Catherine Coulter: Lyons Gate

When Jason didn’t respond to this face-smacking, she went on, “I understand you’re going to be thirty years old next year. Thus it takes your brain longer to function properly. Or is it that your eyesight is already faulty?”

Jason was more amused than not. He was used to insults after living with Jessie Wyndham for five years, so he didn’t leap on her. He knew he should recognize her, but he simply didn’t. Obviously this was an insult of major proportions to her, but there was nothing he could do about it. He shook his head, still looking at her horse, who appeared quite ready to take a bite out of Bad Boy’s flank. “You’d best pull that beast back before my Dodger breaks his neck.”

“Ha, I’d like to see that.” Still, she forced Charlemagne back, one unwilling step at a time. It took skill to make the horse obey. Jason gave her silent credit for it. Who the devil was she? That golden hair of hers was spectacular, certainly he should remember a girl with hair that color.

“I do admire Dodger though. He’s a fine racer. Did you ever manage to beat Jessie Wyndham riding him?”

So she’d seen him race, had she? Even though she sounded British, she’d obviously lived in Baltimore.

“No horse stood a chance against Dodger. As for Jessie, that’s another matter. If you were more familiar with Baltimore horse racing, you’d know Dodger was the best, most of the time.”

Her mouth was opening when James said, “You’re an American? But you sound like a Brit. Why?”

“I am English actually. My family lives here half the year and the other half in Baltimore. However, four years ago my parents sent me back here to live year round to get me polished up.”

“When will the polishing begin?” Jason said, looking at her from head to toe.

“I’ve heard it said that cleverness is in the eye of the beholder, and I must say that I’m not seeing much of anything.”

“Then how could you see me strut if your eyesight is so bad?”

She tossed her head and nearly lost her hat. “Another pathetic attempt at a clever remark. I live with my uncle and aunt at Ravensworth Abbey. They provide a marvelous home for me when my parents aren’t here.”

James said, “Burke and Arielle Drummond, the earl and countess of Ravensworth? You’re their niece?”

“Yes. My mother was the countess’s sister. She died when I was born.”

Jason said, “I’m sorry about that.”

“But what are you doing here?” James said. “Here, as on the Hoverton property?”

The chin went up, as if she expected sarcasm, argument, a fight even. Jason couldn’t wait to see what would come out of her mouth. She said, “I will be twenty-one in December. I am an adult. I love horses.”

Jason said slowly, “I remember you now. It was a long time ago, just after I’d arrived in Baltimore. You were that skinny little girl who was forever hanging around the racetracks. There was someone always trying to find you. Jessie brought you home a couple of times, but you stayed with the children. Then I didn’t see you anymore. Ah, yes, I remember Jessie saying that you’d come to England to live. You’re Hallie Carrick. I came home on one of your father’s steamships, The Bold Venture . Yes, I remember. Your father went to America some fifteen years ago to buy a shipyard and ended up marrying the owner’s daughter.”

“Yes, that’s what happened. I was in Baltimore three years ago, but I believe you and James Wyndham were in New York, buying horses.”

She had an astounding memory for his brother’s whereabouts, James thought, staring at her. Why?

“Allow me to correct you. My father and Genny-my stepmother-run the Carrick Shipping Line together now. I believe Genny built The Bold Venture .”

James arched an eyebrow at that. “Really? That is very impressive. Very well, then, Miss Carrick, what are you doing here? By here, I mean Lyon ’s Gate.”

“That’s easy to answer. I intend to buy Lyon ’s Gate. You are very nearly on my property. What are you two doing here?”

Jason came to instant attention. He stood appalled, disbelieving, staring at this absurd girl who had the golden hair of a princess and had suddenly become the enemy. “What do you mean, you intend to buy Lyon ’s Gate?”

She shot a look at James, who was standing with his back against the stable door, arms crossed over his chest. “Is your brother hard of hearing?”

“No,” James said. “He is merely astounded. You’re a girl. You shouldn’t even be here alone, much less garbed in clothes many stable lads would despise.”

“That has nothing to do with anything, and you know it. Unlike my stepmother and father, I have no interest in either shipbuilding or running ships across the Atlantic or down to the Caribbean.” She turned to Jason. “If you had paid any attention at all to that skinny little girl-to me-you would have realized that I was more horse-mad than you are, Jason Sherbrooke. Of course, even five years ago, you were a grown man with every woman in Baltimore after you. What was I but a fifteen-year-old skinny rope of a girl who paid you no attention at all?”

Suddenly she grinned, showing lovely white teeth and a smile so beautiful it should have made the sun burst through the overhanging clouds. “Yes, I was shy, and thinner than a windowpane. Tell me, did Lucinda Frothingale, who’s never been any of those things in her entire life, ever get you into her bed? Did Horace try to bite you?”

“Do you mind telling me what you know of Lucinda Frothingale?”

“I get letters from my siblings and my parents. Genny occasionally tells me which ladies manage to snag you, if but for a little while, since you’re fickle. Well? Did Lucinda finally manage to get a hook in your mouth?” She tossed him another impudent grin, and with that grin, he suddenly saw her father’s face. He waved away her words. It was hard to tell if she had his astounding male beauty, but pull a gown over her head, scrub her face, and he would wager she’d be a stunner, a lady to stop the male population of London in its collective tracks.

She said, a wealth of disappointment in her voice, “I suppose you won’t speak of Lucinda. It wouldn’t be gentlemanly, even though-”

“It’s best you don’t finish that thought, Miss Carrick. I believe I can see your father in you now.”

“Glory be,” she said and rolled her eyes. “But you might as well be honest, Mr. Sherbrooke. My father is the most beautiful man ever born, to my mind more beautiful than you two. As for myself, I gave it up years ago.”

James said, fascinated, “Gave what up?”

“Thinking I would ever have even a dollop of the beauty he has.”

Jason said, “I suppose you could take off that ridiculous hat again, then we could see.”

She didn’t say a word, but her horse snorted.

Fact was, Jason thought, she could have looked like an old crone and it wouldn’t have mattered. He said, “I’m buying Lyon ’s Gate, Miss Carrick, not you. It seems to me you’d be better off buying something closer to home. Where is your father’s estate?”

“Carrick Grange is in Northumberland. It isn’t particularly good horse country.”

“Fine, then buy something close to Ravensworth. How about some property in America, near Baltimore? You could race Jessie Wyndham.”

“No, it’s Lyon ’s Gate for me. Get used to the idea, Mr. Sherbrooke. It’s mine.”

James felt his brother stiffen beside him, and since he knew Jason as well as he knew himself, and he knew bloodshed was close, he said before Jason could leap on her, “Do you have step-siblings, Miss Carrick?”

She nodded and shoved her old hat so low on her head, she nearly covered her eyes. “Yes, I have three stepbrothers and one stepsister, the youngest. We’re a large family, as the dolt here could tell you if he ever applied his brain to anything other than getting women into bed, and racing horses.”