“Wherein our heroine is courageous foolhardy.”

Crecy held her breath, wondering what came next. Surely he had received her letter by now? Surely he must have guessed it was her who had been so captivated by him and stared in such a shocking manner? If he turned away now, all her hopes would shatter.

The moment seemed to stretch out, the distance between them growing larger as her heart beat in her chest, marking the moments as he made his decision. As the horse was urged into motion again, this time towards her, Crecy let go of a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, though it didn’t help her much. The freezing air seemed suddenly too thin, and no matter how she gulped it down, her chest heaving, she felt dizzy and unsettled. Some innate sense of self-preservation urged her to turn and flee, but she ignored it, drinking in the sight of him as he came nearer.

He drew up beside her, those dark blue eyes cold and angry, as she’d known they would be.

“Good morning, my Lord DeMorte,” she said, relieved that she didn’t sound quite as breathless as she felt.

“What the devil are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice harsh as he glared at her, his displeasure at seeing her here only too evident. “This is private property, as I’m sure you are well aware.”

“Of course I am aware,” she said, grinning at him and feeling a rush of delight at being in his presence and speaking with him even though he was obviously furious. “I told you I was going to trespass, after all. Didn’t you believe me?”

He paused at that, frowning as if he didn’t quite know what to say to her next and was wondering why she wasn’t terrified of him. She wondered the same herself in the light of his rage, but discovered she was not the least bit afraid, only rather nervous. That strange, over-excited, nervousness that always accompanied thoughts of him.

“Are you going to shoot me?” she asked, her tone innocent as she quirked one eyebrow, knowing it would vex him and doing it anyway.

“No,” he replied, the word curt and irritated as he gathered his horse’s reins in large, powerful hands. “I’m going to escort you from my land and strongly encourage you not to return again.”

“And if I do?” she asked with a sweet smile.

He glowered at her and she felt the strangest urge to laugh at the growing fury and the heated indignation in his eyes. “Then I’ll shoot you,” he muttered, gesturing for her to turn her horse.

Crecy sighed and looked down at the great house with regret. “I will see it one day, you know.”

“Over my dead body,” he snapped, his expression close to a snarl.

He trotted away and Crecy hurried to keep up with him.

“Oh, no,” she replied with quiet calm as she drew alongside, perfectly serious. “That’s no good at all. How will I discover all of those hidden staircases and dark secrets if the master is not there to point them out to me?”

He turned his head and Crecy could only stare at him, memorising every detail: the thick, black lock of hair that had fallen forward, the forbidding, hooded eyes, that cruel mouth that would change his expression completely if only she could induce it to smile.

“You really are insane, aren’t you?” he growled, looking perplexed and really rather disturbed. He pushed the lock of hair from his forehead with one hand, a gesture she suspected he repeated often.

She shrugged at his question, giving him a frank, if slightly rueful, look.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, holding his gaze when he didn’t turn away from her. “I know that … that I’m … different … Odd, I suppose.”

She watched him, wondering what he would say to that as he frowned, those dark brows heavy over his eyes. “You don’t hear me disagreeing, do you?”

She laughed and shook her head, blonde curls dancing around her face. “No, I didn’t expect you to, I promise.”

He reached out and grasped her horse’s bridle, pulling it to a sudden stop and staring at her, his eyes glittering and intense. “If anyone discovers you’ve been here, alone, you’re ruined. Do you understand that?” he demanded, his cold eyes searching hers, clearly expecting her to looked shocked and anxious.

“Of course,” she replied, her expression placid. “I might be odd, but I’m not a fool.”

For a moment, he gaped at her, obviously strongly disbelieving that statement.

“Don’t you care?” he raged, letting go of the reins in disgust. “You’d never marry if you were to be seen in my company.”

“I don’t want to marry.” Crecy saw utter disbelief this time, and he gave a snort, urging his horse on again.

“You damned liar,” he threw at her over his shoulder.

“No, I’m not,” she said, quite unruffled by the accusation as she moved her mount faster to keep up. “At least, I would marry you if you asked, I think …” His horse was pulled to a sudden halt and Crecy followed suit. She kept her eyes downcast for a moment, aware of the weight of his gaze on, her but not quite brave enough to face it yet. Taking a breath, she ploughed on. “But I am well aware that you never would, so there is no need to stare at me so. It’s not like I’m hoping or angling for a proposal.” She did look up then, and the expression on his face was one of such revulsion that she almost laughed. “Well, you did ask, so I’m telling you,” she replied, sounding a little indignant. “But frankly, well, there isn’t another man in the world that would put up with me.”

