"And that's all?"
Brie ground her teeth as she began to pull on her boots. "Yes! His servant came along and then he left."
Pursing his lips, Julian let out a low whistle. "Well, you're lucky to have survived with your skin still intact. At least that explains—" Julian broke off. He had been about to say that he better understood the electrifying tension he had sensed between the two of them, but he decided there would be no point in stating the obvious. "I'm sorry now that I made you fight Dominic. I doubt after this he will forgive you."
"I don't want his forgiveness! Who does he think he is, anyway? Besides, it wasn't your fault, so don't apologize." When Julian started to object, Brie raised a hand. "I know Lord Stanton is your friend, Julian," she said in a fractionally calmer voice, "but it does not mean I must like him. You would be doing me a great favor if you would just keep him out of my sight."
"I can try. Brie, but I doubt you can avoid him for a full month."
"A month! Must you suffer his company for so long?"
"I won't be suffering. I plan to enjoy his visit. He came here to indulge in a bit of sport."
Brie gave Julian a look that clearly labeled him a traitor as she stood up. "Come, Caroline," she said, squaring her shoulders.
When she marched from the room, Caroline flashed Julian an apologetic glance, then tagged meekly behind her angry cousin. Julian followed, still frowning.
When he had seen the cousins safely away, he went directly in search of his guest. He found Dominic in the gun room, seated at a table, carefully cleaning the breech of a fowling piece.
"I have servants who are paid to keep my weapons in prime condition," Julian said testily. "They can see to yours as well."
"I prefer to care for my own firearms," Dominic replied without looking up.
Julian pulled out a chair and straddled it, crossing his arms over the back. "Well?" he said impatiently.
Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Well, what?"
"You know what I mean. Did you have to be so hard on her? Brie is only a novice with foils, and she didn't realize—"
"You would defend her?" Dominic asked, his tone as smooth and hard as steel. "Your Miss Carringdon may be a novice, my friend, but hardly an innocent. She had fire in her eyes. She knew very well what she was about."
"I think you are mistaken, Dom. You frightened her quite badly, at any rate."
An imitation of a smile twisted Dominic's mouth. He was not proud of his conduct, knowing that he had responded far too emotionally to Brie's blind attack. He should never have allowed his anger to get so out of hand, particularly since terrifying Brie had not been his intention. She had deserved some form of punishment, certainly, but it was not part of his plan to frighten her away.
One glimpse of her fear-widened eyes and ashen cheeks had made him realize how greatly he had overreacted. And as he had stood looking down at Brie, at her breasts rising and falling beneath his rapier, at her thighs parted in open invitation, the quickening heat in his loins had abruptly outstripped the heat of his anger. At that moment, the desire to plunge the sword of his masculinity deep inside her had been almost overpowering. It had far outweighed the urge for revenge with his blade of steel. If he had been alone with her, he doubted that he could have prevented himself from savagely taking her then and there, no matter how unwilling she might have been. He had deserted the scene of battle before his control could be put to the test.
And now Julian was frowning at him. "You didn't tell me you had met Brie," Julian remarked.
"Should I have?" Dominic replied, wondering just what Brie had told his host. "What did she say?"
"Only that you two had some kind of confrontation while she was out riding."
Dominic gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. "I came across Miss Carringdon unexpectedly while I was exploring. The bay she was on shied and she took a hard fall. I suppose you might say she misinterpreted my intentions when I came to her aid."
Hearing the reasonable explanation, Julian visibly relaxed. He would not have enjoyed challenging Dominic. "A bay?" he mused. "She must have been riding my new hunter. A few months ago I unwisely bought a gelding from a friend in Ireland, sight unseen, and he turned out to be as green as they come—spooks at his own shadow. Absolutely worthless on the field. Brie agreed to take him for a few weeks, primarily as a favor to me. I sent him to her for training."
"Training?"
"Brie runs the stables her father started. It's called Greenwood. I'm sure you've heard of it, since you've ridden with the Quorn."
Impressed in spite of himself, Dominic glanced up from his work. "I've heard of it. I'll bet a quarter of the Quorn's members have mounts that were either bred or trained at Greenwood."
"I suspect that's true of the Cottesmore and Belvoir hunts as well. Greenwood is close enough to Melton Mowbray to be convenient, and it's known for turning out quality horseflesh. It is quite an operation. They have a few racers, but they specialize in hunters. A fellow by the name of John Simms is the head trainer. Brie spends most of her time managing the place, although she sometimes works with the more difficult horses."
Dominic's mouth twisted in a grin. "Perhaps that explains why she tried to take my head off. I ridiculed her horsemanship. My comments probably stung her pride as much as did her fall."
"I think you did more than hurt her pride. I've never seen her so livid."