Promise Me Heaven (11 page)

Cat draped the hem of her dove-gray riding habit over her arm and walked toward Thomas, napping in the lobby chair. As usual, he was dressed as a provincial, the heavy chambray shirt knotted at the collar by a linen scarf, his serviceable trousers bagging about the heavily scored leather boots. He opened his eyes and regarded her a moment before breaking his odd silence. “Well, you look like a veritable heartbreaker, m’dear.”

“That’s an unfinished statement if ever I heard one.” She arched a brow.

“Well, perhaps I might point out that if it were looks alone that made a heartbreaker, you would already have achieved the most lofty position in society.”

“Such gallantry, sir,” she exclaimed, inordinately pleased. “And I am confident that my equestrian skills shall do nothing to tumble me from your high estimation.”

He offered her his arm, escorting her to the front of the hotel, where he had arranged to have two horses waiting. One, a large black, was full-chested and thick-limbed with a massive though well-shaped head. The other was finer-boned, a dappled gray gelding dancing at the end of his lead as a stable lad cooed softly. The boy grinned at Cat, pulling the gray forward.

“You be riding the sweetest-going horse in five counties, miss. I knowed ’cause me own da bred him for stride not speed, mind you. Though he goes well enough if pushed. Name’s Karl.”

Having grown used to the democratic conventions of Thomas’s home, Cat nodded politely, “How do you do, Karl?”

The boy’s freckled face split into a wide grin. “Not my name, miss. The lad here. My name is Valentine. Ma named us all, horses and kids. Has a bit of book learning, she do, and Da dotes on her ’cause of it.” He rolled his eyes as though his father’s indulgence of such nonsense was beyond comprehension.

“Enough, Master Valentine,” said Thomas. “Throw the lady up and buy yourself a sweet while you wait.” He tossed the boy a coin and mounted the black. “Lead out, Cat. ’Tis a pretty ride outside of town.”

Cat trotted the gray down an avenue of tall poplars, skirting the fashionable areas of town until they found themselves on a crescent of coastal lands above the sea. The sky was a clean wash of azure. The breeze gently fluttered her mount’s pale mane. She relaxed, enjoying the brisk morning, the salty tang of the air, the bright sunlight glinting off the waves on the horizon, but most of all enjoying the company of the man riding behind her.

Wondering if Thomas was assessing her ability, she turned and peeked back at him. He was not looking at her at all, instead his gaze fixed on the sea. With his gaze soft, his expression unguarded, and his mouth relaxed, she realized that he was still young, in the full bloom of his manhood.

She checked her horse, pulling him back to ride alongside of him. For a long time they simply rode together until the sun started its descent toward the horizon. Soon the nightly whirl would begin anew. The idea brought no great pleasure. But at least Thomas would be with her. Except tomorrow he wouldn’t. She frowned. “Thomas?”

“Hm?”

“Have you ever been to the Prince’s Marine Pavilion?”

“Not when it was so named.”

“I hear it is filled with priceless treasures and masterpieces from all over the world.”

“So they say.”

She had his full attention now. “I wish I could see it.”

“Oh?”

“I have heard that you were invited to dine there tomorrow.”

“Who told you this?”

“Fielding heard it from Bob. But that makes no matter. I was wondering, that is to say, well… I thought perhaps you might escort me there.” He was silent. She continued in a rush. “I dearly would like to be able to see all the—”

“No.”

The single word was low, emphatic. Immediately heat flooded Cat’s cheeks. Well-deserved mortification caused her next words to trip over one another. “Of course, forgive my audacity. I am terribly sorry to have put myself forward in so rude a manner—”

“Leave off the self-recriminations, Cat. You might ask of me anything you like without standing on ceremony. I won’t take you to the prince’s fete because it will be peopled by a particularly unsavory lot. Boring, too. I’d cry off myself were it possible to do so but Prinny takes that sort of thing personally and he can make life hell for anyone he considers unappreciative.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t. The Prince Regent’s crowd is not a nice group of people. I am not talking about rakish dandies, warm conversation. These people are ruthless.”

