A Desperate Wager (13 page)

Nate gasped for breath as he lifted his head. Little stars seemed to circle around his vision, and he tried again to breathe. God’s teeth, he could barely take in a full breath. He must be just winded, for he was certainly alive.

The whinnying of distressed horses reached his ear
along with a grunting noise. That would be Bellamy, his coachman. He vaguely recognised the muttered curse.

Sarah! Where was Sarah? He swivelled his head, hoping to see his pretty wife scrambling to her feet, as he remembered even in the best of circumstances that would not happen. Good god, he had to get her more mobile for her own sake.

His eyes adjusted, and he saw the pink muslin fluttering in the long grass. She was about twenty feet from him. Christ, she had been thrown so far. He had been hanging onto a rail, but Sarah was light and had not had anything to which she could have anchored herself.

“
Sarah! Damn it. Sarah.” He crawled to her, still finding himself unable to draw in a deep breath. “Sarah!”

She lay still, face down in the grass. Oh God, she must be dead. This could not be happening again. They were not going fast. She did not look as badly crumpled as Crosby had
, but she was still flat out and unmoving.

Then a miracle happened.

She groaned.

“
Sarah!”

“
Nate!” She lifted her head, groaned again, and lay it back down on the grass. Without thinking he gathered her into his arms, turning her over. She blinked rapidly and lifted her arm to shield her eyes despite the grey clouds hiding the sun. “What happened?”

“
I am not sure. The carriage over-turned. You were thrown.” She had a gash on her head and a large red area surrounding it. He suspected it would be the size of an egg and a delicate shade of purple within hours.

“
I swooned, I think.”

“
Yes, you did. Your head is bleeding, but only a little. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

She looked to be considering her body, then shook her head, burying it in Nate’s shirt.

“I don’t feel any pain, at least, not anywhere I have feeling.” Nate held his wife close, lifting a prayer of thanks for the small mercy of her survival. Bellamy was staggering over to them. Nate smoothed Sarah’s skirts, ensuring that she was properly covered. His heart was still pounding, and sweat dripped down his back.

“
Are you both all right, Your Graces?” asked Bellamy, lifting his hand to his head before obviously realising he had lost his hat. He looked around, a little disconcerted.

“
Yes, Bellamy. I think we are just shaken. What happened?”

“
Wheel seems to have buckled or broken or sommat.”

“
The cattle?”

“
Fine. Frightened but the halters snapped. They are on their feet and seem in no mood to wander off. I think they might be a bit dazed if I’m honest.” Nate nodded curtly.

“
What caused it?”

“
Can’t rightly say, Your Grace. Will have to get a wheelwright out and have a look. But if I may speak freely…” The old man rubbed his chin and awaited the chance to speak his mind.

“
Say what you must, Bellamy.”

“
Aye well, carriage wheels don’t just snap. Your carriages are well looked after. They are also well made.”

“
You think it was sabotaged?”

“
It is the only reason I can think of for the wheel to suddenly snap. But we will know more once we get the carriage righted.”

“
Fine.” Nate moved to stand but Sarah’s squeal of protestation stopped him. “Sorry.”

“
Your Grace, perhaps it would be better if you rode one of the horses home along with Her Grace. I can arrange everything from here and we shall bring back the wheel for your inspection. Mayhap as you pass through the village you could send some assistance.”

Nate looked at his bruised and battered young wife. She was still so fragile
-looking, but her eyes were now like saucers.

“
I cannot ride. I have not ridden since the accident. There is no side saddle. I do not even know if I could hold myself on a saddle.”

“
We will ride one horse together.”

“
Begging you pardon, but maybe Her Grace should tuck her skirts under her and ride astride. It will be easier.” Sarah looked from the coachman to her husband and shrugged.

“
We need to get home and get the carriage fixed. I imagine having me out of the way will make things easier.”

“
You are not in the way. It is just…”

“
Shh! I am, but I am resigned to that state of affairs. Come, carry me over to one of those beasts and let us see if I can still sit a horse.”

He nodded and rose to his own feet with the help of Bellamy. It was going to take a bit of ingenuity to get them both on the one horse
, but he was sure it could be done. At least, he hoped it could.

Nate clicked his tongue and tugged gently on the reins. The horse started to walk sedately along the road. Sarah’s heart lurched and she chided herself. It may be years since she had been on a horse but this time, she would not be urging some poor beast to take a jump that it clearly was unhappy to take. Nate’s free arm snuck around her waist, and she nestled back against him.

He was so big and strong. She had been surprised how easily he had managed to wrestle her onto the horse, her skirts tucked between her legs, before being helped up onto the animal by Bellamy. He had received the assurances of his coachman that the barouche would be returned as soon as possible to Kirkbourne.

