Grier could no longer fight her smirk. They couldn’t stand it. One of London’s wealthiest heiresses had run away with her father’s groom. A moment wasn’t to be wasted sitting on such a juicy tidbit as that. The dowager’s house party, it seemed, had come to a swift end.
It was far too important to be one of the first to impart news of the scandal to Society. Grier watched in bemusement as Marielle’s plump figure fled the solarium, obviously eager to reach the dowager before Persia shared all the news.
“Well,” Cleo announced airily after some moments, “appears we’ll be returning to Town earlier than expected.”
Jack lifted his head from his plate at this. “Hmm, what’s that?” he asked, looking at each of them with blinking dark eyes. “We’re leaving early?”
Cleo leaned close and lightly touched his sleeve. “I think the house party is on the verge of dissolving.”
He grunted and returned to his meal. “Suppose it doesn’t matter where we are so long as you two are out and about in Society.”
Bitter indignation ate up her chest and throat. Grier’s cheeks burned and prickled. Jack cared only for marrying them off and winning a place among the ton . Lately there had been a few times when she’d thought he might actually care for her. She thought fate might have been kind enough to give her a second chance with a new father who might, beneath his gruff exterior, actually love her.
Suddenly feeling the need for some fresh air, she set down her spoon and rose. “Excuse me.”
Cleo sent her an encouraging smile.
Grier gave a nod before turning and striding away, her skirts swishing around her ankles. Unaccustomed to the love of a good father, her sister could tolerate Jack far better than she.
She slipped away through the back of the house and took the servants’ path to the stables, chafing her hands over her arms as she went, musing that she should perhaps have fetched a cloak. Rather than go back and risk bumping into anyone, she hurried her steps to reach the shelter of the stables.
Once there, she stopped on the threshold, taking comfort in the earthy aromas. The smell of leather, hay, and horseflesh. All familiar. All comfortable. It reminded her of the home she left behind.
Her strides slow and easy, she strolled inside, down the wide lane between several stalls. She felt immediately better. More at peace. A beautiful stallion stuck his head over the door and nickered at her as she passed. She backed up a step to stroke his sable neck. He whinnied in approval and she cooed to him, deepening the stroke of her fingers against his velvety coat.
“Aren’t you a handsome boy?” she murmured. “Such a fine lad, hmm?”
“Never thought I’d be jealous of a horse.”
Chapter Sixteen
Grier whirled around.
Sev stood before her, his cheeks raw from the cold winter air. His hair was tousled and windblown and midnight dark. Her stomach fluttered at the towering sight of him.
She went back to patting the horse’s neck, struggling to appear unaffected at his sudden appearance. A definite challenge when she could only think of the night before in his bedchamber.
“Did you enjoy your ride?” she asked in a voice that did not even sound like it belonged to her, so small and breathless.
He advanced on her, looking dangerous and predatory with his piercing eyes and hard jaw. He didn’t answer her, didn’t speak. His silence unnerved her more than anything he could have said.
She backed up until the door of the stall stopped her from moving any further. Still, he kept coming.
Her hand tapped at her side nervously, tangling in her skirts. She looked desperately to the right and left. No one. No groom lurked about the many stalls. Not a single soul. They were all alone. For now at least.
Suddenly it was last night again. Only this time she wouldn’t run away. This time she would be bold. She would take what she wanted. She would take him.
They leapt at each other, came together in a fierce union of grasping hands and melding lips.
Their mouths met in a furious mating. He fell against her and she slammed back against the stall door. The wood slats knocked from the force. His body flattened against hers, all warm, hard lines covering every inch of her.
She ran her hands through his hair, reveling in the dark silken strands as cold as the wind whipping outside, almost icy against her palms—but that did nothing to chill the heat stirring inside her.
“Grier,” he groaned, dragging his mouth down her throat.
She sighed, arching her neck for him. Closing her eyes, she forgot everything. Everything but this. Him. Her.
A sharp male voice cracked over the air and Grier jerked. Someone was approaching.
She beat a small hand against Sev’s shoulder, forcing him to stop.
He pulled away from her, chest heaving, staring at her hungrily with his heavy-lidded gaze as the angry voice grew nearer.
Smoothing a trembling hand down her bodice, she stared wide-eyed at him. She shivered at the promise she read there, the promise that this wasn’t finished. That they weren’t done.
“Dammit, boy, are you mentally deficient? How is it someone absconded with three horses and you heard nothing?”
“I’m sorry, milord. I didn’t hear a sound all night.”
The earl and a stable boy hurried down the lane between the stables side by side. The earl’s man traveled several paces behind, as if he wanted to distance himself from his angry master.
The copper-haired stable lad seemed unaware that he should proceed with such caution. He sputtered profuse apologies for sleeping through the night and not waking when Lady Libbie and her cohorts snuck three horses from the dowager’s stables.
The blustering earl finally reached the end of his control. He turned on the boy and knocked him to the ground.
Grier choked out a small cry as the slight boy flew several feet before landing on his side. His small face crumpled from the pain. He curled himself tight and clutched his arm close to his thin chest.
