Taken by Storm (17 page)

The crowd stirred uneasily, anticipating a fight.

“
Tell me!
”

“He’s going to hit him,” whispered a man standing near Ariadne, jerking his head toward the farrier. “You can’t push John Beckett too far, I tell you!”

“Nah, he won’t hit a lad with specs,” another hissed back.

“Ye want to make a bet? My money’s on Beckett.”

“And mine’s on the veterinarian!” Ariadne cried. “Don’t let him hurt that poor horse,
Doctor
Lord! You hear me? Don’t let him!”

Her shrill cry sent the farrier over the edge. Scalpel raised, he went for the gelding’s jugular, and from her close vantage point, Ariadne saw it all.

The perfect composure of the doctor’s face. The absence of hesitation as he stepped protectively in front of the gelding. The quick, upward flash of his fist.

And the farrier, crumpling to the wet gravel, his nose spraying a fan of blood.

Colin stepped back, shouldering the horse away with him.

“Huzzah for you, Colin!” Ariadne shouted, caught up in the moment and jumping up and down as the crowd went wild around her. “Give the blackguard what he deserves!”

The farrier stumbled to his feet, one hand covering his bleeding nose. “You hit me!” he roared, flinging down the scalpel. “Damn yer eyes, ye bloody hit me!”

“Yes, and I’ll do so again if you so much as come near this animal with that scalpel.” Still holding the gelding, Colin turned to the shocked owner. “Sir, please. I’ll buy the beast from you. The dog, too. How much do you want for them?”

“Well, I—”

“Twenty pounds? Thirty?”

“You bloody
HIT
me!”

The farrier hurled himself at Colin, and in the space of a heartbeat, Ariadne saw her veterinarian draw a breath—no, it was more a sigh than a breath—glance heavenward in a plea for divine patience, and then whirl to drive his fist into the farrier’s jaw with such force that the man’s head rocked back, his knees buckled, and he fell sprawling on his back in a fresh pile of dung.

And this time, he did not get up.

The crowd, shocked, went dead silent as Colin turned calm, patient eyes upon the horse’s owner. “Sir? You were saying?”

“T-t-twenty pounds,” the man stammered, backing away. “Twenty pounds and they’re yours.”

Colin smiled. “Done.”

They did not linger at the inn.

In moments, the old bay gelding was harnessed and being backed into the shafts, someone, at Colin’s request, had found some sheepskin to protect the animal’s sores, Shareb was being tied to the chaise, both dogs were loaded, and they were hastily on their way, the milling knot of people on the lawn growing smaller and smaller with distance behind them.

Dr. Lord, it was obvious, was eager to put as many miles between them and the inn as quickly as possible.

“You were
magnificent
back there,” Ariadne gushed, “Simply magnificent! I would never have guessed you could fight like that, being such a quiet and gentle person, but my goodness, that awful man deserved everything you gave him and I’m so proud of you! How anyone could be cruel to such a kind old horse as—what did you say his name was?”

“Thunder.”

“Thunder, is beyond me. Just think of what would have happened to that poor horse if we hadn’t come along in time.”

Her companion cast a quick glance over his shoulder, oblivious to the way Ariadne was smiling up at him, and she wondered if her own eyes reflected the same worshipful adoration toward him that those of animals did. At the moment, she didn’t care. At the moment, she was just a little bit in love with Colin Lord, maybe even more than just a little bit, and who wouldn’t be, after seeing what he’d done back there?

“You’re a hero, Colin.”

His face looked pained.

“And I’m so glad you gave that man what he deserved. But, do you think that having Thunder along is going to complicate things for us?”

“Actually, it should be to our benefit,” he said, finally relaxing as it became apparent that they weren’t being followed. “Every money-hungry reward hunter from here to Norfolk is on the lookout for a bay horse and a young, flame-haired woman. Thunder may be a complication, but he is a necessary one.”

“How?”

“No one is going to be looking for
two
bay horses, similar in size and color—”

She laughed. “Dr. Lord, how can you even
compare
such an animal with Shareb? They are night and day! At least Thunder seems to enjoy pulling the chaise, which should put Shareb back in good humor.”

