The Training of a Marquess (14 page)

When she worked with a damaged horse, her strategy was to stand in the middle of the ring and while staring into his eyes, she would speak softly, telling him what she was doing and why.

Invariably, the horse would stay as far away as possible, rightfully suspicious of her. He had no way of knowing she was different from the previous humans of his experience. The trick was to engage his curiosity, and when his attention focused on her, she’d retreat.

Advance and Retreat—repeat. Each time he tentatively approached her, she would retreat. It resulted in a confused horse, but his determination to learn what she was about grew.

He anticipated being hurt and she wasn’t living up to his expectations. The moment his ears stopped flicking in all directions and focused on her, she had him. He was saying,
I don’t know what you are doing, but you have me curious to know what it means to me.

She would still her rope, square up and face him, maintaining eye contact. When he started showing signs of wanting to join with her, a lowering of his head and a chewing motion with his mouth, she would repeat the process of Advance and Retreat. She kept at it until she was sure he was being honest when he told her he wanted to join her herd.

She then broke eye contact, turned her back and waited for the magic to happen. He would slowly approach and nudge her shoulder. The moment his whiskers touched her neck never failed to affect her profoundly.

The whole process was to achieve one thing. Horses were herd animals. In the wild and without a herd, they were vulnerable to predators. The need to belong to a herd was a survival instinct ingrained in them. The poor, damaged horse had no family and she would offer the gift of what he needed most. Some took longer than others depending on how deep their hurt, but in the end she had never had one reject her offer.

Claire had spent endless hours observing horses and the way they interacted with each other. Then came the magical day she witnessed a mare discipline a frisky filly and realized the horses had a language they used with each other.

She was stunned. Everything she thought she knew, she threw out the window and began again with an empty mind. She watched them, practiced what she learned—make some mistakes and corrected them—until she believed she could honestly say she understood their language and what was on their mind at any given moment.

The question played through her mind. How could she use the knowledge on Chase? He wasn’t a horse she could drive around the training ring until he wanted to join her herd. Giggling, she closed her eyes and imagined him in the ring running ahead of her flickering rope, going through the steps until he was nuzzling her neck. She shivered and opened her eyes.

After spending the day with him, seeing how loving he was with the twins, hearing his easy laughter and touching his bare feet, she wanted him more than ever. But did he yearn for a family? Oh, he had the boys, but they couldn’t give him what he really needed. She could if only he would see it.

So, how to go about it? She reviewed the next stage of Advance and Retreat, considering the different ways she could adapt it to work on The Training of a Marquess.

****

Chase entered the drawing room to find Claire waiting for him. She handed him a brandy, her fingers brushing against his. Awareness prickled where she touched.

“Are Harry and Bensey joining us for dinner?” she asked.

“They couldn’t keep their eyes open long enough to eat dinner and are snugly tucked into their beds.”

She smiled. “A day at the sea does tend to do that. As for myself, I almost fell asleep in my bath.”

His brain instantly supplied him with a picture of Claire, her skin wet and glistening, her pale hair hanging over the tub inviting him to comb his fingers through it.

Now, her hair was swept up in a casual way, allowing tendrils to coil around her neck. Without thinking, he reached up to touch one, but she turned and walked to the sofa, leaving his hand suspended in midair. He stared at it for a second wondering what had just happened. Dropping his hand back to his side, he joined her, leaving an appropriate space between them.

He had done much thinking on the ride home and later while bathing and dressing. The realization this afternoon that he had been holding onto the past—making him no different than Teresa—had shaken him. He had sworn not to remarry, not to risk his heart again to that kind of pain.

But one question plagued him. Did he want to live his life alone? He had Harry and Bensey, but they wouldn’t stay boys forever. Then what? Would his solitary-self sit alone in his mansion in Mayfair waiting for their weekly visit? The idea of it didn’t settle well.

Dare he offer his heart again? And if so, would it be to this woman? She fascinated him and, without doubt, stirred his blood. She liked his sons and he believed she could grow to love them.

