My Unfair Lady (14 page)

   Summer turned with surprise. "How'd you know?"

   "Whether I want to or not, I seem to be getting to know you. And if you recall, I picked out your riding habit." Byron leaned over and whispered in her ear, "And your underclothes as well."

   She suddenly became aware of the feel of the silk drawers between her legs and felt an instant throb of heat there. She should've been thoroughly disgruntled that the man could so easily arouse such a response from her, but she laughed instead, 'cause she knew he was trying to shock her again, and he wore a grin on his face that made him look like a naughty schoolboy. He really was fun to be around… why ever had Maria told her that Englishmen, especially the titled, tended to be stuffy? Monte had been stuffy, of course, given the position he had to maintain, but Byron already had the position, so he didn't have to do a thing to maintain it.

   The nose of a large horse interposed itself between them, and they both looked up into familiar lavender eyes. "Are you coming, Your Grace? The hunt is about to begin."

   Lady Banfour sat her mount well…
as she did most
all things well
, thought Byron. The lady's interest in him had certainly intensified since the last time he'd seen her. Because she'd heard of his break with Lady Windolm, or could it be some other reason? Did his arrangement with Summer have tongues wagging? He shrugged, for it hardly mattered, considering he had no interest in the American, really, other than a mild physical attraction.

   He watched Summer walk over to the horse the groom had brought for her. Oh, bloody hell, maybe a
major
physical attraction.

   She turned to him with a frown of concern on her face, and he felt his legs hurrying over to her without a conscious decision of his own. "What's wrong?"

   "It's the saddle." She cocked her head at him, so she could see him clearly beneath the brim of the tilted hat she wore. He prided himself on his choice of that jaunty piece of headgear, the softness of the suede, the exquisite gold decoration against her face that brought out the color of her eyes.

"Your Grace."

"Hmm? Oh yes, the saddle. What's wrong with it?"

"It only has one stirrup."

   He stared at her in astonishment. "It's supposed to have one. Only men's saddles have two…" The duke dug the heel of his hand against his forehead.

   Summer grimaced. "Maria's afraid of horses, so we never went riding in New York. And in Tombstone they had normal saddles. With two stirrups."

   The duke shook his head. What an odd upbringing this girl had, certainly far stranger than any other American girl he'd ever met. "Well, you needn't go on the hunt. We're out of season and likely not to run down a fox anyway. Many women prefer to stay indoors with a cup of tea."

   Summer made a face. It held such a genuine mixture of disgust and disdain that he couldn't help the laugh that escaped. The girl had the power to do that to him.

   "It's highly irregular but not unheard of. It's just considered a tad risqué in the higher circles." He glanced over at Lady Banfour, then at Prince Albert, who'd started to stare at their whispered conversation with amused interest. "Can't you just try the sidesaddle?"

   Summer stared at the ridiculous thing. "There's no guarantee that I wouldn't wind up on my backside in the dirt, and that bothers me more than any ridiculous notions of modesty. I can't ride properly—"

   "You there, groomsman. Fetch the lady another saddle. With two stirrups."

   "Ummm," started Summer.

   "Good grief, madam. What is it now?" They had started to attract even more attention, as the rest of the group had already mounted and were struggling to hold horses that were anxious for a good run. The hounds kept circling the huntsman with whines of anticipation and an occasional snap at each other.

   "I'm really just used to no saddle at all."

   "No saddle… they'll think you're the savage you're rumored to be."

   Summer's face fell, and he couldn't stand the utter look of dejection upon it. "You're the one who wants to be accepted by society—oh, bloody hell. Groomsman, remove the saddle." The duke's hand some face flushed red, but he calmly gestured at the remaining pad. "Is this permissible?"

   Summer nodded enthusiastically, and her smile of happiness almost relieved him of his temper. But he couldn't help thinking that he'd have a devil of a time explaining this one. Couldn't the girl do anything normally?

   Evidently not, for as soon as the horse lay bare of anything but pad and bridle, she proceeded to rub her hands all over the animal, grasping the horse's head and near hugging it fully with her body. Byron stood transfixed for several moments, watching those graceful movements, upbraiding himself for mentally imagining his own body beneath those delicate hands, wishing that he could for just one moment be that stupid horse!

   "What are you doing?" he finally managed to ask.

   Summer turned and stared at his handsome face. How could a man be so beautiful and yet so ignorant at the same time? "I'm introducing myself to her."

   The groomsman nodded his head, as if finally meeting another sensible person, and gestured at a young boy to hand over the reins to the duke's mount. But Byron had started forward, to the anticipated task of helping Summer into the saddle, for the field had started to move, following the huntsman and dogs out to the chosen covert. He stopped dead in his tracks as Summer vaulted on top of the horse, a horse that stood at least fifteen hands high, and seemed to become one with it, blending her body with the animal's as if they were a single unit.

   He took his reins without a glance, climbing into his own saddle, feeling clumsy and awkward after seeing that girl's graceful vault, he who had always prided himself on his horsemanship. He felt distinctly out of sorts and quickly left Summer behind. When Lady Banfour pulled up alongside him, he didn't try to avoid her, hoping that Summer would notice how attracted the woman was to him.

   "How can you associate yourself with that American?" hissed Lady Banfour. "Look at the way she's riding that horse. Why, she'll make you a laughingstock." At the look on his face, she quickly changed tactics, lowering her voice to a husky timbre. "Why you would take up with this American remains a mystery to everyone, but I can see that you are intent on championing her."

