Taffeta & Hotspur (4 page)

She led her favorite riding horse
outside and mounted him with ease. Her loose hair blew freely about
her face as the wind picked up. She walked her gelding onto the
bridle path and then put him into an easy trot, telling him all the
while she was very happy he was in a chipper mood for she was
not.

His ears pricked to her voice as he
listened, and she reached over and patted his neck affectionately,
“There, never mind me.”

She wanted to keep to the fields and
wooded trails, and in order to accomplish this, she was forced to
skirt the lands dividing Watson Halls from Grantham. The gate was
closed. With a silent oath, she set her pace, went into position
with her heels well down, and her body neatly poised. Her gelding’s
ears flickered alertly as he looked ahead at the jump.

“
I know, Red Moose. You
don’t like the high jumps … truth, I don’t much either, but the
gate is closed, and I don’t feel much like getting down and up.
Let’s just take it. Right then … here we go.”

She knew her horse loved her and he
told her so then with a soft sound, something between a snort and a
whinny. She laughed and encouraged, “I love you, Moose … come on …
pick up the pace … and we’ll do fine. Just think of it as only a
few feet higher than a log. Honestly, you could step over it …
nothing to worry about Moosey.”

She legged him on, and he obediently
went for the jump, changed his mind at the very last moment, and
made as though to duck out and refuse. Taffy screamed irritably,
“No sir, no… You know better.”

She went into position and drove him,
but his sharp movements shifted her position in the saddle and sent
her off balance. Her gelding did finally accede to her demand and
took the gate flying, landing heavily on the other side, which sent
her sideways in her saddle when he planted his fores on the
ground.

She nearly lost her seat completely,
and with no dignity whatsoever, she scrambled, grabbed his neck and
mane, and managed to right herself. As she settled back into her
saddle, she told him, “Odious brute, you almost lost me there.”
Taffy however was so relieved she was still in the saddle, she
released a nervous laugh and added ruefully, “You certainly are
well named, Moose.”

“
Damn if you didn’t make him
do it. Didn’t think he would for a moment there…” She heard the
chuckle of a male rider making his way along side of her. “I
thought for a moment I might be picking you up off the ground. Well
done, Lady Taffeta,” said the rakehell Hotspur.

She had been nearly surprised enough
to lose her seat again, and blew out a whiff of air as she spun
around and discovered of all people, the Hotspur seated on his
horse, grinning broadly.

She knew what she must look like—a
complete mess. As she started to speak, she discovered she was
hindered by a long tress between her teeth. She removed her hair
from her mouth, but the wind would not cooperate and blew it right
back, and she wished she had at least pinned it back. However, she
managed to draw herself up and regain her composure. She eyed him
coldly and thought, Of all people to witness a clumsy jump—it had
to be him. Grrr. She could have cried right then, but instead, she
said with an edge of haughtiness, “My lord. I thank you, but I must
admit it to have been my fault. I should have stopped Moose and
brought him back in for a better line to the gate.”

“
Agreed, but nevertheless,
you made him take it, which he did like a rocket, and you managed
to stay put when he landed badly.”

His grin made her want to throw mud at
his face.

She grimaced. “He doesn’t like
jumping; I don’t know why I made him…” She patted the horse’s neck
and managed an amiable laugh. “Poor Moose, the big jumps frighten
him.” She sighed. It was over and done. He had seen her at her
worst. So be it. Brush herself off and move on. “What brings you
out? I had thought you would be packed and off for London by
now.”

Tarrant’s black stallion pranced
beneath him, and he took a moment to bring his horse under him. She
could not help but admire his horsemanship. He was strong of leg
and quiet of hand.

The two horses touched noses, and the
stallion seemed pleased to find Moose submissive so they fell
easily into step beside each other, leaving Tarrant free once more
to converse.

He eyed her and said, “As to that, it
was my intention, but my aunt wishes me to stay for dinner, and I
have dutifully accepted. She is the favorite of my aunts, and I
don’t see enough of her.” The stallion snorted for an unknown
reason, and pranced a bit until he quieted him again.

Taffy laughed appreciatively as she
indicated with a flick of her chin. “He suits
you—restless.”

His eyes stared into hers, and once
again he was the man in her vision. Feral with desire … coming for
her, and she was oh, so willing. She had to stop this. She couldn’t
think of him like this. Maids were not supposed to…

Tarrant jarred these thoughts when he
laughed and said, “Let’s call a truce, you and I, shall
we?”

“
A truce, my lord? Were we
at war?”

He smiled, and she was all too aware
of his magnetism. This one was dangerous. He had a killer smile and
a singular charm to go with it, and when he used it, a woman could
forget he was a scoundrel.

He inclined his head. “I don’t know
why it was, but I think lunch was a sparring contest.”

She eyed him warily. The devil was
actually flirting with her. Does he think I would be an easy
conquest? Ha! “A truce, then. I shall not throw my handkerchief …
or cap, your way, and you won’t try to seduce me.” She watched the
devil glitter in his eyes, and it was most definitely intriguing.
She had to keep him at arm’s length for certain.

He laughed again and answered easily,
his eyes full with his amusement, “I shall have to consider this…”
Without warning, he leaned over and lightly, easily managed to kiss
her lips, parting them, and expertly found refuge there for his
tongue.

She was startled by the unexpectedness
of it. She was shocked by her reaction both in her body and mind.
She felt the blood race through her veins, calling all her nerve
endings into action. She felt her heart begin to purr with
anticipation. She felt a spot between her thighs tickle her with
heat and an itch to be touch…

His kiss was everything she had
expected the rakehell Hotspur’s kiss to be and more, it was what
she wanted it to be.

