have.
As if this were not bad enough, Richard had crowned his folly with a final piece of madness. He had fallen in love with Deb and his ambitions had changed. Now he wanted to marry her.
He was not entirely sure how or why it had happened. True, they were forever in company together and shared an interest in riding and the pleasures of the outdoors. Even so, it seemed inexplicable to him. He was not a man who had ever looked to marry, for his elder brother had the responsibility of providing an heir to the dukedom of Kestrel. More to the point, he had never met a woman that he wanted to wed. Until now. And now, of course, his choice had fixed upon someone who would barely give him the time of day, let alone her hand in marriage.
Richard had told himself many times that his ardour was the natural result of being denied something that he wanted. He told himself that he would soon overcome this temporary difficulty and be cured.
He knew that he deceived himself.
It was also clear that he had not a hope in hell of achieving his ambition of marriage to Deborah, for whilst he had been languishing like a lovestruck boy rather than a man of experience, Deb’s feelings for him had undergone no such radical change. She still despised his reputation and, as a result, would not let him close. It was barely surprising, given that he had marked his card when he had asked her to be his mistress.
Richard knew that he could not undo the past. For years he had revelled in his status as one of the most dangerous rakes in London. He had exploited it, enjoyed it to the full. Now it could deny him the one thing that he wanted above all else. It was an irony that he could appreciate.
And in addition there was another obstacle. Richard had heard from Ross Marney amongst others that Deb’s first marriage had been very unhappy and that she did not look to wed again. Taken all in all, the barriers seemed formidable. And yet Richard knew that he was going to try. His courtship would not be in the least conventional, but it was his most ardent intention to oblige Deb to admit her feelings and to persuade her that, despite her misgivings, they were meant to be together.
He brought his horse alongside hers and was amused when she twitched her reins to draw a little way away from him.
‘I beg your pardon,’ he said smoothly. ‘I was attempting to compliment your riding skills. You controlled your horse magnificently back there. But perhaps you do not care for compliments from a circus rider?’
Deb turned her face away so that all he could see was her charming profile beneath the brim of her saucy hat.
‘I certainly do not seek compliments from you, Lord Richard,’ she said. ‘They are as worthless as withered weeds.’
‘How poetic,’ Richard said. ‘Do you study the romantic poets at the Midwinter ladies’ reading group this summer, Mrs Stratton?’
Deborah’s voluptuous mouth pursed tightly, as though someone had pulled a drawstring. It made Richard want to kiss her. He repressed the jolt of desire that ran through him and soothed Merlin to a stately walk. The hunter tossed its head in disgust.
‘We are studying the works of Andrew Marvell,’ Deborah said, ‘though I do not expect that you will have heard of him, Lord Richard. I have yet to learn that intellectual pursuits are your strong point.’
Richard, who had taken a double First at Oxford, merely smiled. ‘You have yet to learn anything about my strong points, as I recall, Mrs Stratton. When I offered to demonstrate them to you, you declined.’
Deborah blushed slightly, but did not look at him. ‘Of course I did! I am no lightskirt prepared to help you enliven your time in the country. By the by, when do you return to London, Lord Richard? Surely it must be soon? Time seems to pass so slowly these days.’
Richard laughed. ‘I am desolate to disappoint you, ma’am, but I fear that the time for my departure has not yet come. However, you need not repine. You have done an excellent job of avoiding me this summer thus far. Look at the way you cut me dead at Lady Sally Saltire’s most recent ball! It was masterly. It is merely our bad luck that we bumped into each other today. I am sure that it will not happen again.’
Deb looked down her nose at him. ‘I hope not. Midwinter used to be such a peaceful place, but these days it is bursting with all manner of undesirable characters.’
Richard laughed. ‘You may classify me with the riff-raff, Mrs Stratton, but I am not convinced that you see me as undesirable…’
He watched in amusement as Deborah bit her lip, clearly torn between giving him another huge set down and a natural courtesy that told her she was behaving very rudely towards him. She was quite the most transparent person that he had ever met but, in a society that dealt so much in the counterfeit, it was refreshing.
She pulled her horse a little ahead of his on the grassy track and glanced back over her shoulder.
‘One of the pleasures of riding for me is that I may do it alone,’ she said pointedly. ‘I bid you good day, Lord Richard.’
Richard put his gloved hand on her reins to slow her down. She looked sharply at his hand and her face froze with disapproval.
‘My lord?’ Her tone was arctic.
‘A moment, Mrs Stratton,’ Richard said, as their horses drew level. ‘Since it is so rare that I have the pleasure of riding with a companion who is my equal in skill, how do you feel about a wager? If you can outrun me, then you have won the right to your solitude.’
Deborah’s eyes snapped. Before Richard could even draw breathe, she had whipped the reins out of his hand, turned the horse and dug her heels into its flank. She passed so close to him that he was forced to pull the hunter to one side for fear of being ridden down.
Richard paused for only a second before swinging Merlin around and following. He had intended to be chivalrous and to offer Deb a head start, but now he saw that no quarter was expected. She had set her mare at a gate that led into a wide field running downhill towards the river and was already at least a furlong ahead of him.
Smiling grimly, Richard gave chase. Deb was crouched low in the saddle and cut a flying figure in her red riding dress as she lay almost flat against the horse’s neck. She had the advantage of knowing the ground better than he; she did not hesitate as the mare thundered over the grassy turf towards the water. The wind snatched her riding hat from her head so that her hair tumbled about her shoulders and streamed behind her like a Valkyrie’s.
Richard was gaining on her now and, no matter how she wheeled and turned, closed the gap between them, forcing her towards a small copse of trees at the edge of the river. Finally, when she could see that there was no way to escape him, she drew rein and led the horse at a docile walk under the canopy of leaves.
Richard watched her closely. He would not put it past her to try and trick him now and slip past him out of the woods. She looked frustrated and defiant, her breast heaving with exertion under the constraint of the tight red jacket.
‘What a streak of wildness you have in you, Mrs Stratton,’ Richard said slowly. ‘I have always surmised that you possess the desire to kick aside the rules of society and be free.’ He turned his horse so that they were facing one another, bringing the hunter alongside until his knee brushed hers. She did not move away, but rather sat frozen in the saddle, her blue eyes wide and fixed on him.
‘You did not ask what the penalty would be if you lost the wager,’ Richard added gently.
He took one gloved hand from the reins and slid it behind her head, into the tangle of her windswept hair, drawing her closer to him. The horses pressed together, crushing his leg between their heated bodies. It was a damnably uncomfortable way to kiss a lady, but it was worth every moment to him, for he had been wanting to kiss Deb Stratton for a very long time indeed. Her lips were soft and cool, and she tasted of fresh air and faintly of honey, and there was some other less definable taste that was Deborah herself, and it went straight to his head- and to other parts of him that responded instantaneously. He first closed his teeth about her voluptuous bottom lip, then released it and slid his tongue into her mouth, courting a response until she kissed him back, hesitantly at first and then with growing passion. The touch and the taste of her fused in his mind with the bright sunlight and the chill of the breeze, and desire flooded through him until he was within an inch of pulling her from the horse and making love to her there on the bed of leaves beneath the trees.
He gathered her more closely against him, sliding his hands gently down her back, alive to every curve and line of her body beneath the enticingly trim riding habit. He had never ached so much for a woman before, nor lost touch with all reality other than that which he held in his arms. But Deb was soft and vibrant, and when she leaned closer to him and with a little sigh matched the stroke of his tongue with her own, he was powerless to resist.
The horses shifted and pulled them apart, and Richard reluctantly let Deborah go. He moved back, his eyes on
