Lost in thought,
Jane almost failed
to notice she had
arrived at the field.
It was eerie in
the mist with the
dark tree trunks
and branches covered
with a hint of new
leaves.
“Mrs. Lovering,
it is almost time
for breakfast. I
assumed you had
forgotten our engagement.” The
earl was attempting
to bridle the stallion,
who kept pawing
the ground. He was
wearing the same
deplorable outfit
in which she had
first seen him.
Almost against her
will, she verified
that one could positively
see the man’s
smalls through the
tear on the hip
of his breeches.
If anything, it
had grown larger!
“Fear not.
I would not dream
of depriving you
my help in taming
your beast, sir.” Jane
averted her eyes,
jumped down from
her sidesaddle,
and secured the
reins to a tree.
She had a difficult
time maintaining
a composed expression,
as his arrogance
seemed misplaced
given that he had
new mud stains on
his shoulder and
cheek. “And
how lovely that
you dressed on my
account!” she
continued.
She detached the
riding habit skirt,
revealing form fitting,
dove colored riding
breeches. She had
had her seamstress
make the skirt of
the habit and breeches
to her specifications
years ago, much
to the shock of
her father.
“As did you,
I see Madam,” the
earl said with one
eyebrow raised.
“If I am
to get on and more
importantly stay
on your animal,
it will have to
be astride. I would
only ask you not
discuss my attire
with anyone.”
Lord Graystock
rolled his eyes
and smiled. “Heaven
forbid, Mrs. Lovering.
I daresay your reputation
could not bear another
mark.”
“And yours,
sir? Is it superior
to mine?”
“I daresay
it could withstand
word of my riding
astride wearing
breeches.” His
eyes roamed slowly
down over the offending
article of clothing. “Not
that I am complaining,
you understand.”
Jane refused to
allow him to make
her blush. “Yes,
well, at least my
smalls are covered.”
“More’s
the pity,” he
said, from much
nearer than Jane
recalled him being.
She disregarded
the comment and
walked toward the
animal in the middle
of the field. “Now,
sir,” she
said, taking possession
of the bridle from
the earl along the
way, “Let
us see what is to
be done about this
recalcitrant stallion
of yours. And by
that--lest you find
yourself confused—-I
do mean your horse.” She
was rewarded by
his laugh, which
caused a sensation
in her midriff that
she would just as
soon not examine.
When she was within
reach of the warm,
moist breath of
the stallion, he
snorted, wheeled
around, and galloped
away.
Lord Graystock
chuckled. “You
must have better
methods in your
repertoire. I daresay
your entire arsenal
won’t do the
trick.”
“We shall
see,” Jane
retorted as she
watched the stallion.
She felt little
of the self-confidence
she tried to show.
The stallion exhibited
a sort of wildness
in the eye she had
rarely seen before.
“Care to
wager on it?” he
asked.
“Wager on
what?”
“On your
ability to ride
the beast, of course.
Or perhaps--” his
eyebrows quirked
insolently, “--we
should better your
odds by making it
on your ability
to capture him?”
“I have never
wagered in my life.”
“Are you
unsure, Mrs. Lovering,
of your abilities?”
She looked at him
for a long moment. “What
would I win?”
He smiled. “More
importantly, what
would you lose?”
They paused for
a moment, each thinking
as quickly as possible.
The earl closed
the gap between
them.
“A kiss.
If you lose, that
is,” he said.
“No,” she
said.
“A kiss if
you win, then, if
you prefer.”
“No,” she
said again.
“Then we
are back to if you
lose.”
She knew he expected
her to refuse again,
stomp off and refer
to her reputation
and the like. What
could she counter
it with to wipe
the smug expression
off his face and
end this entire
wagering business?
“Alright,” she
said, slowly, “But,
if I stay on the
brute, you’ll
marry me.” Really,
she just wanted
to see him unsettled,
just a little. Titled
gentlemen were so
sure of themselves,
this one in the
extreme. He antagonized
her beyond measure.
And, she knew she
could unseat herself
if she did manage
to ride the beast.
She could tell by
the strained expression
on his face that
she had outmaneuvered
him.
“Mrs. Lovering,
ah, your wager is
so very tempting,
but . . .” She
smiled as she realized
he was not going
to accept the challenge. “But,
not very equal in
terms. What say
you to upping my
end to a bit more
than a kiss?”
She felt flustered
and annoyed. “I
think not,” she
responded as she
jutted out her chin.
He looked delighted. “Ah,
well then let’s
shake on the original
wager,” he
concluded as he
reached for her
hand. “And
by the by, he seems
to favor trees.
Best be careful.”
She was too embarrassed
to ask for clarification
of the original
wager or the comment
regarding the trees.
The truth was the
infuriating man
had her doubting
her own abilities.
Jane had ridden
many young, difficult
horses but never
a difficult stallion
in his prime. And
she was distracted
by Graystock, who
sat on a log under
the shade of a young
sapling, watching
her with a hooded
expression in his
gray eyes.
 After a full hour,
the horse was caught,
bridled and shaking.
She had got within
a few feet of the
horse and then turned
her shoulder to
him while pretending
to be working on
the bridle. The
horse’s curiosity
had gotten the best
of him in the end,
as she had known
it would. He had
walked up to her
and put his head
over her shoulder.
She had shown him
the bit and he had
allowed her to slip
on the piece of
tack with only one
whinny and head
toss.
Jane checked the
tightness of the
girth and swung
up into the saddle
with well-practiced
ease. Before she
was seated, the
horse began backing
up at full speed
and then reared.
She leaned forward
and pulled down
hard on the reins.
With a half turn,
the horse came down
on all fours in
breakneck speed.
