Page 30 of Harpy of the Ton
Of that, she didn’t doubt. But Dunton’s affection began and ended with her dowry and her title. He certainly harbored no affection forher.
In fact, there wasn’t a single living soul who harbored any feeling for her other than a casual dislike.
Except perhaps one.
A secret thrill coursed through her at the thought of the burning hatred she’d seen in the eyes of the man in the garden…and the raw, masculine scent of him as he’d taken her in his arms and claimed her with a kiss—a kiss so savage and primal that her body had been driven almost wild with need.
He might have loathed her, but he’d wanted her also.
And, heaven help her, she wantedhim.
She urged her mount forward.
“Eager to rid yourself of my company?” Dunton’s thick, nasal voice cut through her mind, dissipating the memory of the voice of another—the deep baritone roughened by a country accent.
“My horse is restless,” she replied.
“Another mare in need of a damned good riding,” he muttered, and she caught his words before the wind carried them away.
Ahead, the river curved around in a tight arc. The ground sloped downward, and the river narrowed and steepened,the water growing restless, forming a boiling, swirling mass, tumbling over rocks to form waterfalls, plunging ever forward.
She urged her mount into a trot, steering around the boulders in the path.
“Don’t stray too far, my dear,” Dunton said, and she glanced back to see him following her.
Was this what her life would be like—to be always at his beck and call? Why was it that he was permitted to disappear of an evening and return the next morning reeking of whores, yet she was denied a moment’s respite from his company during a ride?
Propelled on by a flash of rebellion, she leaned forward in the saddle, urging the animal into a canter.
“My dear!” Dunton cried. “You must remain by my side! Your aunt would have you obey me.”
Bugger Aunt Kathleen.
Arabella giggled to herself. What would her aunt think if she cursed in her presence? Lately, the urge to break free and behave like a guttersnipe was too strong to resist. In fact, the urge had only beset her since…
No! Don’t think of him. He hates you. He’d as soon see you dead in a ditch.
Or drowned in the river.
The path turned a corner, and Arabella’s mount slipped on a loose stone. The animal dipped its head and stumbled toward the river. She clung to the reins and squeezed her legs against the pommel but could not stop the momentum.
With a cry, she toppled forward and tumbled through the air toward the riverbank. Then she landed with a jolt that sent a shudder through her bones and began slipping toward the water. She tried to gain purchase on the side of the bank, and cried out as a spike of pain tore through her wrist. Gritting her teeth, she dug her fingers into the bank while the river boiled and swirled mere inches from her feet.
“Help me!”
She looked up. At the top of the bank, the grass grew in clumps, beyond which the trees swayed in the wind, silhouetted against the sky. Of her horse there was no sign.
“Dunton! Where are you?”
She almost sobbed with relief as her fiancé’s face appeared over the top of the bank.
She felt herself slipping once more and kicked out with her legs to steady herself, but to no avail.
“Dunton—help!” she screamed. “I can’t swim!”
But he merely stared at her.
“Don’t just stand there!” she cried. “Dosomething!”