Grier hurried forward and crouched beside him, gently touching his shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Leave him be,” the earl snarled. “He needs to be schooled on what happens when he falls short on his duties.”
Grier lifted her gaze. “You’re vile. He’s just a boy.”
“And you need to mind to your affairs, woman, and guard your tongue when addressing me. You’re lucky to even be a guest here.”
A low growl emanated from Sev. “Have a care when addressing Miss Hadley.”
The boy’s face flushed with both pain and embarrassment as he struggled to sit up. He leveled suspiciously wet eyes on his attacker. “You’re just angry because your daughter ran away with a groom!”
The earl’s eyes bulged. “You insolent little whelp!” He lunged for the boy, his arm pulled back to deliver a backhand slap.
She moved in and shielded the lad. “You’ll not harm him again.”
The earl wagged a sausagelike finger in her face. “I warned you to—”
Before he could even finish his sentence, Sev stepped in and knocked the earl off his feet with a deft punch to the face. The crack of bone on bone rang out in the stable.
The earl landed with a solid thud on his backside.
Grier gaped, certain she had just not watched Sev strike a gentleman in defense of a servant.
“What’d you do that for?” the earl cried in muffled tones, clutching his afflicted nose where blood trickled thickly between his fingers.
Sev shrugged. “Never been partial to men who bully children and women.”
“Well, you can forget ever marrying my daughter!”
Sev chuckled. “Were I even still interested in marrying your daughter, she’s presumably on the way to Gretna to marry your groom.”
“I’ll have it annulled!” he cried.
Sev shrugged again as he moved to take Grier’s elbow. “I don’t really care what you do—so long as I never see you strike another servant in my presence or speak to Miss Hadley with such disrespect again.”
Grier’s head reeled. Why should he care how others addressed her?
“Will you be all right, lad?” Sev asked the boy, who stared up at him with adulation.
He nodded his coppery head. “Thank you, milord.”
Sev ruffled the lad’s hair. “Off with you.”
Still astonished over all that had just transpired, Grier watched in bemusement as the boy scampered away on his twig-thin legs.
“Come.” Sev grasped her elbow, his touch light but nonetheless searing. She felt the imprint of each finger through the fabric of her gown.
She spared a glance over her shoulder for the earl as Sev led her away. He still lay sprawled on the ground, a hand pressed to his bleeding nose, staring after them in total bewilderment.
“Why’d you do that?” she whispered as they strode from the stables.
“No one should treat another person like that. I don’t care who they are, servant or king. No one is so privileged they can simply beat another person when the whim seizes them.”
She slid her gaze up at him, studying his fixed, resolute expression. Something loosened inside her chest and a very real panic stole over her as she realized he was nothing she had thought him to be. She liked him in that moment. Even admired him.
Once inside the house, she pulled her arm free of him, the desperate need to escape him stronger than ever as a sudden terrible realization seized her.
Her face flashed hot and cold.
She just might be drawn to the prince for more than his delicious good looks and mesmerizing voice. She might in fact be—
The pulse at her neck hammered. “I-I have to go. My sister . . . is waiting.”
He released her and crossed his arms over his broad chest, watching her in that probing, intent way of his.
She backed away, wringing her hands anxiously as her slippered feet slid over the slick marbled foyer.
“We made . . . plans,” she continued lamely.
Still, he said nothing, simply continued to stare at her with his gold, devouring eyes—seeming to see right through her, past her fabrication to the truth.
With a muttered parting, she lifted her skirts and whirled around. Her slippers pounded up the steps, but she refused to look back at him again.
Chapter Seventeen
Sev watched Grier hurry up the stairs in a flurry of skirts and knew she was fleeing him. His brow furrowed as he watched her depart.
Something had changed.
She had stared at him with almost fear in her eyes. Before there had always been mockery, even scorn when she gazed at him. At least when he wasn’t kissing her and her eyes weren’t clouded with desire.
But he’d seen none of those things just now.
He’d read only finely-honed panic in the liquid dark of her eyes—as if she had just come face-to-face with a deadly predator that might unleash itself on her any moment. She studied him as though he was that something dangerous to her.
And perhaps he was.
He knew only one thing for certain: he would not be leaving England until they settled this thing between them. Until he had Grier Hadley in his bed.
Only then, he rationalized, would he be able to exorcise her from where she had taken up residence inside him—in his very blood. Only then could he follow through and do what he came here to do.
“Ah, cousin. There you are! Been looking all over for you!”
Sev faced Malcolm, pasting a mild smile on his face that reflected none of his inner turmoil. “Have you?”
“Seems the party is coming to an end. The duchess is eager to get back to Town and start spreading the word of Lady Libbie’s sudden departure.”
Sev rolled his eyes. “Of course. That would be of the most import.”
Malcolm chuckled at his sarcasm, then sobered with the sudden realization that Sev had just lost his primary target for a bride. “Oh dear. This does put us back to the beginning of our bride hunt, does it not?”