The riding party gathered on the front lawn after breakfast, Perdy looking as if he wished he could disappear. Alicia had put on her dark blue riding habit, which she knew became her admirably, its tight bodice molding to her slender frame. Marianne was resplendent, though a bit subdued, in crimson.
Alicia went to the groom, who was holding both her favorite mare and the young horse, Whitefoot, she had promised Cairnyllan. “Are you ready to try him?” she called.
“I am that.” The earl took the horse’s bridle and ran a hand along his nose. “I’ll be a bit heavy for you, lad, but I shan’t push you hard.”
Alicia admired the man’s russet hair against the sky. “I want to apologize to you for last night,” she said.
He shrugged as if to dismiss the subject. “I never supposed you had induced Marianne to gamble. It is, I believe, chiefly a male vice.” He eyed the men in the group with disdain.
Alicia hesitated, tempted to escape blame by confirming his theory with her silence. His tone had been so contemptuous, and she found she valued his opinion, after last night. But she couldn’t. Her friends did not deserve such treatment. “Actually,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, “I suggested the game. But it got a bit out of hand.”
Cairnyllan looked at her, his amiable expression fading, then turned away to mount without a word. Alicia felt very low as her groom helped her into the saddle.
The sky was partly overcast, with gray clouds streaming in close order across it and a brisk wind, as they all mounted up and turned toward the long avenue and the front gates. Alicia and Cairnyllan, the best riders, took the lead, reining in their fresh horses, then letting them dance a little down the graveled drive.
Alicia drew in a deep breath and threw back her head. This was better. She had been feeling pent-up in the house, she realized. She was used to a great deal more exercise than Perdy planned for his guests. At home, she rode every day, and often walked in the afternoon. Passing the wrought iron gates, she turned her horse’s head left and let her out into a trot. There was a splendid ride in this direction, she knew, providing plenty of opportunities for a gallop. Surely Lord Cairnyllan would forget his anger in the joy of it.
They rode along a narrow lane between high hedges and through the tiny village of Perdon, with its scattering of thatched cottages and stone bridge over the stream. From the blacksmith’s came the rhythmic clanging of hammer on metal. Beyond stretched fields and a ridge of low hills crowned with trees. The path Alicia had chosen led up and along this for some miles before curving back toward the back of Perdon Abbey park. She urged her mare forward and reached the summit first, pulling up to wait for the others. The view was pleasant rather than dramatic. More fields spread out below, and they could see several other villages to the east. But the path was good, and the small height gave the illusion of distance and intimacy.
Cairnyllan stopped beside her and leaned over to pat Whitefoot’s neck. “How do you like him?” asked Alicia, determined to converse.
“He is becoming used to me. I think we shall get on well enough.”
“Care to try his paces?” Alicia indicated the path before them.
“Is this a good place?” The earl eyed the terrain doubtfully. The way appeared smooth and easy, but he could not tell when it might plunge down the hill or cross one of the narrow ravines he had noticed further along the ridge.
“Afraid I’ll outpace you?” Alicia’s mare curvetted, and with a sudden laugh, she gave her her head, thundering off in a full gallop.
Cairnyllan hesitated only a moment before using his heels on Whitefoot and following. The rest of the group watched them pound up a slight incline and then disappear over its rim. “Neck or nothing,” murmured Roddy. “That’s Alicia.”
“Are we going to just sit here?” exclaimed Marianne MacClain, who had recovered her spirits in the open air. Then she too spurred her mount to a gallop.
Perdy groaned audibly, but the others were already after her, and he was forced to kick his large, sleepy-looking roan to a surprised trot.
A good way ahead, Alicia was still laughing. The air streaming past her face and the feel of the mare racing under her were wildly exhilarating. She had left everyone behind and was flying along the top of the ridge. Twice, they had leaped narrow defiles, little more than cracks in the hillside but deep and overgrown with thorned blackberry. She felt as if she could go on riding this way forever, away from the world and completely free.
The sound of hooves made her glance back. Cairnyllan was catching up. Alicia’s pale blue eyes lit, and her smile became mischievous. She bent a little more in the saddle and kicked the mare to yet greater speed. Happily, the horse extended her neck and ran.
