Page 12 of Enticing the Devil

At the appointed hour, he left the house and headed for the south lawn where the competitors and spectators—those guests who’d somehow managed to escape from participating—were to gather for the first event. After breakfast, he’d changed into clothing more suited to the planned activity, and as he joined the others, he realized he’d not been the only one. Woolen trousers, simple frocks, and sturdy boots had replaced the more sophisticated attire that had prevailed through the previous day.

Many of the guests were already standing in pairs with their partners while others had gathered in small groups. There was an air of excitement and anticipation as they all chatted gaily about the race ahead. Beynon spotted Colin and Ainsworth standing with Caillie off to one side. Preferring not to receive another lecture from his young sister, he simply nodded a greeting while continuing on.

He didn’t realize he’d been subconsciously scanning for a tall, lithesome woman with pale hair and a gaze that somehow managed to be direct and modest at the same time until he spotted her.

His partner stood in conversation with their hostess, Lady Harte, and the story-telling redhead from the night before whose arm was linked through that of a slim gentleman wearing a somewhat distracted expression. Lady Anne’s graceful neck was slightly bowed as she lowered her chin to listen intently to the woman beside her. Beynon could just barely make out the gentle curve to her lips suggesting a smile.

He scowled at how the subtle change in her expression again seemed to brighten her whole appearance.

After another moment, the redhead and her companion stepped away. It was then that Lady Anne looked up and caught his heavy stare. Her smile slid away and her posture tensed as she seemed to realize he was coming toward her. Even when Lady Harte said something, she didn’t glance away and the steady awareness in her eyes made him think of a rabbit watching the approach of a wolf.

Beynon had met Lady Harte several times throughout the season since her sister, Emma, was married to Roderick. In their few conversations, he’d found her to be a gentle, compassionate sort. He could see why she and the equally mild Lady Anne would be friends.

He gave a bow first to his hostess then to his partner. “Good morning, Lady Harte. Lady Anne.”

They both acknowledged his greeting but only Lady Harte gave him a smile. “Hello, Mr. Thomas. Are you all set to begin our games?”

“I believe so, my lady.”

Rising to her toes, Lady Harte glanced out over the gathered crowd to say, “I suppose it’s time to welcome everyone and get things started. Best of luck,” she added in a tone of genuine encouragement before stepping around them to weave her way through her guests.

Beynon cleared his throat and turned to his partner.

Her expression was somewhat placid and enduring, but as the sun reflected in her steady gaze, he noted how the blue of her eyes was really just a ring around out the outer edge which blended into a soft green near the center. The strange coloring was unsettling and brought to mind Y Tylwyth Teg, the fair folk of childhood stories.

She blinked. The swift fall of her lashes alerted him to the fact he was staring.

Clearing his throat, he glanced over to where Lady Harte had been joined by her husband and was welcoming the competitors to the first event of the games. The spectators had already begun making their way along a path that would take them to watch the race from the finish line.

As Lady Harte went into a brief overview of the rules and expectations for the race that was about to commence, Beynon glanced about, directing his attention toward anything other than the lady beside him. Unfortunately, his sweeping gaze happened to locate Lady Mayhew as she stood beside her husband, her arm looped through his, appearing for all the world as a sweetly devoted wife. No one observing the woman now would believe she’d forced her tongue down Beynon’s throat just the day before.

He recommitted himself to maintaining a clear distance from that one.

As the lady beside him made a short sound, he angled a quick glance to see her staring rather intently forward.

“Since you’re here,” she said, “I hope that means you’ve acquired a better understanding of what this competition entails?”

The lady’s tone was properly polite and there wasn’t anything particularly challenging in her words, but Beynon instantly squared his shoulders. “As you said, I’m here.”

Her gaze flicked up to briefly meet his before her attention shifted to something behind him. “They’re lining up.”

Without another word, she stepped past him and headed to where couples had started to take their places at the starting line. He caught up to his partner quickly, despite her rather long strides, and got his first glimpse of the sloping hill they’d be racing down.

It was far steeper than he’d imagined. Long grass concealed the details of the terrain, which he imagined would be rough and bumpy. The spectators had taken up position at the bottom of the hill where the earth eased back to level ground. A significant distance beyond that, the Earl of Harte’s private lake glistened in the sunlight.

Downhill races could be dangerous and it appeared this one was not likely to be an exception. If your feet couldn’t keep up with the increasing momentum of your body, there was a strong likelihood you’d end up tumbling arse over crown down the hill. Gratefully, he was accustomed to physical tests of all sorts and was confident in his ability to manage the terrain while not being overcome by the significant pull of gravity.

As a footman stepped up with a length of ribbon in his gloved hands, Beynon recalled a significant detail about the race he’d momentarily forgotten.

Lady Anne lifted her finely arched eyebrows in question then sighed and stepped closer to his side. “Your hand, Mr. Thomas.”

She held herself stiffly as her fingertips slid across his wrist to delve against his palm. The lady tensed subtly and briefly before her hand settled into a surprisingly firm grip around his much larger one. Once their hands were clasped together, the footman wound the ribbon around their wrists, properly securing them to each other.

Dammit. Things just got a lot more difficult.

Though Lady Anne’s form and step were certainly graceful, they were far more suited to a ballroom floor than the sort of test they were about to face. He’d have to adjust his stride to match hers or risk throwing them both headfirst down the hill.

He had no more time to consider all the implications of being expected to safely descend a reckless slope while tied to a woman possessing less than half his bulk and strength when a shot was fired, signaling the start of the race. Lady Anne immediately stepped forward and came to an abrupt halt as Beynon failed to move with her.

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