Rogue in the Regency Ballroom. Helen Dickson
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burnished his thick dark brown hair flecked with gold.
Meeting his calm gaze, she felt an unfamiliar twist of her heart, an addictive mix of pleasure and discomfort. His warm, dark eyes looked at her in undisguised admiration as he drew alongside, a smile curving on his firm lips. Thinking how nice it would be to run her fingers through his wind-tousled hair and to feel those lips cover her own, Amanda could feel the colour tinting her cheeks despite all her efforts to prevent it. She did not want to feel that way—not about him.
Unaware of the thoughts his companion harboured, Kit kept his wicked stallion away from Amanda’s more sedate mare.
‘Good heavens, Kit,’ she said, seeking refuge in anger to hide her discomfort, ‘how you do love to take a person by surprise. Are you stalking me, by any chance?’ The fact that he might be yielded a glare and a pert recommendation to mind his own business. He raised a dark brow and considered her flushed cheeks and soft, trembling mouth beneath the net of her black bowler. Damn the man, Amanda thought indignantly beneath his steady regard. She was certain he could read her mind.
‘Since your mare was in the stable when I left, I could say the same of you. We do seem to be destined to meet in the most unusual places, do we not? I apologise if I startled you.’
‘You are a long way from the gallops,’ she remarked. ‘Do you frequently ride so far from the stables?’
He nodded. ‘I bring the horses on to the moors for exercise—and today I have the added bonus of meeting you. It is a pleasure to see you, Amanda—and all the better since we are quite alone and miles from anywhere.’
His tone of voice made her look more closely at him, at his dark gaze that gleamed beneath the well-defined brows. He looked back at her, a smile beginning to curve his lips. There was a withheld power to command in him that was as impressive as it was irritating. What kind of man are you, Kit Claybourne? Amanda asked herself, and realised she had no idea at all.
‘Time has a habit of passing, Amanda,’ he said, thinking how lovely she looked dressed in sapphire blue—a jacket bodice, a neat white cravat and a full-length skirt. ‘We have been man and wife these seven months past. We have to talk, so stop being evasive. You cannot go on avoiding me or the issue. It will not go away, no matter how much you might wish it.’
Amanda’s eyes narrowed and little pinpoints of fire gathered in their pupils. ‘Not now,’ she said, haughtily turning her head away from him and looking into the distance. ‘You are ruining my ride and I would like to move on.’
Kit scowled darkly at her stubbornness. ‘Then far be it from me to detain you—although on that particular matter I feel I must give you some advice and urge you to be more careful,’ he admonished firmly, showing not the slightest inclination to move out or her way and let her ride on. ‘Do not ride with such speed—especially up here on the ridge. Should you go over, ‘tis a long way down. And nor should you ride alone. It’s foolish at the best of times for a young woman to be seen riding without a groom in attendance, but up here among the crags it is highly dangerous. I’m surprised your father hasn’t raised the matter. Should you take a tumble and injure yourself, there is no one to help. You could be up here for days before anyone found you—and even then it might be too late.’
Kit knew as he spoke that it would make no difference. What he had learned about his wife, having watched her and listened to Henry’s constant appraisals of his lovely, wild young daughter, was that she railed against restrictions, that she was not pliant or submissive and was unwilling to be moulded to the whims of others, and that her actions often went well beyond the bounds of propriety.
Amanda’s eyes flared angrily at his audacity, that he thought he had the right to chastise her. ‘I find your concern rather touching, but I can do well without your advice. I am perfectly able to ride a few miles without mishap and without a man to protect me’—especially you, her expression seemed to say. It dared him to attempt to take control.
‘I’m sure you can. Indeed, I would say you are of the nature to go looking for danger among the peaks, that you thrive on the danger that exists up here. But I still say you should not be roaming about up here alone.’
‘Kit,’ she exclaimed indignantly, ignoring the judicious set of his jaw, ‘I would be obliged if you would mind your own business and stick to training my father’s horses.’
‘But you are my business, Amanda. As my wife, what you do concerns me, and when I see you doing things that are reckless and foolhardy I have every right and a responsibility to speak out. Come, I’ll ride with you back to the house.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t. I came here to seek solitude, and if you were any sort of a gentleman you would leave me in peace. Besides, I’m not ready to go back yet.’
‘Very well, but I insist on accompanying you—and I suggest we go to lower ground.’ He looked sideways at her. ‘You don’t mind, I trust?’
She shrugged, urging her mount on. ‘It would seem I have little choice.’
‘No, you haven’t.’
They followed a path that meandered down into a valley through which a river tumbled over its rocky bed. Kit paused to let his horse take a drink of the icy water. Amanda’s horse did likewise. Kit swung lightly down from the saddle and left his mount to quench his thirst.
‘What a lovely place this is,’ he said, going to Amanda and holding up his arms to help her dismount. ‘Come, let’s walk a while.’
‘Only if you are prepared to be civil and not chastise me.’
‘I shall endeavour to be as charming as my nature will allow.’
Amanda looked at him with doubt. She slid from her horse into his arms and quickly sidestepped out of them. Removing her hat and hooking it over the pommel on the saddle, she walked towards the river and sat on an accommodating boulder, gazing out across the hills surrounding the valley. The view was beautiful, wild and verdant, and the only sound to disturb the peace was the sound of the river as it hurried on its way. Kit stood with one shoulder negligently propped against a tree, close to her rock, his arms folded across his chest, watching her, wanting more than anything to go to her and snatch her into his arms and kiss her senseless.
‘Are you still angry with me for trying to assert my authority over you up on the ridge?’ he asked.
There was a moment of silence. Amanda gazed at him. His voice was deep, throaty and seductive, a voice that made you think of dark, cosy places and highly improper things, and Amanda knew there weren’t many women who could resist a voice like that, and not if the man speaking looked like Kit Benedict. Not if he had warm hazel eyes flecked with green, not if he was over six feet tall and built like a Greek athlete of old. He was dazzling, and Amanda knew she was not as immune to that potent masculine allure as she would like to believe.
‘I am,’ she replied in answer to his question, her animosity fading as warmth seeped through her system. ‘But I realise you only said what you did out of concern. Tell me, do you like working for my father?’
‘Of course. Henry is a fine man, easy to get on with, and he has a love of horses to equal my own.’
‘Chosen by you, mostly. You have a way with them, I am told. Father says you can have the most spirited mount eating out of your hand in no time at all.’
‘How I wish it was as easy to gentle my wife,’ he murmured. ‘I think you have the loveliest eyes I have ever seen and I like the way they sparkle when you laugh, and darken with desire—as they did on the day we were wed and we were close. I remember an unbelievable softness when I kissed your lips, and a warmth the likes of which set my heart afire.’
A wicked grin highlighted his lips as he glanced at her. ‘I also like the way you look in your riding habit, and if you do not stop looking at me as you are doing at this moment, I am going to come and sit with you on that rock. Since meeting you again, I frequently see your eyes flashing with defiance and anger—now they are dark with some emotion I know I have caused.’
Amanda