To Win a Viscount (Daughters of Amhurst) (4 page)

Chapter Three

Albina leaned forward, her knees bent, her bottom above the saddle as she raced the mare toward the top of the hill.

She
had
to win.
Needed
to win. To lose would be…well, it would be mortifying.

Honestly. A kiss? From a groom?

That the insufferable servant had a pair of wide, full lips equal to those of the marquess was of little consequence. He had overstepped the bounds of propriety and those of his station by asking for a favor. A kiss, for goodness’ sake. An intimate act of which she had no experience. At least not outside of her slumber-induced dreams.

She had often imagined the action, of course, what it would be like to have her lips pressed against those of a man. She was a human after all. A curious and intellectual woman who held an intense desire to know more about an action that made her married sister blush and giggle. To have the opportunity to experience a kiss for herself…

Well, it would never come to fruition, at least not today, for she could not hear another rider, so far ahead of Mr. White was she that the likelihood of his mouth coming anywhere near hers was minimal at best.

She urged the mare forward, the beast’s ragged breathing eclipsing her own. The ride, however, came to an abrupt end as the once blurred trees became distinguishable shapes, and the mare slowed from a gallop to a walk. Although she was nearly at the summit, the mare’s hard breathing and contracting sides indicated she was finished.

Done.

And no longer in the lead.

Mr. White’s bay mare streaked past, its black tail whipping in the wind.

Albina’s heart raced. Her predicament wasn’t possible. She hadn’t heard any hooves coming alongside her, hadn’t believed him to be within a stone’s throw. She dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, earning her nothing more than a halfhearted trot.

She was in the rear. With a debt to pay.

An entire swarm of butterflies fluttered in her stomach. What had she done? Agreeing to his ridiculous wager? She had thought… Well, she had been so certain of a victory.

She was of the proper stature and weight, the mare more than capable of the speed required. Albina’s previous runs with the beast were ready proof of the mare’s potential. But she had never ridden the horse astride. Or at a hard gallop for an extended distance.

But…she should have won. Logic dictated so. She had more experience on a horse than some groom her sister’s husband had hired from heaven knew where.

This was in some sort of dream. A nightmare. Where a pair of laughing blue eyes watched her as her horse finally plodded its way up the bluff to Mr. White and his bay mare.

To his credit, the groom did not gloat over his win. In fact, he remained mute as she slid off the saddle and into the waist-high grasses.

“Congratulations,” she ground out, attempting to sound sincere.

He slid off his snorting mare, his gaze on hers. “You cheated.”

She hadn’t cheated. She had, she supposed, ushered out of the gate a moment too soon, but it had not earned her the finish she had hoped to achieve and was therefore more a minor infraction of the rules than an actual breaking of them.

“You are the one who has claimed victory, Mr. White.”

“I finished first. I have not, however, claimed my victory.”

Victory. The one where he sought a favor in the form of a kiss. Surely he wouldn’t wish to claim it here. A wave of heat crept up her face. “Yes. Well, I…”

“Ran your horse too fast too soon, overestimated your skill, and left before I finished counting to three. An overall and evident display of bad form, I would say.”

Albina blinked. “Bad form? Perhaps a miscalculation of distance and an eagerness to win, but—”

“You touted your skill as worthy for the Emberton Derby. On par with a trained jockey.”

Her jaw tightened at his harsh tone. “I did, yes.”

“You could have injured the horse, or worse, yourself.” He stalked toward her, the tall grasses parting with each stride.

“I could have, but I did not.” She spoke in her iciest and most commanding voice. Who was he to talk to her in such a way? For heaven’s sake, she was the daughter of an earl, a lady. While he was nothing more than a glorified stable hand whom she no longer had interest in swaying to her aid, let alone allowing to claim the favor of a kiss.

She needed to return to Plumburn and put this whole sordid incident behind her. Mayhap she simply needed more practice before the derby. And a faster horse…

Turning to the mare, she lifted her foot into the stirrup—only to have it removed with a hard push from the groom’s hand.