She drew in a shuddering breath as she tried to calm her nerves. Really, riding a horse was no more dangerous than riding in a carriage, and she had been thrown from both of them.

“
Are you well?” Nate’s voice rumbled in her ear, tickling and sending another shudder through her.

“
I am. I just need to get used to the feel of a horse beneath me again. And I am sitting astride, which I have never done before.”

“
Side-saddle would have been much more difficult. I could not have been sure of holding you and controlling the horse. I am sorry your legs are exposed. But frankly, anyone passing by can just bloody well avert their eyes.”

“
It does not matter. All that matters is that we are both unharmed.”

“
You have an egg on your forehead. You are hardly unharmed.”

“
Oh Nate,” she chuckled. “I have had much worse injuries. I fall all the time when I try to walk anywhere myself.

“
You do?”

“
Yes. I am not made of porcelain. I am fine.”

“
I do not want you falling.”

He sounded petulant. She let him wallow. He was in a mood
, and she was not going to get him out of it by arguing. Perhaps she should think up some topic of conversation to distract him, but the weather seemed a rather dull topic for someone who was as clever as Nathaniel.

“
Do you think we should have a soiree, perhaps next week? Have the local nobility and gentry round to the house for dinner and perhaps some dancing.”

“
What?”

“
Is that not what duchesses do?”

“
I suppose, but are you… well can you…?”

“
Can I what, Nathaniel?” Did he really think her incompetent because she had difficulty walking? “Can I work with cook to decide on an appropriate menu, ensure the correct foods are ordered and look half-pretty in a silk gown? I may not be able to stand on your arm for long, but I can do it long enough to welcome people into dinner.”

He sighed wearily.
“I did not mean that.”

“
Why did you marry me if you thought I was incapable of being a duchess?”

“
I do not recall having much choice, Your Grace.” His voice was a dismissive growl. Sarah swallowed hard as tears stung her eyes. That was a cruel jibe. Did he blame her for the actions of her father?

“
I am sure the Archbishop or the King would grant you an annulment—whoever it is one asks for such things.”

“
The court,” he said curtly.

“
The court?”

“
Yes. I would need to apply to the court for an annulment and we do not fit the criteria for one.”

“
I see you have given the matter some thought.” Her reply was sullen. God, how she wanted to be back a Kirkbourne. Better still, back in her father’s town house in London. What had she been thinking to marry this surly duke? He may be an excellent lover but at times his skills as a human being left a lot to be desired.

“
I am a duke. It is my business to know the law. Stop making simple statements into big dramas.”

“
You could tell them I am insane.”

“
Do not tempt me.” Another growl of frustration caused the horse to prance slightly. She gasped in a breath, and he heaved a sigh out over her shoulder as he brought the horse back under control.

She could not help it, her heart was aching
, and the tears started to flow despite her determination not to show how much he was hurting her. And the only thing that made her not demand he stop the horse so she could wait at the side of the road was that it would seem childish, and she was going to give him no more evidence of her unsuitability to be his wife.

Kirkbourne nudged the horse on with his knee. The sooner this damned ride was over the better.

And now he could hear tiny sobs from Sarah as she tried to hide the fact she was crying from him. He moved the reins into the hand he had clasped around her middle and dug into his pocket for a handkerchief. He presented it to her and she accepted it with a whispered thanks.

How had today turned out so badly? A bloody carriage wheel which someone had broken intentionally. He wanted to hit something or someone. But with only Sarah and the horse in arms reach, he had to gather his anger into himself and pray for patience. And now he had upset her with his inability to keep his emotions under control. Of course he was not angry with her. He was furious at the situation. At the fact that she had nearly been killed.

Common sense be damned. It was trying to tell him he could not have foreseen this—that this was nothing like Crosby’s death. But a little voice inside him reminded him everything he touched seemed to turn to horse manure, rather than gold.

“You must hate me for my father’s actions,” she said eventually. He sighed again, wishing to be anywhere but here. He hated discussions of feelings and such.

“
I do not hate you. I care for you.”

“
You ended up with a crippled, red-haired, snivelling, ill-tempered wife when you could have had any of the pretty ladies that have waltzed with at
ton
entertainments.”

“
I waltzed with you, as I remember.”

She laughed without mirth.
“It was hardly a waltz, Your Grace. Not something worthy of a poem by Wordsworth.”

“
I did not mean to call into question your abilities as a duchess, Sarah.”

“
I know. I overreacted. I think I may be in shock from the accident.”

“
We can have a dinner party if you like.”

“
Will you stay sober at it?”

“
Sober?”

“
Yes. You drink too much.”

Nate tensed
, and again the horse whinnied and pranced.

“
Perhaps I have a reason to drink.”

****

Sarah could have kicked herself… or at least she would have if her legs worked. She had not meant to bring up his drinking—not now. And, as a result, his barbed comment had left her reeling.

