Then Came You Read online

  Alex glanced at the brightening sky, his mouth twisting with impatience. The hunt had been scheduled for six o’clock. They would be late getting started. More than half the hunting party hadn’t mounted their horses yet. He considered walking over to someone and striking up a conversation. Most of the men here were familiar to him, some of them old classmates. But he wasn’t in a sociable mood. He wanted to ride, lose himself in the chase until he was too tired to think or feel.

  He looked across the field at the cool mist that hung over the yellow grasses and edged the dark, gray-green woods. The nearby covert was thick with spiny, gold-flowered gorse. All at once a flash of memory assailed him…

  “Caro, you’re not going on the hunt.”

  His fiancée, Caroline Whit-more, laughed and pouted playfully. She was a lovely girl, with peach-colored skin and bright hazel eyes, and hair the dark amber of clover honey. “Darling, you wouldn’t deprive me of such fun, would you? There’s no chance of danger. I’m a superb rider, a clipping one, as you British would say.”

  “You don’t know what it’s like, riding to a leap in company. There are collisions, refusals, or you could be thrown or ridden down—”

  “I’ll ride with the utmost discretion. What do you suppose, that I’ll ride neck-or-nothing across every hurdle? I’ll have you know, dearest, that common sense is one of my strongest virtues. Besides, you know it’s impossible to change my mind once I’m set on something.” Caroline sighed melodramatically. “Why must you be so difficult?”

  “Because I love you.”

  “Then don’t love me. At least not tomorrow morning…”

  Alex shook his head roughly, trying to clear away the haunting memories. God, would it always be like this? It had been two years since her death, and still he was tormented by it.

  The past engulfed Alex in an invisible shroud. He had tried to move beyond it, but after a few futile attempts, he had realized he would never be free of Caroline. Of course there were others like her, women of spirit, passion, and beauty, but he did not want that kind of woman anymore. Caroline had told him once that she thought no one would ever be able to love him quite enough. There had been too many years in which he had been bereft of a woman’s nurturing care.

  His mother had died in childbirth when Alex was a boy. Her death was followed a year later by the passing of the earl. It was said that he had willed himself to death, leaving behind his two sons and a mountain of responsibilities. Since the age of eighteen Alex had been occupied with managing business interests, tenants and land agents, household staff and family. He had property in Herefordshire, set among fertile wheat and corn fields and rivers filled with salmon, and a Buckinghamshire estate poised on a tract of harshly beautiful land that included steep Chiltern chalk hills.

  Alex had devoted himself to caring for and educating his younger brother, Henry. His own needs had been neglected, put aside to be taken care of at some future date. When he had found a woman to love, the feelings he had pent up for so long were overwhelming. Losing Caroline had nearly killed him. He would never subject himself to such pain again.

  That was why he had deliberately sought Penelope Lawson’s hand. A demure blonde girl, quintessentially English, she had attracted him with her gentle manner at many of the society balls in London. Penelope was what he needed. It was time to marry and produce heirs. Penelope couldn’t be more different than Caroline. She would share his bed, bear his children, grow old beside him, all in safety and peace, never becoming a part of him. Alex found ease in Penelope’s undemanding presence. There was no spark or vivacity in her pretty brown eyes, no sharp wit in her comments, nothing that threatened to touch his heart in any way. She would never think to argue with him or contradict him. The distant friendliness between them was something she did not seem to want to bridge any more than he did.

  Suddenly Alex’s thoughts were interrupted by a remarkable sight. A woman was riding past the edge of the crowd, a young woman mounted on a high-strung white palfrey. Alex dropped his gaze instantly, but the vision blazed across his mind. A frown knotted itself between his brows.

  Exotic, hoydenish, startling, she had appeared from nowhere. She was as slim as a boy, except for the gentle rise of her breasts. Her short, curly black hair was held back from her forehead with a ribbon. Incredulously Alex saw that she straddled the horse the way a man did, that she was wearing breeches underneath her riding gown. Breeches the color of raspberries, for God’s sake. Yet no one seemed to find her as astonishing as he did. Most of the men seemed to be acquainted with her, exchanging laughing comments with her, everyone from the fresh-faced Lord Yarborough to crotchety old Lord Harrington. Alex watched expressionlessly as the woman in raspberry breeches rode around the clearing where the bagged fox was to be loosed. There was something strangely familiar about her.

