The Training of a Marquess (9 page)

He picked up his brandy glass and stood. “I’ll answer your question, but it’s a long story and this room is getting warm. I could use some fresh air. Bring your wine and come with me to the courtyard, and I will tell you how Harry and Bensey came into my life.”

They settled on a bench near the bubbling fountain, and Chase angled his body to face her. Clouds obscured the moonlight putting them in the shadows, which meant she couldn’t see him clearly. Raw pain still showed in his eyes when he spoke of Teresa and he didn’t want Claire’s pity. He took a deep drink of his brandy and shifted his gaze to the fountain.

“The night my wife and child died, I walked out of my house and wandered the streets of London. I remember being in several taverns and trying to drown my sorrow in cheap drink. Somehow I ended up on a bench in Hyde Park. I was having a nice snooze when I felt something moving around in my pocket. Turned out to be Harry’s grimy little hand trying to steal my watch. Without quite knowing how it happened, I now find myself the father of twins.”

At her soft chuckle, he sighed in relief. If he’d told this story to any of his female acquaintances in London, they would have been horrified he’d brought two boys from the streets into his home. “I’m in the process of trying to legally have their last names recorded as Warren, though it is going to be a difficult thing to accomplish.”

She touched his arm. “They’re fortunate to have you.”

“The twins were a grubby pair of street urchins who happened to give me a reason to get up in the mornings. I may not have sired them, but they are my sons and devil take anyone who says otherwise.”

Claire fell in love.

For as long as she lived, she would remember the moment it happened. No one in her life had cherished her or protected her the way this man did his sons. His love for them was fierce and lasting, and she selfishly wanted it for herself.

The sorrow and pain in his voice said he still loved his wife. There would be no room for her in his heart. All in the same day, she’d fallen in love and had her heart broken. Blinking back her tears, she vowed he’d never know.

Forcing lightness into her voice, she said, “Thank you for telling me. I don’t think it was easy for you.”

He tilted his head toward her. “It wasn’t.”

“You told Mrs. Fisherman your mother would be arriving soon to act as my chaperone. Does she accept Harry and Bensey as your sons?”

“She does. In the beginning, she had her reservations but it took them about five minutes to win her over.”

“When will she be here?” Claire was uneasy about Lady Kensington’s arrival. What if his mother didn’t like her and convinced her son that Claire shouldn’t be allowed to stay at Hillcrest? She needed to get the business of the horses settled before Lady Kensington arrived.

“I sent her a letter today. I’d guess that she should arrive in four or five days.”

Claire drank the last of her wine and set the glass down beside her on the bench. Tomorrow, she would approach him about the horses. If he didn’t immediately agree, she would have three more days to argue her cause before his mother arrived.

“Claire, about your future—”

No, she didn’t want to discuss this tonight—wasn’t prepared for it with her emotions so volatile. Falling in love while knowing it’d never be returned was enough turmoil for one day. Before she thought better of it, she kissed him to keep him from talking. He stilled under her assault. Sweet heavens, what was she about? Embarrassed heat burned her cheeks. She tried to pull away, but his arm snaked around her back.

“Claire,” he whispered.

When his tongue slid over her lips, she moaned and opened her mouth for him. She hadn’t imagined kissing to be other than a pressing of the lips, but from the moment he had shown her otherwise, she’d wanted to do it again. He explored her mouth and her tongue curled around his.

She wanted to tear her gown off, wanted to feel the searing heat of his palm on her skin. His hand trailed upwards to find the curve of her breast, and his thumb flicked lightly over her nipple. Heat pooled in her belly and even lower.

“Please,” she begged.
Please show me how it feels to be a woman loved by a man like you. Remove my gown and touch me in secret places—show me what this burning inside of me means.

Instead, he pulled away. “We have to stop. You’ve never known passion and it would be far too easy for me to take advantage of you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if we allow this desire to take control.”

She wanted to cry, to rant and rave. He had already broken her heart, so why couldn’t she have this one time with him? “I won’t let you hurt me,” she lied.

