His eyes widened in the dark room. Her voice was blurred, her words slow, but he understood, indeed he did. “It is a very common affliction,” he said finally. “Go to sleep, Frances.”
“You are always giving me orders,” she grumbled. He thought she’d finally fallen asleep, but after some moments she whispered, “You gained no pleasure this time.”
“You’re wrong about that, love. Have you no idea how it makes me feel when you moan so sweetly while I’m caressing you? And when you flow over me, I want to shout.”
“You make me shout,” she said. “I forget everything.”
“Me included?”
“No, you’re part of me.”
“I am never going to sleep without you again,” he said softly. “Even when it is your monthly flow, I shan’t leave you alone. Of course,” he added thoughtfully, “I shall practice great nobility. Good training, I am certain my father would say. And when you are carrying my child, Frances, I will feel every move he makes inside you.”
She was asleep, her breathing even and soft.
I could have lost her today, forever.
All his very pleasant thoughts faded. Damn, he said to himself. I must do something!
Everything changed the following afternoon. Belvis discovered one of his assistant trainers, Henry, mixing poison into Flying Davie’s feed. He grabbed him, yelled at the top of his lungs, but Henry, scared for his life, managed to break away.
Hawk visited the magistrate, Lord Elliston, and the search was on.
Frances kept muttering, “We must find him, we must! Only he can tell us who paid him to kill Flying Davie!”
Hawk grunted. He was so weary he didn’t want to move, much less speak.
His father jerked him out of his fatigue. “No reason not to go to Newmarket now,” the marquess said.
“That’s right,” Frances said, adding her pence.
“No!” he shouted, coming up to his feet. “No!”
“My boy,” the marquess said gently, “I don’t hold any hope of tracking down Henry, more’s the pity. The only way to bring out the parties responsible is to go to Newmarket.”
“With Flying Davie,” Frances said.
“We would be on our guard,” said Marcus, edging into the ring. “Nothing could happen.”
“All of you are about in the head!” Hawk shouted. “Frances could have been killed, dammit!”
“But I wasn’t, and it wasn’t me they were after.”
“You could have been, and it is possible that it was you,” Hawk retorted. “Remember, Frances, a disgruntled lover of yours?”
“You will cease riding that particular lame horse, Hawk,” Frances said. “I will not be drawn or distracted.”
“Infernal female! Men should be saved from your sort.”
“My sort!” Frances squawked.
“Well, this man wasn’t saved,” said the marquess, his eyes twinkling at his son’s flushed, very angry face. “You might as well give in, my boy. You do have a bit of grace left.”
“This is not a democracy,” Hawk said.
“Ah, I was forgetting,” Frances drawled. “The lord and very superior master speaks.”
“They are my horses, you are my wife, and, Marcus, I might add, you work for me! As for you, Father, why don’t you take your opinions back to Chandos Chase?”