Free Defiant Angel by Stephanie Stevens

offers refused by Tiffany and had devised a plan to ensure his end. It was quite simple; he knew her passion for riding. All he had to do was to get her alone and detain her for an improper amount of time; she would be compromised and forced to accept him! He simply needed to preoccupy her during their ride. He broke on just the thing and ventured, "Possibly, demoiselle, a small contest of equestrian skill?" He smiled devilishly. "Perhaps a wager to make it more interesting?"
    Tiffany knew the Dupres' stables were renowned, boasting some of the best horseflesh in France. Paul was a superb rider, technically sound, and his execution precise. She smiled. But he lacked the natural skill and ability she possessed. She never considered he had any other motive to his proposed riding date. She knew she could beat him and agreed, saying, "But, of course, wagering makes it more exciting. Shall we agree then, three weeks from now?"
    The broad smile that etched his face disappeared. "Ah, demoiselle, any day but then. I am scheduled to attend a race." He puffed his chest out proudly, saying, "Caesar, my stallion, is to finally have some competition. An English mount with a most unusual name." He paused trying to remember the name and began to pronounce it. "Ex-caliber, no, it is most unusual, something Arabic, yes, yes, Xanadu, that's it, Xanadu." He smiled proudly, having remembered the name, and went on, "Perhaps in two weeks we . . ."
    Anything further Paul had to say fell on deaf ears, for once Tiffany heard the horse's name, she heard nothing further.
    Xanadu here! she thought. After all these years wondering what had become of him, and he was here in France of all places. Dieu!
    "Where is the race to be . . . Paul?"-Tiffany asked, her voice trembling with excitement.
    Her use of his given name did not go unnoticed by Paul, making him believe he had progressed. "Outside of Paris. At La Fountaine."
    Batting her eyelashes, a plan forming in her mind, she said, "Oh, Paul, I have never seen a real horse race. Would you take me, please?"
    He was almost swallowed up by her wide, pleading blue eyes. "Ah, Tiffany, if I only could take you." He gauged her reaction to his use of her given name and saw none. Spreading his hands in a gesture to emphasize his regret, he continued, "The affair is for men solely and certain women of questionable . . . shall we say, women not of your standing." The look of disappointment caused him to offer, "Tiffany, I would escort you anywhere else, cherie. "
    Realizing her hastily formed plan had failed, she tried another. "Who owns this Xanadu, Paul?" she asked sweetly.
    "Ah, our most fierce competitor, the duke of Chablisienne. It is said the old duke was as fastidious about his blooded stock as he was with his own lineage. He had quite a fetish for that sort of thing. I am sure you English know the types."
    Oh, Tiffany knew the types, all right, and the duke of Chablisienne no doubt fit the mold to a tee--an ancient, lecherous, hawked-nose man, probably stooped over, clambering about with a walking stick, intimidating his lessers. No doubt the duke intended to run Xanadu to the ground if he was fastidious about bloodlines. After all, Xanadu had no papers and would be no use to the duke other than as a possession that could increase his wealth. No doubt once Xanadu could run no longer, the duke would rid himself of him and purchase another possession.
    Suddenly she realized Paul was awaiting an answer to his question and quickly responded, "Oh yes, England is indeed plagued by such fools."
    Paul raised a brow at her remark, thinking Tiffany was not concerned with the importance of title. He found hop* in her attitude, for his own title was not impressive. He had dismissed the conversation about horses and was about to press for a riding date when the sound of hooves drew his attention. Chad Devonshire drew his horse to a halt before Paul and Tiffany. He quickly glanced at Tiffany, assessing her state, noticing