   He impaled her with those ice blue eyes, and she swallowed. "But if you would like any help, you have only to ask."

   Byron stopped scowling. Had he misjudged the Lady Banfour? Could he dare include her in their plan? "You could assist me by pointing out that Miss Lee's peculiarities are… eccentricities. That she is a lady, and indeed, to my eyes she always will be, regardless of her escapades."

   Those lavender eyes widened. "She's had escapades? I hope nothing as shocking as what she's exposed us to on this visit."

   He'd never kept this many outrageous stories to himself before, but the inclination to reveal all of Summer's adventures to this woman passed quickly. He'd been hired to make the girl acceptable, not to expose her, no matter how much Lady Banfour panted at the opportunity for gossip. He would just have to wait until the girl returned to America, and the first person he'd tell would be the prince anyway. It would keep him housed as a guest in the palace for at least a year.

   "Just help ease the girl into the pattern of our society, so that she can be presented to the Queen, and I would be grateful."

   She leaned toward him, guiding her horse closer to his own, so that their heads nearly touched. "And in what way would you be willing to show your gratitude?"

   Byron shrugged. He knew what the lady wanted. And she was, after all, the epitome of the perfect Englishwoman, and although the money from his arrangement with Summer had helped, he still needed much, much more. Of which Lady Banfour had plenty. What did it matter, after all, who he married? He'd never be able to separate his person from his title, so he might as well take advantage of it.

   And he felt tired of this game he played, making fools of the people around him, amusing them so that he'd be invited to stay at their well-maintained estates, just to live in the manner he felt entitled to. He realized that he wanted to live in his own estates again, to be respected for what he could accomplish with his ingenuity, not the harshness of his tongue.

   He wondered what Summer's reaction would be if he announced his engagement tonight. Was he seriously toying with the ridiculous idea of marriage just to see if it'd make her as jealous of Lady Banfour as he was of this Monte fellow?

   Had he completely lost all his senses?

   A sudden shout announced that the hounds had flushed out the fox, and the field surged forward, both their horses following the pursuit, making any further conversation impossible. Byron felt satisfied to just let the lady's question go unanswered. Let her hope of it what she would.

   He urged his mount into a gallop and surged ahead of Lady Banfour, splashing through streams and speeding across endless stretches of grassy fields, ducking beneath low-lying branches and surging over fences and more than one gully. The thrill of the chase electrified him, and he reveled in the great skill it took to keep up with the rest of the field.

   A long stretch of open meadow lay before them, and Byron tapped his heels against the horse's flanks, letting him have his head as they fairly flew over the heather. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he glanced over at Lady Banfour, who'd been whipping her horse mercilessly in order to keep up with him. Summer surged from behind and leaned over at a dangerous angle to snatch the whip from the lady's hand. He thought at first that she meant to use it for herself, for she'd refused the whip as well as the saddle, but he could see that she had no trouble urging her horse along with just the pressure of her knees, or whatever she did to make the animal respond like that. Summer's horse was given to ladies because she was of mild temperament, preferring to tarry behind the rest of the field and let the other horses lead. He didn't know how she was making the animal respond like that.

   "Give that back," shouted Lady Banfour.

   Summer shouted something back at her, but he couldn't make it out, as his attention began to focus on the saddle beneath him. It had started to shift toward the left, and he adjusted his weight to center it again. Had the groomsman forgotten to tighten it properly?

   Summer threw the whip away with an angry gesture, and deprived of the inducement of pain, Lady Banfour's horse started to lag behind.

   Then Summer's eyes met his, he could feel them across the distance that separated them, and he could see that she sensed something was wrong. She closed the gap that separated them.

   The saddle shifted to the right this time, and Byron tried to compensate again, but it felt as if the entire thing had come loose and only the firmness of his seat kept it in place. He resisted the urge to panic and pull back on the reins, and instead gently pulled the horse's head to the left, trying to guide it out of the path of the riders behind them.

   "What is it?" shouted Summer, keeping her mount alongside his.

   Byron realized that the riders behind them continued to follow him, instead of the distant figure of the prince. Perhaps they thought he knew a shortcut that avoided most of the furrows in this stretch of land—he didn't know, but the saddle had started to creep back onto the horse's rump and he didn't have time to shout explanations to them.

   "Saddle's loose," he finally replied. He had mere seconds to act and wasn't sure if the woman next to him was actually as good a rider as she looked. Or if he wanted to gamble his life on that.

   But she was quick, this American girl, and shouted back at him, "I'm ready." And pulled her horse close enough that her leg touched his own.

   The duke lifted both his legs, trying to gain some leverage with his left as he slid his right over the slightly lower rump of Summer's horse. His own mount snorted and fought the reins, frightened by the closeness of Summer's horse, and tried to veer away. Byron couldn't decide whether to risk the loose saddle or shift his weight all the way to the other horse. His legs stretched farther apart than they'd been physically designed to do, and he grunted against the pull of his muscles, waiting for them to rip as his bottom hung suspended in midair. For a horrible second he thought he hadn't made it, half on and off both mounts, knowing that if he fell between them, his spine would crack and the horses following would trample him to death.

   Then the daring girl grasped his arm and pulled him the rest of the way over and behind her, with him instinctively kicking off his own horse to give her the leverage to do it. As his bottom landed firmly behind her, any trace of annoyance he'd still harbored over her fuss about how she wanted to ride her horse evaporated.

   His empty saddle flew off his horse, barely missing the rider behind it, and they galloped on amid the startled screams of those behind them.

   "Shall we stop?" called Summer over her shoulder.