Defiant Angel (9 page)

A confused expression crossed Clinton's features. "I wasn't aware he was for sale.''

"Heavens! Why not? Some infirm, doddering duke owns him!"

"I am fully aware of who owns him, Princess; I didn't know the 'doddering, infirm duke' was interested in selling him." He blew a curl of smoke in the air.

"Well, he certainly can't race him much longer."

The breeze lifted a strand of hair across her face, causing Tiffany no alternative but to drop her arms and brush the bothersome lock away. Clinton smiled, his eyes burning with lust over the bounty revealed to him. He ventured, "Possibly the poor man may wish to keep him to ride."

"Be serious! I don't think the poor man is able to walk him without assistance." She shook her head confidently. "I believe he can be persuaded."

With his cigar clamped between his teeth, Clinton considered her words, a mischievous gleam lighting his eyes. "Ah, Princess, the duke is known for his possessiveness and will not relinquish the stallion easily." Clinton rolled his cigar between his thumb and forefinger, observing Tiffany, who unconsciously bit her lower lip in thought. She was delicious-looking and no doubt tasted as much. He wanted nothing more than to plunder her full mouth and caress those soft curves.

Tiffany tossed her head, hair flying about her shoulders down over her breast, shielding them from his view. "Well, Mr. Barencourte, we'll just have to see if His Grace and I can come to some sort of agreement. Now, stand aside so I might pass." When he didn't move, she cocked her head, her eyes narrowing in anger.

"Princess, I know the duke quite well. As a matter of fact, I handle quite a number of his business transactions."

At her doubtful look, he added, "You know, the 'poor old man' not being up to snuff and all."

Clinton flicked an ash from the cigar, adding, "I personally know he is not in need of funds."

"So I'm to deal with his lackey! Very well, Mr. Barencourte. If the duke needs no funds, then possibly he'd be interested in another mount?"

A wicked smile appeared, accompanied by the nodding of his head. "Ah, yes, Princess, the 'poor old man' could do with a tender mount." His eyes raked her form shamelessly as he added, "Perhaps a night riding between your thighs would be the price. Are you interested?"

Her blue eyes widened in fury, spitting sparks in his direction. Tiffany suppressed the urge to slap the smile off his face. "You bastard! . . . You . . . you and His Grace can go straight to hell!" She made to storm past him and gave a cry of alarm when his hand encircled her waist, pulling her up against his powerful form. So incensed was Tiffany, she attempted to rake his face with her bare hands, but Clinton deftly caught them, holding them between their bodies.

"You see, Princess, 'the poor old man' prefers to mount the mare, not the stallion."

Tiffany struggled in earnest, and his words further incensed her, so she squirmed and twisted to be free. ' 'You bastard, let me go!"

Clinton laughed at her attempts, feeling her body brush against his, causing a tightening and hardening in his groin.

Tiffany felt his hardness, saw the glint of lust in his gray eyes, and used any means available to extricate herself from his iron-clad hold. Since she wasn't wearing boots, the kicks she directed at his shins failed to prove effective. Stomping on his feet did nothing to deter him, and she was awarded with a challenging grin. Tiffany saw red and nothing else, and used the only weapon she had left. Like a bolt of lightning she bent, closing her mouth over his offending hand, sinking her teeth into it, drawing the sweet taste of blood on her tongue.

"Damn." Clinton released her and Tiffany took advantage, running quickly to Shalimar, leaping on the mare's back.

Recovering rapidly, Clinton grabbed the bridle, placing himself in front of Shalimar.

"Stand aside, let me pass!" she screamed in fury.

A glimmer of amusement flickered in his eyes. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he smiled as he said, "You little hellcat, I'll put that mouth of yours to better use."

Tiffany narrowed her eyes and looked down into his. "Remove your hand. Remove yourself from my path! I swear,
I will
advance through you, or over you. Trust me, Mr. Barencourte, I care not which you choose."

Clinton quickly tried to pull her from the mount, but she pulled away, causing Shalimar to sidestep. "If you persist, you best bind me, for I shall claw your detestable flesh from your hide and you will find you have bargained for more than an injured hand."

"We shall see, Princess!" Clinton lunged for her. Tiffany jerked sharply on Shalimar's mouth, causing her to rear. Clinton jumped from the dangerous pawing hooves. Tiffany wheeled the mare around, kicking her into a lunging gallop.