Together, the two riders thundered along the path. Trees and undergrowth flashed by. They leapt another tiny ravine—first Alicia, then Cairnyllan arching up and over and landing at full gallop. Alicia’s laughter floated back as she held her lead, and the sound brought a grim smile to the earl’s ruddy face. He bent lower, but he did not close the short distance between them.
Finally, Alicia pulled up beside a massive oak, and he swung in beside her. They were both breathing quickly, and when their eyes met, both smiled. “How dare you ride that way sidesaddle?” wondered Cairnyllan. “I certainly wouldn’t want to try it.”
She laughed. “I have ridden so all my life.” Her smile turned reminiscent. “Though I used to go astride as well, when I was younger.”
He raised one eyebrow, but replied merely, “You have the finest seat I have ever seen in a woman.”
“Or a man?” she retorted. “I managed to beat you.”
“I didn’t want to founder your horse.” He sounded amused. “If I had one of my own…”
“Oh, of course.” She taunted him a little.
“And you had a good ten yards start,” he added, beginning to be nettled.
“Shall we try it again from here?” Alicia gazed into his eyes challengingly. She still felt immensely excited, and she realized now that this was not entirely due to the gallop. She had enjoyed winning the race, as she always did, but the presence of Ian MacClain had somehow intensified the sensation. Looking at him now, his ruddy hair brilliant in a shaft of sun and his blue eyes glinting, Alicia was abruptly flooded with a surge of desire. She thought of kissing him, and a thrill shivered through her.
Alicia had been kissed before, twice, in fits of great daring that she had later brushed aside, along with the gentlemen so favored. It had been an interesting experience, one that she was glad to have had but was disinclined to repeat. But watching Cairnyllan’s face, she was suddenly certain that with him it would not be the same at all.
The earl seemed to sense the change in her thoughts. He looked slightly startled at the heat in her eyes, then his own flickered and, at the same time, hardened a bit, conveying an equally intense response. They remained very still for a long moment, eyes locked, then Alicia took a shaky breath and wheeled her mare into a gallop again.
This time, Cairnyllan was right behind her. Alicia could see Whitefoot’s head in the corner of her eye, and her heart began to pound in rhythm with the hoofbeats. She found it difficult to breathe, and her mare, feeling the uncertainty in her hands, stumbled a little over a rock in the path. Alicia pulled her head up, and they recovered, but the hesitation had allowed the earl to come abreast.
Side by side, they raced, throwing brief glances at one another. Both bent low and urged their horses forward with knees and thoughts, intent on the contest between them.
Alicia was certain she was pulling ahead again when the widest ravine they had yet encountered loomed before them. It was at least six feet to the other side, she estimated, perhaps more. She could take it, of course, but…reluctantly, she started to ease the mare back from her headlong gallop, to prepare for the jump. Then she saw that Cairnyllan was making no such prudent move. He was going to attempt it flat out. She let her hand drop again, then quickly changed her mind. She couldn’t be sure of making the jump unless she slowed. And neither could he, she thought irritably. He seemed to have forgotten his worries over her horse.
Cairnyllan pulled ahead, and Whitefoot launched out over the ravine. Alicia caught one glimpse as he seemed to falter, then she herself was flying up and landing on the opposite side. Her mare stumbled slightly, then they were galloping along the path again.
After a moment, when the earl did not come up with her, Alicia turned. She saw Whitefoot some yards behind, his bridle dragging, slightly favoring his left forefoot. At once, she wheeled and raced back to the ravine.
Cairnyllan was in it. He had just picked himself up, in fact, and was brushing at the sleeve of his riding coat. Luckily, he had landed in a spot free of thorns, but he would have to push through a great clump of blackberry to get out.
“Are you all right?” called Alicia.
“Yes.” His tone was curt, and he sounded angry.
“Good,” Alicia snapped, and turned back to reassure the shaken animal. After a few moments an angry exclamation came from the ravine, and Alicia looked again at the earl.
Despite stern self-admonition, she began to laugh. He looked so funny standing there scowling, his head not even reaching the level of the path.