  Lily suppressed a satisfied smile as she saw that Raiford had fastened an unblinking gaze on her. He had definitely noticed her. “My lord,” she said to Lord Harrington, a robust older gentleman who had been an admirer of hers for years, “who is that man staring at me so rudely?”

  “Why, it’s the earl of Raiford,” Harrington replied. “I would have assumed you had made acquaintance with him before, considering that he is soon to wed your delightful sister.”

  Lily shook her head with a smile. “No, his lordship and I move in quite different circles. Tell me, is he as boorish as he appears?”

  Harrington gave a hearty laugh. “Would you like me to introduce you, so that you may judge for yourself?”

  “Thank you, but I believe I will present myself to Raiford unaccompanied.” Before he could reply, Lily walked her horse toward Raiford. As she drew closer to him, she was conscious of an odd sensation in the pit of her stomach. She caught a glimpse of his face and suddenly realized who he was. “My God,” she breathed, stopping her horse beside him. “It’s you.”

  His gaze was as piercing as a rapier. “The water party,” he murmured. “You were the one who jumped overboard.”

  “And you were the one with the disapproving stare.” Lily grinned at him. “I was an idiot that day,” she admitted ruefully. “But I was slightly foxed. Although I suppose you wouldn’t consider that an acceptable excuse.”

  “What do you want?” His voice caused every fine hair on her spine to rise in awareness. Low, gravelly, it sounded as if he were growling.

  “What do I want?” she repeated, laughing softly. “How direct you are. But I like that in a man.”

  “You wouldn’t have approached me unless you wanted something.”

  “You’re right. Do you know who I am, my lord?”

  “No.”

  “Miss Lily Lawson. Your fiancée’s sister.”

  Concealing his surprise, Alex studied her closely. It didn’t seem possible that this creature was related to Penelope. One sister so fair and angelic, the other dark and smoldering…and yet, there was a resemblance. They had the same brown eyes, the same fine features, the same unique sweetness in the curve of the lips. He tried to recall what little the Lawsons had revealed about their eldest daughter. They had preferred not to speak of her, except to say that Lily—or Wilhemina, as her mother called her—had gone “a little mad” after having been jilted at the altar when she was twenty years old. She’d gone to live aboard after that. Under the lax chaperonage of her widowed aunt, Lily had led a wild existence. Alex had been only mildly interested in the story—now he wished he had listened more closely.

  “Has my family ever mentioned me to you?” she asked.

  “They described you as an eccentric.”

  “I wondered if they still bother to acknowledge my existence.” She leaned down and said conspiratorially, “I have a tarnished reputation—it’s taken years of dedicated effort to acquire. The Lawsons don’t approve of me. Well, fate chooses our relatives, as they say. Too late to prune me from the family tree.” Lily paused in her friendly chatter as she stared down into his closed face. Heaven knew what was going on behind t
hose silver eyes. It was clear that he was not going to indulge her with small talk and smiles, reverting to the game that sociable strangers played.

  She wondered if bluntness were the best way to deal with him. “Raiford,” she said briskly, “I want to talk to you about my sister.”

  He was silent, watching her with icy gray eyes.

  “I know more than anyone about my parents’ ambitions of making an exceptional match for Penny,” Lily remarked. “She is a lovely and accomplished girl, isn’t she? And it would be a brilliant marriage. Miss Penelope Lawson, the countess of Raiford. No one in my family has ever ascended to such a title. But I wonder…would it be in her best interests to become your wife? That is, do you care for my sister, Lord Raiford?”

  His face was impassive. “As much as necessary.”

  “That hardly sets my mind at ease.”

