Helen Dickson - Conspiracy Of Hearts

‘That—that was my intention,’ she said hesitantly, ‘but I—’

‘Then you can accompany Kit,’ her father said quickly before she could finish what she was about to say. ‘Forgive me if I don’t accompany you,’ he apologised to his guest, ‘but you will find that not only is my daughter an excellent horsewoman, but she also knows as much about the horses as I do myself. John will also be on hand to assist you and tell you anything you wish to know.’

Serena looked at her father in alarm. Usually he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to show off his horses. ‘What is it, Father? You’re not ill?’

‘Nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t cure.’ Sir Henry laughed lightly in an attempt to allay his daughter’s concern—but the truth of the matter was that his joints pained him a great deal—especially now the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Unfortunately, his sufferings were a lasting legacy of the year he had spent in the Tower at Queen Elizabeth’s pleasure.

‘I fear that an early ride will put me out of sorts for the hunt later—and I have no wish to disappoint Lord Payne by not turning up. If you find a horse to your liking, Kit, try him out at the hunt—or you are more than welcome to take mine. He’s a strong, spirited brute, but I’m sure the two of you will get along.’

‘That’s generous of you, Sir Henry,’ Kit said, easing back in his chair, his heavy-lidded gaze speculative as his dark eyes leisurely watched the tension and emotion play across Serena’s expressive face, sensing she had been about to cancel riding out early to avoid his company.

He reserved little hope of establishing any kind of peace between them, for she glared at him as if it would be pistols at dawn and she contemplated a duel to the death, instead of a gallop upon the heath. A mocking smile curved his lips and he found himself looking forward to his ride with this intriguing young woman, although he told himself there was a dire need for caution.

‘I am honoured to have Mistress Carberry accompany me,’ he murmured. ‘It will be a privilege.’

The subtle way Lord Brodie’s smile changed was not to Serena’s liking. Irate sparks flared in her bright green eyes as she thought how easily she had been snared, and she lowered her eyes to hide her annoyance, standing up.

‘Very well. I will see you in the morning, Lord Brodie.’

Beset by emotions quite new to her, Serena went to her room. She was seized by a biting, raging fear at the knowledge that the marquess of Thurlow, having been privy to her degradation earlier, was enjoying every moment of her misery and was determined to play it out to the bitter end.

When the light of dawn was struggling to show itself, Serena rose and went to the stables. The weather was blustery, cold and wet, which suited her mood. The sharp air sent shivers along her flesh, but the stables were a cheery glow of lantern light against the dark, unwelcoming exterior.

As the familiar warm smell of hay assailed her nostrils, she found the stables were already a hive of industry. Under the watchful eye of John, the stablemaster, on Sir Henry’s instructions the stable lads and grooms had been hard at it for over an hour to have the horses ready for the marquess’s inspection at first light. John hurried over to Serena, his shirt open down the front to reveal his barrel chest.

Pulling on her kid gloves and with her crop tucked beneath her arm, Serena paused beside a mare which had been led out of its stall and was being held by one of the grooms. She was vaguely aware that someone was on the other side of it, but because he was hidden from view she paid scant attention. ‘Good morning, John,’ she greeted him. ‘Such as it is. I’ve known better mornings for riding over the heath.’

‘Aye, the rain looks set in for the day, miss—but I know it’ll take more than that to put you off your ride.’ John chuckled. Having known Serena since birth, ever since Sir Henry had introduced her to the horses as a toddler, he was aware that riding had become her abiding passion.

‘I shall be leaving just as soon as our guest stirs himself. Is Polly saddled?’

‘She’s all ready for you—but the marquess has been here for the past half hour looking over the horses.’

Serena stared at him in astonishment. ‘He has?’

‘Yes,’ replied the marquess, rearing up from the other side of the mare, startling Serena almost out of her wits. ‘I was impatient to see for myself your father’s splendid horses. I couldn’t sleep, anyway,’ he said, almost as an afterthought, as he ran practised hands over the horse he was inspecting.

Disappointed that he had reached the stables ahead of her, Serena stood and calmly watched Lord Brodie examine the horse in silence. He stood back and looked at it from every angle, picking up a hoof and going on to examine its teeth with a thoroughness that did not surprise her. She sensed that everything the marquess did would be controlled, certain and sure. Distracted, she saw he had removed his doublet, and that his white silk shirt was open at the throat to reveal the strong muscles of his neck.

He had the supple body of an athlete, vigorous and arresting, and with his wicked smile and shoulder-length raven black hair—a rogue wave spilled over his brow and shone like glass in the lantern light—Serena thought he would have made the most handsome pirate. His tight hose detailed his narrow hips and tautly muscled buttocks, bringing a flush to her maidenly cheeks.

Satisified, Kit slapped the horse’s flank, nodding for the lad holding it to take it back to its stall, before giving Serena his full attention. Observing the soft flush on her cheeks, he raised a questioning eyebrow and studied her for a long, drawn-out moment. A slow smile curved his lips. The sparkle in his eyes gradually evolved into a rakish gleam, and Serena’s flush deepened. She had no way of discerning the workings of Lord Brodie’s mind or where his imagination wandered.

‘I’m sorry to have dragged you from your bed at such an early hour,’ Kit said, his gaze unyielding. There was a suave, almost teasing note in his voice.

Collecting her crumbling poise and wanting to shatter his cocksure arrogance, Serena gave him a steely flash from her green eyes. ‘You didn’t,’ she replied curtly. Looking at him with a stilted coolness, she tried to overcome the resentment she felt, although why she should feel such antipathy towards him when he had rescued her from being brutally ravished by Thomas Blackwell confused her. ‘I’m in the habit of rising early to ride before breakfast. I’m sorry you had difficulty sleeping. The bed was comfortable, I hope.’

‘Perfect. It was the noise of the storm that kept me awake.’

‘And the horses? What do you think of them?’

‘Splendid,’ Kit replied, casting an appraising eye down the length of the stable. ‘Their reputation has not been exagerated. John has been helpful in showing me those which are available.’

‘And? Are you interested in purchasing any?’

‘There are three I have my eye on—good, strong mares. I have a stallion from a good strain, big and in his prime. I’m keen to breed off him, which is why I want only the finest mares. I’ll have a word with Sir Henry over breakfast.’ Retrieving his doublet which was draped over a stall, he thrust his arms into the sleeves. ‘Having decided to reserve my own horse for the hunt, I have taken the liberty of having one of the lads saddle your father’s horse—one he won’t be riding in the hunt, I’ve been told. You are up to riding in weather such as this, I hope,’ he said, throwing her a challenging look.

Serena bristled. ‘I never allow weather to put me off my ride.’