Chapter Five

James did not readily find Phoebe once he left the dining hall. He glanced through the open doors into several empty rooms and checked the three other rooms that were closed as well. Only one door was locked. He looked down the hall and continued forward. Perhaps she’d gone outside. The night was chill, but if she’d hoped to glean a moment of privacy the setting would be perfect.

He briskly exited the house through a backdoor at the end of the hall and entered the garden area. Bushes budded in the soft green hues of spring, providing a lush haven. He found Phoebe almost instantly, hands rested on the top of an ancient stone wall, gazing out into the night. Poised in the moonlight she once again resembled a mythical diety. Her hair glowed silver and the pale silk sliding sensually over her lithe figure shimmered beneath the stars. Aphrodite could not create a more enticing lure for unsuspecting mortals.

Desire pulsed through James. Heady desire. Desire that left him reeling beneath her beauty and eclipsed all sensible thought. He flexed his left hand, quenching the hungry need to caress the single silken curl gliding down her back, but in the end he couldn’t resist. Soundlessly he approached Phoebe, stopping just behind her—far closer than he ought. Sweet perfume wafted up from her intricate coiffure, teasing his senses. James lifted a curl from her back, looping the spiral around his finger.

Phoebe gasped, spinning to face him.

James did not release the long strands of buttery smooth hair, but lifted the tress between them and continued to caress it. “Your hair is even more silken than I imagined.” He stood but a few inches from her and the wall pressed against her backside, preventing her from eluding him though James had no inkling that she wanted to leave his presence. “Perhaps more so than your lips.” Her delectable mouth parted in surprise, but again she made no move to indicate she wished to end the interlude. “And what of your skin?” he dropped his tone, no stranger to the seduction of women, and slid his thumb across her ivory cheek. He suppressed a groan. The woman’s entire essence exuded satin.

“Do you mean to flatter me, Colonel?” Breathlessness touched her words, but she firmly held his gaze.

James played with fire and he knew it, but… bathed in those stormy eyes he didn’t particularly care. Her eyes were like the ocean before a storm, utterly beautiful and filled with dangers for the unsuspecting soul. “I mean to warn you,” he said a bit more seriously. He slid a finger along the delicate angle of her jaw, tipping her chin slightly. “A woman like you should stay clear of men of my ilk.”

A sly grin slid over her lips. “A reprehensible man would hardly see fit to warn me. I suspect you are a better man than you give yourself credit for.”

He smirked. “Don’t be fooled by my pretty uniform, Lady Phoebe.” His gaze wandered freely over her face, down her slender neck, to the tastefully displayed décolletage peeking over the lace splashed bodice of her gown. He slid both hands around her slender waist, relishing the quiver that rushed through her. Still she stayed, a flush of healthy excitement blooming in her cheeks.

She tilted her head coquettishly. “I’m coming to believe the wild tales about you are overstated, James.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“Well, you’re rumored to be a drunk, but I’m yet to see you anything but perfectly sober.”

He laughed. “Give it time, Siren.”

“And you’re said to flaunt convention.” She flicked an interested gaze the length of him. “Your appearance is in perfect order to my eye.”

James shrugged noncommittally.

“Do you know what I think?” She moved in, closing the distance between them.

He raised a brow, silently encouraging her to continue.

“I think you allow everyone to believe the worst of you because it is so difficult being the imperial General Witherspoon’s son. It is far easier to create an expectation for disappointment than to be judged unworthy.”

James dropped his hands from her waist, tense, and fought to maintain an air of indifference. By damn she was astute. Her assessment of him hit far closer to home than even he cared to admit. “Imperial general. I like that.” He forced a wry smile. “The imperial general found me disappointing for scads of reasons.”

She arched a delicate brow. “Such as?”

He swallowed, gazing into her eyes. Trapped in them. All glib repartee escaped him. He could do nothing but be perfectly honest with her. “One reason in particular… I am not Tobias.”

Compassion washed over Phoebe’s face. “Your brother?”

James nodded.

“He died, did he not?”