She went to war with herself and
somehow found the ability to pull away abruptly. She put up her
chin, “Am I to assume then, we have not negotiated a
truce?”

His laughter resonated on the breeze,
and she found herself smiling in spite of the frown she tried to
maintain. He said, “Must it be one or the other?”

“
One or the other…” she
answered firmly.

“
Then I think not,” he said
brightly. “War it is, my lady, and to the victor go the
spoils.”

She made a show of sighing heavily,
“Well, you still needn’t worry I shall aim my cap your way. You are
not at all the sort of man I am after.”

His pique set his jaw, and she had an
urge to giggle, but managed to control herself.

“
Oh, really? What sort of
man are you after?”

She beamed mischievously. “What every
girl wants, of course. A knight of the Realm, a hero, a man of
principles and romance—a man who will always take her
side…”

“
He doesn’t exist,” retorted
Tarrant harshly.

She looked at him sideways. “Then I am
destined to be a spinster.” With this, she clicked her horse and
took off into a heady canter.

He caught up to her in a moment, for
she could see his black did not mean to be left behind, and they
collected their horses and moved along head in head. They slowed as
the field ebbed and the wooded path opened before them.

Taffy brought her horse to a stop and
allowed him to graze on some nearby tall grass. “Oh, that was
lovely,” she said breathlessly. “What a fine animal you have, my
lord. But never say you ride him tamely in Hyde Park.”

“
I’ve schooled Demon myself.
He will go as sedately or as wildly as I ask of him.”

Again, she saw the arrogance, the
self-confidence, the high opinion he seemed to have of himself. She
bristled. “Of course, how foolish of me to doubt you,” she said in
mock meekness.

He looked at her sharply. When he did
not remark on it, she was sure he thought she was poking fun at
him.

“
Tell me why it is that both
your uncle, young though he is, and your brother allow you to go
off alone like this … without even a groom in
attendance?”

She took umbrage. “I suppose that is
my business and theirs.”

He laughed. “It certainly would have
been theirs had you fallen back there and been injured,
fledgling.”

“
Well, they are off to a
cockfight, and I am quite used to riding about
unattended.”

He smiled, and there was a tease in
his voice as he admonished lightly, “In addition to the fact you
could take a tumble, riding freely as you do, it is not at all the
thing for a lady to ride astride and without the protection of at
least her groom.”

She put up her chin, “I am well enough
known in our village and surrounding area. Who would accost me?”
She shrugged this off. “And as to riding astride, I prefer it.
Riding in a lady’s saddle is not always an easy or comfortable
task. Why we should have to do so is outrageous. Taking a tumble?
If I were missing, someone would come looking…”

He raised a brow quizzically, “As to
who would accost you—any man with eyes in his head,
sunbeam.”

“
But any man with a brain in
his head wouldn’t dare. There are consequences they would have to
incur, and I am no easy prey.”

He inclined his head, and she could
see he had decided to change the subject. “Ah,” he said, looking
into the distance, “Grantham looks quite lovely from this
hill.”

She eyed her home and smiled, “Yes,
yes it does…”

“
And with it in sight, I am
afraid I must leave you, sunbeam, as I am headed for the village.”
He tipped his beaver hat. “Perhaps I may see you in
London.”

“
Perhaps.” She noted black
waves of hair fell across his forehead most fetchingly. She
immediately banished the notion. He was a hell-bent rake. He was
Hotspur, and she was not going to be just another one of his
conquests.

She watched as he left her and made
for the village road only a short distance off. He turned to wave
at her, and she felt a moment’s gratification, which she
immediately chastised herself for feeling. In all probability, she
would not see him again. His kiss had been a kiss goodbye, and his
kiss was something she would remember forever, for she was fairly
certain she would never receive another kiss quite like it from
anyone else.

Chapter Three

Stars glittered in a dark velvet sky.
A moon’s smile was partially shaded by scudding, shapeless clouds.
It was a windless night but nipped at the skin with winter’s left
over chill, and Nigel shuddered against the cold and the
excitement.

The country road had misted over,
making visibility for him—and he was certain for all of them—a
difficult task. The fog gave no sign of lifting as it meandered
through the trees of Sherwood Forest, gaining substance as it made
its way.

He looked at his companions and noted
grimly they were no more than three hooded, voluminous and darkly
caped figures. He hurried to keep up and ahead of Seth who scurried
before him through the church graveyard on foot.

Seth tripped over a diminutive
gravestone and released a soft curse, and then added, “Devil is in
it! I’ve stubbed my toe!” the young Duke of Grantham groaned in
pain as he bent to uselessly touch the booted area covering the
injured extremity.

“
Shut up, ninny!” Nigel
returned in as harsh a tone as he could muster in a
whisper.

“
Bleater!” pronounced Lady
Taffeta. “Working the night has its consequences.” His niece
giggled.

“
You two will be m’death.
Sneck up … both of you!” snapped Nigel. He pulled a knit dark wool
scarf over his lower face. “And Taff, that ain’t no way for you to
be speaking!”

“
If I can slink about at
night with you, I can swear with you,” answered the
lady.

“
Shh,” Nigel cautioned
urgently.

“
What the deuce…” replied
Seth.

“
Thought I heard something…”
whispered Nigel.

“
So did I,” agreed Taffy.
“Nigel, ‘tis a carriage … it would appear Dirty Barkins is going
out after all!”

“
We don’t know it is
Barkins’ coach,” Nigel said thoughtfully. “I mean, we have it on
excellent authority he is home suffering with the gout.”

“
Aye, Nigel—but we had two
possibilities—one that he feigned the gout to his wife so he could
pay a visit to his mistress. If that is true, he would take the
short cut through the Forest … wouldn’t he?” Seth stuck in looking
thoughtful.