Her pride stung, Cat drew herself up. “I can handle myself.”

“The answer is no, Cat. I simply will not expose you to them, m’love.”

His offhanded endearment caused her heart to skip in her chest. Her eyes flew to his, but he was gazing out toward the pastures at a small flock of sheep.

“How are you going to free my potential when your mind is always on those beasts?”

“What? Oh. Sorry, Cat. I was just woolgathering.”

“Very amusing,” she said severely then, and unable to refrain, continued, “And stop grinning so sheepishly.”

She burst into laughter at his pained expression.

“Very good,” he said. “You look very appealing laughing like that. Not the controlled giggle of most women but a full laugh of genuine amusement. If you can do that on cue, I swear our task is all but complete.”

“Oh, you haven’t begun to appreciate me,” Cat replied happily and with that, moved her horse smoothly forward into a canter. For a few moments she seemed to fly effortlessly over the ground.

“Oh, he does go lovely!” she called over her shoulder and as if on cue the gray misstepped, stumbling. Coupled with her sudden turn, it was enough to cause Cat to lurch over the horse’s withers. Frantically, she scrambled to regain her seat, but her fall was inevitable.

Kicking free of the stirrup, she pushed off the saddle and hit the ground feet first, staggering with her momentum before her foot caught on patch of ground, pitching her forward. She stumbled and fell in the weeds, flat on her rump.

Thomas was beside her at once, saying with a casual interest at variance with his tense posture, “Fine in the walk. Questionable at speed. Falling off one’s mount is all very good and fine if one can do it with grace and elegance but you don’t. Are you hurt?”

“I cannot, I absolutely cannot imagine for one moment that anyone as patently ungallant as you could ever have been a serious threat to a lady’s virtue!”

“Fortunately, Cat, this aspect of my personality has never been put to the test. I have never before seen a lady dumped from so easy a gait. I cannot seriously consider you to be injured. Are you?”

Placing her hands on the ground on either side of her, Cat attempted to heave herself up and winced. Her pride, as well as her ankle, throbbed. “Yes!”

Immediately Thomas was kneeling beside her, a look of gratifying concern displacing his previous insouciance. “Where does it hurt?”

Embarrassed, Cat shifted beneath his regard. “It’s nothing much really. I just turned my ankle a bit.”

“Is it broken?”

“No, I’m sure it’s not. I’m fine.”

He bent down beside her and lifted her foot to rest it against his hard thigh before unlacing her boot. She couldn’t suppress a small shudder as he loosened the laces. His brow knotted with concern.

“Really, I’m fine.”

“ ‘Really’ you are becoming redundant, my dear,” he replied. His fingers moved gently about her ankle. His eyes sought hers as his hands soothed over her foot moving farther up her calf for the source and extent of the damage.

“Where does it hurt most?”

“It doesn’t hurt anywhere most.”

A sudden, unbidden memory of Thomas as she’d first seen him unfolded in her mind with startling explicitness. Naked to the waist, his broad shoulders strained with effort. The muscles of his chest stood out in sharp relief, glistening with exertion, his stomach shingled with hard sinew under smooth, tanned skin. She closed her eyes but could still see him thus, huge and perfectly formed. Her eyes flew open and she had an overwhelming desire to touch the curls at the nape of his neck where they lay in silver-kissed darkness.

She felt the rock-solidness of his warm thigh beneath her foot, his hands gentle upon her skin, and was too aware of the hardness and steel of him countered too provokingly by the tenderness and care of his concern. He looked up at her and their gazes held for an instant. His eyes were alight with warmth, concern, and humor. He smiled, and she found herself answering the irresistible lure of it with her own foolish grin…

Dear heavens!
she thought with sudden clarity,
I love him. God help me, I have, all unsuspecting, added myself to his list of conquests.