“Yes.” He brushed a manicured curl behind her ear. She shivered as his thumb breezed over her flesh. He didn’t want to think of Tobias or his uncle. He wanted to make her shiver in far more carnal ways. He wanted to kiss her again. Brush his lips against hers in slow reverent strokes, nibble the swirled corners, draw her tongue into his mouth. Taste her. He stepped closer, gently taking her face in both palms. Her eyes widened innocently and a sigh slipped from her lips, breezing sweetly over his own. Lust flared and he suppressed a groan. A woman of Phoebe’s caliber could drive a man to madness. She tilted her head in subtle invitation, her lids fluttering as she anticipated his kiss. Satisfaction swelled in James’s breast, she wanted this as much as he.

“Lady Phoebe, is this man assaulting you?” An angry male voice disrupted the tender interlude.

Phoebe leapt away from him. Alarm washing over her face.

Thoroughly annoyed, James clenched a fist at this side. Assaulting? The notion was perfectly insulting.

“Reverend Alistair,” Phoebe said breathlessly, she further distanced herself from James. “Everything is perfectly fine. Colonel Witherspoon was—er… just… just telling me where he came by his fine horse.”

Alistair—no doubt the stuffy reverend she’d referred to the other day—raked a condemning glare the length of James before turning a possessive gaze toward Phoebe. The gleam in the other man’s eye set James on edge.

“Allow me to escort you back inside, Lady Phoebe.”

“That’s not necessary.” James quickly intercepted the Reverend’s invitation and took Phoebe’s hand, tucking it into the crook of his elbow. “I’ll write out Lord Banion’s information once we’re back inside,” he said to her, dismissing the reverend. “He has the finest horses in all Britain.”

*          *          *

The following morning, Phoebe nibbled at her bottom lip, staring at the hastily scrawled note James had penned her before leaving the party last night.

            Siren,

If you wish for a good conversation about horseflesh, join me for a ride tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. Meet me by the old hunting lodge where our properties intersect beside the river.

            —James

Phoebe knew better than to secretly meet with a man, such could spell her ruin, but James could hardly court her traditionally given the history between their families. If he arrived at Corsair to call on her, Edward would chase him off with a loaded pistol!

Phoebe folded the missive and stashed it within the pages of a book on her shelf. No one would think twice of her going for a morning ride. She often went out and about in the village, assisting tenants or taking tea with various women in the town. She was allowed a great deal of freedom here in the country. Especially since she’d assumed many of her mother’s duties.

Mind made up she strode to the bureau and pulled out her blue velvet riding habit. She grinned, tossing it on the bed and ringing for her maid. No one would ever suspect she was going for a ride with Colonel Witherspoon, and no one would ever have to know.

*          *          *

The morning remained cool as Phoebe trotted along the river bank on Jupiter, her dapple gray mare. Sunlight sparkled off the rippling water and bathed the spring buds in bright gold. It was a beautiful day for a ride. With any luck Phoebe would get to the lodge a few minutes early. Squirrels chattered from the trees and off in the distance a dog howled.

Jupiter skittered to the side.

“Easy, girl.” Phoebe tightened her grip on the reins and patted the animal’s neck soothingly. She hadn’t been ridden much over the winter.

The dog bayed again, sounding closer.

Jupiter’s ears pricked and she jigged harshly, nearly unseating Phoebe. Phoebe grabbed a chunk of mane and planted herself in the side saddle. Once more the dog barked and at the same time a squirrel darted across the path directly beneath Jupiter’s feet. Jupiter whinnied in surprise and bolted, dragging the reins through Phoebe’s hands.

Phoebe sawed on the reigns, attempting to slow the animal’s mad dash, but it was too late, Jupiter had the bit and raced out of control along the dirt path. Phoebe’s straw hat sailed off her head as the pins holding her hair up jogged loose, allowing the length to whip behind her like a sail. Fear swept through her as the horse careened around a corner, gaining speed. Phoebe could do naught but hold Jupiter’s mane and saddle for dear life… and pray.

Through the thundering of Jupiter’s hooves, and the rapid pound of her own pulse, Phoebe became aware of another staccato closing in behind them. She chanced a harried glance back to find James and his impressive mount soaring up the lane after them. Grim determination set on his handsome face. Elation soared through her, arresting a bit of the fear swimming in her veins.

James drew up alongside her on the right, perfectly poised and moving as one with his horse. At first she thought he would grab for Jupiter’s reins, but the animal weaved dangerously to the left away from the other horse and rider, nearly unseating Phoebe once again. Phoebe glanced desperately at James. Jupiter was not going to cooperate. For a split second their eyes connected, and a measure of his controlled calm seeped into her. Phoebe dragged a breath into her lungs and steeled herself, gathering the reins in her aching fingers. If she could just get Jupiter to slow a bit, James might be able to get a hold of her.

