The Poor Relation (15 page)

Together they trotted out of the stable yard and allowed their mounts to pick up speed crossing the park, heading toward a section of woods.  Even at this pace, Chloe could see that Camden was continually checking
the stallion’s fidgets.  She appreciated his thoughtfulness, for it gave her time to get acquainted with the mare’s gait.  In the woods, the bridle path was fairly wide, so they rode abreast, letting the horses stretch their strides into a canter, though the Viscount still held the huge Brutus back from an all out gallop.

Coming out of the trees, they reined in their mounts.  A large grassy clearing stretched out before them, and with a challenging glint in his eyes, Camden looked over at Chloe.  “Shall we?”

Her answer was a deceptively demure smile before she nudged Buttercup with her boot to take the lead.  It was a glorious feeling, flying over the tall green grass with beads of dew sparkling like brilliants as the morning sun beamed down.  The wind whipped the pins from her hair, freeing her honey curls to stream out behind her as horse and rider tore across the field.

But the heady experience was short lived.  Camden’s black came charging up behind
her with its massive hooves churning up the turf and was soon abreast with the mare.  Chloe felt Buttercup respond to the challenge as the dappled gray extended its sleek neck in a new burst of speed.  Yet, both rider and horse knew it was futile as man and beast pulled ahead.

Then a shot rang out.

In horror, Chloe watched Camden fall back on his horse and plunge to the ground to lay motionless.  Brutus, whether because the horse was suddenly without any restraints or spooked by the shot, bolted and was soon out of sight.

Pulling sharply on the reins, Chloe brought
Buttercup to a halt.  Frightened half out of her wits, she twisted her head from side to side, frantically looking about.  As she tried to determine from where the shot came, she wondered if she should make a run for it. 

Her eyes came to rest on the fallen
Viscount, lying so still, his eyes closed.  For a long moment, she sat atop the mare, barely breathing, watching him for a sign of life.  A bright flash in the woods caught her attention.  The sun had reflected off the metal barrel of a gun, and she glimpsed a man through the trees, bent low over a horse, riding deeper into the woods.

Somehow it registered that the immediate danger had passed, and this galvanized her into action. 
Chloe jumped down from Buttercup and scurried to the stricken Viscount.  Dropping to her knees, she leaned over and carefully inspected his body for injuries.  It took a second examination to find the wound because of the dark claret jacket he wore.  The wide lapels hid the blood seeping through his left shoulder.  With shaking hands, she untied his cravat and pulled his jacket and shirt front open, exposing the shoulder.

A great deal of blood was pooling about his collar bone, making it impossible to tell how bad or deep the
wound was.  Quickly, she reached down and tore a swatch of white muslin from her petticoat and wadded it up to place it over the wound.  She applied pressure and prayed the bleeding would cease.

Dr
eadfully long seconds passed.  Suddenly, his eyes flew open, and he dazedly stared at her.  Then without warning, he lunged at her, throwing her backwards, forcing her down on the grass.

“Stay still,” he ordered when she tried to push him away.

Once she understood he was using his own body to shield hers, she met his fierce midnight blue stare and calmly said, “It is safe now, my lord.”

After a few moments
, he raised his eyes and scanned the line of woods before returning them to her face.  He seemed to accept her word as fact and let his body sag against hers.  She took his full weight, though it left her nearly breathless.

His head had dropped down beside hers, his face buried
in her loose hair.  She wiggled in an effort to free herself, and a husky groan escaped him.  He raised his head, covered her lips with his, and ruthlessly kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth.

Chloe was unprepared for his ardent assault and struggle
d to ease herself out from under him.  She soon realized that her movements were doing little to repulse him.  Far from it, in fact, they seemed to excite him even more.  Hoping to bring some sanity to the situation, she laid still, and perforce, his kisses began to work their magic on her.

She remembered another intimate embrace under
the dark stairwell with this complicated, mysterious and dangerous man.  Just as then, she was completely absorbed by the kiss with his insistent tongue exploring, probing and igniting, until her own pulse rose alarmingly.  She welcomed his embrace as her one hand went around his neck and the other progressed slowly from his chest to his back, reveling in the contours of his muscular physique.

Likewise, using his good arm, Camden sensually stroked the side of her body, caressing every inch
.  He’d moved his hand to rest tentatively on her breast before he began massaging her.  He was lost, lost in her sweetness, the feel of her slender, feminine form, her silky tresses.  His other arm was pinned between their two bodies, completely anesthetized to the pain in his shoulder.  He focused only on his passionate need to possess the lovely creature beneath him. 

His hand at her breast began working at unbuttoning the front of her riding habit, hungry for the feel of her warm flesh.  He was vaguely aware of the chang
es in her movements, from loverlike caresses to panicky pushes and shoves.  That is, until she boxed him good on his ear.

His ardor had frightened her
.  He saw it the minute his eyes flew open and met her wide, panic-stricken hazel ones.  Exercising great restraint, he gingerly rolled off her onto his back.

For a full minute, they laid side by side, both panting to quiet raging emotions.  She began to rise and he, too, came
up slowly on unsteady feet as he concentrated on regaining his equanimity.

Standing before him with her eyes downcast,
Chloe fought back tears.  She experienced the most disgusting anger for herself as she’d succumbed like a wanton to his caresses.  Worst, she was confused.  Seriously wounded as he was, how had he been able to overpower her so?

“I suppose I should apologize,” he
said hoarsely as she blurted out, “I am sorry.”

He
seemed fascinated by the blush that Chloe felt burning her face.  He took her chin gently in his good hand and lifted her face, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“Never apologize to me for your kisses,” he said huskily.

“Ohhh, you insufferable clod!” Chloe saw red and swung her fist up, connecting with his jaw.

