Engagement of Convenience Page 7

  ‘It was a pleasure debating with you, Captain.’ Ignoring her sister-in-law’s stunned face, she dipped a slow, graceful curtsy, then strode from the room. He watched her leave, captivated and impressed. Here was no Artemis, but Venus waiting for the right man to draw her out.

  ‘She’s a real spitfire, Jim.’ George laughed.

  ‘A bit too forward, if you ask me,’ Miss Taylor remarked and George snorted.

  ‘No one did, Annette.’

  * * *

  Julia closed her bedroom door, leaning against the smooth wood to catch her breath. Her fingers felt beneath the doorknob for the brass key and, turning it in the lock, a sense of relief accompanied the click.

  What had just transpired? She didn’t know, but it thrilled her as much as riding Manfred at a full gallop across the hills. What had she seen in the captain’s eyes? Desire, excitement and a few more dangerous emotions she felt along the back of her spine.

  She hurried to the window seat, her hands shaking as if she’d almost been caught rifling through Charles’s private papers. Leaning her forehead against the cool glass, she watched the rain falling in sheets, running down the window and blurring the view of the garden. If Paul were home, she could tell him about the captain and the taunting riot of emotions tightening her stomach. He’d put a name to them, help her understand why the captain ignited her senses.

  Fingering the books strewn about the upholstered window seat, she pushed aside a pamphlet on crop rotation to reveal a large book on India. Flipping through it, she examined the coloured plates of Indian gods and goddesses and the dark ladies with their almond eyes, veils and jewels. Pictures of the Mughal emperors riding their elephants, accompanied by exotic animals and splendidly dressed courtiers, decorated the pages.

  The women in the paintings of the palace stretched their arms out towards the men, their breasts taut against crimson saris, their round hips hugged by the delicate fabric. The image of Captain Covington’s sharp eyes, the rich tones of his voice and the heat of his fingertips brushing against hers filled her mind. There’d been a moment during their discussion when she thought he meant to kiss her.

  No, I must have imagined it. The captain couldn’t possibly possess an interest in her and if he did it was an entirely dishonourable one. The idea should have scandalised her, but deep down she felt flattered.

  As she turned the pages, thoughts of the captain continued to dominate her mind. She imagined him sitting atop an elephant, inspecting the fields of an exotic plantation as the monsoons overtook the land, the heat and spices all coming together in his skin, hair and eyes. She pictured herself beside him, standing on a veranda overlooking the jungle. With steam rising from the hot earth, she’d run her hands up over his chest, push the jacket off his shoulders, then follow the line of his back to his waist and hips. She’d tug the white shirt from his breeches, trace the hard flesh and muscles of his stomach with her fingers, then dip lower to more sinful places.

  Abandoning the book, she hurried to the wardrobe and pulled the doors open. Dropping to her knees, she felt around the bottom, behind shoes and old quilts, to a plain box near the back. She took off the lid and removed a shimmering red-and-gold silk sari, a present from Paul many years ago after his first trip to India. Slipping off her frock and the cotton chemise, she wrapped the shiny silk around her naked body. It felt glorious next to her skin and she could almost smell the curry in its deep-red sheen. She imagined the cool feel of the silk to be the monsoons washing over her, rinsing away the dust and heat of Bombay.

  A flash of lightning caught her eye. She turned to see her reflection in the window as the thunder rolled overhead. She pulled her hair out of its bun and it fell over her shoulders, their creamy white colour further whitened by the dazzling sari. The way the fabric traced the curve of her thighs, hugging her breasts and hips like the alluring women in the pictures, delighted her.

  Is this what the captain meant by mysterious? Her skin tingled to discover his meaning and she wondered if the weight of him on top of her would feel as heavenly as the silk? Perhaps he’d run his hands over the firm, round line of her hips? Cup her breast like the men in another, more wicked book she’d once seen.

  Suddenly the other book came to mind, the one she’d found a few years ago hidden in Paul’s wardrobe. Those pages held the same almond eyes, voluptuous women and robust men, only the pictures were more intimate, sensual and forbidden. What would it be like to delight in some of those illicit poses with the captain?