If not her, then who? There wasn’t another noble lady he could think of who would accept two street urchins even though they were clean now…usually. That would be one of his primary conditions. No, it would be his foremost condition. Love me, love my sons.

Chase took a sip of brandy, peering at her over the rim. She arched a brow, and he returned her raised brow with one of his own. She grinned. Yes, indeed, she stirred his blood.

“Did you enjoy today, Claire?”

“I did. I don’t think I’ve ever had as much fun before. What of you, my lord, Chase?”

From what he knew of her, she hadn’t had many fun days in her life. “I can honestly say the same and stop lording me.”

The minx playfully tapped his hand. “As you wish.”

She sipped her wine, and when she licked her lips he almost groaned. The tendril of hair curling around her ear still tempted him. His mind focused on one thing—wrapping a silky strand around his finger while he kissed her. She’d welcomed his kisses before, even asked him to do so, and he thought she wouldn’t be adverse to another.

He put his arm along the back of the sofa and danced his fingertips over the soft skin of her neck. She shivered under his touch. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned toward her intending to kiss her. She stood, leaving him hanging over empty air.

What the devil?

The confusing woman set down her wine glass and held out her hand. “Come, I believe dinner is ready.”

Chase stood and offered his arm. She lightly rested her hand over the sleeve of his coat, peeked up at him and smiled.

A man could forget his name when she smiled like that. He was tempted to try and kiss her again just to see what she would do. More than curious about her behavior, he escorted her to dinner, inhaling the fresh scent of violets as he walked beside her.

All through their meal, it seemed she found reasons to touch him. A light touch to his hand, his arm as she talked, and once she smoothed back a strand of hair that had fallen over his forehead. The woman intrigued the hell out of him.

What was she up to?

She asked him about the Duchess of Aubrey and her Shire horses. He’d noticed before how well she listened. Later, he tried to remember how it came about, but he found himself telling her about his father, a surprise as Chase rarely talked of his father to anyone.

No opinions, sympathy or platitudes were offered, she just listened. He liked that about her, but he was puzzled. If he touched her, she subtly removed her hand or arm. The more she removed herself from his touch, the more he wanted to touch her. Damned strange, that.

Then came dessert. Cook served a berry pudding. After tonight, he would never look at pudding again without thinking of Claire. Who knew a woman could seduce a man with nothing but a spoon and dessert? When she closed her eyes in ecstasy, licked the spoon with her pink tongue and moaned, his blood sizzled. By the saints, he almost took her then and there on the table amidst the china. Did she have any idea her affect on him?

She finished her dessert and eyed his—which he hadn’t touched. Had, in fact, forgotten about.

“Are you going to eat yours?”

He shoved it in front of her. “No, I want you to have it.” Was there such a thing as pleasurable torture?

With the last drop licked from her spoon, she sighed. “That was delicious.”

She was delicious, and he ached with the need she stirred in him. If they were married, he would order his cook to serve pudding every night. Odd that the thought of marriage to her didn’t send him running for the hills. When she licked her lips, he pushed away from the table and stood.

“Would you like to join me for a glass of wine in the courtyard?”

She tilted her head and smiled. “Thank you for the offer, but we had a long day. I think I’ll go find my bed.”

The devil, but he’d be more than happy to help her find her bed. Disappointed and confused, he escorted her to the stairs. “Good night, Claire,” he said and attempted to steal a kiss. She danced up the steps and once again, he was left leaning into empty air.

“Good night, Chase. Sweet dreams.”

Sweet dreams, indeed. He went to bed frustrated, confused and wanting.

****

Claire rang for Maggie, and as her maid helped her undress, she recalled the expression on Chase’s face when she left him. The question had been in his eyes.
What are you about? You have me curious.
It had to mean her plan was working.

“What has you smiling so, my lady?”

“I had such a wonderful day, Maggie.”

