After a few minutes, he glanced over to her and smiled. “You're doing very well,” he said, his voice warm with approval. “Are you becoming more comfortable?”

She was still as rigid as an iron pole, but the fear had begun to abate—slightly—as they maintained their slow
speed. “I suppose. Although it may just be that after a while, one simply fatigues of terror.” She gave him a teasing wink so he'd be certain of her humor.

“And here I was hoping you'd see there was nothing to fear. With proper respect for the animal and the environment you are in, it is plenty safe. Unlike, say, roaming the city streets at night, all alone.”

She chuckled at his reminder of their very first meeting. “It's a wonder I've survived this long. I'm glad you are here to protect me this time.”

“Indeed. No harm would dare come to you with me by your side.”

He was teasing, just as she was, but for some reason, the protective tone of his pronouncement sent a shiver of delight dancing down her spine. Tossing him a mischievous grin right back, she said, “Lud, don't tell my father that. He'd likely insist I stay here forever.”

He shook his head. “Surely your worst nightmare. Heaven forbid you be stuck in the most beautiful place in the world, with the most advanced civilization ever to have lived.” His tone was slightly but unmistakably acerbic.

And there he went again. She arched an eyebrow as she sent him a sideways look. “Not that you are biased. Just out of curiosity, how many other countries have you visited in the world?” She knew the answer, but she was making a point, as she was certain he knew.

“Just one. That doesn't change the fact that this is the greatest country in the world.” He cut a pompous glance her way and added, “Just ask Bonaparte.”

She gave a long-suffering sigh and shook her head. “I pity you, really. To think you know something of a world
that you have never really experienced is little more than conceit.”

He pulled up on the reins, and she followed suit, careful not to move too quickly. When they were stopped, he swept out his arm, encompassing the vibrantly verdant, gently rolling lands around them. “Tell me this isn't the most beautiful view you have ever beheld.”

May raised her eyebrows and glanced toward the duke. “This isn't the most beautiful view I have ever beheld.”

He rolled his eyes. “Must you always be so contrary? Now you are simply trying to make a point.”

“Who says I am being contrary? You asked me a question, and I answered it honestly.” She paused before adding, “Unless that was one of those coded English questions that was supposed to be answered with polite agreement, no matter the truth?”

Crossing his hands over the reins at his thigh, he said, “First of all, there is nothing wrong with being polite. Second of all, where, exactly, have you been that was more breathtaking than this?”

There was genuine affront hidden in his defensiveness. Guilt plucked at her conscience. He'd been nothing but kind and patient today. She didn't want him to think she was disparaging something so obviously dear to his heart. “Allow me to clarify. This is a very lovely view. You must feel very proud to call it home.”

The leather of his saddle creaked as he turned to face her more fully. “I think I prefer when you are brutally honest over patronizing,” he said, his tone dry and rueful. “Please, enlighten me as to all the wonders I am missing in this world. What do you find more beautiful than the view before you?”

She knew he was a little exasperated with her, but she
wanted him to know that she hadn't just been trying to be contrary. There was so much beauty around the world, and most people never experienced anything more than what was right outside their door.

Leaning forward as far as she dared, she said, “Off the very tip of India at sunset, when the sun merges with the horizon at the place where three oceans meet and sends shimmering pink light over both land and sea. The waterfalls in Sumatra, where the water is as clear as glass, and the spray stripes the rocks and big leafy foliage with rainbows. The Hai'an mountains of China. The turquoise beaches of Java, which in truth, is probably my absolute favorite. You've never seen a color quite so vivid and pure.”

She sighed, remembering the last time she was there, her feet buried in the sand as she sat beside her mother, watching the low waves lap at the beach. She had been around sixteen, before Mama had fallen ill. Before May's whole life was uprooted and torn to pieces. Sometimes she felt that if she could just get back to the life she'd always known, to the places that were home and the people who had been her friends, she would feel normal again. The way she had felt on that beach.

*   *   *

William hadn't expected such genuine passion from her. She always seemed to turn her nose up at the ordinary simply to be contrary, or to prove how different she was from the norm. But clearly, that wasn't the case now. Her eyes reflected eagerness and sincerity, her voice nostalgia. Whatever she was thinking of at that moment, she seemed so wistful and full of longing, it almost made him ache on her behalf.

“The beach was your favorite?” he asked quietly.

She blinked and looked back at him, then nodded.
“The beaches in the tropics are nothing like the beaches here—at least not the ones I've seen. The sand is as fine as sugar, the air as hot and humid as a baker's kitchen.”

“That sounds . . . pleasant,” he said, unable to keep the dubiousness from his voice. How did being somewhere baking in the sweltering tropical sun appeal to a person? Who wanted fine sand that got into one's clothing and seemed to line one's shoes for months?

She laughed and shook her head. “What were you just saying about honesty?”

“Very well, it sounds dreadful. Though picturesque, I suppose, which was the question.”

Her shoulders rose in a Gallic little shrug. “It's hard to describe how wonderful it is when the breeze blows in from the ocean and caresses one's sun-warmed skin. Or how amazing it is the first time you see water so blue it hurts your eyes. It is hard to imagine God could conceive of such a color, let alone create it.”

Looking at her eyes, it wasn't so hard for William to imagine. She possessed the most striking blue gaze, particularly when she was angry or excited. Her eyes positively sparkled now as she spoke of this place she loved.