A Rake's Reward

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Reath urged his horses to a faster pace. The perfectly matched pair were exceptional, and his father’s curricle was built for speed. If for no other reason than getting this equipage, the delay in his trip caused by stopping at his family seat was worthwhile. Of course, his mother would have skinned his hide if he hadn’t stopped to pay his respects to her as well.

Appreciating the sight of strong muscles rippling under the horses’ sleek brown coats, Reath found himself momentarily distracted from his driving. They really were an excellently matched pair. If there was one thing his father had known about, it was prime-blood horses. He’d always had the best, and in this Reath took after his father—he truly appreciated a fine horse—and two were even better.

At the other extreme, of course, there was the mount that had gotten him out of Portsmouth. The nag he had finally been able to borrow just barely got him as far as the next posting house along the road. He laughed at the contrast. In fact, he had been quite relieved that the beast had been able to carry him so far—a sorrier looking creature Reath had never ridden.

This pair was able to maintain an impressive speed, and Reath thrilled in the feeling. The drive along the main roads had been quick and easy, and now he kept a strong hand on the reins as he guided the pair through the narrow winding lane. Such speed and power was heady to one who had been cooped up on a ship for the past five months.

He still couldn’t get his experience in Portsmouth out of his mind. That American girl had such temerity! No one had spoken to him like that, ever! It still made him laugh. He didn’t know if it was the strangeness of the experience, or her mere presence—those beautiful, flashing blue eyes and such a strong, determined stance in one so delicate and petite—which made him forgive her rudeness.

The light curricle swung around a tight corner, one wheel nearly lifting off the ground. On the other side of the blind curve, a girl was slowly riding down the middle of the road. Within moments, he would be upon her.

Reath acted quickly, pulling hard on the reins and veering off to one side at the same time. The horses managed to move over just enough so that he missed the girl by a hair. From the corner of his eye, he saw her fly from her rearing horse.

He brought his frightened pair to a standstill, realizing that both he and the horses were trembling at the near miss. But he had no time to dwell on his own feelings or deal with his own terrified horses. Jumping down and running back to the girl, he found her lying face down on the road where her horse had thrown her before bolting.

“Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her.

“What i***t in his right mind comes barreling around a curve like—”

The words in Sara’s mouth dried up as she looked over her shoulder. It was that villainous viscount from Portsmouth. And now here he was bending over her with such concern in his beautiful gray eyes.

He had sucked in a breath the moment she’d turned her face toward him, clearly recognizing her the same moment she had him. But the shock on his face had quickly turned to something else. He began to laugh.

“Only you could be thrown into the dirt and respond with acid on your tongue,” he said, with a shake of his head. “No, no, don’t move,” he said quickly when Sara made a move to turn over and sit up.

Intense embarrassment rushed through Sara so fast she felt light-headed. Briefly, she wondered whether he would go away if she fainted—no, he’d probably become even more concerned for her. Damn! There was nothing she could do.

“Are any bones broken?” he asked, reaching down to feel her ankle without waiting for a response.

The heat from his hand shot up her leg. Instinctively, Sara pulled back out of his reach.

“Do you simply expect me to lie here nibbling dirt while you enjoy yourself?” she asked, unable to stop her traitorous tongue from speaking before she even had a chance to review what it was going to say.

He pulled back, drawing his eyebrows down over his eyes.

Sara dropped her forehead onto her hands. “I’m so sorry. I don’t think… Yes.” She lifted her head again and looked at him over her shoulder. “I don’t think. You must excuse me, my tongue seems to have a mind of its own.” She rolled over and sat up.

This time her head really did reel.

“Not so fast!” he cautioned her.

“No, I honestly could not have stayed there for any longer,” she said, putting a hand to her head. She realized her palm was coated with dirt and her hair was half falling down.

She had to look a fright, and his smile was just as devastating as she remembered. He was dressed impeccably, and moreover, clean—something she was no longer. For a moment she wanted to sink into the ground, but she dusted off her dirty hand and did her best to re-pin her hair.

He watched her efforts with one side of his lips lifted in interest. “I don’t suppose you could have stayed lying there, but please, don’t try to get up any further. At least not for another minute. I know you are made of stern stuff, but even the hardiest of people would need a moment to gather themselves after a fall like that.”

Sara could only nod and rest her head in her hands. Nausea from her spinning, aching head and a stomach clenched with embarrassment had her swallowing hard.

“Now what made you think it would be a good idea to ride down the center of the road? Surely they do not do as much in America.”

“No,” Sara admitted. “But I live in the city. I thought here in the countryside…”

“There would be no one around?”

Sara nodded and then felt very sorry that she had. She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and stared with determination into the distance, hoping that it would work to calm her stomach, as it had when she’d felt seasick on her journey to England.

“Still in a hurry to get to your urgent business?” she asked, finally looking up at him. Perhaps she could still convince him to go away and leave her to her embarrassed misery.

He raised one slashing eyebrow. “Er... yes.”

“Well, do not let me keep you, sir. Goodness knows I have delayed you enough already.”

“I cannot simply leave you here all alone without a means of conveyance. Your horse has disappeared, I’m afraid.”

She looked around and noticed that he was right. “Damn.” She was trapped. She had no way of getting back to her aunt’s house.

Her eyes flew back to him to gauge his reaction, even as she bit her tongue. Would she ever stop embarrassing herself in front of this man? Her father had lectured her on her language after using a few of the more colorful expressions she had learned in the marketplace, but she still had not rid herself of the bad habit of using one or two choice words when the situation demanded it.

The viscount’s lips twitched with suppressed mirth. At least he had the grace to not laugh out loud.

“Feeling a bit better?”

“Trying to.”

“That’s a girl.” He paused and then laughed. “I can hardly believe you aren’t in hysterics. Any young woman worth her salt would be carrying on at this point. On the other hand, knowing you… I suppose you must be feeling very unwell indeed, if you’re not laying into me like you did at our last encounter.”

“Please, sir, let me…” she began, knowing that this might be her only chance to speak with him.

“My word! What’s happened?” Another man’s voice interrupted her, cutting her off just before the word “apologize” could cross her lips.

The villainous viscount stood and turned toward the newcomer.

Lord Alton strode toward them, leaving his gig standing in the middle of the road just behind Sara. She’d been so focused on the viscount she hadn’t even heard him drive up.

“It was just a small mishap,” the viscount said. “Miss…” He paused, clearly hoping she’d fill in her name for him, but Lord Alton jumped in.

“Are you all right?” he asked her directly.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Your horse seems to have bolted,” Lord Alton commented looking around.

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “Would you mind very much giving me a lift?”

“I would be honored…”

“Of course!”

Both men answered at once.

Lord Alton frowned at the viscount. “I’ll take her home. I was on my way there anyway.”

The viscount looked to Sara to make sure that this was what she wanted. She did appreciate his concern.

“Thank you, my lord, I would be most grateful.” She began to stand up. Immediately each man was on either side of her, grasping her arms and helping her rise. “Thank you,” she laughed weakly as her head spun.

She eyed the viscount’s broad chest, swaying ever so slightly in that direction before quickly righting herself. He was just the right height for her to rest her head against, and then he would have no choice but to wrap his strong arms around her and lend his support and strength.

But that would be wrong—very wrong. She must not even think such things. No, she was stronger than that. With the slightest sigh of regret and a glance up at him, she gently removed her arm from his grasp and leaned more heavily on Lord Alton. The viscount’s look of concern made her feel like a cad, but she knew she was doing the right thing.

Lord Alton didn’t say a word but gave the man a disapproving look before helping Sara into his gig.