A Ravishing Redhead (2 page)

“Yes, of course,” said the rider in a short, clipped tone. “And have him tacked again in an hour. I will not be staying here long.”

“Might I ask why?”

The rider turned and leveled dark green eyes on her. Margaret held her breath, waiting for him to recognize her, but he merely reached in his pocket and tossed her two coins which she reached out to catch automatically. “Cool him out, groom him, and feed him. I will be back in an hour.”

Without another word he walked away towards the house. Margaret stared after him in wordless disbelief, certain at any moment he was going to turn around and come back. When the front door slammed behind him, she shook her head.

“Can you believe that?” she asked the bay. The horse regarded her in stoic silence. “Yes well,” she continued, grunting a bit as she loosened the stallion’s tight cinch, “you have to be loyal to him. You’re his horse. But I’m just his wife, and I don’t like him a’ tall.”

CHAPTER TWO

Henry James Sebastian Winter, the sixth Duke of Heathridge, was in a foul mood. He had been traveling for three days straight in order to see his wife, and the blasted woman was not where she should have been. Had he not left her with explicitly clear instructions? Remain at Heathridge until his return. At least, that is what he was pretty sure he had said; due to his intoxicated state on the day of the wedding, the details were still a little blurry.

He had already wasted one infuriating hour searching every inch of his childhood home looking for
someone
to tell him where Lady Winter was, but it seemed the number of servants had decreased dramatically since his last visit and the only person he could find was a timid maid who had no idea where her mistress had gone. He wondered where the hell Hastings was. Henry knew the old butler had to be around somewhere, but if he was he refused to show himself.

Cursing liberally under his breath, he stomped out of the house and back to the stables. He was not going to waste one more second looking for the spoiled brat he had married. No doubt she had taken herself off to her parent’s house and was sitting in some parlor sipping lemonade while he covered himself in dirt and grime looking for her. Stopping short of the barn, Henry shrugged out of his jacket and gave it a good shake. He watched in disgust as dust billowed into the air. Where ever his wife was, she was
not
doing the duties he had ascribed to her. He had never seen Heathridge in such a sorry state before. He almost feel sorry for the grand old dame, left as she was to crumble and rot atop her very foundation.

Curiously enough the only place that looked half way decent was the stables, and his boots stepped over freshly laid straw as he walked inside. “Hello?” he called, squinting as his eyesight adjusted. “I am here for my horse.”

The same stable lad he had handed Finnegan over too upon his arrival popped abruptly out of a nearby stall, startling him. The boy’s clothes were even dirtier than before and he smelled of manure and dirt. His nose wrinkling, Henry took a solid step back. “Where is my horse? I’m leaving.”

“So soon?” the boy asked, leaning up against a beam and cocking a hip. A stray beam of sunlight shone in through the entrance of the barn, highlighting half of the lad’s face. His skin was unnaturally smooth for a boy’s and freckles littered his cheeks. A ridiculously oversized hat covered his eyes. He couldn’t have been much older than thirteen or fourteen and Henry felt an unfamiliar twinge of pity. The lad clearly worked hard keeping the barn neat and tidy. He was doing the job of a full grown man and if the slimness of his body was any indication the work had begun to take its toll.

“Just get my horse if you would,” Henry said, not unkindly. “I will pay you for your time.”

“I put your horse out with the others in the back field. He was quite tired.”

Pity was rapidly replaced by annoyance. “You turned him out? Well go get him! I want to be on the road again before dark.”

The boy lifted his narrow shoulders in a shrug. “I can’t get him now.”

“And why is that?”

“Cause he’s made friends with Poppy and it would hurt her feelings to have him leave so soon. Why are you in such a hurry to leave anyways?”

“That,” Henry grinded out, “is none of your damn business.” He stomped past the boy, intending to go get his horse by himself, but the boy’s next words stopped him cold.

“If you’re looking for your wife I know where she is.”

Henry whirled around. “You have seen my wife?”

“Sure. I see her all the time. What do you want with her?” The boy actually had the gall to grin at him, revealing evenly spaced white teeth and a dimple high on his left cheek.

Henry felt his annoyance kick up another notch and he clenched his hands into fists to prevent himself from reaching out and strangling the boy. “Is she still here at Heathridge?” he managed to say in a fairly even tone.

“Course she is. She’s right here in the barn, in fact.”

In the barn? Henry’s head whipped back and forth as he looked up and down the freshly raked aisle. Every stall door was neatly closed. The small room that housed the tack and harnesses was locked from the outside. Unless his wife was hiding in one of the stalls she wasn’t here, and he did not appreciate being made to look like a fool.

“I don’t see her,” he growled.

“Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.”

Henry inhaled sharply. “How long have you worked here?” he demanded.

“Oh, about eight and a half months,” said the boy. For some reason he looked on the verge of laughing and Henry began to wonder if perhaps the arrogant lad wasn’t a bit daft.

“If you want to keep your job here learn to speak with some respect in your tone or you’ll find yourself out on your ear,” he said sharply, green eyes flashing.