Instead of hauling
back on the reins,
Jane leaned forward
near his neck and
let the animal have
his head. After
circling the field
four times, the
horse changed tactics.
She was going to
get hurt. She could
feel her dwindling
control over the
animal slipping
from her grasp.
Desperate to unseat
her, the stallion
began bucking and
twisting in mid
air. An abrupt stop
after a near fatal
sideswipe of a tree
found Jane somersaulting
off the horse’s
back. She fought
for control of her
lungs as she realized
the wind had been
knocked out of her.
The earl’s
shadow fell across
her face as she
tried to sit up.
“Are you
hurt?” he
asked. He began
feeling her legs
and arms when she
did not respond.
She pushed away
his hands as she
tried to get enough
air to speak. Really,
she just wished
he would give her
space and time to
regain her senses.
When she opened
her eyes and sat
up, she noticed
a gash on her thigh.
The earl examined
the wound as she
tried to compose
herself.
“You are
in luck,” he
said grimly. “Looks
like you’ll
not need stitches.” He
pulled a flask out
of the leather saddlebag
lying in the grass
and began sprinkling
the contents on
the slash. She bit
her tongue as the
liquid burned the
raw edges of her
skin. He untied
his loose neck stock
to bind the wound.
“I’ll
send a doctor to
see to this, once
you return to your
aunt’s house.
It should be fine
as long as it doesn’t
become putrid,” the
earl added as he
rocked back on his
knees.
“I’m
fine, really, just
fine,” insisted
Jane, embarrassed.
She paused before
continuing. “I
now see how your
breeches came to
be in their current
state of disrepair.”
He smiled. A heavy
silence descended
on them as the earl
looked at the widow’s
person for any other
signs of misfortune.
“Well, then.”
“Well, then
what?” asked
Jane, trying on
her most innocent
voice but feeling
all the nervousness
of a never been
kissed girl of six
and ten.
The corners of
his lips curled
as he looked at
her and pushed a
strand of hair from
her eyes. “I
fear you have a
bit of dirt on your
face.” His
large hand felt
warm as he brushed
the earth from her
face. She could
read desire in his
gaze.
“As do you,
my lord.” As
his hand touched
her cheek again,
she held her breath
with anticipation
and a bit of fear. “Are
you going to kiss
me now?”
“Was that
not the wager?” he
asked with a lazy
drawl.
She looked up at
his heavy lidded
eyes and whispered, “Yes.” Jane
felt as if it were
inevitable, yet
she was so uncertain.
She had always been
in control of every
situation. This
was unchartered
territory. Forbidden
territory, really.
As he pulled her
to her feet, he
took her hands. “Come,
come, Mrs. Lovering.
I am a gentleman.
I would not take
advantage of you
without your permission,
especially when
you have already
suffered battle
wounds.”
She looked at him.
“I’ll
take that as permission
to continue.” He
cupped one side
of her face with
his palm and lightly
kissed her. She
could feel the hot
creep of a blush
forming and dared
not look up at him. “You
are embarrassed
now,” he said.
She raised her
eyes to his with
anger. “I
am not.” She
deliberately reached
up and placed her
arms around his
neck. She tugged
his neck down to
her and placed her
passive lips on
his.
She felt him laugh
against her lips. “Oh
no, Mrs. Lovering,” he
said. “That’s
not the way of it
at all.” He
leaned one of his
hands against the
apple tree behind
her as he pulled
her waist close
to his body with
the other arm, forcing
her to arch into
his broad chest. “This
is the way,” he
whispered as he
lightly bit at her
lower lip and then
used the tip of
his tongue to gain
entrance beyond
her lips. She felt
awash with heretofore-unknown
longing and excitement.
No one had ever
kissed her like
this. His tongue
urged her to respond
in kind, as she
yielded fully to
his embrace. She
shivered with desire
as a small moan
escaped her lips.
She breathed deeply.
The masculine scent
of male and cologne
made her throat
ache. She could
hear his ragged
breaths as his mouth
moved down her neck,
feathering kisses
along the way. He
gathered her hand
in his other and
raised it to his
lips.
“Really,
my dear, we should
continue this in
the cottage nearby,” the
earl whispered.
His words jolted
Jane into action.
She shook off the
mesmerizing trance
and confronted the
earl. “I think
not.”
“Mrs. Lovering,
you are a widow.
I am a widower.
What more need be
said? Do you not
long for a liaison?
I am here for you
now, for the asking,” he
whispered as he
nipped the lobe
of her ear. She
placed her hands
on his chest and
pushed gently.
“You are
very kind to offer.
However, I am not
inclined.” Her
words hid the truth;
she was terrified
by his suggestion.
As Jane did not
want to show her
fear and naiveté,
she continued, “Perhaps
another time, if
I am ever inclined
that is.”
Lord Graystock
gazed at her. “If
I did not know you
to have been married,
I would take your
reaction to be that
of a very green
girl. Or are you
just a coquette?” he
said.
He could see through
her. Jane reached
down to retrieve
the wrap skirt and
secured it. She
dared not say another
word, lest she say
the wrong thing.
Distance was the
answer. She walked
to her horse and
mounted without
looking back.
“I hope I
have not scared
you. It wasn’t
my intention.”
“You did
not scare me, my
lord. I am expected
by my aunt. She
was unhappy with
the idea of my riding
your horse. It seems
a groom’s
sister alarmed her
with a description
of your brute. It
is long past the
time that I should
be on my way.”
“There will
be no further training
sessions, then?”
Jane refused to
take the bait. “Good
day to you, sir.”
“And good
morning to you,
Mrs. Lovering,” he
said, and stood,
looking after her
long after she had
gone from sight.
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Sophia's
father placing a Regency-era
golden guinea in her
shoe on her wedding
day.
Sophia's
husband Ralph-