“Are you sure that’s what has you smiling like a cat what found the cream? I thought it might be because of a certain lord.”

“Oh, he is beautiful, isn’t he?”

“That he is, my lady.”

Maggie wouldn’t carry tales below stairs. Her maid had been her only friend from the time she arrived at the abbey and had never betrayed a confidence. Maggie handed Claire her nightdress and wished her mistress a good night. Claire climbed into bed and blew out the candle. Hugging a pillow, she reviewed every detail of the evening.

Chase had tried to kiss her twice, and when she ate her pudding, it had taken all her control not to swoon at the heat in his eyes. His gaze never left her mouth and when she moaned, he’d tugged at his cravat. There was a moment when she thought he might throw her on the table and have his way with her. The mere idea excited her.

How long should she continue this stage before moving to the next? He had told her tonight he’d received a message from his mother that she would arrive on Friday. That left only two more days before her chaperone arrived. Claire fell asleep wondering how having his mother in residence would alter her plans.

****

When Claire arrived in the breakfast room, not only was Harry awaiting her but Chase as well. They bowed and greeted her.

Her silly heart fluttered at the sight of the marquess. “Do I have two pupils today?”

“Harry is your pupil. I only wish to observe, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” She walked past him, brushing her fingers over his hand. “Come and fix a plate. Eat well, Harry, it will be a long time before lunch.”

Chase prowled alongside her, piling food on his plate. She glanced at Harry’s plate to see his appetite matched his father’s. Harry peppered her with questions all through breakfast, wanting to know everything they would be doing this morning.

Although Chase remained quiet, his attention stayed focused on her. Except to ask him an occasional question, she ignored him. Once, he rested his hand on the table and she pressed her fingers over his when she made a comment to him. He stared hard at her hand on his, then his eyes flicked up to meet hers, bewilderment shimmering in their depths.

In the same way it happened with her horses, she knew exactly what he was thinking.
I don’t yet know what you’re doing, but you have me curious to know how it is going to play out.

Perhaps men were as simple to understand as horses.

Stifling a smile, Claire stood. “Come along, Harry, it’s time to go to work.” She walked out of the room with Harry, leaving Chase to follow.

****

Chase leaned on the fence. Claire had one of her yearlings in the ring and in less than an hour had a saddle on the colt’s back. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. Before she brought the colt out, she had carefully explained to Harry what she was going to do and why. She’d then boldly stated she would have the youngster saddled and ridden within an hour. He and Harry had shared a look of disbelief.

“Then you’ve been training him before today?” Chase asked.

“No, this will be his first time in the ring.”

He almost snorted in skepticism. But from the time she brought the colt in, Chase had been riveted in place—almost forgetting to appreciate the sight of her in black leather breeches. Not quite, however, as Claire now lay over the saddle on the colt’s back, her marvelous bottom high in the air. He was becoming rather fond of her breeches. She looked spectacular.

As she slowly rose, she swung a leg over the saddle and then trotted the colt around the ring. Chase checked the time on his pocket watch. Fifty minutes.

“Bloody amazing,” he muttered.

Harry came to the fence, his eyes shining with excitement. “Did you see, Father?”

“I did and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it.”

“I know, and it was the best thing ever. Lady Claire is going to teach me how to do it. Isn’t she splendid?”

“She most certainly is.”

He smiled at his besotted son. It was a safe bet the twins wouldn’t think much of his plan to find her a husband. He was no longer sure himself.

Claire stopped the colt in front of Harry. He reached up and scratched the horse under his chin. “What is his name, Lady Claire?”

“I don’t know. He has yet to tell me.”

Harry’s eyes went wide. “He’s going to tell you his name?”

She grinned. “They always do.”

Harry stared at the colt as if waiting for him to speak.

Chase chuckled. “I think she means that if you observe him long enough, his name will come to you.”

Claire winked at him, the first woman in his one and thirty years to do so. She dismounted and placed her hand on Harry’s shoulder.