“So stop complaining.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Dr. Lord, sometimes you are too high-and-mighty for your own good. Acting better than you are. Such behavior is highly inappropriate.”

“And how would you like me to behave?”

“Appropriately.”

“And what is appropriate?”

She sniffed. “Suitably subservient.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“Don’t get smart.”

“Of course not, your Highness.”

She laughed and playfully swatted him with her cap. He couldn’t prevent his lips from twitching. Then she coaxed Bow into her lap, and moved her feet so that their other new acquisition, the gun dog—whose soulful brown eyes were gazing reverently up at the doctor—had a place to lie down.

“And what are you going to call your new dog? Stern?”

“What?”

“If that one’s Bow, then is this one Stern?”

“Why don’t you name him.”

She looked at the dog; unlike the horse, he appeared to be nobly bred, with a beautiful head through which an off-center blaze ran, and plenty of muscle under his short white coat with its brown ticking. He had the look of an aristocrat about him, and he needed a suitable name.

“Marcus,” she announced. “We’ll call him Marc.”

“Aurelius?”

“Antony.”

Colin, grinning, reached down to scratch the dog’s ears, and glancing at his employer, saw that she was leaning back in her seat watching him.

Not just watching him.
Studying
him, with admiring, worshipful eyes—just as she’d been doing ever since he’d stepped in and rescued Thunder from the farrier. It was unnerving. Disconcerting. And, if he were honest with himself, flattering, because her perky energy, her bubbly spirits, drew him like water to a sponge. God help him, how was he going to endure this all the way to Norfolk? He looked away, pretending indifference, but out of the corner of his eye he saw her still watching him from beneath her cap. He could see her red locks, her pouty mouth, the bored, restless look in her eye that spelled trouble.

She sighed.

He didn’t say anything.

She began drumming her fingers against her knee.

“Would you like to drive?” he asked, trying to think of something to amuse her.

“No.” She sighed again. “I would not like to drive. I would like to talk about . . . last night.”

“That’s unfortunate, because I would not.”

“Don’t be a prude, Colin. It’s not as though anything
happened
.”

She drew her legs up, turned on the seat, and then startled him by lying back until her shoulders were against his thigh, her head in his lap.

Colin went stiff.

“My lady, this is
not
appropriate,” he said, his light humor vanishing.

“What, do you mind so very much?”

“It’s not that I mind, but—”

“Then what is the trouble?”

“You’re betrothed.”

“Yes, but I’m not doing anything wrong. Besides, I am most comfortable, you’re a very handsome man, and I enjoy looking at you.”

“You shouldn’t enjoy looking at me, you belong to somebody else.”

“Not yet I don’t. Until I’m married I may look at anyone I please. And right now, I find it immensely pleasing to look at
you
. It’s unfortunate that you don’t like to look at
me
.”

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“It’s obvious.”

“So, I behave within the confines of propriety. There is nothing contemptible about that.”

“No, but how utterly
boring
. So, good doctor, are you saying you do like to look at me?”

He merely turned that patient, unflappable, stare upon her that said more than words ever could.

“Well?” Ariadne pressed, her eyes sparkling.

“Any attraction I feel for you is a useless emotion.”

“So. That doesn’t mean you cannot have it. Are you attracted to me, Colin?”

“Ariadne, this conversation is doing neither of us any good—”

“I don’t see the harm in it. Because right now, you see, I’m not feeling very pretty, garbed as I am in a man’s clothes and watching what’s left of my reputation fade away with every mile we get closer to Norfolk. It’s reassuring to hear that someone finds me attractive, especially someone who, I must say, is the hero of the hour.”

Her companion just looked straight ahead, his eyes bleak.

“You
are
a hero, you know.”

“And you are a flirt. Sit up, Ariadne, and act like a lady.”

“I cannot act like a lady when I’m masquerading as a man.”

“If you were serious about your masquerade, you wouldn’t be lying here with your head in my lap.”

“I
want
to lie here with my head in your lap, and look up at your face, silhouetted against the blue sky and clouds, and watch the sunlight dry your hair and slant down through your eyes, watch it throw the shadow of your lashes over your cheeks and the shadow of your head over mine.”

