London's Most Wanted Rake. Bronwyn Scott
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all it would take to dislodge a rider.
Alina gave up any attempt at steering. The horse had a mind of its own and Alina sensed the mare was running not so much out of the crazed urgings of a spook as it was because it wanted to and nothing, certainly not she, was going to stop it. Her only option was to stay on and ride the mare out. That worked fairly well until they came to a tree lying across the path.
With no idea of what might lie on the other side, Alina pulled at the reins in a final attempt to stop the racing mare. It was the wrong choice. It slowed the horse, but not enough to turn away from the jump, only enough to take it with a little less momentum than she needed. The mare cleared the log, but the landing was shaky. The mare stumbled in the soft mud, depositing Alina in the shallows of a forest stream on the other side. It was a most ignoble finish to a gallant ride.
The mare recovered her feet and trotted to a stop on the other side, whinnying happily as if this were the greatest of larks. Alina smacked the water with an angry fist and shouted, ‘Don’t you dare laugh at me, you silly horse!’
It felt good to vent some of her frustration, but there was still plenty of it left. She’d never get to Seymour first at this rate. Her habit was soaked. ‘You’ve ruined everything, you know,’ she scolded the horse. ‘I’ll never get to the picnic now. I’ll have to go back to the house and change. You have no idea what you’ve done. Channing will get to Seymour first and then he’ll have all these questions.’ She hit the water again for emphasis.
‘Hey, don’t hurt the water!’ a cheery male voice called out and Alina froze. Within a moment, Channing appeared around the edge of the log, leading his horse by the reins. It occurred to her briefly to get up out of the stream. But why? Her humiliation was already complete. Of all the people who could have found her in this situation, it had to be Channing Deveril. Getting up now wasn’t going to change that or dry her clothes any faster. She might as well wallow in it.
‘Are you hurt?’ he asked, tethering the two horses together on a low bush.
‘Just my pride.’ She struggled to stand. Her skirts were heavy and she was embarrassed to find she couldn’t quite manage it.
‘Wait, let me help you or you’ll fall again.’ Channing extended a hand, his boots sinking into the muddy bank.
She took his hand and resisted the temptation to pull him in with her, but he’d already sacrificed his boots to the cause and she opted not to be petty. ‘How did you know I was out here?’
‘I was behind you, quite a way, but I saw you veer off into the forest. I wanted to make sure you were all right.’ He leaned against a tree trunk while she sat on a stump, wringing out her skirt. Channing shrugged out of his coat and offered it to her.
She didn’t want to take it, but it felt good after the cold water of the stream. The day itself was warm and she’d dry soon enough, but for now the warmth of his coat was irresistible. The coat smelled of him, all spice and vanilla. It was like being wrapped in his arms, a most dangerous place to be. She knew from experience it was a place full of a false sense of security. He was a seductive man, but he wasn’t for her, couldn’t be for her. Sons of earls didn’t marry women widowed under a cloud of suspicion. Besides, she didn’t want another marriage anyway. One disaster was enough. Although with Channing, it would be a disaster of a different sort.
‘What were you thinking, to strike off on an unknown trail with a horse you’d never ridden before?’ Channing stroked the long nose of her horse. His tone was less cheerful.
‘This is not my fault.’ Alina answered with a certain amount of terseness. ‘It’s her fault.’ She nodded towards the mare who was perfectly docile under Channing’s attentions. ‘We were doing fine until she heard a hawk and took off.’ She dropped the folds of her skirt. She’d got out as much excess water as possible, but the wringing had left the skirt wrinkled and she could do nothing about the mud stains.
‘I’ll have to go back to the house,’ she said, disappointed.
Channing shrugged. ‘Maybe. We might have an alternative to that. First, tell me why you came this way? You haven’t answered my question yet. Does it have to do with Seymour?’
From anyone else, it would have been a shot in the dark. From Channing, it wasn’t a lucky guess. ‘You always could read minds,’ Alina admitted ruefully. ‘I wanted to put myself in his sphere of influence.’ She could confess that much at least. It was no more than what he would have heard her shouting to the horse about as he came upon them.
Channing pushed off from the tree and came to stand in front of her. ‘Tut-tut, that’s almost a lie. As in I almost believe you, but not quite. Why would you do that when there’s no need? Your little flirtation at the table last night securely put you in his sphere of influence. Seymour noticed you. I told you that much on the veranda. Second, I am going to befriend him at the picnic, at your request, I might add. By nightfall you would have had your introduction just as you planned. Thus, there’s no need to further your efforts.’
At this declaration, Channing began to pace in front of her, giving her a fine view of long legs and tight buttocks encased in riding breeches, her absolute favourite piece of male attire. She was regretting not pulling him into the stream after all. The breeches would be spectacular wet. Other things would be spectacular, too.
‘What?’ Channing stopped his dissection of her motives, which were all too on the mark for her taste. She hated how he could see right through her. It was time to change that, time for him to be the one off balance for a change.
She closed the small distance between them and twined her arms about his neck, her voice low and sultry. ‘I was just thinking it’s been a while since I’ve seen you naked.’
‘It has been.’ Channing’s teeth nipped at the column of her neck. A tremor ran through her at the delicious contact. Her mouth claimed his in a long kiss full of tongues and tastes.
She pressed her hips lightly against his. ‘You’re wrong, you know, size does matter.’ He murmured something hot and husky against her neck and she reached for him through his breeches, intending to cup his length. But he stepped back.
‘I’m not that easy, comtesse. I’m sorry if you felt I was.’
‘What I felt wasn’t “easy,”’ Alina shot back, letting anger disguise her disappointment. The little interlude had been nice until he’d gone and ruined it along with her plans for distraction.
‘Perhaps I should clarify. When I said easy, I meant easily distracted.’ Channing returned to his tree and folded his arms, an amused smile playing across those kissable lips.
‘Can’t a girl just give a man satisfaction in the forest?’ Alina retorted. She would have been more coy about it if she thought it would have worked.
Channing laughed. ‘You never change. Do you really think I don’t know what you’re doing?’
‘I don’t know. Why don’t you explain what it is you think I’m doing and I’ll tell you if that’s right?’
‘I’ll do better than that. I’ll cut straight to the chase.’ He fixed her with an intense blue stare that would have singed lesser mortals. But Alina knew how to stand her ground against anyone, even handsome Englishmen who thought they had her best interests at heart.
‘Others would conclude your haste in rushing to Seymour’s attention is that you doubt my ability to get you the introduction. But that’s not it. It’s just the opposite. You know I’ll get that introduction and you’ve decided you don’t want me to. I wonder why? Am I close?’
‘Amery has more tact than you.’ Alina snorted. She pulled off his coat and handed it to him
‘Amery isn’t here. Perhaps that’s for the best. He doesn’t know you the way I do.’ He reached out and took his coat, but instead of taking it, he used it to tug her to him. His hands rested at her waist. When he spoke again the edge was gone from his voice. ‘Since I’ve known you, you’ve never