Clinton laughed, watching Tiffany disappear from sight. Then he looked at the teeth marks on his hand, and smiled.

C
linton walked to the fence of the paddock, leaned against it, and watched Xanadu canter around the paddock.

His thoughts were on the dark-haired beauty when Keegan, one of the grooms, appeared at the fence. The red-haired man clucked to the stallion and held out a bonbon-filled palm.

With a raised brow, Clinton remarked dryly, "Bonbons, Keegan?"

Merry blue eyes regarded Clinton. "Let me tell ya, guv'nor, you laugh, but it works, it does."

Watching Xanadu walk toward them, Clinton remarked, "Obviously."

"I tell ya when we was sent to 'et 'im, he was no easy beast."

Xanadu nibbled up the bonbons as Keegan bridled him and Petey attached the lead rope, leading the stallion away.

"The earl fellow who we got 'im from was no help either, and the dark heathen fellow, well, ya know how's they be." He looked at Clinton for confirmation. Clinton nodded, remaining silent as Keegan told of the difficulty. "I remembers seeing a young pretty girl 'bout fourteen hidden in the earl's stable. Crying her 'eart out, she was. Thought she'd be a beauty someday; had big blue eyes, she did." Keegan stopped as if recalling the scene and then continued, "Well, anyways, we was led to the beast, and the minute I'd seen 'im, I knows he's trouble. Snorting, ears flat, and a wicked gleam in 'ims eyes. Was mean and ornery, he was. Nearly bashed Petey's skull, he did. Anyways, we finally got 'im bridled and was leading 'im out."

Clinton offered him a cigar, which he took, lighting it up. "Thank ye, guv'nor."

"You were saying, Keegan," Clinton prompted.

"Right, I remembers saying to myself, 'Self, why's the earl fellow holding the pretty miss, making her watch us take the beasty?' But it was apparent she was upset 'bout the beast." He blew a curl of smoke out, watching it dissipate in the air. "The earl fellow--" he turned to look at Clinton "--now, 'ats a cold man, making such pain for his own flesh and blood." He shook his red head slowly. "Anyhows, the beast sees the miss and rears up an' breaks from me, galloping hell-bent toward the miss! The earl tries to pull her away, but the maid won't have it. I recalls thinking she's to be run down, and guv'nor--" Keegan placed a wrinkled hand over his heart "--my ole ticker almost 'ave out, it did. But damnation! The beast skids to a stop not more 'an two feet from her." Keegan held his hands apart indicating the distance, and said, "Damn if he nudges her all gentle like. The maid, tears falling on 'er cheeks, hugs the beast and 'ives 'im bonbons! The maid, she leads 'im to the carriage and turns ta me an' says all proper like, 'He's a wretch without his bonbons.' "

Clinton looked at Keegan, smiling, his white teeth flashing against his leather-brown skin. "So ye laugh, guv'nor, but I gives 'im his bonbons 'ikes the maid says."

Keegan pushed himself from the fence and made to leave, but turned back to Clinton. "Guv'nor!" When Clinton turned, Keegan added, "Ye know the colt he sired, Kubla Khan?" At Clinton's affirmative nod, he continued, "Well, he 'ikes 'em, too!" Keegan turned, sauntering away. Clinton shook his dark head, a broad smile on his face, thinking he suddenly had a craving for some rich, dark chocolate in the form of Tiffany Courtland. He stood pushing himself from the fence, thinking she would taste sweet indeed.

Tiffany bounded up the steps, down the hallway to her room. The door opened and Alysse appeared, relief etched on her face. "You're back! Thank God, Dalton hasn't arrived, but Aunt Winnie and Mother have." Tiffany rushed past her to the privacy chamber and Alysse followed, having seen the distress written across Tiffany's face.

"Did ... did everything go well? You weren't discovered, were you?"

Tiffany ripped off her clothing in a manner indicating she was angry and lowered herself quickly in the tub.

"Tiffany, will you please answer me!" Alysse cried, fearing something bad had indeed occurred.

Sighing as the water lapped against her sore muscles, Tiffany replied, "Yes and no."

