To Wed a Wild Lord (19 page)

“He and Poppy were friends. Before he died, he taught my grandfather some of what he knew. The rest, Poppy has developed on his own.”

Gabe watched in amazement as a horse he would have given up for impossible grew calm enough to allow a saddle to be put on his back.

“Sometimes when people have horses they despair of,” she went on, “they bring them to Poppy. He does what he can to make them useful. He’s been working with the gelding for weeks. That fool groom didn’t listen when my grandfather told him how to handle the horse, so Poppy had to step in.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, that probably means that Poppy will dismiss the groom. And we can ill afford to lose another.”

In that moment, Gabe realized how to get close to Virginia so she could see his good side.

Waverly handed the stallion’s halter to a laborer so the horse could be led off, then turned to lecture the erring groom. The young man argued with the general before stalking off to the stables. When he came out a few minutes later with his gear, Gabe stifled a smile. Now was his chance.

General Waverly watched the man until he’d left the property, then came toward his granddaughter. He halted when he spotted Gabe, and his already black scowl deepened as he strode toward them. “Rather early to pay a morning call, isn’t it, Sharpe?”

“The two of you seem to be up and about.”

“This is a working stud farm.” With an obvious stiffness in his arm, Waverly opened the gate to the paddock. “We don’t have time to loll about in bed half the morning like you London sorts. We’ve got more work than we can handle.”

“I see that. And if you’ll let me, I’m happy to help.”

The general eyed him warily. “What do you mean?”

“Since it appears that you’ve just lost a groom, I’m offering to lend you a hand around here.”

Waverly stared at him, then glanced to his granddaughter. “Was this
your
idea?”

“No.” She looked at Gabe, her expression hard to read. “But it’s a good one.”

The general snorted, then surveyed Gabe. “You’ll ruin those fancy clothes.”

“I don’t care.”

“I suppose you don’t. You’ve got enough money coming to you to buy you a fancy black shirt every day of the week.”

Gabe ignored the bait. “I realize you don’t like me, but my offer is sincere. Why not take it? You can work me to death, then kick me off the property when you’re done with me. It’s one way of punishing me for what I did to Roger.”

Waverly flinched, then glanced away. “I don’t want to punish you. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Then I’ll just court your granddaughter. I’ll come every day and sit in your parlor like any other suitor, and take her for rides in the country and—”

“The devil you will! She’s not going riding with you.”

“Poppy,” Virginia began, “I
did
agree to—”

“That bloody wager,” he grumbled. “Young women shouldn’t make wagers with gentlemen.”

“But if they do, they should honor them, don’t you think?” Gabe pressed. “I’ll consider this a part of the courtship if you let me help you.”

“We could use the help,” Virginia pointed out. “We’ve lost two grooms in a month, and if Lord Danville does bring his mare to be covered—”

“All right, damn it.” The general fixed Gabe with a cold gaze. “But don’t think you’re going to spend your time riding and showing off for her. There are horses to be fed and groomed—”

“I know how to feed and groom a horse. I’ve done it many a time.”

“And have you mucked out a stables? I need a good deal of that.” The general arched an eyebrow in clear challenge.

“I can do that, too.”

The general cast him a skeptical glance. “I’d like to see a fancy lord like you muck out a stable. You won’t last a day.”

“Try me.” He’d never mucked out a stable; the grooms had never allowed it. But he knew how it was done, and he was no stranger to other sorts of stable work.

Waverly crossed his arms over his chest. “I tell you what, Sharpe. You come here every day at this same hour, stay until dusk, and do whatever I ask, and at the end of a week I’ll let you take my granddaughter for a drive. With me. After that, we’ll see.”

Gabe nodded. It was more than he’d hoped for.

As the general stalked off, Virginia asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t.” He suddenly remembered the flowers, and turned to get them from where he’d tucked them into his open saddlebag. He scowled. They looked wilted and beaten up after the hour’s ride.

“Are those for me?” she asked.

He jerked around. “Well . . . um . . . they were supposed to be, but . . .”

“I love lavender,” she said with a hesitant smile as she reached around him to take them out of the saddlebag. “How did you know?”

She buried her face in the tiny blossoms, and his throat went dry. She looked so fetching, even in her workaday gown and apron.