She was furiously trying to think of a sharp retort
, when the sound of hoof beats and carriage wheels made her start. Nate urged the horse onto the grass verge and brought her to a stop, extending a hand to the mare’s neck and soothing it. A smart coach and six came into view and Nathaniel continued to soothe their mount.

A feminine screech caused the coachman to pull the horses up sharply. Sarah scowled at the treatment of the beasts then at the occupants of the carriage. Lady Trotter and her daughter Miss Amelia.

The older woman looked rather nonplussed and not entirely happy to see the local duke and his wife. Amelia however, took in the scene and smiled as if she was about to crow with glee.

Sarah wanted the ground to open and swallow her. What must she look like? Her gown was covered in grass stains, her bonnet and hair rather askew and she was riding with her skirts hitched up to her knees, astride. Not only that but she had only just stopped crying. She must have puffy eyes and a red face. She hung her head in embarrassment.

“Ho there,” shouted Nate, his voice the very imitation of an affable old gentleman. “Nasty carriage accident up the road. Do take care. We were nearly done for.”

“
Oh, Your Grace, how terrible. Are you hurt?” asked Miss Trotter. Sarah could swear the woman was batting her eyelashes.

“
Pride took a dent and my poor wife hit her head. This was the only way to get back to Kirkbourne. Dreadful business, but what can you do. Luckily, the duchess is made of steel and won’t let a little thing like a carriage accident get in her way. Is that not correct, my love?” Sarah wanted to swoon, but she was grateful he was taking the heat. “Anyway, I must get my darling home. I do apologise, ladies, I must look a terrible fright.”

Sarah covered up her snort. He looked almost as perfect as he had when they had left the house. A few grass stains on his breeches and his hat was slightly battered, but those two things aside, he looked just as handsome as the day he had proposed.
“Toodle Pip,” he called, as he clucked the horse into motion.

Sarah waited until they rounded a bend in the road before putting her head in her hands and groaning. Wet lips pressed to the side of her neck—a show of solidarity.

“I cannot believe Miss Amelia Trotter saw me in this state. You never told me she lives near here.”

“
Well, I tend not to speak of her. I detest the woman and her mother. Their estate borders a small part of my estate to the east. Barely a handful of acres and a vile modern house with Greek columns that just look ridiculous in the English countryside. Like Aphrodite’s Palace or something.”

“
But I am sitting astride a horse, all battered, bruised and covered in grass stains, and I have just finished crying.”

“
Shh. She is not worth worrying over. You are a duchess now. You could have been naked and there would have been very little scandal. We are coming into the village. They will understand. No one will judge you here.”

A few cottages skirted the outside of the village but Nate did not stop there. He carried on to the centre of the group of houses until they came upon the village green. A maypole had been erected although it was not yet even Easter
, and children ran around it in a game of chase. Scruffy, dirty little urchins who seemed to be having great fun. Nate steered the horse past and over to the smiddy.

“
Smith!” he yelled.

A young man in a blacksmith’s apron wandered out of the huge open door, smearing his hands down his front. He took one look at Sarah’s ankle and his brow rose.

“Look at me, Smith,” growled Nathaniel. The man’s gaze took rather longer than it should to reach his landlord’s glare, and Nate clamped Sarah to his front in a protective, primitive manner as if daring the younger man to continue looking at her stockinged leg. The other man seemed to shake himself back to sensibility and Nate explained what had happened. Smith agreed to organise for men to go and help Bellamy and for a new wheel to be attached to the barouche.

“
Send a bill up to the manor. Wages for any men who helped, the cost of the wheel and check the other horse over before you send her back to me. I trust you, Smith.”

“
Aye, Your Grace. You know I’m an honest man.”

“
Indeed. And stop staring.” He moved the horse and they started to head out of the village. A chuckle resounded behind them, and Nate loosened his grip.

“
I do not understand men,” Sarah said, deciding that now was the time to see if she could understand his reactions.

“
We are simple enough to understand.”

“
Not really. If we were at a ball and I could walk and looked beautiful in a silk gown and jewels, you would be proud of other men staring at me and being jealous of you. But when Smith eyed my legs just now, you were ready to throttle him. But I was showing them, for all the world to see. Why does that not make you proud? Do my legs look so bad?”

“
No. He was looking at you lasciviously.”

“
Yes, but men look at my breasts lasciviously.”

“
They do?”

“
All the time. You look at them like that, even sometimes when we are in company.”

“
I am allowed to. I am your husband.

“
I like it when you look at me like that. It makes me feel funny, in a nice way. Riding is making me feel the same.”

“
The way you feel when we are alone…at night?”

“
Yes.”

“
Oh God, I wish you had not told me that.”

“
Why?”

“
Because I was managing to hold my own arousal in check until now.”

“
Oh!”