  She shuddered, simultaneously excited and embarrassed. What would Charles or Emily think if they knew she had such wicked thoughts or acted like a Cyprian in private?

  Unwinding the sari from her body, she folded the fabric, then returned it to the box and the back of the wardrobe. She slipped on her shift, blew out the candle and settled into bed. Staring up at the dark ceiling, she wondered if she should have set her cap at the captain instead of Simon. Lightning flashed, branding the twisted shadow of the oak tree outside across the ceiling before the room went black. Like the shadow, the idea of pursuing the captain gave her a small shock of fear. He acted on her nerves like no man had ever done before, the effect both thrilling and terrifying. If she played her game with him, could she jilt him? Would he let her?

  Sitting up, she bunched the flatness out of her pillow. Of course he’d let her jilt him. Hadn’t he spent the entire meal entranced with Annette, making his preference for her stepcousin clear? He’d only showed an interest in her when she’d acted like a strumpet. In the future, she must behave like a perfect lady in his presence.

  She rolled over, pulling the blanket up under her chin and nestling into the warm mattress. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the room, followed by a deep roll of thunder. The steady plunk of rain hitting the window lulled her to sleep, weaving into her dream about monsoons falling on thick jungles, swelling the river roaring past the grassy bank where she stood, Captain Covington at her side.

  Chapter Five

  ‘Thoughts of a certain someone keep you up last night?’ George nudged James as they made their way down to the stables. The clouds had cleared overnight and though everything was wet, there was no hint of rain in the brisk morning air.

  James laughed, pulling on his riding gloves. ‘I never thought you for a romantic.’

  ‘We all have our secrets.’

  ‘What secrets are you hiding?’

  ‘Never mind.’ George adjusted his white cravat. ‘What exactly were you two so intently discussing?’

  ‘Travel.’

  ‘Who knew it was such an engrossing subject.’

  ‘Very.’ James didn’t elaborate, for once not wanting to discuss a lady with George. His tête-à-tête with Miss Howard had disturbed him far more than he wanted to admit. He’d seen her surprise when she realised she wasn’t properly dressed for dinner and had expected her to flee the room. When she’d determinedly crossed the threshold, he’d silently applauded her decision to stay. Then, during their exchange, the low cadence of her voice and her irrepressible enthusiasm made him feel again like a carefree young naval officer.

  James slapped the riding crop against his tall boot. What was he now? A crippled man fit only to languish in the country, the past hounding the unfilled hours, the future torturing him with its emptiness. He’d come so far since his first days in the Navy, the prospect of advancing to commodore discussed more than once with the Admiralty. Not until the bullet struck him had he realised how fast fate could crush a man.

  Near the stables they came upon Mr Taylor. Dark circles hung under his red eyes and his clothes, normally as fine as five pence, were ruffled as if he had spent the night in them.

  ‘Simon, fancy a morning ride?’ George asked, much to James’s surprise. He planned to inspect the Cable Grange land and didn’t want any additional company. But sensing George’s eagerness to giv
e his stepnephew a difficult time, James didn’t object to the invitation.

  ‘I have no interest in a ride,’ Simon sneered, trying to slink past them, but George refused to be put off.

  ‘Come, some fresh air will do you good.’ He threw his large arm around Simon’s slight shoulders, directing him back to the stables, much to Simon’s visible displeasure.

  The stables occupied a flat parcel of land hidden from view of the house by a small grove of trees. Crossing the paddock, George led them inside where the groom sat polishing a saddle.

  ‘John, please help Simon find a suitable mount,’ George instructed, pushing Simon at the man.

  ‘Yes, Captain Russell,’ John answered. ‘If you’ll follow me, Mr. Taylor, I have just the animal for you.’

  ‘Happy to see me, Percy?’ George stood at the first stall, running a hand over his horse’s chestnut mane. ‘Choose any you like, Jim. They’re all some of the finest horseflesh in the county. Another of Julia’s accomplishments.’

