Historical Romance March 2017 Book 1-4. Louise Allen

Gregory out, will not hurt him—and then go to Lyons and find what happened to him.’

      ‘I cannot promise that.’

      ‘Then you risk losing your sister,’ Sara stated bluntly and saw the involuntary grimace at her harsh words. ‘She wants to understand why you acted as you did, why you are still so obdurate, and she wants to forgive you for it, but I have no idea how long that will last.’

      ‘Are you threatening me?’

      ‘No, you stubborn man! I am warning you.’ Her temper snapped like a dry stick. One moment she was sitting there with a glass of lemonade in her hand trying to reason it out, the next she found herself striding across the lawn between the scattered tea tables under the curious gaze of the other visitors. Behind her she heard raised voices, presumably the waiter demanding payment from Lucian.

      ‘Your help to mount, if you please,’ she said as she approached the grooms watching over the horses. ‘The gentleman will pay you in a moment.’

      One of them tossed her up into the saddle and Twilight began to sidle, catching her mood. ‘Thank you. Come on, my lovely.’ She gave the mare her head towards the track up to the clifftop, riding on a loose rein. They both knew the way and the ground was sound.

      If she thought that unfamiliarity with the track and a natural caution would hold Lucian back, she was mistaken, she realised, as she heard the hooves pounding behind her. Of course, no gentleman would allow a lady to ride unaccompanied, she fumed. Goodness knows what dangers might await her. Rabid rabbits, Sara muttered as they emerged from the woods and on to flat ground. Sex-crazed smugglers, unhinged hedge-layers...

      The hoofbeats behind her were getting closer, much closer. She risked a backwards glance and realised that the only danger to her just at that moment was the Marquess himself. He looked as though he wanted to throttle her.

      Sara twisted back round, wishing she was riding astride and not wearing this so-fashionable habit with its trailing skirts and broadcloth that slid on the saddle. As she thought about sliding a buzzard flapped up out of the long grass, a rabbit in its talons. The mare jinked, stiff-legged, swerved back and Sara lost her stirrup, lost her balance and went over Twilight’s shoulder down to meet the turf with a thud.

      Instinctively she rolled, tucking herself up into a ball as her great-uncle the Rajah’s syce had taught her. The clifftop was almost as hard as the sun-baked Indian plain, she thought as she tumbled, arms around her head, braced for the hooves of Lucian’s horse.

      There was the sound of furious, inventive, swearing, then she came to a stop, untrampled, and lifted her head warily in time to see Lucian dismount from a rearing horse in a muscular, controlled slide.

      ‘Sara!’

      He was by her side and she closed her eyes strategically to postpone his anger and in sheer self-preservation. He had looked like a god just then and she could put no reliance on her own self-control. ‘Mmm?’ she managed.

      ‘Are you hurt?’

      Yes, was the honest answer. Her left shoulder hurt, her right wrist stung and her pride as a horsewoman was severely dented. ‘No,’ she said and opened her eyes.

      ‘Excellent,’ Lucian growled. ‘Because I fully intend wringing your neck.’

      ‘Why?’ Indignant, Sara moved too quickly, found several other things that hurt and was hauled into an upright sitting position. ‘Ow! What are you doing?’

      ‘Checking.’ His hands worked along her collarbone, wriggled her fingers and prodded her ribs. ‘Move your feet. Let me see your eyes, your ears. What day of the week is it?’

      ‘Thursday.’

      ‘Correct.’ Then he kissed her.

      It was probably less life-threatening than having her neck wrung, but as she found herself flat on her back on the turf again Sara was hazily aware that it was probably more dangerous. Lucian was angry with her and she was not very pleased with him, but that only seemed to touch a flame to the tinder of feelings that had been simmering inside her ever since that kiss on her balcony.

      They were both wearing far too many clothes, she thought as her hands slid into his hair to hold his head so she could kiss him back with as much fervour as he was kissing her. His mouth moved from her lips to her cheek to her ear and she arched her neck to give him better access, shifting so he was lying fully on her, his pelvis cradled against hers, the heat of his erection like a brand.

      She opened her eyes on a sigh as his hand slid between the buttons of her jacket, seeking her breast, blinked against the sun dazzle and gave a yelp of alarm. ‘Lucian!’

      ‘What?’ He came up on his elbows, which felt alarmingly wonderful as his hips pressed down tight into hers. ‘What’s wrong?’ He looked distracted, but then she felt more than distracted herself.

      ‘Wrong? We are in the open, on the clifftop. There is no cover. This is a public bridleway. You are undoing my clothes. We agreed we were not going to do this! Is that enough wrong for the moment?’

      ‘Hell.’ He rolled off her, sat up and looked around. ‘I am sorry. We do appear to be alone, if that is any consolation.’

      ‘There is no need to apologise, I kissed you back. It seemed preferable to having my neck wrung.’ Which was untrue. She had just wanted to kiss Lucian, have his hands on her, put hers on him, and she hadn’t been thinking at all.

      ‘I’ll get the horses.’ He rose to his feet and walked towards them. Twilight was well trained enough to stay when her rider fell off and the hired chestnut was standing nose to nose with her. They allowed themselves to be caught with no trouble and Lucian led them back as Sara fumbled her jacket closed and tried to make some order out of her tangled hair.

      ‘Your hat.’ He held it out as he jammed his own back on his head, then held out his hand to pull her to her feet.

      Sara hissed with pain and Lucian moved close to take her arm. ‘You said you were not hurt.’

      ‘I am bruised. I fell off a horse. Naturally it hurts.’

      ‘Can you ride?’

      ‘Of course. If you will just give me a boost.’ She settled into the saddle and managed not to wince, or to look at Lucian as he swung up on to his own mount.

      ‘Why did you run off like that?’ he demanded as they set off again at a walk.

      ‘I lost my temper with you and rather than ring a peal over you in a public place I decided to leave.’

      ‘I was perfectly in the right—’

      ‘You were perfectly within your rights as an autocratic male head of household. But you are certainly not right about how to deal with your sister.’

      ‘She has to accept that Farnsworth abandoned her. I refuse to believe that an able-bodied, educated young man could meet with some fate so severe that he could not get a message back to a woman he cared for, one that he had left totally vulnerable.’

      ‘You might feel quite secure wandering around a French city, my lord. You have wealth and power and experience. Gregory was near-penniless and, however good his French, I would wager it was his first time in that country. How could he have coped if he had ended up under arrest for some innocent misunderstanding? Or in the charity ward of a hospital after being set upon by footpads?’

      * * *

      Lucian could hardly throw up his hands in exasperation, not with both of them holding the reins, but he could feel his shoulders twitch with the desire to do just that. Somehow he managed to get the desire that was burning through him like a wild fire under control, but his body held the memory of hers under him, of her softness and heat where his erection had burned and throbbed. Focus. ‘You will not encourage my sister to hold on to these hopeless dreams.’

      The frustration and guilt were beginning to undermine his control, he thought grimly as they rode in frigid silence. He had failed