“Where’s your cousin this morning?” he asked, to keep from imagining stripping that gown from her and laying her down upon the fragrant lavender.

Her laugh made something tighten in his chest. “Are you mad? Pierce never rises until well after noon.” She cast him a sly glance above the flowers. “I’m surprised
you’re
here so early.”

“I always rise early. Can’t sleep late.”

“Really? Why?”

A bellow sounded from the fence. “Are you coming, Sharpe, or not?”

He gave her a bow and headed toward her grandfather. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he would bear it for as long as it took. He was a Sharpe—and no curmudgeon of a cavalry officer was going to keep him from getting what he wanted.

Chapter Eleven

F
ive days later, Virginia stood at the breakfast room window watching the drive. She’d hurried to eat her breakfast so she’d be ready. It was nearly eight.

Every day she’d expected not to see Gabriel again, and every day he’d appeared with the regularity of a paid laborer. And whenever he appeared, he chipped away at her defenses.

Why? They spent little time alone together—her grandfather and cousin made sure of that. She mostly saw him when she brought out sandwiches midday, as she’d always done. And if they did have a moment to themselves, he didn’t attempt to kiss her. Not that she wanted him to. Just because she happened to think about his kisses occasionally, and wonder if they’d really been as amazing as she remembered, didn’t mean a thing.

She found it interesting to listen while he and Poppy ate and talked of horse training, but that wasn’t because she was falling under his spell. No, indeed. She merely got tired of working in the house sometimes.

That’s why she went out to watch as they dealt with a mare in heat or exercised a Thoroughbred. It wasn’t out of annoyance that Gabriel seemed more interested in the horses than in her. Although he
was
supposed to be courting her. Not that she wanted him to. But when people said they were at a place to do a certain thing, they ought to do it, that’s all.

She caught sight of Gabriel at the end of the drive, and her breath stuck in her throat. Sweet Lord, he looked fine. He sat a horse better than any man she knew: riding seemed as natural as breathing to him. He and the horse moved as one fluid beast, sinew and muscle flexing together, making her mouth go dry.

“He’s here again, is he?” said a smooth voice behind her.

She jumped, then pressed a hand to her heart. “Pierce! Don’t sneak up on me like that. What are you doing up so early, anyway? Poppy hasn’t even come down yet.”

Pierce strode up to her at the sideboard. “I told you yesterday that I was heading home this morning and planned to get an early start.”

“I didn’t believe you. You don’t rise early for anything.”

“I do generally make a point of enjoying my nights in some other way than sleeping,” he said with a wink. “But sadly, my estate manager doesn’t do the same, so if I don’t get there before he retires for the evening, I’m not going to find out what was so all-fired important that he couldn’t wait another week for me to return.”

Pierce’s steward had been sending increasingly urgent messages. She knew he’d been ignoring them for her sake, because of Gabriel’s presence, but couldn’t do so any longer.

He filled a plate with toast and cheese and sat down. “So, I take it that Sharpe showed up again this morning.”

She couldn’t hide her blush. “I have no idea,” she said blithely.

He eyed her askance. “No, you were standing there precisely at eight to watch the hay men come in.”

With a sniff, she left the window. “I merely enjoy looking at the sunflowers in bloom.”

“I suppose that’s also why you resemble a flower in bloom yourself these days,” he said with a smug smile.

“She’s wearing her best gowns for you, that’s what it is,” Poppy said cheerily as he entered the room.

“Yes
,
” Pierce drawled, a devilish look in his eyes. “All for
me
. Isn’t that sweet?”

Glowering at him, she tugged self-consciously at the lace fichu-pelerine she usually left off, then went to the sideboard to wrap a slice of bread about two sausages for Poppy. Otherwise he wouldn’t eat breakfast at all. “I happen to like this gown, that’s all.”

She
did
like her pelisse-robe, mostly because the cut flattered her figure, and it had fancy little Spanish bows that made her feel pretty. Wearing it—or yesterday’s striped gown with the handsome sleeves—had nothing to do with anyone. It certainly wasn’t because of the heated glances of admiration Gabriel gave her whenever Poppy’s back was turned. No, indeed.