  ‘Yes, an impressive collection.’ James walked down the line of horses, trying to decide which to ride. All the stallions impressed him, but none so much as the black one in the last stall. Here was the darkest, largest, most sinister horse he’d ever seen. He recognised it as the animal Miss Howard had ridden when she’d surprised him in the woods.

  ‘That’s Manfred. Miss Howard’s horse,’ John offered with pride. ‘She jumps him when she has a mind, too.’

  James moved to rub the horse’s massive neck, but it backed up, its eyes wide and wild. ‘If I hadn’t seen her riding him myself, I’d say he’s too much animal for such a young lady.’

  ‘If he’s truly too much animal, Captain Covington,’ a soft female voice sang from behind him, ‘I’m sure we can find an even-tempered gelding for you.’

  James turned to see Miss Howard watching him, a challenging smile decorating the corners of her full lips. She wore a stylish dark-blue riding habit, well tailored to her petite figure. The same saucy air she’d captivated him with last night made her cheeks glow, igniting his blood. The image of her beneath him on a fresh mound of hay, the golden morning sun illuminating the pink tones of her flesh while his fingers undid the long row of buttons on the back of her habit, teased his already aching body.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve given offence, Miss Howard. It’s not my intention,’ he apologised, letting the image of the soft velvet sliding from her shoulders linger for just a moment longer before forcing it away. ‘I’m merely surprised such a beast is suitable for a lady.’

  She walked past him, rubbing the horse lovingly on the nose, taming the fire in the creature’s eyes.

  ‘Or do you think the lady is unsuitable for the horse?’ she challenged with a sly grin, the playful curve of her lips exciting him more than he cared to admit. ‘Would you like to ride him?’

  James examined the beast, hesitant. One throw might undo the last year of recovery. However, something in the way the little Artemis challenged him made the risk irresistible.

  ‘May I?’

  ‘If you think you can handle him. He’ll need a firm rider since he didn’t have his afternoon exercise yesterday.’

  James flexed his left hand, feeling the loss of strength more keenly than ever before. He shouldn’t ride. He should admit he couldn’t handle the beast and decline like a reasonable man, but this morning he didn’t feel like being reasonable. ‘I’ve handled a ship in a storm. I can handle a horse.’

  ‘If you like.’ She stepped back, motioning for John to take control of Manfred.

  ‘Good luck to you, sir. Thrown off everyone who’s tried to ride him, ’cept Miss Julia and Mr Paul Howard,’ John remarked, leading Manfred out of the stall. The horse strained against the harness with pent-up energy and James balled his left hand.

  ‘Shall we?’ James waved towards the paddock.

  Following Miss Howard outside, he admired the gentle sway of her hips as she strode into the sunlight, realising there was more to her than exuberant youth. She possessed a firm determination he admired, even if others in society did not.

  John led an agitated and now saddled Manfred into the yard, ending all of James’s pleasant thoughts. George, sitting astride Percy, shot him a questioning look, but James brushed it aside, his attention firmly focused on the beast. He’d never shrunk from a challenge, but if the horse proved too difficult to manage, the idea of being thrown in front of such an audience held no appeal. Unconsciously, he touched his shoulder.

  ‘You aren’t afraid, Captain? Are you?’ Miss Howard teased, her capricious smile steeling James’s resolve.

  ‘What’s to fear? He’s only a horse and I’ve certainly faced worse.’ James took the reins and Manfred shook his head, pawing at the packed dirt. ‘Easy, boy.’

  He stroked the horse’s neck, cautious of the animal’s dark, wild eyes. Manfred settled down long enough for James to step into the saddle. Ignoring the throbbing in his left shoulder, he gripped the reins with both hands in an effort to hide his weakness. Once comfortably astride, James shot Julia a surefire grin.

  ‘I told you I could handle him.’