A confused look crossed Alysse's face, one often seen on Carolyn Devonshire. "And pray tell, what's that supposed to mean, Tiffany?"

"Just that I did get to see and ride Xanadu." She lifted a long limb, squeezing water from the sponge on it. Tiffany waited for Alysse's response, unsure if she'd tell her about the vile Mr. Barencourte.

As she expected, it came soon enough.

' 'Ride him!
Heavens, you never said anything about riding him!" Alysse, pacing the floor, wringing her hands in worry, peered at Tiffany, who laid her head against the rim of the tub with her eyes closed.

Tiffany let the water soothe her unpleasant interlude with Mr. Barencourte, pushing him from her mind. "Oh, Alysse, it was wonderful. There he was prancing in the paddock." She opened one eye to gaze at Alysse. "He knew I was there; he had to cajole me out of hiding. And you know how impatient I am, but wait I did till the coast was clear."

Good, thought Alysse, she had hidden herself, and with this knowledge, she began to breathe easier. She sat upon the stool near the tub, listening with half an ear as Tiffany rambled on and on about her ride. Alysse was thinking of her upcoming engagement party but was not lost enough in thought to prevent herself from jumping up when Tiffany got to the part about Mr. So-and-So. She cried, "Tell me you didn't, Tiffany!"

Water sluicing down her body as she stepped from the tub and padded to her room, Tiffany spoke over her shoulder confidently. "I most certainly did!"

Stepping behind her dressing screen and before bending down, she added, "And glad of it, I am."

Alysse rushed to the other side of the screen. "But why?"

Tiffany's dark head popped up, and pulling the fine straps of her chemise over creamy shoulders with crisp movements, she retorted, "He deserved it. He did." She disappeared from behind the screen again and reappeared, arranging the bodice of her dress. She stopped and, looking over the screen at Alysse, explained, "He was most vile . . . decidedly awful." Then she bent out of sight, pulling on her stockings, fastening them with a lacy garter, all the time feeding her anger at his impertinence. She stood up and with a defiant snap of her head, said, "Yes he most certainly deserved to be bitten!"

Alysse stood facing Tiffany, her mouth agape over Tiffany's verbal confession.

"Whoever deserves to be bitten, dear?" asked Carolyn Devonshire as she waltzed through the open door, surprising the girls, who spun to face the unexpected visitor.

Carolyn came to stand before the girls, noting Alysse's open mouth.

Sternly admonishing, Carolyn said, '-'Alysse, close your mouth. It is not at all becoming." She turned to Tiffany, who now stood beside Alysse, and asked, "Who deserved to be bitten, dear?"

Tiffany stammered, "Ah ... ah, Jacques's son, Lady Devonshire."

The furrowing of Carolyn's brow indicated her confusion and prompted her to ask, "What about him?"

"Just that he deserved to be bitten; you know the saying 'let sleeping dogs lie.' "

"Dogs! Egads, I never could abide them." Carolyn shook her head, placing a finger against her lips in thought, and ventured on, "Which Charles was it who had an affliction for the creatures, the First or Second?" She paused, hoping the answer would come.

The girls breathed a sigh of relief at deterring Lady Devonshire.

"You know, Alysse, your father's sister Gertrude had a tenderness for the beasts. Why, I dreaded my visits there, those yapping dogs at my ankles. Why, did I ever tell you girls when Charles and I were guests ..."

The timely interruption of Winifred prevented Carolyn from expounding further. "Ah, here you are, Carolyn. Girls, did you enjoy your afternoon?" Winifred looked to them for an answer.

"Yes, we did, Aunt Winnie. We played cards and read. A most sedate afternoon," Tiffany offered.

"Well, girls, dinner will be shortly, and Andre has promised us some delectable dessert this evening."

Winifred turned to Carolyn, "Jacques has prepared your room, Carolyn, since you and Alysse plan to stay the night."

The mention of Jacques caused Carolyn to pick up where she left off. As she and Winnie strolled from the room, the girls heard her ask* "And how is Jacques's son?"

"His leg is mending," Winifred replied. "How kind of you to inquire."

"Well, I certainly hope he has learned to let sleeping dogs lie."

Winifred shook her head wondering what dogs had to do with Jacques's son's broken leg, and asked, "Carolyn, have you been into the sherry?"