Page 7 of Winner Takes All

He stopped the curricle in front of the house, tied off the ribbons, and jumped to the ground. “And where is that?”

“With my horse winning.”

“Thatisgoing to be quite the feat then,” he muttered as he lifted her off the rig, pulled her securely into his arms, and easily carried her toward the house. “The first horse in the Derby’s history to win without a jockey.”

She slapped his shoulder, but then couldn’t bear to move her hand away. Instead, she curled her fingertips inconspicuously into the hard muscle beneath his jacket that flexed invitingly with each step he took. “I’ll find a way to ride.”

“No, you won’t. Even if you aren’t found out as a woman the morning of the race in the jockey’s room when the handicap weights are assigned, you’re in no shape to race.” This time, he wasn’t at all teasing. “You have to put equal weight into both stirrups to control a racehorse, especially one as headstrong as yours. You’ll be fighting him every furlough when he’s racing neck and neck with the rest of the field, and if you can’t bear down into the stirrup, you’ll never be able to maintain proper position on his back.” He didn’t look at her as he carried her up to the front door that was hidden from sight of the stable yard, thanks to an overgrown wisteria that choked the portico. “You’ll be riding off-balance. All it will take is one bump by one of the other horses to knock you from the saddle. You’ll fall again, most likely in front of the rest of the field, and this time,” he warned as he gently set her onto her feet, “you won’t survive it.”

She turned her face toward his, her hands resting on his upper arms as she awkwardly found her balance on one foot. Damn him, he was right. She could barely stand, let alone ride.

“Yet if you persist in this foolish idea and decide to ride him yourself anyway, you’ll leave me with no choice but to tell the officials, expose you, and have you and your horse scratched from the race.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“To save your life? In a heartbeat. For God’s sake, Francesca, haven’t you realized it yet?” His mouth was close to hers, so close that his warm breath tickled her lips. “I would do anything to keep you safe.” Then he admitted in a murmur that was impossibly softer, “I always have.”

His mouth found hers, and she melted beneath his kiss.

The exquisite sensation excited her, like a strong summer wind rushing through her, as the present and past collided. Like the feeling of finally coming home after a long time away. So very long…She couldn’t stop herself from arching into him. She couldn’t help tightening her hands on his hard biceps and thrilling in the way the muscles flexed beneath her fingertips. Just as she couldn’t stop the soft sigh that came from her as she parted her lips in invitation for him to take more of her kiss. To take everything he wanted.

But he didn’t. Instead of deepening the kiss, he cupped her face between his gloved hands and tore his mouth away to rest his forehead against hers. His eyes squeezed shut as he fought to regain his breath, and his face hardened into such a dark expression…anguish.

Confusion corkscrewed through her, and she whispered, desperate for answers, “Jack?”

In an instant, the pain she saw in him vanished, and with a forced grin that never touched his eyes, he released her and stepped back. He tugged roughly at his leather gloves as he strode back toward the curricle, as if he blamed them for his momentary loss of control.

“I’ll have Paddy walk and feed your horse this afternoon,” he informed her. “I won’t tell him that it’s yours.”

Damn him and his kindness! What she wanted was answers about how he felt toward her. Then and now. What she wanted was to be in his arms, to hear his husky voice whispering that everything was going to be all right, that she wouldn’t have to marry anyone but him even if she lost the race. That this time he wouldn’t leave her.

“You won’t ride in the race,” he called out as he leapt up onto the rig, untied the ribbons, and released the brake. “And you won’t win even if you do.” The team immediately came alert beneath the control of his expert hands. “So if I were you, I’d start thinking up a new plan for delaying your walk down the aisle.” Then he pinned her with a look so intense, so powerful and dark, that she shivered. Beneath his gaze, all the desire, confusion, and pain that had been between them years before rushed back with the force of a lightning strike. “And quickly.”

With a snap of the ribbons, the team turned a tight circle in the drive and trotted at a brisk pace down the lane and away from the house.

She leaned against doorframe and watched him drive away, not knowing whether to shower frustrated curses after him or break down in devastated tears. She lifted her hand to her lips and felt the wet heat he’d left there—a kiss of goodbye. Only when the team turned onto the main road and disappeared from sight behind the spindly yew hedge did she finally let a soft cry of anger and loss rise from her throat.

“Francesca! I thought I’d heard horses.” Uncle Jonas rounded the corner of the house from the rear lawn and its scattering of outbuildings. As always, he was dressed in tweeds for hunting and surrounded by a small pack of dogs that nipped at his boot heels. “So you’re back from the track. How was this morning’s training?”

“Just fine.” Not a lie—ithadgone well. For the horse. Her bottom, on the other hand…ouch.

“Good, good,” he muttered, his attention split between her and the pack of dogs. “And how are your jockey and boy working out for you?”

“They’re doing well.” So thatwasa lie. But she couldn’t help it. Her father and uncle would never have agreed to participate in any part of this scheme if they knew what she’d planned. They believed she’d found a professional jockey to ride Midnight and a dedicated exercise boy for the training sessions, and she’d said nothing to correct their assumptions.

“Ah, excellent!”

He put a small metal whistle to his lips and piped out three short blasts. Around him, the hounds immediately stopped and sat back on their haunches. All moved nearly in unison, so well trained were they. While Jonas’s horse stables were largely neglected, his dog kennels ranked among the best in England. Always full to overflowing, and each dog a prized possession. He understood the joy to be found in breeding the best animals, which was why he’d agreed to let her and Midnight stay with him in preparation for the Derby. He wanted her to win as much as she did, although for different reasons.

“Oh! I almost forgot. This arrived for you, my dear.” He fished a letter from his breast pocket and handed it to her, still not realizing that she hadn’t moved from the doorframe or that one foot dangled uselessly beneath her. But she was certain he’d noticed her father’s seal on the franked letter, even if he made no comment about it. “The Royal Mail! As dependable as…well, the Royal Mail.”

She forced a smile for him as he moved past her to fling open the opposite side of the double front doors, then entered the house. Once he was across the threshold, he sounded another sharp bleat on the whistle. The pack of dogs scrambled to their feet in a frenzy of whirling paws and clicking toenails on the stone. Not to run back to the kennel but to follow after him, right through the front door, inside the house, and past the aggrieved butler who rolled his eyes with a long-suffering sigh.

Her smile faded, and she glanced down at the letter from her father. Oh, this couldn’t be good!

She snapped the wax seal. As she read the letter, her stomach plummeted to her knees.

Papa had found a man he wanted her to consider for marriage. Lord Charles, the Duke of Norwich’s second son. He’d already given Charles permission to court her and implied that he was willing to consider an offer for her hand—