you inside where it’s warm and dry, come.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He looked back. “That you’ve made me come into the frozen rain in the middle of the night? I accept your apology.”
“About the chocolate.”
Not quite a smile.
“But don’t imagine I won’t do it again if you provoke me,” she said.
“Believe me, I will. And, yes,” he said into the frigid night.
“Yes?”
“I can be civil.”
“You’re not doing a particularly good job of it.” She went toward him now, her steps more certain upon each tuft of moss. When she came beside him he grasped her wrist and halted her.
“You will lose this challenge, pirani . You know that, don’t you?”
The girl beneath her skin, the girl who eleven years ago had packed away her desire, now whispered that losing and winning this challenge wore the same face. “As ever,” she said aloud, “you are wrong.”
He gestured toward the inn. She went because she believed he would in fact haul her over his shoulder if she defied him now. For all his fine clothing and gentlemanly airs, he was still a wild, unpredictable boy at heart. And she did not trust him.
Chapter 5
The Quest
H e shouldn’t have done it. He should not have allowed the arrogant boy confined beneath his ribs to best him. And he most assuredly should not have touched her after she threw the chocolate at him. Her wrist had been so slender in his grasp, her strength a revelation he was a fool to have forgotten.
Then he’d made the grave mistake of looking at her lips. He’d gotten lost in contemplation of those lips too many times in years past to have made such a blunder now.
He’d gone off, berated himself for a fool, changed his clothing, and gone to the stable to see to his horse. Then he’d seen her walk onto the moor at midnight, a willow sylph with golden tresses.
And he’d done it again.
She drove him insane. She had always driven him insane. Now, however, he’d no business making wagers with her. He was no longer a lad, wrapped around her finger and hungry for her beyond even his understanding then. Yet she could still make him do what he must not.
He still hungered.
“I heard you send Hodges’s boy off,” Treadwell said as he fastened the final line to the carriage. “Fetching a saddle horse for the lady?” He lifted a yellow brow.
Even Arabella’s coachman thought he was insane.
“If she wants to ride,” he growled, “I’ll let her ride.” He’d have the horse by sundown, and after a day in the saddle she would regret it. He ran his hand along Tristan’s withers, seeking steadiness. He hadn’t been so surly in years. Ten or so.
“She’s a taking little thing, isn’t she?” Treadwell said.
Taliesin snapped his head around. Betsy walked toward them, the coachman’s attention fixed on her like a dog on a meat bone.
“She’s sixteen, Treadwell.” But Eleanor hadn’t been more than sixteen all those years ago. Sixteen and in thorough control of him.
“A man can look,” Treadwell said with a chuckle.
And yet, on the moor last night, Taliesin had dared Eleanor to do more than look. Did she understand that? He doubted it. She’d never had any idea what her eyes shimmering with longing did to him. Had always done to him. She thought he’d wanted to be wild, but she had it entirely wrong. He’d come by his wildness naturally. Learning to control it had been his greatest challenge. He’d done it for her.
But this time he didn’t need help from her or anyone else to maintain control of the situation. This time he knew how to approach the challenge. Forget about the fire in her eyes in the darkness. Forget how it felt to touch her. And completely ignore his need to show her what she might have had if all those years ago she had waited for him.
THE WIND WHIPPED harder as they approached the coast, the carriage dipping to a lull in the valley before ascending the final hill. Abruptly, the ocean appeared, frothing gray and white
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He looked back. “That you’ve made me come into the frozen rain in the middle of the night? I accept your apology.”
“About the chocolate.”
Not quite a smile.
“But don’t imagine I won’t do it again if you provoke me,” she said.
“Believe me, I will. And, yes,” he said into the frigid night.
“Yes?”
“I can be civil.”
“You’re not doing a particularly good job of it.” She went toward him now, her steps more certain upon each tuft of moss. When she came beside him he grasped her wrist and halted her.
“You will lose this challenge, pirani . You know that, don’t you?”
The girl beneath her skin, the girl who eleven years ago had packed away her desire, now whispered that losing and winning this challenge wore the same face. “As ever,” she said aloud, “you are wrong.”
He gestured toward the inn. She went because she believed he would in fact haul her over his shoulder if she defied him now. For all his fine clothing and gentlemanly airs, he was still a wild, unpredictable boy at heart. And she did not trust him.
Chapter 5
The Quest
H e shouldn’t have done it. He should not have allowed the arrogant boy confined beneath his ribs to best him. And he most assuredly should not have touched her after she threw the chocolate at him. Her wrist had been so slender in his grasp, her strength a revelation he was a fool to have forgotten.
Then he’d made the grave mistake of looking at her lips. He’d gotten lost in contemplation of those lips too many times in years past to have made such a blunder now.
He’d gone off, berated himself for a fool, changed his clothing, and gone to the stable to see to his horse. Then he’d seen her walk onto the moor at midnight, a willow sylph with golden tresses.
And he’d done it again.
She drove him insane. She had always driven him insane. Now, however, he’d no business making wagers with her. He was no longer a lad, wrapped around her finger and hungry for her beyond even his understanding then. Yet she could still make him do what he must not.
He still hungered.
“I heard you send Hodges’s boy off,” Treadwell said as he fastened the final line to the carriage. “Fetching a saddle horse for the lady?” He lifted a yellow brow.
Even Arabella’s coachman thought he was insane.
“If she wants to ride,” he growled, “I’ll let her ride.” He’d have the horse by sundown, and after a day in the saddle she would regret it. He ran his hand along Tristan’s withers, seeking steadiness. He hadn’t been so surly in years. Ten or so.
“She’s a taking little thing, isn’t she?” Treadwell said.
Taliesin snapped his head around. Betsy walked toward them, the coachman’s attention fixed on her like a dog on a meat bone.
“She’s sixteen, Treadwell.” But Eleanor hadn’t been more than sixteen all those years ago. Sixteen and in thorough control of him.
“A man can look,” Treadwell said with a chuckle.
And yet, on the moor last night, Taliesin had dared Eleanor to do more than look. Did she understand that? He doubted it. She’d never had any idea what her eyes shimmering with longing did to him. Had always done to him. She thought he’d wanted to be wild, but she had it entirely wrong. He’d come by his wildness naturally. Learning to control it had been his greatest challenge. He’d done it for her.
But this time he didn’t need help from her or anyone else to maintain control of the situation. This time he knew how to approach the challenge. Forget about the fire in her eyes in the darkness. Forget how it felt to touch her. And completely ignore his need to show her what she might have had if all those years ago she had waited for him.
THE WIND WHIPPED harder as they approached the coast, the carriage dipping to a lull in the valley before ascending the final hill. Abruptly, the ocean appeared, frothing gray and white
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