some reason she couldn’t stop herself from going on, more because defiance helped keep her own half frightened spirits up than to intentionally goad him on..
“You know, you should give him his head more often—a top of the trees horse like that needs a good run to keep him up to snuff.”
Davenport wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. “What?” he asked in an ominously low voice.
“I said, I hope you know how to handle him properly.”
His eyes were as dark as smoldering embers. “You call that handling him properly, flying neck and leather out of control? It’s a wonder he didn’t throw you sooner.”
“I was not out of control! I’ll have you know I have been riding blooded stallions since I was six and can handle a mount as well—or better— than most men.”
He couldn’t quite believe he was standing here brangling with her. His eyes went down to her breeches and boots. “So you like something spirited between your legs?” he snapped.
Caroline’s eyes followed his. She had worn breeches around Lucien and her father’s grooms for ages, but suddenly her legs looked, well, nearly naked. Color flooded her face and unconsciously she curled up like a hedgehog. The movement sent a jolt of pain shot through her shoulder, causing her to bite her lip nearly hard enough to draw blood.
He looked as if to say something, then walked over to where she lay. “Are you all right?” he asked curtly.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was determined not to disgrace herself by crying out or casting up her accounts for the second time in front of the earl. She would take whatever punishment he chose to mete out like...a man. Rumor had it the man possessed a devil of a temper. What would he—
He reached down and lifted her to her feet. When her legs buckled slightly, his arm came around her waist. “Come. Sit down over here.”
He guided her to a fallen tree by the side of the path and settled her on its broad trunk. Neither of them spoke for a few moments. Caroline took a few deep breaths and the pain and dizziness subsided.
“Better?”
She nodded again.
Davenport turned to stare down the dirt farm track. His jaw clenched and the sparks in his eyes betraying the war that was raging within. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I apologize,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “That was an unpardonable remark.” He shook his head in disbelief. “The chit steals my horse and here I am apologizing,” he continued to himself. His fingers moved absently to his cheekbone and began to massage the thin white line running across it.
Caroline slanted him a sideways glance. “I’m sorry as well. I know I...provoked you. Truly, I did not wish to steal your horse, but you wouldn’t help me. I had no choice. You don’t understand—I have to get away from here.” Her hands tightened in her lap. “Right now.”
Davenport let out a exasperated sigh. “We will discuss this in a more suitable place. Will you be all right for a moment while I fetch Nero?”
A strangled sound came from Caroline. He thought for a moment that she was finally succumbing to girlish hysterics then realized she was trying not to laugh.
“Oh, tell me a man of your reputation didn’t really name his horse Nero,” she managed to say in answer to his quizzical look.
His lips twitched at the corners. “One must have a sense of humor to survive in this world.”
----
Chapter 4
Caroline wasn’t sure the earl’s study was exactly the spot she would have chosen for their confrontation. He looked even more forbidding seated behind the massive oak, hands steepled him on the tooled blotter, stormy blue eyes crashing into her like waves against the strand. It was uncomfortably familiar, having faced her father under similar situations on countless occasions. Besides, there was the little matter of...
“And now, Miss—.” There was an emphatic pause, which he drew out like a duelist unsheathing a