desperately wanted to know what Vane was saying to Gerrard. While one part of her mind followed Edmond's rhymes, she strained her ears to pick up Gerrard's words.
'So their chests are important?' he asked.
Rumble, rumble, rumble.
'Oh.' Gerrard paused. 'Actually, I thought weight would give a fair indication.'
A long series of rumbles answered that.
'I see. So if they do have good stamina…'
Patience glanced to her right-Gerrard was now closer to Vane. She couldn't even hear his half of the conversation.
'So!' Edmond drew in a breath. 'What do you think?'
Head snapping back, Patience met his eyes. 'It didn't hold my interest-perhaps it needs more polish?'
'Oh.' Edmond was deflated, but not cast down. He frowned. 'Actually, I think you might be right.'
Patience ignored him, edging her mare nearer Vane's grey. Vane glanced her way; both eyes and lips appeared gently amused. Patience ignored that, too, and concentrated on his words.
'Assuming they're up to the weight, the next most important criterion is their knees.'
'High-steppers?' Gerrard suggested.
Patience stiffened.
'Not necessarily,' Vane replied. 'A good action, certainly, but there must be power behind the stride.'
They were still talking about carriage horses; Patience almost sighed with relief. She continued to listen, but heard nothing more sinister. Just horses. Not even wagering or the racecourses.
Inwardly frowning, she settled back in her saddle. Her suspicions of Vane were well-founded, weren't they? Or was she overreacting?
'I'll take my leave of you here.' Penwick's acid declaration cut across Patience's musing.
'Indeed, sir.' She gave him her hand. 'So kind of you to drop by. I'll mention to my aunt that we saw you.'
Penwick blinked. 'Oh, yes-that is, I trust you'll convey my regards to Lady Bellamy.'
Patience smiled, coolly regal, and inclined her head. The gentlemen nodded; Vane's nod held an element of menace-how he managed it, Patience couldn't have said.
Penwick wheeled his horse and cantered off.
'Right then!' Free of Penwick's trenchantly disapproving presence, Gerrard grinned. 'How about a race back to the stables?'
'You're on.' Edmond gathered his reins. The lane to the stables lay on the other side of an open field. It was a straight run, with no fences or ditches to cause difficulty.
Henry chuckled indulgently and flicked Patience a smile. 'I suppose I'll be in on it, too.'
Gerrard looked at Vane.
Who smiled. 'I'll give you a handicap-lead off.'
Gerrard waited for no more. With a 'Whoop!' he sprang his horse.
Edmond made to give chase, as did Henry, but, as Patience tapped her heels to her mare's sides, they moved off with her. Letting her mare have her head, Patience followed in her brother's wake; Gerrard was forging ahead, unchallenged. The three other men held their horses back, matching the mare's shorter strides.
Ridiculous! What possible benefit could any of them gain by keeping to her side over one short field? Patience fought to keep a straight face, to keep from grinning and shaking her head at the sheer silliness of men. As they neared the lane, she couldn't resist a brief glance at Vane.
Keeping station on her right, the grey held easily in check, he met her gaze-and raised one brow in weary self-deprecation.
Patience laughed-an answering gleam lit Vane's eyes. The lane drew near; he glanced forward. When he looked back, the light in his eyes had hardened, sharpened.
He edged his grey closer, crowding her mare. The mare reacted by lengthening her stride. Henry and Edmond fell behind, forced to hold back as the grey and the mare swept into the lane, only wide enough for two horses abreast.
Then they were clattering under the arch and into the yard. Pulling up, Patience dragged in a breath and looked back; Edmond and Henry were some way behind.
Gerrard, having won the race, laughed and set his chestnut prancing. Grisham and the grooms came running.
Patience looked at Vane and saw him dismount-by bringing his leg over the saddlebow and sliding to the ground, landing on his feet. She blinked, and he was by her side.
His hands closed about her waist.
She almost gasped when he lifted her from the saddle as if she weighed no more than a child. He didn't swing her down, but slowly lowered her to earth, setting her on her feet beside the mare. Less than a foot from him. He held her between his hands; she felt the long fingers flex about her, fingertips on either side of her spine, thumbs against her sensitive midriff. She felt… captured. Vulnerable. His face was a hard mask, his expression intent. Her eyes locked on his, Patience felt the cobbles beneath her feet, but her world continued to spin.
It
Patience dragged in a breath. A flicker at the edge of her vision made her shift her focus. To Gerrard. She saw him dismount, exactly as Vane had done. Grinning, brimming with prideful good humor, Gerrard crossed the cobbles toward them.
Vane turned, smoothly releasing her.
Patience dragged in another breath and fought to steady her giddy head. She plastered a bright smile on her lips for Gerrard's benefit-and continued to breathe deeply.
'A wily move, Cynster.' Edmond, grinning good-naturedly, dismounted in the customary way. Patience noted it was a great deal slower than the way Vane had achieved the same end.
Henry also dismounted; Patience got the impression he hadn't liked seeing Vane lift her down. But he directed one of his hearty smiles at Gerrard. 'Congratulations, my boy. You beat us fairly and squarely.'
Which was laying it on a great deal too thick. Patience glanced swiftly at Gerrard, expecting some less than gracious response. Instead, her brother, standing beside Vane, merely raised one brow-and smiled cynically.
Patience gritted her teeth; her jaw set. Of one thing she was quite sure-she wasn't overreacting.
Vane Cynster was going too far, far too fast-at least with respect to Gerrard. As for the rest-his teasing of her senses-she suspected he was merely amusing himself without any serious intent. As she was not susceptible to seduction, there seemed no reason to call him to account for that.
Over Gerrard, however…
She mulled over the situation as the horses were led away. For a few moments, all four men stood together in the center of the yard; a little to one side, she studied them-and acknowledged she could hardly blame Gerrard for choosing Vane to emulate. He was the dominant male.
As if sensing her regard, he turned. One brow quirked, then, inherently graceful, he offered her his arm. Patience steeled herself and took it. As a group, they walked to the house; Edmond left them at the side door. They climbed the main stairs, then Gerrard and Henry turned aside, heading for their rooms. Still on Vane's arm, Patience strolled into the gallery. Her room was down the same corridor as Minnie's. Vane's was on the floor below.
There wasn't any point voicing her disapproval unless there was a real need. Patience paused in the archway leading from the gallery, from where they would go their separate ways. Drawing her hand from Vane's arm, she looked up, into his face. 'Are you planning a long stay?'
He looked down at her. 'That,' he stated, his voice very low, 'depends largely on you.'
Patience looked into his grey eyes-and froze. Every muscle was paralyzed, all the way to her toes. The idea that he was amusing himself, without any real intent, died-slain by the look hi his eyes.
The