  “What is your concern, Miss Lawson?” he asked sardonically. “That I’ll mistreat your sister? That she’s had no choice in the matter? I assure you, Penelope is quite content with the state of affairs.” His eyes narrowed, and he continued softly. “And if you’re about to delight everyone with one of your theatrical displays, Miss Lawson, I warn you…I don’t like scenes.”

  Lily was taken aback by the veiled menace in his tone. Oh, she didn’t like him at all! At first she had considered him vaguely amusing, a large, slightly pompous aristocrat with ice water in his veins. But something warned her that his nature was not only cold, but cruel. “I don’t believe your claim that Penny is content,” she replied. “I know my sister, and I have no doubt my parents have bullied and prodded her every step of the way to get what they want. You must terrify Penny. Does her happiness matter to you at all? She deserves a man who truly loves her. My instincts tell me that all you want is an obedient, fertile girl who will produce a string of little blond heirs to carry on your name, and if that’s the case you could easily find a hundred other girls to—”

  “Enough,” he interrupted harshly. “Go interfere in someone else’s life, Miss Lawson. I’ll see you in hell—no, I’ll send you there—before I let you meddle with mine.”

  Lily gave him an ominous look. “I’ve found out what I wanted to know,” she said, preparing to leave. “Good day, my lord. You’ve been most enlightening.”

  “Wait.” Before Alex was aware of what he was doing, he reached out and caught one of her reins.

  “Let go!” Lily said in surprised annoyance. His actions were outrageous. To take hold of any rider’s reins without invitation, removing control of the horse—it was a demeaning act.

  “You’re not going to hunt,” he said.

  “You don’t think I came out here to wish you well, do you? Yes, I’m going to hunt. Have no fear, I shan’t slow anyone down.”

  “Women shouldn’t hunt.”

  “Of course they should, if they wish to.”

  “Only if they happen to be wives or daughters of masters of hounds. Otherwise—”

  “A mere accident of birth won’t prevent me from hunting. I am a bruising rider, and I insist that no allowance be made for me. I’ll top any fence, no matter how high. I suppose you would like me to stay inside with the other women, tatting and gossiping.”

  “There you won’t pose a danger to anyone. Out here you’ll be a hazard to others as well as yourself.”

  “I’m afraid your opinion is in the minority, Lord Raiford. No one but you takes exception to my presence here.”

  “No man in his rational mind would want you here.”

  “Now I suppose I should go away meekly,” Lily mused, “my gaze cast down in shame. How dare I interfere in such a manly occupation as hunting? Well, I don’t give this—” she made a snapping motion with her gloved fingers, “—for you and your self-righteous opinions. Now let go!”

  “You’re not riding,” Alex muttered. Something broke free inside him, driving him beyond rational thought. Caroline, no, Oh God—

  “I’ll be damned if I’m not!” Lily jerked at the reins, while the white palfrey sidestepped uneasily. Alex’s grasp remained unbroken. Shocked, Lily stared into gray eyes as reflective as mirror glass. “You’re mad,” she whispered. They were both still.

  Lily was the first to move, lashing out with her whip in a stroke of rebellious rage. It caught Alex underneath the jaw, leaving a streak of red that ended at the tip of his chin. Spurring the palfrey forward, Lily used the burst of motion to free the reins from the snare of his fingers. She rode away without looking back.

  The confrontation had been so quick that no one had noticed. Alex wiped the smear of blood from his jaw, barely noticing the sting of pain. His mind was whirling. He wondered what was happening to him. For a few seconds he hadn’t been able to separate the present from the past. Caroline’s light, far-away voice came to his ears. “Darling Alex…then don’t love me…” He flinched, his heart beginning to pound as he remembered the day she had fallen…

  “An accident,” one of his friends said quietly. “Unseated. I knew when she fell—”

  “Get a doctor,” Alex said hoarsely.

  “Alex, it’s no use.”

  “Damn you, get a doctor or I’ll—”

  “Her neck was broken by the fall.”

  “No—”

  “Alex, she’s dead…”

  His groom’s voice abruptly recalled him to the present. “My lord?”

