Mistress of Scandal (Greentree Sisters 3)

“You intend to ride across the moors? After what happened?”

He waved an impatient hand. “Isn’t there a road around it?”

“Yes, but it will take you many more hours.”

“Ah…then I will just have to risk it. Unless you can find me a guide, Francesca?” And he smiled.

She read his mind. “No,” she breathed.

He peered at her, sensing a tangle of emotions in her stillness. She didn’t want him to go alone. She was concerned for him. But he thought it was more than that: He was heading off on an adventure and she wanted to come, too.

“Will you guide me?” he asked abruptly, to test his theory.

“No!” she gasped, but the violence of her refusal only gave him more hope.

“Why not? It will be fun, Francesca. An adventure. You like adventures, don’t you? You enjoy creating fantasies. I can’t give you an escaped tiger, but I can give you a midnight gallop across the moors.”

“I’m not wearing my riding habit.” But she sounded as if she’d already given in.

He folded his arms and inspected her green dress. “Is it anything like what you’re wearing now?”

Her mouth curled up at the corners. “Are you insulting my taste in clothing, Mr. Thorne?” Then her smile faded. “You knew why I was dressed like this, didn’t you? How did you know?”

“Because I understand, Francesca. I understand you.”

I know you are living your life as something you are not, just like me.

She stared beyond him, toward the stables. “You’re a dangerous man, Mr. Thorne. I shouldn’t be here with you. You will be leaving tomorrow, won’t you?” with a searching look. “Do you promise?”

“I promise. So you can’t refuse my offer for an adventure. This is your one and only chance. After tonight you can return to being the respectable Miss Francesca Greentree—I do like that name!—if you still want to.”

Sebastian knew, for so many reasons, that he shouldn’t be encouraging her to come with him. But that didn’t stop him, any more than her own doubts were going to stop her. It was a moment when the usual considerations didn’t count.

“Very well.”

He grinned. “It could be dangerous.”

She smiled back. Damn and blast it, she smiled, and he saw the wildness in her. The caged passion. “Dastardly deeds, Mr. Thorne?”

He took a step nearer and she tilted her head, her eyes glinting in the starlight. “I call it dancing with the devil,” he said quietly.

There was a moment when he thought she might change her mind, turn and run, but then she said recklessly, “I always excelled at dancing. Perhaps I can show the devil some new steps?”

They galloped across the moor. Francesca rode astride, like a man. She thought she might have shocked him when she swung herself into the saddle, although her skirts preserved her modesty, but he laughed. He was the only man she knew who would laugh at such a moment.

How could he know that she often rode at night, alone? Even Mama didn’t, and if she did she’d give Francesca one of her despairing looks—“Francesca, for goodness’ sake, you should know better!” And she did know better; it was just that sometimes she couldn’t help herself. Something inside her needed to break free, so that she could feel alive. She thought of it secretly as her mother’s inheritance. The blood of Aphrodite running in her veins. Surely it was far better to ride about in the dark with the wind in her hair than to go from lover to lover?

“Who is it you wish to see?” she asked him, as they approached the dale where the village was set.

He peered down into the valley at the dark shapes of cottages and the white daubs of sheep on the hillsides, and said, “I can find my own way from here.”

Disappointment gripped her. “Is the adventure over then?” she asked,

breathless, anxious. She didn’t want it to be over.

“The danger increases from here, Francesca.” His voice was serious.

“Good,” she said. “What’s an adventure without danger? Where are we going?”