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Manfred, contemptuous of a foreign rider, bucked. James clamped his thighs tight against the animal, determined to stay in the saddle. Manfred landed hard on all fours, then bolted, shooting out of the paddock. The countryside flew by, the wind more cutting than the pebbles and mud kicked up by Manfred’s hooves. James sat back in the saddle, choked up on the reins and pulled hard, but the beast fought him. Gritting his teeth at the searing pain tearing through his shoulder, James seesawed the reins until Manfred, tired from his exertion, had no choice but to relent. Slowing down, Manfred trotted in a circle, breathing fast and snorting before finally coming to a halt.

  James bent over in the saddle and closed his eyes, the pain in his shoulder making him dizzy. His right hand shook from fatigue and his thighs burned when he eased his hold on the beast’s flanks. With a deep breath, he straightened and allowed his body to relax. The throbbing in his shoulder subsided to a dull ache and he opened his eyes, amazed by how much ground they’d covered.

  ‘Well done, Manfred!’ James shouted, his excitement echoing off the nearby hills. He laughed hard for a long time, the thrill of the ride charging him like St Elmo’s fire. He’d experienced the same feeling once before during a hurricane off Barbados when he’d manned the helm after the rigging broke loose and knocked out the helmsman.

  ‘Now I see why your mistress enjoys riding you. Perhaps there is some excitement in the country after all.’ Still laughing, he slapped Manfred on the neck. ‘Come, let’s return to your lady. I think she’ll be surprised.’

  The horse’s ears twitched and the animal settled into a challenging but manageable trot. They returned to the paddock, greeted by the cheers and shouts of the gathered crowd. Word of his daring ride must have spread among the servants for there were double the number of grooms and stable hands than before and James noticed a fair bit of blunt changing hands. Even George caught a coin flipped up from John. It wasn’t the first time James had found himself the subject of a wager, but today it held a certain triumph intensified by Miss Howard’s impressed eyes.

  She stood away from the others in the shade of the stable, clapping her gloved hands in congratulations.

  He manoeuvred Manfred next to her, clucking him to a stop. ‘An enjoyable beast, Artemis. No trouble at all.’

  With an impish smile, she tapped his right hand with her riding crop. ‘Then perhaps you should loosen your grip.’

  Releasing his tight hold, he knew she’d caught him out, but he didn’t mind. Having controlled the horse and proven his mettle made the experience worth the agony he’d surly endure tonight.

  Manfred snorted, stepping back and forth. ‘Whoa,’ James soothed, calming him with a quick tug of the rein
s.

  ‘Jim, if you’re done playing with Manfred, then let’s be off,’ George joked, guiding Percy towards the bridle path. Simon’s gelding fell into step behind Percy, much to its rider’s visible displeasure.

  James nodded at Miss Howard, who curtsied in return, her upturned face and playful smile calling to him. He wanted to pull her up behind him, dash off across the countryside with her clinging to his back, the two of them alone together. Unfortunately, such daydreams were better left to poetry and he kicked Manfred into a walk, directing him next to Percy.

  ‘Never thought I’d see the day when anyone but Julia or Paul took Manfred’s reins,’ George said, impressed.

  ‘I still can’t believe the woman rides this beast.’ Manfred tensed as if intending to rear, forcing James to concentrate on the animal beneath him. This would be no leisure ride for the horse would throw him if James ever let his control wane. No, he had to keep working Manfred to make him behave.

  ‘I’m surprised to see you taking such a risk.’

  ‘So am I,’ James admitted, feeling something more than pain, bitterness and anger for the first time in months. He was careful not to revel too much in the feeling, knowing it might not last.

  George led them along a path circling the woods, past newly planted fields and pastures full of grazing sheep. A wide valley stretched out around them. Beyond it, woods surrounded by neat rows of well-ploughed fields extended up into the hills. Labourers worked while the overseers stood nearby giving directions.

  ‘They rotate the four fields to get a better crop. Julia introduced the idea after reading about it.’ George turned in his saddle to face Simon, who’d fallen behind. ‘You could learn a lot from Julia, Simon.’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Simon hunched over in the saddle, shielding his eyes from the morning sun. ‘I have no interest in riding further.’ He turned his horse around and cantered off to the stables.

  George moved to recall him, but James stopped him. ‘Let him go. Looks like he’s been in his cups all night.’