Page 23 of How to Court a Rake
Why did she care about this? It was hard to think when so many of her thoughts were busy elsewhere. Caine reached for her hand. ‘It’s not much, but I just thought you would like to know why Amesbury had come out of what seems like thin air. Baklanov could shed some light on that, perhaps fill in some details. Meanwhile, you can ride a splendid horse.’
Baklanov’s riding school did not disappoint. The Prince had bought up several lots on Leicester Square and turned the mews into town stables and a beautiful riding arena where he gave lessons to theton’s finest young ladies and hosted riding showcases. Mary stood in the doorway of the stables, closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of horses and hay—a clean smell, a country scent in the middle of the city.
‘This smells like home.’ She let her breath out with a long sigh. She turned to Caine, an uncontrollable smile on her face that stalled only at seeing the expression in his gaze—dark and intense and absolutely riveted on her as if he were looking into her very soul and seeing the depths of her. Her breath caught. ‘Thank you for bringing me.’
He laughed, low and private, just for her. ‘We just got here. You haven’t even ridden yet.’
‘It doesn’t matter. This is everything. The city has disappeared.’ Dear heavens, he was so very good at creating intimacy out of nothing: his laugh at her ear, his hand at her back as if it had been made to belong there, as if he’d been made to touch her and she to be touched…by him. Just him. How had she gone so long without knowing it? And now, shecravedit. How would she live without it? For surely this interlude of acquaintance with him would come to an end. Caine Parkhurst wasn’t a forever man and her own time was running short.
‘I am glad.’ He gave a nod. ‘Here comes our host, Prince Baklanov, and his wife, Klara.’ Mary noted Klara was wearing riding breeches. She hadn’t even been introduced and she already knew they’d be friends.
If she wasn’t so smitten with Caine Parkhurst, she would have found Prince Baklanov undeniably handsome with his long dark hair and piercing eyes. He had a strong, commanding presence that made it easy to believe the few rumours she’d heard about him—that before being exiled from Kuban, he’d been in charge of the Kubanian Tsar’s cavalry.
‘I am so glad you’re dressed for riding,’ Klara said after introductions were made. ‘We have the arena all set up for jumping. Lord Barrow indicated in his note that you’re an accomplished rider. Come with me, let me show you the horses, you can pick one out and we’ll meet the gentlemen in the arena.’ She tossed her husband an unmistakable look of flirtation. ‘I was thinking we might have a jump-off, women against the men, once everyone is properly warmed up.’
Baklanov crossed his arms. ‘And the prize?’ His eyes engaged in a private, intimate exchange with his wife that made Mary warm to witness. She ought to look away, but there was something honest and entrancing in the exchange that required her attention. There was a lesson for her in this.Thiswas what itshouldbe like between a husband and a wife: the teasing, the private knowing of one another even in public, the way Baklanov touched his wife with his eyes—We are lovers, partners, we are each other’s warriors.
Intuition whispered through her: it would be like that with Caine. He would love fiercely, protect fiercely. The woman who could claim such affections from him would be lucky indeed.
Klara’s eyes glowed with competition and with love as she answered, ‘The prize shall be a forfeit of the winner’s choosing to be named at the winner’s discretion.’
‘Carte blanche?’Caine’s eyes sparked with devilish humour, resting on Mary with their own private message that stirred a heat low in her belly at imagining the forfeit he might claim, or the forfeitshemight claim. ‘I rather like the idea of that. Baklanov and I accept. Go find Lady Mary a horse equal to her ability while we take care of our business.’
Three-quarters of an hour later, Mary found herself on a gorgeous thoroughbred mare with a glossy coat and her blue riding habit exchanged for a pair of Klara’s riding breeches, which felt enormously freeing. ‘She moves beautifully!’ Mary called to Klara, who was putting a splendid white mare through her paces.
Klara drew the mare alongside. ‘Would you believe we rescued this lovely girl from the kill pens three years ago?’
Mary patted her mare’s shoulder. ‘She looks healthy and sound, I would never have guessed.’