“Go to bed, Claire.”

Was she a child to be sent to bed each time she misbehaved? Biting down on her bottom lip to stop an angry retort, she left.

“Claire.”

She didn’t look back. “I know, lock my door.” But she wouldn’t, just in case.

Chase took a deep breath. When she had abruptly kissed him, his pledge not to allow it fled. Bloody hell. No woman had ever caused him to lose his senses as this one did. Somehow, he had to put a stop to this growing attraction between them before she thought herself in love with him. No longer capable of the emotion himself, he would end up hurting her.

He removed his coat, waistcoat and cravat. His body was on fire—just might burn to ashes where he stood. He headed for the stables and made his way to his horse’s stall.

“Mischief, let’s go swimming.”

Mischief poked his head out, alert and interested. Chase opened the door and slipped a bridle over Mischief’s head. He removed his shoes, socks and shirt, leaving them inside the stall. Fortunately, the grooms were all abed and no one was around to comment on his lack of dress. At the mounting block, he threw a leg over Mischief’s bare back.

Reaching the lake—his body still throbbing with need and his lips still burning from Claire’s kiss—he rode the horse into the cold water. Chase let go of the reins, held onto the long, coarse mane and let his horse go where he wished. He pushed all thoughts of Claire out of his head and settled so that he was floating over Mischief’s back.

With more effort than it had taken before tonight, he brought Teresa to mind. He had loved his wife—still did—with his whole being, but her heart had belonged to another. Never again would he open himself up to that kind of hurt.

Claire was experiencing her first taste of passion. If he wasn’t careful, she would begin to think she loved him. He was, after all, the first man in her life to give her a taste of what might be possible.

From what he had learned, no man in her life had truly cared for her. Not her father, for certain. Chase doubted she realized how telling her words had been. Chase knew that kind of man, one so insecure that when his daughter beat him at a game of chess he demeaned her intelligence.

And her husband? What a fool he had been. How could a man have a wife like Claire and not count his blessings every moment of every day? It would be amazing if she didn’t develop a tendre for the first man to come along and treat her with kindness and respect. Unfortunately, that seemed to be him.

How could she know her heart without the experience of other men paying court to her? She couldn’t. It was that simple. And he would not, could not, give his heart again only to have it handed back to him when she fell in love with someone else. He had Harry and Bensey, and the Pink Slipper filled his needs when necessary. What else did he need?

Feeling settled again and shivering from the cold water, he grabbed Mischief’s reins. Once back in the stable, he donned his shirt and then rubbed the horse dry.

“Thank you, my friend. A cold dunking seems to have done the trick.”

Chase patted Mischief’s rump and closed the stall door behind him. Slipping back into the house, he retrieved the remainder of his clothes before returning to his room. He dropped his clothing in a wet pile on the floor and climbed into bed, falling instantly into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Chase awoke at dawn feeling rested and eager to start the day. Deciding not to awake Anders at this early hour, he dressed informally. Breakfast wouldn’t be served until eight, so what could he do with himself until then? He considered going to his study and resuming his perusal of the ledgers, but that didn’t appeal. An early morning ride did appeal to him.

Pleased with his plan, he whistled as he jogged down the stairs. Approaching the stables, he noticed a young lad in the training ring atop a magnificent chestnut colored horse. Curious, he changed direction and walked up to the fence. The lad had the horse turned away from him and Chase blinked. The lad was a lassie with a long, moonlight pale braid running down her back.

“I’ll be damned,” he muttered. She expertly put the horse through its paces and the truth sank in. He understood now why Gordon came to her with his questions and why she disappeared for hours into the stables’ office. The lady was the brains behind Hillcrest Stables.

Stepping back, Chase slipped behind a nearby tree when she turned the horse in his direction. She wore leather breeches, knee high leather boots, a white shirt and leather vest. In her leather clothing and sitting astride the big chestnut, she was the most sensual thing he had ever seen.

She stopped the horse, laid the reins over his neck and rested her hands in her lap. “Let’s see how much you remember from yesterday, Thunder,” she said.

