Home > Wicked in His Arms(5)

Wicked in His Arms(5)
Author: Stacy Reid

“It is very unkind and not the mark of a gentleman to so baldly call a lady a liar,” she said frostily.

“Perhaps, but you are no lady.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, then cooled to chilling civility. “How arrogant and obnoxious of you to equate being different with unladylike qualities.”

“How ridiculous of you to believe your reckless and wanton behavior is simply being different. Your very wild appearance invites scandal,” he said cuttingly.

Hurt and some indecipherable emotion flared in her eyes before she lowered her lashes. Then she jutted her chin. “Of course. I recall the rumors that speak to the Earl of Blade as being uncommonly cold and proper. I can see how a small thing as a lady riding astride in the country with an expectation of privacy would be shocking. How trite your life must be,” she said. Then her eyes widened in distress.

It became apparent then to Tobias that she had not meant to let loose her tongue. Instead of being insulted and angry, he was intrigued.

He frowned. Why did she seem so enticing? He had the sudden urge to take her into his arms and kiss the outrage that he could see simmering in her catlike eyes. The thought was so unlike him he was rendered speechless for precious moments. “I assume you are Lady Olivia?” he asked, hiding his unwelcomed reaction to her.

She frowned, wariness settling on her face. “Yes. I was not aware you were interested in my presence at Grangeville Park, my lord.”

“My mother wrote to me weeks ago informing me of your stay in my home. From our encounter here, it is quite easy to surmise you are the young lady in dire need of social polish.”

Her glare almost skewered him. Then with a tight smile, she said, “I wish I could say it has been a pleasure, my lord. If you will excuse me, I must freshen before your mother returns from calling on the Duchess of Wolverton.”

She spun the horse around and nudged the side of his massive stallion, then rode away with such beauty and grace, the little hoyden actually held him spellbound.

Good God.

Hooves thundered behind her, but Livvie refused to glance back. Embarrassment burned through her limbs. The wretched, wretched man. Why did he have to arrive a day early? As the Earl of Blade, the beautiful and well-situated estate of Grangeville Park was his, but the dratted man could have alerted the household of when he would travel down from London.

Had she known, she never would have acted with such wanton disregard and dared to take out one of his most powerful and graceful stallions for a run. But she had needed those few hours of freedom after weeks of being indoors, taking deportment lessons that had made her eyes cross. There were so many rules to remember, so many mistakes she could commit. A lady must learn how to cultivate the art of conversation, walk with refined elegance, take tea with decorum. Even smiling was an art she must relearn. On more than one occasion, the countess had remarked with disdain that Livvie should not show all her teeth when she smiled. It was just not done.

The dowager countess was a once-beautiful woman who had not aged well. Her naturally slim figure had become angular rather than rounding as she got older. Her iron-gray hair drained what color remained in her face and she refused to use rouge to replace what years had taken away, and the deep lines that had engraved themselves upon her face revealed an unhappy and querulous disposition.

Livvie had been fretting constantly whether she would ever live up to the expectations her mother and stepfather had for her. Livvie was not even sure she wanted to meet their lofty goals. Surely most men, if not all in the ton, would hold similar opinions to Lord Blade. He had been outrageously insolent and she had done nothing to warrant such a reproach.

Would he inform his mother of their encounter? The countess would provide her with a tongue lashing should she learn Livvie had ridden astride. The first day, she had gone fishing by the lake and his mother had fainted when she had discovered her audacity. Livvie had been at loss what to do, and she had quickly realized that she needed to conform to the expected social behavior to avoid repeated swooning fits and hysterics from the countess. It was exhausting, and she was finally looking forward to her time in Town, if only to escape the lessons and endless restrictions she was enduring.

“Don’t you ever change, Livvie.”

“I won’t, Papa,” she whispered in the wind, urging the stallion to greater speed.

The earl overtook her, and she admired the easy way he rode and the restrained power in his movements. He turned his horse across the lanes, forcing her to come to a halt.

“Yes?” she demanded, a bit too tremulously. He mustn’t see that he had rattled her.

A smile tugged at his lips, and she forced her gaze away. The earl was dressed in dark breeches with knee-high riding boots. His white shirt was shockingly without a cravat and it was parted enough so she could see the strong column of his throat. She had to own he was a very handsome man. He was in possession of the brilliant emerald eyes that appeared to be a trademark of the Blade men. All of the men’s eyes in the paintings lining the picture gallery inside the house boasted the exact same shade of green. A shock of black hair, which he wore in the fashionable Coup de vent, was topped by his beaver. He had high-sculpted cheekbones and a strong patrician nose and a full, sensual mouth. She blushed at noticing these details.

The earl was obviously tall and muscular, yet so graceful in his movements…and so arrogant. It was a pity he wasn’t more affable. Outrage still burned through her regarding his rude demand as to what she was.

“I will ride back with you.”

She blinked. “I appreciate the courtesy, but I am not in need of a chaperone.” Surely it would not be wise for her to be seen with him alone.

His cold eyes swept over her. “Yet you shall have my company.”

His presence was almost intimidating. She’d only met a few men like the earl, where their aristocratic razor-edged elegance cloaked immense personal power.

“I borrowed your horse because I wanted to be alone with my thoughts for a few moments. Your presence…would be unsettling to the peace I desire.”

The fierce intensity with which those brilliant green eyes ensnared her had her pulse leaping.

“Ah, your recklessness is explained,” he murmured caustically.

Profoundly disturbed by the earl’s intense stare, Livvie glanced away. She had never been so uncomfortable in her life. “I suppose you wouldn’t consider my reason an acceptable excuse.”

“You supposed correctly.”

Mindful of her deportment, she said evenly, “I had intended to go around the lanes once more before I returned to the main house.”

He grunted and kneed his horse to move up beside hers. They trotted together in silence, and Livvie wondered if she should make an attempt at conversation. She desperately wished her hair had not tumbled during her ride and that she had not fallen into the mud. How terribly unladylike and unkempt she must appear.

“In her letter, my mother beseeched me to travel home and assist with your dancing lessons.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It seems at least two dancing tutors have abandoned you on account of your terrible form.”

She gasped. “I…I do not have a terrible form,” she muttered, acutely embarrassed. “It was unkind of the countess to say so.” It infuriated her to feel tears burning her throat. What else had the countess complained of? Livvie thought she had been doing so well. She’d never had a dance tutor before, nor had she attended finishing school, so she was not as graceful on the dance floor as she ought to be. The only time she ever felt elegant and had good form was when she rode or fenced.

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