  Alex blinked and focused his gaze on the shining chestnut gelding, chosen for its combination of power and suppleness. Taking the reins, he mounted the horse easily and glanced across the clearing. Lily Lawson was chatting and smiling with the other riders. To look at her, one would never guess there had been a confrontation between them.

  The pack of foxhounds were set loose, covering the field with their frantic snuffling. Then a scent was found. “Reynard is out!” came the call as a fox broke cover. A rich note pierced the air as the master blew the horn and the riders set out on the chase.

  The hunters rode to the copse in a fever of exultation, shouting madly. The field fairly shook under the onslaught of horses and dogs, hooves tearing at the ground, eager cries renting the air.

  “Gone away!”

  “Tallyho!”

  “Halloo!”

  As the congregation spurred their mounts onward, the hunt took on the expected formation, the huntsman riding close to the foremost hounds, the whippers-in following the dogs and keeping the occasional stragglers in pace with the pack. Lily Lawson rode like a woman possessed, rushing at the highest obstacles and taking them as if she had wings. She seemed to have no concern for her own safety. Usually Alex would have ridden ahead with the others, but for now he held back. He was driven to follow Lily, watching her take suicidal chances. The course was filled with noise and revelry, while Alex went through a living nightmare. His horse strained over the jumps, hooves biting into the ground with every surge. Caroline… Long ago he had closed it all away, stored every recollection in the back of his mind. But he had no defense against the thoughts that came without warning, the feel of Caroline’s mouth beneath his, her silky hair in his hands, the sweet torment of holding her close. She had taken away a part of him that would never be restored.

  You fool, he told himself savagely. He was making the hunt into a macabre reprise of his past. A fool chasing after lost dreams…and still he followed Lily, watching her leap through gaps and over reinforced hedges. Although she did not look back, he sensed that she knew he was there. They rode for nearly an hour, crossing from one county to another.

  Lily spurred her horse onward in determination, her nerves crackling with excitement. She had never cared much for the end of a hunt, being in at the kill, but the riding…oh, there was nothing like it. Gleefully she approached a towering “double oxer,” a quickthorn braced on each side with an ox rail. In a split second she realized it was too high and too much of a risk to take, but some devilish urge impelled her forward. At the last moment, the palfrey refused to jump. The arrested motion of the horse threw Lily ou
t of the saddle.

  The world seemed to spin, and she was suspended in mid-air. Then the ground came rushing up at her. Shielding her face with her hands, Lily felt her body slam into the mossy earth. The breath was forced from her lungs. Writhing on the ground, she gasped for air, while her hands clutched reflexively around bits of leaves and mud.

  Dazedly she felt herself being turned and her shoulders lifted. Opening her mouth, she fought to pull in air. Red and black danced before her eyes. Slowly the mist cleared away to reveal a face above her. Raiford. The golden glow of his skin was infused with ashen gray. Lily stirred against him, discovering that she was held securely in the lee of his muscular thighs. She was as limp and helpless as a doll.

  Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she tried to regain her breath. His hand was tight on the back of her neck…too tight…hurting her…

  “I told you not to hunt,” Raiford snarled. “Were you trying to kill yourself?”

  Lily made a small sound, looking up at him with hazy confusion. There was blood on his collar, a splotch of scarlet from the wound she had given him earlier. His hand was powerful on her neck. If he chose, he could snap her bones if they were twigs. Lily was aware of the weight and sinew of him, the sheer power lodged within his body. There was a primitive expression on his flushed face, a mixture of hatred and something else she couldn’t identify. Through the roaring of her ears, she thought she heard a name…Caroline…

  “You’re a madman,” she gasped. “Good God. You belong in Bedlam. Wh-what’s going on? Do you know who in the hell I am? Get your hands off me, do you hear?”

  Her words seemed to bring him back to awareness of what he was doing. The murderous gleam left his eyes, and the contorted shape of his mouth softened. Lily sensed an enormous tension leaving his body. He dropped her abruptly, as if the touch of her had burned him.