Without any signal he could discern, the horse took four steps back and stopped. He then turned in a tight circle to the left, stopped and made a full circle to the right.

“Very good,” she praised.

She had to be using her legs to cue the horse, but her signals were too subtle to see. She was magnificent, and she stole his breath away.

When Claire turned the horse away from him, Chase walked up to the fence and leaned his arms over the top. With her hands still in her lap, she had the horse doing a high stepping dance. He was seeing something special—a work of art between the woman and her mount. He wished Bensey were here with his canvas and paints.

They reached the far fence and then turned back in his direction. So intent on her horse, she was halfway across the ring before she saw him.

“I am in awe,” he said when she noticed him.

Claire’s knees jerked and Thunder stopped in confusion. Hastily picking up the reins, she stared at the man who had tormented her sleep. Not expecting him to adapt to country hours, since his arrival she had been coming out at dawn to work her horses.

“What are you doing here?” she stupidly said.

He hoisted up onto the fence and balanced himself on the top. “I was on my way to the stables to saddle Mischief for a ride when I saw you and Thunder.” He grinned, showing his dimple. Her heart skipped a beat.

“I couldn’t resist watching you. I am utterly speechless, Claire. Why didn’t you tell me you are the one who made Hillcrest Stables what it is? Everyone thinks it was your husband, but it isn’t, is it?”

With a press of her knee, she gave Thunder a signal to move forward, stopping a few feet from the man who held her future in his hands. Her heart pounded in dread over how this conversation might go.

“No, it isn’t. Everyone thought it was Thomas because he took the credit. I didn’t care as long as he didn’t interfere.”

“It surprises me he let you to manage the stables. From all I have heard, he didn’t seem like one who would allow his wife to do so.”

How much should she tell him? “In the beginning, when he found out I was spending my days in the stables, he forbade it.” She shrugged. “I ignored him.”

Nervous, she chewed on her bottom lip. Why were his eyes focused on her mouth?

“I don’t imagine he appreciated that.”

Claire glanced away and remembered that day. “It was the only time he hit me,” she admitted.

“The bastard.”

Absurdly pleased with his anger on her behalf, she smiled. “Yes, on that day he was. But not always. He was kind to me, but I only saw him at dinner and when—” She stopped, horrified by what she had almost said.

“When he came to your bed,” Chase finished for her, his voice achingly gentle. “And always in the dark.”

“How do you know?” she whispered.

“You have told me in so many different ways.”

“I don’t understand.” How did he know such intimate things about her and Thomas?

“I know you don’t, Claire. But it’s no longer of any consequence. He is gone and you are here. Tell me, have you always had this ability with horses?”

She stroked Thunder’s neck. “No, I had very little experience with them before I came here. I had a docile little mare at home, but Papa would only allow me to ride on our grounds, never to the village. When Thomas married me and brought me here, I was alone all day. Out of boredom, I found my way to the stables and never left.”

“I see. And the leather breeches? What did Derebourne say about them?”

“He didn’t pay enough attention to me to know. But for what I do, a riding habit isn’t feasible.”

“The Duchess of Aubrey will want a pair if she ever sees you wearing them.”

Claire was intrigued. “Does she ride astride?”

“Not in London, but always when she is at their estate.”

“I think I would like to meet her.”

“Heaven help Aubrey if his duchess and you ever get together. Something just occurred to me, Claire.”

She grew uneasy under his scrutiny. “What would that be?”

“You don’t want to give up the horses, do you?”

He saw too much. He read her so easily, yet she never knew what he was thinking. It didn’t seem fair and irritated her. “This isn’t a conversation I want to have now.”

“When do you want to discuss it, if not now? Do you wish to make an appointment? Tell me when and I’ll make myself available.”

Feeling at odds with him, with her life and events she couldn’t control, anger bubbled inside her. She needed to be calm and rational when she made her proposal, not angry—needed time to organize her thoughts and plan her approach.

“Yes, Chase, I would like an appointment. Would today at two be convenient for you?”

She couldn’t fathom why he grinned.