Page 104

At the sound of her laugh and the glimpse of her smile, Deveraux spurred his horse on to come even with hers.

“Race you to the dovecote!” he shouted, pointing toward a broad circular tower in the next field.

Leona turned her horse toward the tower without acknowledging his challenge, then glanced over her shoulder to grin and nod agreement.

Deveraux swore good-naturedly and set off after her.

Leona’s answering laughter wafted back on the wind, spurring Deveraux’s race.

Leona liked baiting Deveraux. She didn’t know why that was, but she enjoyed their battles of will and wit.

She enjoyed it as much as she enjoyed the wild, headlong ride down the track.

There was a freedom between them that she’d never experienced before with another man or woman.

It was the same reckless freedom she experienced riding Lady Talavera.

She pulled up before the large gray stone dovecote and slid from the horse’s back, Deveraux right beside her.

She tethered her horse to a scraggly bush, then threw herself down on the damp ground, her back resting against the sun-warmed stone walls of the old building.

The heat flowed deliciously through her body. She closed her eyes to savor it.

Deveraux moved more slowly, taking time to dismount and tether his horse. “You look like you’d purr if you could,” he observed, as he lowered himself to the ground next to her. “Good Lord, woman, this ground is still wet. Do you want to drench your habit and catch a chill?”

“It will dry fast enough in this heat,” she replied laconically, never opening her eyes. “Where are Lucy and Fitzhugh?” she asked self-consciously, though caring little.

“They’ve gone on down toward the mill by the river, I would presume. Why? Are you afraid of your virtue, being alone here with me?”

“How shall I answer that?” she asked whimsically, opening her eyes to turn her head to look at him.

“If I say no, you might be insulted, and I might rile you into attempting to prove otherwise. If I said yes, you would be insulted. As neither course is advisable, I shall keep my tongue firmly between my teeth.”

“Ahhh, a flash of prudence. I would not have thought that your forte, Miss Leonard.”

“It isn’t,” she agreed with equanimity, “but it does have its uses.”

“An intelligent woman.”

“Did you doubt it?” challenged Leona, a martial gleam in her hazel eyes.

“Hmmm. Now, how shall I answer that? I won’t. . . Miss Leonard, I do, however, confess to something puzzling me.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you have a sister? I seem to recall Captain Leonard mentioning two sisters.”

“Yes. Rosalie. She’s the eldest. She married George Sharply thirteen years ago. They live in Bedfordshire.”

“Then why, if coming here was so repugnant to you, did you not simply go to Bedfordshire to stay with your sister? And do not think to gammon me by saying your promise forced you to Castle Marin. If you could have avoided this recourse, I’m certain you would have!”

Leona grimaced. “Truthfully, sir, my erstwhile brother-in-law and I do not get along.”

“Why? Excuse me, but he hasn’t made improper advances to you, has he?”

Leona’s laughter rang out across the empty meadow. “Hardly. No, George Sharply is, if anything, too circumspect. A little of his society, and I feel the need to enter a convent for some freedom!”

“That bad, is it? I find that hard to believe. Perhaps the two of you just do not understand each other.”

“Truer words you’ve probably never said.

We are like oil and water. I find him irritatingly officious and self-serving.

The man’s ego is immense. He refuses to acknowledge that I might, just might, mind you, have a brain underneath this lion’s mane,” she said, waving a gloved hand toward her hair.

Just the thought of George Sharply brought her jaw forward, high color to her cheeks, and a hard, knife-edged sparkle to her eyes.

“Is your sister happy with him?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. She shook her head, mystified. “And I tell you truthfully, that is something I’ve never been able to understand.”

“I’m surprised he has not attempted to wrest control of Lion’s Gate from you.”

She looked out across the fields and laughed at the memories in her head.

“Oh, he has, but the family solicitor who handles the estate paperwork does not get along with him either, so he will not tell him anything; however much George tries to snoop. And Charlie, bless him, positively detests the man!”

“What is your sister’s reaction to this running family battle?”

Leona smiled softly. “Poor Rosalie, she’s caught in the middle. She merely wrings her hands and looks pained. She has ever been a quiet creature. Not at all like me, I’m afraid!” she said with wry humor.

“Leona! Nigel!” called out Lucy, galloping toward them. She reined in just short of them, clods of dirt spraying up from beneath her horse’s hooves. “And here I thought you two were to be our chaperones! I see I was wide of the mark!”

Deveraux rose to his feet, brushing dirt from his buckskins.

Leona blushed. “I’m too old to need a chaperone,” she protested, struggling to her feet, ignoring Deveraux’s outstretched hand.

“Ha! It didn’t appear so to me, seeing you so cozily together there.”

David Fitzhugh reined in beside his fiancée and looked at Leona roguishly. “An attractive woman needs a chaperone all her life, no matter her age.”

Leona laughed. “Thank you. . . I think.”

“Oh, let’s all stop blathering. Nigel, throw her up in the saddle. I want to show Leona some more of the estate before it gets too late.”

“There’s no need. There’s a large rock over there that I can use,” Leona said, untying Lady Talavera.

“Nonsense, Miss Leonard. You heard my sister. I dare not disobey.” He grabbed Leona about her waist and lifted her.

Through the thick wool of her riding habit, Leona’s skin burned where he touched her.

The sensation struck her by surprise, sending her mentally reeling.

She knew her reactions to Nigel Deveraux were strange, but never had she felt them so intensely.

Tingling radiated from the burning areas at her waist and shot down her legs and up to her head.

“Thank you,” she breathily managed when he released her and stepped back.

She fought to maintain a calm and serene mien.

It was not an easy battle. Deveraux nodded curtly at her before turning to gather the reins of his horse and mount.

Strangely nervous, Leona turned her horse’s head to follow Lucy, her back turned resolutely to Nigel Deveraux.

Nigel raised a dark brow as he watched Leona and Lucy engage in a lively conversation.

The color was still high on Miss Leonard’s cheeks.

So, the little witch could be discomfited.

He smiled at the knowledge that might be a way to control her.

He glanced down at his hands. He could still feel the span of her waist between them.

He shifted in the saddle as a familiar pressure built in his loins.

Definitely a little witch, he thought sardonically.

He set his heels to his horse to urge it into a comfortable canter and settled down to consider all that he had learned about Miss Leona Leonard.

It struck him as singularly unfortunate that Leona and her brother-in-law did not get along.

A silly misunderstanding most likely caused it.

Deveraux could not imagine that the man could be as genuinely reprehensible as she described him, not if her sister was happy in her marriage.

That silly misunderstanding, whatever it was, was costing Leona dearly.

She should not have to feel the burden of duty.

It was too heavy a weight for anyone to bear. He knew that full well.

He found a curious desire in him to ease Leona’s burdens, to allow her to live her own life.

Perhaps if he effected a reconciliation with her brother-in-law on neutral ground, like Castle Marin, the two would mend fences.

Yes. The more he thought of the idea, the more he liked it.

That would be the best way he could help Leona, the best present he could give her to thank her for her efforts to help Chrissy: to effect a reconciliation between her and Sharply and then lift the yoke of duty from her shoulders and transfer it to Sharply’s.

That should make Leona very happy, and inexplicably, that was the one thing Deveraux desired.