“Well, you can tell she’s happy to have you here,” Poppy said, utterly unaware of Pierce’s sly hints. “She’s been spreading lavender all through the house to make it smell nice for you.”

Pierce’s laugh turned into a cough when she scowled at him. Virginia walked over to pour Pierce some tea. “I
like
lavender. It’s got nothing to do with Pierce or anyone else.”

Poppy winked at his great-nephew. “So you say. Meanwhile, we’re about to choke to death on the smell.”

Her cousin shot her a look of pure mischief. “Actually, Uncle Isaac, I believe she’s getting the lavender from—”

“The garden,” she said quickly. She held his teacup directly over his lap and began to pour hot tea into it. “Isn’t that right, cousin?”

His eyes went wide. One slip of her hand and his nights were going to be decidedly less enjoyable. “Absolutely.”

“Well, see that you don’t clear out the garden entirely.” Poppy wolfed down the remainder of his breakfast. “I know you use it for possets and such. You’ll run out of it before winter at this rate.”

“Yes, cuz, do be careful,” Pierce said, eyes twinkling.

She glared at him as she set down the tea and poured a glass of milk.

“Got to go,” Poppy said. Pausing only long enough to grab the glass she handed him and gulp down its contents, Poppy headed for the door. “Today I’m putting Ghost Rider through his paces, to see if I can get him up to snuff for the St. Leger Stakes. I’ve got to do it while Sharpe is out of the way.”

“Out of the way?” Pierce asked.

Her grandfather grinned. “I’m having him muck out the stables again.”

“Poppy!” she protested. “Wasn’t it enough that you made him do it his first day? I’m sure he ruined his clothes.”

That reminded her . . . She hurried to fetch Poppy’s surtout, since their footman was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s not my fault he wasn’t dressed properly. And if he takes his bloody clothes off to work in the stables now, it’s not my fault if he catches a cold.”

She helped Poppy into his surtout. “A cold? It’s summer, for heaven’s sake. So you can’t blame him for taking his coat off.”

“That’s no reason for him to go bare-chested. He’ll catch his death if he goes about like that. It’s not healthy, I tell you.” Poppy headed for the door.

Gabriel went
bare-chested
in the stables? Surely Poppy didn’t mean that he went without even a shirt.

“Might want to close your mouth, cousin,” Pierce said dryly, “before you catch flies.”

She whirled on him. “I wish you’d stop letting Poppy think you really mean to marry me.”

“I
do
mean to marry you.” Pierce grinned. “Assuming you don’t run off with a bare-chested Sharpe first, adorned by all the lavender he keeps bringing you.”

“How did you know about the lavender?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I saw him give it to Molly for you one morning. He’s been doing it every day, hasn’t he?”

She couldn’t prevent a small smile. “Yes.” Her smile faded. “But Poppy doesn’t know, and don’t you tell him.”

“I’m shocked he hasn’t figured it out himself. Flowers are exactly the sort of boring gift a man like Sharpe would consider romantic.”

“They’re not boring at all!” She cursed herself for her quick tongue. But she couldn’t help it; no one had ever brought her flowers before. She found it terribly sweet.

Pierce eyed her closely as he poured himself more tea. “Of course, volunteering to help around here was rather original. To be honest, I didn’t expect him to last this long.”

“Neither did I,” she admitted. “Not that I care.”

“If you don’t care, then what are these doing here?” He flicked his hand toward a plate of lemon tarts on the sideboard. “I heard Sharpe tell Cook that first day that he loved lemon tarts. And ever since, they’ve been appearing on the sideboard for when he and Uncle Isaac come in for tea.”

She lifted her chin. “I’m sure Cook is just trying to make him feel at home.”

“Cook doesn’t even make lemon tarts for
me,
my dear, and I’m her favorite. Besides, you’re the one who tells her what to cook.” He drained his teacup, then set it down. “Be careful, cuz,” he said softly. “Sharpe isn’t some stray dog you can lure into loving you with lemon tarts. Be sure that he’s what you want, just as he is, before you tip your hand.”

“I’m not trying to lure him into anything. I didn’t ask him to work on the stud farm—he chose to do that himself.”

For me. To court me.
Oh, how she wished that didn’t thrill her every time she thought of it.