“Very amusing, I’ve no doubt,” said MacClain, the Scottish burr of his R’s intensified. “Suppose you give me a hand up.”
Alicia stifled her laughter and surveyed the situation. It would not be easy getting him out. The ravine was small but very steep. She would have to dismount. Sliding to the ground, she searched for a branch but found nothing. There were no large trees nearby. Finally, she crouched above him and extended her riding crop for him to grasp. It was not the most stable position, but the earl seemed likely to explode if she did not do something quickly, and she felt sympathy as well as amusement at his plight. How she would hate to be in it!
Cairnyllan grabbed the end of the riding crop and started to climb, but, in his impatience he pulled far too hard, and in the next instant, Alicia had tumbled forward into his arms and both of them were on the floor of the ravine in a heap.
“You blundering idiot,” he roared, trying to untangle himself from her mass of skirts and sit up. “Why didn’t you hold on?”
“Because you didn’t allow me to,” blazed Alicia, jerking her head and leaving several strands of silver-blond hair in a thorn bush. The pain made her even angrier. “I should have known that a man who couldn’t make an easy jump would botch his own rescue.”
“Rescue, is it? If your damned horse…” He paused, too honest to blame Whitefoot for his mistake. Indeed, Cairnyllan might have admitted that the whole thing was his fault for pushing his mount, and that his anger was chiefly at himself, if Alicia had not chosen that moment to say, “Take your hands off me.”
Cairnyllan glared at her, their eyes only inches apart, and Alicia responded in kind. Abruptly, they became intensely aware of one another, and their rage dissolved into something as hot, but of a far different character. Alicia remembered her earlier thoughts, and her eyes shifted to the earl’s lips. She could feel his arms supporting her. Seeing the change in her face, his blue eyes flamed. He bent his head and kissed her passionately.
Alicia was stunned. The innocent kisses she had exchanged with men she had known from childhood had been nothing like this. Her whole body seemed to turn to jelly, and a physical thrill sparked from her throat to her knees. She brought her arms up and around his neck, giving herself totally to the embrace. Cairnyllan responded by pushing her back until they were lying side by side on the rough grass, his hands roaming over her back and around to cup her breasts. She relaxed beneath him, knowing suddenly that this was what her life had been lacking until now. She had had everything she could desire, except an equal to fire her passions and share them, as Ian was unquestionably doing. He drew back a little, and she murmured his name, fastening her lips on his again.
At this, he threw off all pretense of reluctance. He had had a moment of doubt, wondering if he were taking advantage of an inexperienced girl, but it was clear that Lady Alicia Alston knew what she wanted. He caressed her breast again, and she sighed with pleasure. With eager fingers, he reached for the fastenings of her habit.
At that moment, they both heard the sound of hooves. Then Marianne MacClain’s voice called, “Come on! We are poking along so slowly we will never catch them.”
Cairnyllan straightened as if stung and pulled away, struggling to his feet and beginning to brush the dust and leaves from his coat. Alicia followed more slowly, regretful, but realizing that they must preserve the proprieties until they could formalize their relationship. She rose and shook out her skirts, retrieving her hat from the bush where it had fallen.
“Hallo,” shouted Cairnyllan, ignoring her. “Marianne, here.”
There was a pause, then his sister appeared, gazing down into the ravine with astonishment. “Ian! And Lady Alicia! What happened?”
“We took the jump too fast and were thrown,” he replied. Alicia eyed him with indignant amusement. She hadn’t, she wanted to say, but it was probably best not to go into details. “Get the others to help us up,” Cairnyllan was adding, and Marianne nodded, eyes large, before turning away.
There was no time for talk; the whole group arrived in a moment, and they were immediately involved in the rescue. By the time Alicia had struggled out of the defile and remounted, she was hot and scratched and very annoyed, and wanted only to get home and have a bath. There would be plenty of time to talk to Ian, she thought, and the idea was so attractive that she smiled despite herself.
But there was, she found, no opportunity at all. She went immediately to her room on their return and rang for her maid. Though the mishap had kept them much later than they meant, and it was just past time for luncheon, Alicia refused to hurry. She ordered a bath and a tray and spent a leisurely two hours setting herself to rights, frequently falling into fits of smiling abstraction that quite puzzled her maid, who had known her nearly all her life.