The boy looked slightly taken aback by the reprimand, but it was for his own good. There was no place in the work force for servants who talked back to their employers and it was best they learned that invaluable lesson at a young age.

The boy stepped away from the post and crossed his thin arms. His mouth settled into a mulish frown and he gave a sharp tug on the brim of his hat, pulling it down lower over his face. “You’re rude,” he muttered.

Henry’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

“I said you are rude,” the boy shot back.

“And I say you’re fired!”

“Good. I wasn’t getting paid anyways. You can clean your own damn stables from now on!” The boy whipped his oversized hat off with a flourish to reveal long curls of auburn hair that instantly transformed the
he
into a
she.

Henry’s jaw clenched. He had only seen hair that red on one woman before. Tight lipped, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the barn.

She had really done it this time. A bit stunned at her own daring, Margaret hurried after Henry. Her shorter legs were no match for his long ones and she had to break into a run to catch up. He did not spare her so much as a sideways glance as she pulled alongside him, but he did stop short in the middle of the drive which she took as a good sign.

“H-hello,” she said, a bit out of breath from the short sprint. “How are you?”

Silence.

“I apologize for tricking you. It was not a very kind thing to do.”
Even if you bloody well deserved it, you blundering ape of a man
.

Silence.

“So you have finally come to visit me? For what reason do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” This time she made no effort to disguise the sarcasm in her tone. And why should she? It wasn’t
her
fault the man was so blind he couldn’t recognize his own wife. She bet even if she was in a dress with her hair curled he wouldn’t know who she was! Margaret’s temper began to simmer. Not only that, but he had been impossibly rude to her when he thought she was a stable lad. She could not abide people who were rude to their servants. A man’s true character was revealed by how he treated those beneath him, and Henry’s dark nature had just been unearthed in spades.

“I am leaving,” she decided abruptly.

“No,” Henry said, his voice deceptively soft. “You are not.”

His fingers reached out with surprising quickness to wrap around her wrist, effectively holding her in place. Margaret considered trying to yank her hand away, but his grip felt like steel, and she would only embarrass herself. Pinching her lips together she looked away from him towards the house, waiting for him to make the next move. She did not have to wait for very long.

“In two weeks I will be traveling to London on business. You will accompany me,” he said after a brief pause. Unwrapping his fingers from her wrist, he wiped them clean on a white silk handkerchief he procured from the vest pocket of his riding jacket.

The gesture was not lost on Margaret, but she was too fixated on what he had said to comment on it. “I will not go with you!” she cried, positively aghast.  

He stared down at her without expression. “This is not a matter open for discussion.”

 She almost felt sorry for the poor man. No doubt he expected her to bow her head and go meekly along with whatever he had planned. She could only assume the women he had encountered in his life thus far had been so in awe of his title they had all but swooned at his feet. He had probably been told countless time how handsome and intelligent he was.

All right, so he
was
quite handsome, with his sandy blond hair, lean frame, and piercing green eyes – she would give him that – but intelligent? Margaret bit back a snort. Hardly. “And why in the world would I go with you?” she asked.

“Because you are my wife,” he said simply.

“And why, pray tell, have you decided to play the part of dutiful husband after all these months? A guilty conscience, perhaps?” she said sweetly.

“You are quite ill mannered,” he observed, glancing at her with a distracted frown as if he had forgotten she was there.

Margaret felt a new wave of anger spilling over her, so potent she nearly choked on it. Even when he was standing right in front of her Henry could not be bothered to give her his full attention.   “And you, sir, are a lummox!”

“It is getting quite late,” he said, ignoring her insult. “I shall have to spend the night here. Go inform the servants that I will require the master bedroom made ready, a bath to be drawn, and a dinner plate brought up.”

She wondered what he would do if she kicked him in the shin.
Probably whisk me off to London all the more quickly
, she thought darkly. It was ironic, really. Here she had been bemoaning the fact that her husband had abandoned her, and now that he had returned she wanted nothing more than for him to leave again.

“Did you hear me?” Henry asked.

Margaret released a very unladylike snort and tossed her head. “Oh, I heard you all right. Will I do as you ask? Now,
that
is the question, Your Grace. And the answer to that question is no!” With that said, she spun on her heel and stomped back to the stables without so much as a backwards glance.

Henry watched his wife stalk down the driveway in stunned silence. Had she actually just told him
no
? Surely he had misheard her. No one refused him. Ever.

His brow furrowed as he watched her trim derriere – showcased beautifully in those God awful breeches – disappear from view. He rubbed his chin. It seemed he
had
just been told no, and by his own wife no less.

 It defied all reason. The poor woman had obviously gone mad in his absence. It was the only explanation that made sense. A pity, really. She had been so sweet when he first met her. Nothing at all like the little hellion that had all but spat in his eye just then. And her
appearance
. Good Lord. He must have been more foxed than he realized on the day of his wedding to agree to marry a woman who looked like
that
. All bones and sharp angles she was, with the sour disposition and fiery red hair to match. Shaking his head in disbelief, Henry continued on towards the house.

Heathridge was still suspiciously devoid of servants when Henry reentered, but now that he knew his wife was definitely in residence, he would put up with no more tom foolery.