             
“Damn!” Camden glared at her as he removed a white linen handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his mouth.  “What in hell’s name made you do that?”

“I was not apologizing for
. . . for kissing you, my lord, nor my behavior, which was as reprehensible as yours.  I meant I was sorry I hit you.”

“So sorry, in fact, that you were compelled to
repeat the offense?” he asked incredulously.  “’Tis a sad fact that your sex is proclaimed to be the weaker, for I can certainly vouch you’d make a deuced fine pugilist,” he said feelingly.

“You are insulting,” she retorted and turned on her heel to gather up Buttercup’s reigns.  G
rabbing the sides of the saddle, she used it to hoist herself up with a small jump, hooked her boot in the stirrup and turned into the saddle.

“What are you planning to do?” he demanded.

“Exactly what it looks like.  I am going to get help,” she said with asperity.

“You would ride off and abandon me here?”

She looked down on him, noting the tightness about his eyes and mouth and her heart melted.  He presented a pitiful figure, albeit huge and alluringly handsome with ruffled clothing and tousled hair.

“You would do better to lie down and apply pressure to that wound while I am gone,” replied Chloe, refusing to relent to his entreaty.

“What if my attacker returns?” He swept his one good arm to show his defenselessness, lacking a weapon as he did.

“What would you suggest?  Surely, you cannot be thinking of riding double?”

One dark eyebrow rose.  “Why not?  Buttercup may be a lady’s mount, but she is sturdy and can carry both our weights if we proceed slowly.”

She bit her lower lip, mentally searching for another option.  But it was clear he was
injured.  She just didn’t know how badly.  And it would be heartless to leave him alone in his present condition, particularly if the unknown assailant should return to finish his evil deed.

“Very well,” she conceded ungraciously.  “But you will keep your hands to yourself.”

“Whatever you wish, Miss Woodforde.”  He beamed up wickedly at her.

Mentally
acknowledging how greedily she’d accepted his advances, she diverted her eyes.  Then she slipped her foot from the stirrup so he could use it to swing himself up behind her.  Laying his arm across the back of the saddle, the infuriating man shamelessly pressed it against her derriere before he availed himself of the use of the stirrup.

“I, ah, do
need to hold on to something,” he said, swinging up to settle closely behind her.  Winding his good arm about her waist, he pulled her against him.  “Otherwise, I’m likely to be bounced off Buttercup’s rump and do myself further injury.”

She threw him a smoldering look over her shoulder but said nothing.

After they had retreated into the woods, he queried languidly, “You didn’t follow Brutus’s lead and leave me to my fate?”  Although his voice was low and weak, Chloe saw that his eyes darted about and wondered if he suspected the possibility of another ambush.

“I almost did,” she admitted sheepishly.  “But I feared what would become of you, left alone and unconscious.”  She glanced over her shoulder at him.  “You were unconscious?”

The smile he flashed full of meaning.  “Until I felt the gentle hand of an angel touching me.”  He turned serious, however, giving her a speculative look.  “You risked your life for me again.”

“
Well, as to that, I saw your attacker leaving before I dismounted.”

“You saw him?”

“Not so that I could tell who he was.  The sun reflected off his gun, and I could see the vague outline of a horse and rider making off in the woods.”  As she remembered how close the man behind her had come to death, a shiver shook her frame.

R
esponding to her distress, Camden drew her closer and said, “I’ve a small derringer in my left boot should he chance to come back, so we won’t be totally defenseless.”

“You did not tell me that earlier?”  Trying to loosen his hold, she twisted around.  How he manipulated her to do his bidding provoked her beyond belief.

“Should I have told you, my sweet Chloe? By chance, do you shoot as well as you kiss?” he asked provocatively.

She could not let this comment pass.  She was very sensitive of her weakness for him and perceived
he was having fun at her virginal expense.  Thus his words seemed cruel. Impulsively, she reared back with a well aimed elbow and delivered a sharp blow to his rib cage.

“Ouff!  Damn, woman,” he growled, yanking her against him.  “Have a care.”

“Then leave me alone.” Chloe was desperately trying to hide her hurt as she fought back tears.

Intimately aware of him pressed up against her back, she
was
comforted by his embrace even as her pulse raced in response to his proximity.  Drat the man, anyway.  He was a cheat, a scoundrel, and a spy to boot.  Why was it he made her bones melt when it was obvious he held her in so little regard?

“You wrong
me, Chloe, if you think I’m merely trifling with you,” he replied.  “But be wise and steer clear of me.”

Both were silent with their own thoughts.  The clomping of the mare’s hooves, though muffled by the spongy forest trail, seemed to be reverberating about the quiet woods.
Well before Buttercup broke clear of the woods, they glimpsed the colossal block structure of Clairmont Court through the trees with the easterly sun glinting off the front windows.  They headed straight for the stable yard and the curious eyes of the grooms.  This time when the Viscount gave her a gentle squeeze, Chloe made no objections.

***  Chapter 13  ***
 

If the grooms thought anything unusual of their bedraggled appearances or wondered why Miss Woodforde and Viscount Camden were riding double, they were too well trained to mention either, especially when they considered the peculiarities of the Quality.  To the man, the stable hands never so much as blinked an eye over Camden’s explanation that Brutus had been spooked by a rabbit, throwing his lordship to the dirt and then bolting out of sight.  Neither did
Camden make any objections when the head groom ordered two men to ride out to look for the missing Brutus.

With the wide lapel of his jacket covering most of the expanding crimson stain, none of the stablemen
became alerted to Camden’s injury.  And while Chloe saw his grimace, he held his left arm stiff against his side and dismounted without aid.  When she went to alight, the Viscount stepped back to allow a groom to assist her.  With growing dread, she suspected the wound was more serious than his amorous advances had led her to believe.