When she went downstairs again at midafternoon, no one was about. Ian had probably looked for her, she thought, and given up when she did not come for such a time. She walked through the lower rooms, hoping to encounter him, but she found only Roddy, taking desultory shots at the billiard table and looking bored. He welcomed her eagerly and suggested a game.
“Not just now. Where is everyone?”
“The girls are still in their rooms. I think Perdy is too, actually.” He grinned. “Hiding from you and the chance of more exertion.”
“And our Scotsman?” Alicia tried to sound casual, but she wasn’t certain she succeeded.
“With his mother. Said he was going to sit with her till dinner.”
For a moment, Alicia was annoyed. Then she realized that Ian probably wished to talk with Lady Cairnyllan about his plans for marriage. She smiled to herself. “Perhaps I will beat you at billiards then, Roddy.”
He snorted. “I should like to see that.”
“Very well.” She held out her hand for a cue.
The whole party gathered in the drawing room before dinner. Alicia had put on a gown of clinging sea-green muslin and was conscious that she looked very well. She expected Ian to approach her at once, but he did not, staying beside his mother and watching the others with a curious hostility. She was puzzled, and had started to walk toward them when dinner was announced and Perdy offered his arm.
Throughout the meal, which Alicia found very long, she continued to observe Ian MacClain. He didn’t look at her, and for a while she could not imagine why. Then, she suddenly realized that he was probably embarrassed. He had behaved in a most unconventional way this morning—some would say scandalous. Perhaps he was afraid she was offended. Alicia’s lips curved; she would have to enlighten him at once.
But MacClain was feeling disgust—with himself for having been lured into responding to Alicia today and, more particularly, with this group of Londoners surrounding him. He had been perfectly right about them; they were libertines and wantons. He was very worried about Marianne, who did not seem to have the strength of character he would have expected in his own sister. What would she do in such society? He shuddered to think, and he had spent most of the afternoon convincing his mother that they should return home at once. But just as he had succeeded, Marianne had come in and nearly had a fit of the vapors when she discovered it. Characteristically, Lady Cairnyllan had swung around to her point of view. How was he to control Marianne without her help?
He felt somewhat better when the ladies left them, though he was still concerned about the others’ influence over Marianne. He decided to risk leaving her alone for one evening in order to make a last effort at swaying his mother.
Alicia was astonished when Cairnyllan did not appear with the other gentlemen. And when informed that he had gone up to his mother, who had retired early, she almost gave public vent to her annoyance. Though she stopped herself in time, she was by no means a pleasant companion during the rest of the evening. After a while, even Roddy avoided her, unwilling to endure another sharp set-down or curt rejoinder. And Alicia went to bed in a foul mood, feeling thwarted as she never had in her life. Only her determination to rise early and catch Ian at breakfast prevented her from breaking in on his tête-à-tête with Lady Cairnyllan.
She was washed, dressed, and downstairs by eight, an hour when she knew she should meet Ian and no one else. There had been some remarks about his early rising. But when she asked one of the servants whether he had yet come down, she received the astonishing news that the entire MacClain party had departed for London at first light. “Did he leave a note for me?” she was surprised into asking.
“No, Lady Alicia. They all bade us say their farewells.” Seeing her thunderous expression, the butler added, “They apologized for going so early. I understood it was some sort of family business.”
“Indeed?” Alicia’s voice was icy. She turned away and strode out of the house, automatically taking the path that led to the stables. What was the man doing, she wondered? Why had he gone without a word? Mere embarrassment would hardly urge flight. Or would it? She shook her head. There was something inexplicable here, and she meant to find out what. She would stay until tomorrow, as she had promised Perdy, but then she would see Ian MacClain if she had to go to his hotel. Whatever ridiculous scruples were keeping him from declaring himself would soon dissolve when she told him her own feelings. And then they could startle society with the announcement of their engagement. How the ton would stare! The thought improved her temper, and she smiled as she told the groom to have her mare ready for a ride after breakfast.