Horrified, Cat stared up at Thomas, unable to deny the potent attraction.
This could not be! Would he laugh at her or pity her if he knew? Which would be worse?
His sorrowful understanding or his horrified concern that she would hound him as any number of tarts last evening had done? If he knew, would he be all sweetly understanding or would he run?

What difference did it make, anyway?
She needed to make a brilliant match. Her family
needed
her to make a brilliant match. It was the most logical course open to them. She would not follow her mother’s lead, sacrificing family for personal gratification. Cat was responsible, practical. She would not entertain rattle-pated notions about an impoverished roué. A handsome, virile, muscular roué. A considerate, intelligent, perceptive… Why did he have to be all of these things and… and
poor
!

She placed her foot against his stomach and shoved. He fell backwards on his rump, his long legs splaying out on either side of her, a look of stunned incredulity on his face.

“Why don’t you cut your hair?” she demanded. “Just because you must rusticate in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean you need look like the farmer you play at being!”

He watched her warily, as though he feared she’d just lost her mind. “What?”

“I said, ‘Cut your hair.’ ’Tis shamefully long.” The knowledge she was acting like an idiot only fueled Cat’s ire.

“I find,” Thomas said, rising to his feet “that when one is ‘playing farmer’ and spending a great deal of time in the out-of-doors, a longer length of hair keeps the sun off one’s neck, thus safeguarding it from an unnecessary and painful burn.” He dusted his trousers off before continuing. “Now, what the bloody hell is this all about? Or did the fall so jar your brains that you are, in fact, ranting?”

“Never mind. I told you I was fine, and I am. If you would be so kind as to catch my mount, we can return to town.”

She bit down on her lip to keep it from trembling. Thomas was standing over her, his feet spread in a belligerent pose.

“You can’t possibly ride, you little fool,” he said.

Only Thomas, with his immense size and tremendous breadth, would ever call her “little.” She was overwhelmed by her newly discovered weakness, by her attraction to this self-confessed rake and profligate. To him, she could be no more than an amusing diversion. Distressed, she turned her head. “I most assuredly can.”

He answered her with a sigh then, without warning, scooped her up in his great arms. She felt the even rise and fall of his chest pressed close to hers. It was a delicious sensation. Too delicious. He adjusted her with a little bounce in his arms.

“This would be a trifle easier if you were to put your arms around my neck. You are a rather healthy armful.”

“Then put me down.”

“Try to regain some of the common sense that I have come to expect from you, Cat. If you walk, or strive to ride, you run the very real risk of further injury. Then how will you be able to dance?”

He smiled, attempting to win back her good humor, his dark gaze inches from her face. Cat could delineate each black, impossibly long lash. “And I swear to you, Cat, a true seductress must, simply must, be able to waltz. So that great oafs such as myself might better fling them from windows and thus have the pleasure of disentangling them from the shrubbery.”

“Have you had the pleasure of disentangling many ladies from shrubbery?” Cat asked, annoyed when the words sounded waspish even to her own ear.

His face went blank then sudden inspiration lit his eyes and he threw back his head and laughed, leaving Cat with the mortifying knowledge that she’d revealed her inane jealousy.

Cat was acting jealous. The absurdity of his one love being jealous of the faceless women from his past had overwhelmed Thomas, and he’d laughed. It was an impolitic thing to do. With Cat sputtering ineffectually in his arms, he’d strode over to his horse and lifted her up onto its broad back, taking the reins of both steeds in one hand to lead them.

The walk back to the hotel proved a silent one. Every now and again Thomas would cast a verbal gambit, which Cat ignored. There was more than the sharp prick of jealousy here, Thomas thought. Cat was glaring at him with such disapproving intensity, he wondered if he had ripped the seam in his breeches when she had kicked him backwards. And “kick” is exactly what she had done, he thought with no small degree of perplexity.

At the front of the hotel, he tossed the reins to the boy and, with cheerful disregard for her protest, swung Cat up in his arms, carrying her to her suite.