The man was insufferable. “I shall notify the earl of my interest in his horses directly.” She didn’t need the opinion of a groom to gain her brother-in-law’s permission. She needed a miracle. The earl was as stubborn as she was determined, but the groom needn’t know the details of the obstacle she was up against, that Henrietta had warned her about.

“Not if you intend on having him agree.”

She threw back her shoulders and glared at him. “I am persuasive.” Though not nearly persuasive enough to sway the earl, of that she was certain. His acceptance of her scheme would require both of her sisters’ support…and a sign from God after her display of incompetence.

“As am I. And when I inform him of your careless disregard for both your health and that of your horse, he will not let you anywhere near his prized beasts, let alone give his approval for your asinine request to ride them at Emberton.”

Albina ground her teeth. “I am fully capable of riding.”

“Capable? Yes. But good enough to win the Emberton Derby and bring honor to your family’s name? No.”

He ran a hand over her horse’s muzzle and the sides of its neck, easing the beast’s breathing. She pulled her gaze from his hands and shook her head. “I acknowledge the errors I have made and will correct them with more practice and time atop a horse.”

“You need more than practice. You need training. And a willing instructor. Not to mention a firm shake ridding you of the notion—”

“An instructor?” she asked, zeroing in on his words and ignoring the incessant chirping of morning birdsong.

“A willing instructor,” he corrected.

“Excellent. Then I shall simply procure a
willing
instructor.”

He let out a low chuckle, a light breeze tugging on a ginger curl at his ear. “Do you think you can simply ask for a professional jockey’s assistance? As a woman? With only six weeks remaining before the derby?”

Albina’s skin heated. “I have connections.”

“And I have two legs. But they are useless without my head and my instruction.”

“Be that as it may, your attempts to dissuade me from riding are in vain, Mr. White. I am quite determined to race in the derby regardless of my sex or the inherent odds against me.” She batted away a blade of grass tickling her inner knee through the sparse fibers of her stockings.

His lips thinned. “Of that, I have no doubt. Which is why I am offering my services.”

Albina frowned. What use did she have for a groom’s service? “As generous as your offer stands, I am not in need of a groom so much as I require a riding instructor.”

“Precisely. Which is why you need not look further.”

“Do you mean to suggest that
you
wish to train me?” she asked, dismayed.

“I do.”

“But you are a groom.”

“I am also the man who won our race despite your advanced start.”

“Of a second, maybe two. That hardly denotes your competence as a rider.”

“No?” A ginger eyebrow lifted. “Is that not what you had hoped to convey to me? Your competency? A live demonstration of your riding skill and proficiency with a cross saddle by racing to the top of this bluff and claiming a hopeful victory?”

She clasped her hands. “I suppose so, yes.”

“Well, then, I believe I am not only more than competent to serve as your instructor, I am owed a prize as a recompense for winning. I recall a kiss was the settled upon payment, yes?”

Her breath caught as the butterflies in her stomach once again took flight. “Yes, but the deal was made in haste.” With full intentions of her winning.

“And with your blessing. You did allow me to select the nature of the prize and then agreed to it.”

Albeit she had, but again, on the pretense of her winning the race. She never would have agreed to the intimacy had she believed she would lose. He was not a gentleman. But he was a man, and one with piercing blue eyes who seemed determined to press his suit and claim what was, to her utter disdain, his due reward. She turned her head, peering toward the house, and cleared her throat. “I may recall agreeing to a kiss.”

“From your lips to mine.”

Her gaze darting to his, she shook her head. Never would she have agreed to initiate the intimacy. She did not know how to kiss, let alone how to begin the act. She had witnessed the actual exchange only once, and quite accidentally, when she had come upon the earl and her sister giggling in an alcove off the main corridor.

