Almost, but not quite.
"Francesca's mare is spectacular. I know we won't have an issue getting Black Jack to do his part."
Her eyes narrowed as she finally looked at me.
I smirked at her, ignoring Jackson completely.
"He's already chomping at the bit to have his way with her."
Her eyes flared gorgeously. The woman was even better looking when she was mad. I had heard that Italians were passionate, but this woman was beyond that. Everything about her fascinated me.
"I'd like her to chose for herself. And make sure Thundercloud is in the running."
"That's not exactly how it works..."
She smiled tightly at Jackson.
"But it should be. Let nature decide. Athena is my mare, no?"
She was ignoring me again, but I didn't mind. It gave me time to look at her, to try and memorize every stunning inch of her. Her long throat and delicate collarbone. The silk dress that was exquisite, but somehow didn't hold a candle to her skin.
The sharp points of her nipples showing …through the exquisite silk… aha. I had her.
I knew it.
I was getting to her too.
"Just how many brothers do you have, Mr. Delancey?"
I couldn't stop the sharp laugh that burst out of me. She sounded extremely annoyed. Jackson had no idea why. But it was very, very clear to me.
"Our brother Jake is in LA with his fiancé."
"He's even better with horses than I am."
"I don't know, Daniel,” my brother said diplomatically. “He has his own touch and do you."
I smirked at her again.
"I've been told that I have a light touch with the wildest of animals."
The red was back in her cheeks.
"Please, excuse me."
She stood and we did as well. I couldn't resist another barb.
"You don't want dessert?"
Jackson finally seemed to pick up on the tension between us. Francesca bristled noticeably this time. He glared at me before trying to placate her.
"What my brother means is, can't we convince you to stay for dessert?"
She was calm and gracious as she shook her head slightly.
"I'd prefer to rest now. Thank you for your hospitality."
I frowned. She did look slightly delicate suddenly. Almost, as if she were defeated.
I stared at her graceful back as she walked for the room.
"What the hell was that about, Daniel?"
I shrugged.
"Nothing. A misunderstanding."
"It didn't sound like a misunderstanding. It sounded rude."
I glared at Jackson. He might be the eldest but he didn't always know what the hell he was talking about. Especially when it came to women. He was even more notoriously commitment phobic than I was.
"Stay out of it, Jackson."
"Hell no."
I sighed. Maybe he was right. I had made a complete mess of things.
"What are you waiting for? Go after her and make your apologies."
I poured myself a glass of bourbon and tossed it back.
"You know, I think I will."
I put the glass down and went to find Francesca.
Chapter Eight
Francesca
The man was impossible! I'd never been so outraged in my life. Or so humiliated. This was nearly as bad as the morning of my wedding.
Daniel was no stable hand. He was rich. One of the heirs to the massive Delancey fortune. A world famous horse breeding family going back generations. In his way, he was American Aristocracy.
Nobility. Just like I was. Just like my former fiancé.
And just the sort of man I wanted to avoid. Permanently.
I cringed, knowing how much he must have laughed at me today. He'd been playing a joke on me all along. And I'd not just fallen for it, I'd given him everything.
More than I'd given anyone.
Not even Philipe.
Even with my former fiancé, I hadn't let myself go like I had with Daniel. It had been exhilarating. And terrifying.
I'd been right to be afraid to open myself up like that. Not that he'd given me a choice in the matter. He'd taken without asking. It was my own fault though. I should never have invited him to my room.
I would not make that mistake twice.
It was too bad though... I tossed my head as I walked through the mansion. I'd liked him better without his name. Particularly his last name.
"Francesca. Wait."
I ignored him, walking faster down the hallway.
"I said wait, dammit!"
I gasped as his hand closed around my arm, spinning me to face him. He smelled of the bourbon he'd been drinking at dinner. Leather and bourbon and young, healthy man. He smelled wonderful, if I was honest with myself.
Suddenly, I felt tears well up in my eyes. I forced myself to appear calm. My voice dripped with boredom. Disdain. That was the surest way to put a man off.
Make him think you couldn't even be bothered to dislike him. That he was forgettable. Nothing could be farther than the truth. I would never forget the past twenty-four hours. But he didn't have to know that.
"Let go of me, please."
"Like hell I will!"
His mouth crashed down on mine. I tried to hold perfectly still, to give nothing back. He laughed and pushed me backwards until my back hit the wall. I told myself there was ice in my veins. That he couldn’t touch me, not inside. Not where it counted.