Free Defiant Angel by Stephanie Stevens Page A

she appeared preoccupied, but intact. Then he quickly turned to Paul, leveling a steady gaze at him. A smile that did not touch his eyes accompanied his stare. In a tight voice he asked, "Is there a problem, Paul? You seem to have dropped a ways behind us all."
    Paul shifted uneasily in his saddle. It was common knowledge the Devonshire men were Tiffany's appointed protectors. Paul might easily dismiss Brian or Dalton, the former seldom available, the latter too young and inexperienced. However, Chad was neither; and while he was rumored to be among that elite group of men known to do pretty much as they pleased, he was also known to take his responsibilities seriously. Paul swallowed with difficulty. Chad was the one to deliver any recompensation to an overeager suitor, and Chad was not to be dismissed.
    "N-no," Paul stammered as he looked at Tiffany for confirmation. "Demoiselle and I were discussing a future riding date."
    Tiffany was oblivious to the encounter between the two--too busy formulating a plan to see Xanadu--to hear the threat in Chad's words.
    "Really? Well, Monsieur Dupre, I suggest you enjoy the present riding arrangement." Chad paused, withdrawing a cigar and rolling it between his fingers. He lifted his eyes, pinning Paul's with his own, and said, "For there's to be no different arrangement in the future."
    Paul stiffly nodded his head and said to Tiffany, "By your leave, demoiselle," and rode off.
    Tiffany was brought back to the present hearing heard her name. She gazed over to Chad, who sat appraising her while he leisurely smoked a cigar. He nodded his head, indicating she should precede him, saying, "After you, Countess. I'll bring up the rear, so to speak." She smiled as if it was expected and daintily nudged her mare into a trot, once again lost in her own thoughts.
    Chad watched her. Raven tresses waved from behind, beckoning. Her sweet, rounded derriere rose up and then down to the bouncing gait. He smiled wolfishly at the direction his thoughts took. Hell, he'd like to bring up that rear, all right! He couldn't blame Dupre, even Brian or any of them, for she could tempt the devil himself. By God, he was not immune! She stirred more than brotherly affection in him, and he was cast in a role as her protector! He tossed his cigar down and spurred his mount to a gallop. He laughed in the wind as he thought of the irony of his role, "the fox guarding the henhouse." How cruel life could be.
    Tiffany tucked an errant curl under her cap while gazing in the mirror. She went forward toward the mirror, feeling the tightness of Dalton's britches. Standing to relieve the discomfort, she pulled shirttails out from her pants so they hung covering her derriere, hoping it would hide the way the breeches fit her like a second skin. She shook her head, deciding to tie the tails at her waist instead. Flying over to the bed, she sat pulling on Dalton's high black riding boots. Standing and pacing, she decided to wear socks, for while Dalton's britches were tight, his boots were large and loose. Opening the drawers looking for her heavy woolen socks, she gave up the search when Alysse flew into the room.
    "Tiffany, please, I beg you not to do this. Reconsider; there must be a better place and time to do this."
    "There is no better time. Aunt Winnie is at the Roth-childs' for tea. Xanadu is at La Fountaine, which is only an hour away." She turned back to Alysse, having given up her search entirely, and pointed out to her quite emphatically, "And Xanadu may never be this close."
    "But, Tiffany, you can't possibly go to the race. Why--" she wrung her hands "--think of your reputation if you're seen. It is not as if no one would recognize you!" Alysse followed Tiffany to the window. "You are, after all, still the rage, you know, and if you were ever seen at such an affair . . ."
    Tiffany moved across the room, oblivious to Alysse's pleading.
    "Are you listening, girl?" Alysse stepped in front of Tiffany, grasping her