Hands had been moving, and heavens—she didn’t even know where to place them or whether she should close her eyes or keep them open. And while the pressing of one’s lips against another’s seemed simple enough in and of itself, she still wished to maintain her pride. He was a stable hand, after all. If he wished to be kissed by her, he had to…to…press his lips against hers and not the other way around.

“I am not the one claiming the prize, Mr. White. Should you wish to…kiss me, you must…press your lips against mine.” Good heavens, she’d never been so mortified. All this talk about kissing took the very romance out of the notion. But then, this kiss was not a romantic intimacy. It was a business transaction. A payment for her incompetency.

“Your lips. On mine. That was the agreed-upon arrangement.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest and lifted his chin.

“I do not see how it makes any difference,” she said with a huff. “A kiss is a kiss. It does not matter who initiates the act so long as it is given.”

“I am afraid I must disagree. Whoever initiates the act sets the tone for the event, thereby altering the effects.”

Albina rolled her eyes. “It is but a pressing of one’s lips to another’s. And that, only for a moment. I sincerely doubt one person’s initiation of the event is different from anyone else’s.”

“Would you care to test your theory?”

She leveled a glare in his direction. “How so?”

“You kiss me,” he said, his voice low. “And we assess the results. Then I kiss you and we compare the experience.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You wish to kiss me twice?”

“No, I wish to kiss you once, for I claim ownership of the kiss when I initiate the act. Likewise, you would kiss me once when you settle your accounts and do as you have already agreed by settling your lips against mine. I should think it a small price to pay for the sake of an argument, really. And, as you said, it is but a pressing of one’s lips to another. For but a moment.”

Albina rolled her lips inward and took a deep breath. One kiss had slipped into two. And under the guise of settling an argument she had unknowingly started. But a kiss was no more than what she claimed. A simple act. Nothing more than a settling of accounts.

She let out the breath she had been holding and nodded. “If my compliance allows for my continual access and use of the earl’s Thoroughbreds, I agree.”

His gaze captured hers. Never had a man’s eyes peered at her with such intensity. The marquess had certainly never done so. When he deigned to look in her direction, his gaze did not linger, but rather drifted over her in search of another—presumably her sister, Henrietta.

But Mr. White’s gaze remained fixed solely on her. Specifically her lips. Her heart raced, though whether from fear, anxiety, or the sheer titillating excitement of being the sole recipient of a man’s attention, she did not know.

“Agreed. But only with the condition you train under my instruction.”

Albina scrunched her nose. “Will not training me get in the way of your other duties?”

“Undoubtedly, which is why I will be recompensed. With a kiss. After every lesson.”

“But you have not yet kissed me, Mr. White,” she said, with a sigh of exasperation. “You may not enjoy the experience.”

“You shall kiss me, Lady Albina. And I would not trouble yourself with my enjoyment, but focus instead on yours.”

As if she could find enjoyment in his outrageous arrangement. A kiss as payment. From her lips to his. She glared up at his face and scoffed at his expression of innocence. He was the farthest thing from innocent, of that she was certain.

But however outrageous his proposal, the kiss was a small payment for access to the earl’s horses…even if it came with the condition that she must train under Mr. White.

As much as she wished to deny his experience with horses, she could not ignore the physical proof of his competence or his knowledge of racing. He had won. And no matter how much she wanted to attribute the win to luck, his arguments for her loss were valid. She was inexperienced riding astride. She wanted to win Emberton by crossing the finish line first. Not last. Goodness, she wanted to catch the marquess’s attention, but in a good light. Not a poor one.

“All right. I agree to your terms and conditions.”

His lips lifted into a slow, sensual grin. “Excellent. Let us seal the deal with the testing of your theory.”

She huffed and nodded. The hour was drawing late, and her mother would be waking soon. If she saw Albina in anything other than a dress, all hopes of racing would be terminated, and this deal would end before it had even begun.

“Yes, fine. So long as it is done quickly. I must return to Plumburn posthaste.”