He blinked, silent and quite still, and she wondered what he was thinking. So many thoughts seemed to flicker behind those dark eyes, it was impossible to tell. But then they settled back to annoyance, that one was clear at least. “What the devil makes you think I would?” he demanded in outrage, settling his now jittery horse with light, masterly hands, despite his anger.

“Oh, nothing,” she said with perfect sincerity. “But the thing is that I think I could make you comfortable, if you would let me. You could be contented, even. I think we could deal famously together, actually.”

He rode off without another word and she cantered after him, sparing a moment to admire the breadth of his shoulders, the powerful thighs, and the way he moved in perfect symmetry with the huge horse whose heavy hooves thundered beneath him.

They slowed as the terrain became rougher, conscious of their mounts sliding on the frozen ground.

“Shouldn’t you have left by now?” he demanded after ten minutes of frigid silence. “All the other guests have, surely.” He turned to look back at her, and she thought he looked wary, probably afraid she’d try and seduce him next, somehow trap him into marriage despite her assurances. The idea made her smile.

As if she’d have the slightest idea how to.

“We aren’t leaving,” she said with a smug smile, seeing the horror grow in his eyes with amusement.

“Why the bloody hell not?”

She gave a startled laugh at his exasperation which made him look crosser than ever. “Because, Belle …” she began, and then stopped abruptly as she realised she didn’t want him to know Belle was marrying his cousin. Not just yet. He’d find out soon enough, of course. “Belle has become good friends with Mrs Violette Russell, and she has invited us to stay for Christmas, too.” It wasn’t a lie, after all. “So I shall be able to deliver your Christmas present in person this year,” she added with a merry smile before cantering off past him.

A rude word scorched her ears, something that ought never be uttered in the presence of a lady, and certainly not with such heat, but it only made her laugh all the harder. She pushed on into a gallop as the ground evened out, and then turned back, grinning madly, to see him spring his own horse, gaining on her with ease.

Crecy squealed, her heart hammering with excitement as they flew across the fields. The sun was growing warm now, hot against her back even as the cold air prickled at her skin and made her cheeks glow. She had never felt more exhilarated, more alive and vital, and despite the fact he likely wanted to wring her blasted neck, she felt happier than she’d ever known.

***

Gabriel watched her bolt across the fields, everything about her alive and vibrant, the sun on her hair glinting gold like a barley field. Yet all he could feel was fury. Damn her! Why did she have to come and provoke him so? He harboured concerns that perhaps she really was unstable. Good God, that was the last thing he needed. He was quite capable of courting scandal without any help from some strange young woman who ought to be locked up for her own safety. His thoughts strayed to the letters she’d written him, to the things he knew to be true about her. Things she had no right to confide to a complete stranger, certainly not an unmarried man. They had been sane enough, though, if a little … eccentric, to say the least - certainly for a young woman.

He glanced at his watch, his temper flaring as he saw it was after midday. He’d never get back to the house before one o’clock now, which meant he’d be late for lunch. He ground his teeth as his shoulders tensed, his skin growing clammy at the idea. He needed to be back by one. He would not let this … this hoyden ruin his entire schedule.

Urging his horse on, he galloped after her, Typhon eating up the distance between them with ease, though what he meant to do when he caught up with her he could not decide. He had never raised a hand in anger to a woman and never would. He’d hated his father for that very reason even before …

Damn her, she was stirring everything up.

He forced the ugly scenes from his mind with no clear idea of what to do next. He just had to get her off his land and frighten her enough that she would not dare return. Sadly, he got the feeling the chit didn’t scare easily.

They were neck and neck now, the silly creature riding too fast, doing her utmost to outpace him. He turned and looked at her and she crowed with laughter, the delight and sheer joy in her voice a sound so utterly foreign to him that he could not help but stare at her. But from out of the hedgerows, there was an explosion of birds as a dozen or more pheasants took flight, and her horse shied, rearing and dancing. To his astonishment, she held on, trying to calm the beast who refused to settle and bucked twice, finally unseating her.

Gabriel cursed; dammit, if the child had killed herself on his land …

He threw himself down from his horse, running to her side to find her sprawled on her back in the snow, laughing hysterically.