‘You handle her well. The Marquess did not exaggerate your skill,’ Klara complimented. ‘Here come the men now.’ She smiled as Baklanov and Caine walked their horses into the arena. Klara flashed her a grin. ‘They’re handsome, but their good looks aren’t going to save them from our skill.’
Jove save him. Caine could not take his eyes off her. Mary Kimber in breeches was a sight to behold. Those breeches clung to her curves and put the athletic grace of her body on naked display. Mary Kimber in breechesandjumping a course of brick walls and three-foot fences was positively breathtaking. Her concentration, her confidence, her focus on the needs of the horse beneath her, was evident in every choice she made. It was a good quality in a rider to put one’s horse’s needs first. It spoke to having a selfless spirit, a conscientious awareness.
She approached the last fence, garnished with flower boxes on each side designed to distract the horse, and Caine held his breath. All three of them had struggled with this jump. Baklanov had missed it entirely and had to wheel his horse around for a second try. It had cost them the lead against the women and, oh, how Caine wanted to win the competition. He knew exactly what he’d claim as forfeit on the carriage ride home. But as much as he wanted that forfeit, he wanted a safe, clean ride for her more.
She was coming in fast and sharp. Caine worried she wasn’t giving the horse enough room to take the jump. He would have come in wider, taken the jump from a straighter position. She launched and Caine didn’t exhale until she and the horse landed safely on the other side.
‘You were concerned.’ Nikolay nudged him, their horses putting their noses together. ‘You like her. This trip wasn’t strictly business.’
Caine slanted him a look. ‘I do like her, but I also didn’t want to explain to her parents what she was doing when she fell off her horse. Now, thankfully, I won’t have to.’ He could imagine how her mother would take the news her perfect daughter had been riding astride when she fell off.
They applauded as Mary walked her horse over to the edge of the arena, letting it cool off. ‘That was too much fun!’ Mary was breathless with the exhilaration of the ride, the colour in her cheeks high. She unfastened her helmet and removed it. She shook down her dark hair and Caine felt arousal stir, deep and primal, an arousal that was not merely a reaction to her attractiveness, but a reaction to seeing her completely given over to pure enjoyment.
She was in her element here and it was intoxicating. It seemed a shame to him to stifle all that by confining it to ballrooms and gowns. It also seemed a shame to take that joy from her with the news he’d learned from Prince Baklanov.
‘Mary’s was the last ride,’ Klara announced, ‘and it was clean. That means the ladies win.’ He and Baklanov had both knocked a rail in a rare misstep for them both and Klara’s horse had spooked at the flower box, needing a second try. Only Mary had ridden entirely clean. And on an unknown horse as well. It was impressive on all fronts.
A groom came to take the horses and Klara took Mary off to change. Caine watched her breeches-clad derrière walk away until she was out of sight. Damn, but he’d miss those breeches. When she returned a short while later, she was all proper Lady Mary Kimber again in her blue riding habit, hair pinned up, not a strand out of place. No one would guess she’d spent the afternoon wearing breeches, riding astride and jumping neck or nothing.
He smiled as she neared. That was the whole point of the clothes, the hair, the manners, wasn’t it? That no onedidguess what lay beneath. If they guessed, they might discover the real Lady Mary Kimber was too much for just any man to handle.
They made their farewells to the Baklanovs and Caine handed her into the carriage that would carry her back to her other life. It seemed as if he were escorting her back to her cage. He’d prefer to stay here with her a bit longer. ‘You rode spectacularly today. No wonder you miss the country so much.’
‘I could say the same of you,’ she demurred at the compliment. ‘If not for that one rail at the end, you would have gone clean. Baklanov, now, that’s different. He was reckless on his approach. No excuse for it.’
‘He was showing off for his wife. They do that, show off for each other.’ Caine chuckled. ‘Surely he can be forgiven. No doubt his wife is claiming her forfeit and putting him through his paces as we speak.’
He watched her blush at his indelicate reference, but she did not turn away from it, did not lower her gaze. ‘I imagine she is. It is very…intimate…to be with them. They hide nothing,’ she ventured. ‘Least of all their feelings, their passion.’
