He gave her a relieved grin when he realized she wasn’t going to pursue the discussion about the wager or Lady Beaumont. “I’ll simply explain I couldn’t rest until I’d discovered if you’re as skilled a horsewoman as my cousin claims you are.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “Well, what’s your conclusion?”
“I’m afraid I can’t say with any certainty.”
He shrugged as if the subject didn’t interest him and looked away to fiddle with his glove, but Iris saw the grin hovering at the corners of his lips. “You can’t say? We’ve been out for an hour, and you haven’t yet made a determination?”
“My dear Miss Somerset, anyone with adequate equestrienne skills can plod along as we’ve done all morning. We haven’t gone above a canter. Forgive me if I question whether you can handle such an enormous beast with equal expertise in a flat run.”
“Are you challenging me to a race, my lord?”
His brows rose in feigned horror. “Certainly not. A gentleman doesn’t encourage a lady to risk her safety in such a way, and that’s to say nothing of myownsafety. If Huntington discovers I’ve encouraged you to race, he’ll shoot me twice.”
Iris was confident in her ability to handle Chaos at a run, but that didn’t mean it was wise to go tearing across unfamiliar terrain on his back. She’d only ridden him this one time, after all.
But the moment Lord Wrexley mentioned Lord Huntington, she swept her doubts aside.
She might dream of dipping her tongue into that dimple in his chin, but that didn’t mean she’d allow Lord Huntington to control her every move, as if she were nothing more than a chess piece he maneuvered around a chessboard.
He’d behaved with unbearable presumption toward her since they’d arrived at Hadley House. Even if she hadn’t jilted him she wouldn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, but the fact that they weren’t even betrothed any longer made his behavior that much more infuriating. First it had been the footrace with Lord Wrexley, and then Chaos, and last night, when he’d come upon her in the library and found her with that book…
Heat washed up her throat. She’d spent half the night squirming against her damp bedsheets, lost in memories of his smooth, warm skin under her fingertips, his quiet groans.
Had she really read those passages fromSchool of Venusaloud to him? She’d never done anything so scandalous in her life.
When he begins to warm he lays his hands on my…breasts.
He’d stopped her before she could finish it, but the next word in the last sentence she’d read aloud to him wasbreasts.
She’d almost said the wordsmy breaststo Lord Huntington.
By the time she’d gotten as far as the breasts, his hazel eyes had gone black, and he’d had such a…well, primal was the only way she could think to describe the way he’d looked at her. But however one described it, it made her shiver every time she thought about it.
If she’d gone ahead and saidmy breastsaloud at that moment, anything could have happened. That is, quite a bithadhappened, but she knew from her reading there was a good deal more to it, and if she had said the wordbreasts, perhaps he wouldn’t have stopped her when her hand slid close to the edge of his breeches. Another shiver fluttered down her spine at that thought, but this was no time to indulge in illicit fantasies about Lord Huntington.
She forced her attention back to Lord Wrexley. “Lord Huntington isn’t here, and even if he were, I don’t need his permission to race, or indeed, to do anything at all.”
“Very well, then. Shall we race?” Lord Wrexley took care to sound bored, but there was a thread of tension underlying his words.
How odd. Was he afraid she’d best him in a race?
Before she could determine if she’d imagined it, his sweet, sly grin was back. “I’ll give you a start on me, if you like.”
Iris shot him a disdainful look and drew herself up in the saddle. “No, indeed. Where shall we race, my lord? We’ll start from the bottom of the hill, I think.” She wouldn’t risk Chaos’s legs by taking him down the hill at a flat run. “A sprint, to that tree line in the distance?” She pointed with her riding crop toward a thick line of trees about a half mile away.
“Yes, all right.” Lord Wrexley nodded his agreement and followed her down the hill. “You’re certain you don’t want a few seconds start, Miss Somerset?” he asked, when they were side by side at their mark.
“Are you in the habit of offering your competitors a start in a gentleman’s race, Lord Wrexley?”
“No, indeed.”
“And didn’t you just tell me not half an hour ago I have a better seat than half the gentlemen of theton?”
He grinned. “I did, and it’s true enough.”
She gave him a sweet smile. “Then why would I need a start?”
He threw back his head in a laugh. “Well said. On my count, then?” He pulled his horse into position beside hers and raised his riding crop. “Ready? Set? Go!”
