Velvet Embrace

"Very prettily said," he remarked.

"Well, if you don't choose to accept my apology . . ." She started to turn her horse around, but he edged his closer.

"Ah, but I do choose." Catching Brie's hand, he lifted it to his lips.

Brie was startled by his intimate gesture. Her fingers tingled with warmth where Dominic's lips brushed her skin, and her breathing quickened. She withdrew her hand as quickly as possible, but her eyes were held by his gray gaze.

He smiled at her again, making her feel that strange, melting sensation. "How could I possibly refuse such a charming apology?" he said softly.

His tone was low and caressing and highly unnerving. Brie felt a quiver run up her spine. "Well, I know you were angry," she said nervously, "but I don't think you were ever in any real danger, with me as your opponent."

"Au contraire, mademoiselle, I was quite impressed with your skill."

She gave him a tentative smile. "Thank you, my lord, but I was not expecting compliments. You were far better than I— and what's more, you knew it. You are just saying that to be kind."

"I am seldom kind, Miss Carringdon."

Unable to tell if he spoke in jest, Brie glanced at Dominic uncertainly. "Then it was mere flattery," she said, trying to dismiss the subject. "But at any rate, it makes no difference. I have vowed to give up fencing."

Dominic grinned, his teeth flashing. "You relieve my mind."

Hearing the dry note in his voice, Brie laughed. "I agree," she retorted. "You are not kind." When Dominic's stallion snorted and began shaking his head up and down as if he concurred, she laughed again.

Jester took exception to all the movement, however, and began prancing nervously. Brie spent a moment calming him, then found herself responding to Dominic's suggestion that they move on.

She was surprised to learn Dominic meant to escort her home, but she accepted his company politely, objecting only when he asked why a groom had not accompanied her. "Your concern is misplaced, my lord," she said loftily. "I am riding on my own land and do not feel the need for a groom."

"I would have thought you had learned the need for caution in these secluded spots. It can be dangerous for you to ride alone."

She slanted a glance at him. "It is extremely ungallant of you to remind me after you said we could forget that particular incident. I have never needed protection before . . . before you.

The corner of Dominic's mouth lifted in a smile. "I was not speaking of myself."

"No?" Brie asked skeptically. "Is it not your habit to go about assaulting every woman you meet?"

"Merely the ones who interest me."

Brie felt her pulse quicken. "Am I to assume I interest you then?" she asked, trying to sound indifferent. "How flattering! But I am not sure I care for your way of showing it. You have already threatened to beat me and run me through with your sword."

"I was given extreme provocation, you will recall. And you could have prevented it, had you told me who you were. Why didn't you?"

Seeing him regard her curiously, Brie felt a blush warm her cheeks. "I was merely trying to protect my reputation. I thought that if you didn't know my name, you couldn't brag to your London friends about finding me alone without a chaperon."

Dominic's eyebrow rose. "I assure you I am far more discreet than that."

Brie suspected there was a double meaning to his words, but she chose not to find out. "I know that now," she said meekly.

"You certainly were convincing. You even had me believing that tale about your elderly protector."

"Well, even if he was imaginary, he did 'protect' me. At least a little."

Dominic grinned. "I suppose he did at that. Should I apologize for making you an indecent proposal?"

Brie felt her blush deepening. "That isn't necessary. I would rather forget about it entirely."

"I expect there are a few things I won't be able to forget," he murmured.

When she remained silent, Dominic let his eyes skim down her figure, noting the disreputable clothes she wore. It was a shame to cover such lovely charms that way, he found himself thinking. A wood sprite ought not be dressed in rags. She needed a gossamer wisp of forest green to drape around her lithe body—if she needed anything at all. When his mind conjured up just such a vivid image, Dominic shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. "Tell me, Miss Carringdon," he said to distract his thoughts, "do you always ride astride?"