“Oh, my,” she said as her eyes glittered with mirth. “I can’t remember the last time I had such fun! Wasn’t it wonderful?”

Gabriel stared at her.

“No,” he said, his tone short. “You’re a blasted nuisance and deserve to have broken your silly neck.”

To his astonishment, she stuck her tongue out at him. “Pooh,” she said with a dignified little sniff. “You’re just cross because I ride as well as you do.”

“I am not …” Gabriel retorted, only to realise that he sounded like a five-year-old, and closed his mouth with a snap.

She grinned at him, which only increased his desire to throw her over his knees and give her a sound spanking. Except that image didn’t help matters at all, and he forced it into a dark corner of his mind. There were plenty to choose from.

“Are you going to stand there all day staring at me then, or give me a hand up?” she demanded, folding her arms and raising one imperious eyebrow at him.

Gabriel swallowed a curse, though he imagined the look on his face was illustration enough as he reached down and grasped her arm, hauling her to her feet.

In retrospect, he’d been a little overzealous for a woman of her size, and she squealed, her boots sliding on the snow as her feet went from under her.

“Damnation,” he muttered as he was forced to pull her closer, his hands at her waist to steady her. She stumbled into him, her hands grasping at his lapels to keep herself upright. The appalling creature looked up at him then, a shocking, intimate look from under thick, dark blond lashes, revealing the most startling pair of eyes he’d ever seen. They were a strange, violet grey, like a stormy summer sky.

Gabriel thrust her away, taking another step back, lest she should have any thoughts that he was in any way interested in her. Turning, he saw her horse had finally calmed itself and was cropping the icy tufts of grass in a desultory fashion, a good three acres away. Muttering and cursing about devious females, he strode off after it.

***

Crecy watched the viscount as he walked to retrieve her horse. Her breath was still coming fast, partly from the race they’d just had, partly from finding herself at such close quarters with the man she’d been dreaming of for so long.

He was everything she had expected him to be. Suspicious and brittle and with such walls built around him that he could not even conduct a simple conversation with her without growing angry. Although, to be fair, she had trespassed on his land and gone out of her way to tease him. Somehow, she doubted he was any different in any other circumstance, though. He was well known for being rude, abrupt, and downright insulting, and only got away with it because everyone was too scared to challenge him.

He might call them out after all, and his reputation as a crack-shot was legend.

But he couldn’t call her out, and she wasn’t the least bit frightened of him. Though she didn’t know why, really. Except he had in no way made her feel physically vulnerable, quite the reverse, in fact.

She suspected he was afraid of her.

The idea gained merit as she watched him traipse about the field. She smiled, amused, as he looked increasingly like a big black storm cloud with his great coat swirling about him as he tried to get close to her reluctant horse. The poor dear, he wasn’t having a very good day.

By the time he’d finally caught hold of her horse, he had a face like thunder, and she suspected she’d pushed him as far as she dare for one day.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding rather contrite as he walked back to her. “I’m sorry for being such a nuisance.”

“No, you aren’t,” he growled, and she could not help the burst of laughter that escaped her. She covered her mouth with her hand and tried to keep it in as she shook her head.

“No,” she admitted. “I’m not. Not the least bit sorry.” He glowered at her and she bit her lip. “I’ve had a lovely time.”

“You ought to be locked up,” he muttered, bending down and linking his hands together to give her a foot up. “For the safety of the general public,” he added, his tone bitter.

With his help, Crecy vaulted neatly into place and arranged her skirts, before gathering up the reins.

“Oh, but I am sorry I’ve vexed you so,” she said, her tone softer now. “But you need not come all the way to the border. I’ll go, I promise. I expect you’ll be wanting to get back now.”

He frowned at her, looking rather more puzzled than angry all at once.

“You’ll go?” he repeated, the suspicion in his voice quite evident.

Crecy nodded. “I will, I promise.”

He let out a sigh that seemed to be really quite heartfelt and nodded, turning away from her.

“Lord DeMorte?”

He froze, his heavy shoulders sagging as if he’d known it was too good to be true. The unhappy figure turned to glare at her.

“What?” he barked, his heavy brows drawn over those blue eyes like thunder clouds in a summer sky.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” she said, grinning at him before springing her horse and galloping away, before he could utter the curse that was so obviously on the tip of his tongue.