“I suppose you get everything you want.”

Ariadne looked up at him, her handsome hero and savior of animals, this man she had gazed upon long into the night, this man who filled her head with wicked thoughts of kissing and touching and, well, other things a lady should not be thinking about, this man who could make her skin tingle and her heart race with just one glance from his oddly beautiful eyes.

Wicked, wicked, Ariadne.
She—
oh, admit it!
—wanted him to touch her. Wanted him to kiss her. Wanted . . .

She sighed in despair. “No,” she said, softly. “I
don’t
always get everything I want.”

He kept his gaze straight ahead. “Do you want this marriage to Maxwell?”

She didn’t answer, merely gazing up at the underside of his chin with sad, suddenly wistful eyes, noting the tiny gold bristles picking up the glare of the sun.

“Do you?” he repeated, his voice tight.

“I . . . well . . . well, yes, of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

She saw his lashes fall as his eyes closed, briefly. “I don’t know. It’s just that as your friend, I thought it my duty to warn you that marriage is not a commitment to be entered into lightly.”

“No. Indeed, it is not. But I am an heiress, and my father promised me to Maxwell. I have to marry him. It’s what he wanted.”

“Yes, but is it what
you
want?”

He bent his head and turned his clear gaze on her, and the look of raw longing and desire she saw there went straight to her heart. The color faded from her face, and she suddenly felt confused, afraid, trapped. Of course she wanted to marry Maxwell! Didn’t she?

Yet why, suddenly, did the thought fill her with panic and doubt? Why did it make her feel helpless, unhappy, and trapped?

“All brides get cold feet,” she snapped, unable to look him in the eye. “I suspect it’s quite normal.”

He looked back up, a shadow darkening his eyes and his jaw tight with what could only be anger. She sensed him mentally withdrawing from her, pulling within himself, and as it had last night, the feeling left her scared and lonely. Rejected.

“Colin?”

“What?”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

“You’re being short with me. I don’t like when you become aloof and distant.”

He stared straight ahead and did not respond.

“Your eyes are just as beautiful when you’re angry, you know.”

“Stop it, Ariadne.”

“No, I won’t stop it. Unless you give me just a
tiny
smile.”

“I said,
stop it.
”

“A teeny, tiny smile. . . . Come now, Colin! Show me that crooked grin.”

But he didn’t respond, only looking away with eyes full of pain, and Ariadne was reminded again, as she had been so many times in the past, how her outrageous remarks and slightly risqué behavior had never gotten her the attention she craved, but had only landed her in trouble, again and again and again.

Including this marriage that she did not want. This marriage that was supposed to put firm reins on her increasingly wild behavior, according to Father after Maxwell, himself, had proposed it.

Bad behavior. No, it had never worked in the past.

So why, then, do I keep doing it?

“Colin,” she ventured after some moments had passed. “What are we going to do about our arrangements tonight?”

“I don’t think we should be sleeping near each other. Last night proved that.”

“Well, we can’t very well sleep apart. You’re supposed to be protecting us. So therefore we have to sleep near each other, don’t you think?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“I wish we would come to it now, because I very much enjoyed sleeping together last night. I felt so . . . so
safe
, Colin. As though nothing could ever happen to me as long as you were near.”

“We weren’t
sleeping together
.”

“Well, we were sleeping
next
to each other.”

“And don’t let appearances deceive you,” he added. “I’ll do my best to protect you and Shareb, but I am not infallible.”

“Oh, Colin, stop being so self-deprecating. I saw the way you laid that farrier out cold. You were magnificent, wonderful! And you fight remarkably well for a healing man. Did you learn how to do
that
in the War, too?”

“You might say that.”

“Did you get in fights very often?”

“Often enough.”

“Fistfights?”

“No.”

“What kind, then?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Ariadne,
please
.”

“Well, I cannot imagine what the big secret is. . . .”

“Yes, and it’s better that you don’t. I find it painful to discuss. Talk about the weather if you like, ask me questions about my career as a veterinarian, but do not query me about my past.”