Miraculously Jupiter slowed a fraction, twitching her ears back toward Phoebe. Phoebe released the breath she’d been holding. Their pace was still break-neck, but this was a start.

Suddenly Jupiter stumbled, tossing Phoebe forward. The ground rushed at her with brutal force. Dread gripped her heart. Phoebe squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the crushing impact and whatever broken bones would follow.

At the last second James’s strong arm clamped around her middle, dragging her effortlessly off Jupiter’s back and across his lap. Eyes still clenched shut, Phoebe buried her face in his brown wool riding jacket and clung to his waist. His arm steeled around her, cradling her across his thighs. A moment later the bouncing of his horse’s strides checked and then stopped altogether as the animal halted.

James gathered her up in his arms, crushing her to his chest. He held her so tightly she could scarcely draw breath, but she didn’t care. In his embrace she felt so sheltered and safe she had no desire to go anywhere.

“My god, Phoebe,” his gruff words stroked her shaken nerves. “You scared the life out of me just now.” His breath washed warm and comforting through her hair.

Phoebe trembled, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Oh, James, I’m so sorry. You could have been hurt.”

He drew back, amber-brown eyes searching her face, his expression a guise of solemnity. “I’m just glad that you’re alright.”

“Y-you saved my life,” she murmured.

A hint of the teasing gleam she was so used to returned to his eye. “Purely selfish I assure you.”

A small, nervous laugh escaped her. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“If you’d been injured I might never have had the chance to do this.” Without further warning he lowered his face and captured her lips in a hungry kiss.

High on adrenaline Phoebe responded instantly. She moaned, melting beneath his touch and curled her arms up around his powerful shoulders. She’d craved another taste of his lips ever since the impulsive exchange in the gardens at the Corsair ball. His lips tangled expertly with hers in smooth passionate strokes, creating friction so sweet and intoxicating Phoebe could do naught but dissolve in his arms. Warmth suffused her, erasing the icy fear from her death defying jaunt on Jupiter, and shooting her pulse to a race for entirely new reasons. Eager for more, Phoebe parted her lips, shivering with delight as his tongue slipped into her mouth, plunging her senses into a sensual haze. James tangled his hands in her hair and in turn Phoebe threaded her fingers through the close shorn locks at his nape.

The kiss broke slowly, mutually, and James pressed his forehead to hers. Phoebe would swear he trembled and it thrilled her to know he was as enchanted by the exchange as she.

“We should check on my mare, Jupiter,” Phoebe said, trying to recover some sense.

James glanced up. “She’s fine.” He nodded down the lane.

Phoebe shifted in his arms, peering back along the path. Jupiter pranced in an uneasy circle, her ears flicking forward and back.

“I’ll fetch her and see that she’s sound,” he said, easing Phoebe to the ground beside his chestnut and then swinging lithely to the ground himself. “You wait here with, Sam.” He handed Phoebe his mount’s reins.

“Your horse is named Sam?” Phoebe cast an appreciative gaze over the gelding, his coat gleamed gold in the sunlight and stretched over muscular haunches. “He is a magnificent animal. Titan would prove a far more fitting name.

He shook his head. “Sam is a good name. Strong and loyal.” He ambled slowly toward Jupiter. He flashed Phoebe a quick grin and a wink, the familiar teasing twinkle warmed his eye. “Just look what happens when you give horses an uppity name. You were nearly thrown. If you’d named this mare something like Sally she’d never have bolted on you.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes. “This is Jupiter’s first ride of the spring. It stands to reason she’d be a bit spooky.”

James didn’t respond. He’d reached the frightened mare and crooned softly to her. He carefully held out a hand, allowing the horse to grow accustomed to his presence. After a few moments he smoothed a hand along her sleek neck. Phoebe watched with rapt attention as Jupiter visibly relaxed, dropping her head down into his arms.

“Amazing,” Phoebe murmured. “She doesn’t take like that to anyone.”

James quickly checked her legs before leading the mare back to Phoebe and Sam.

“You have a remarkable way with horses.”

James shrugged, handing her Jupiter’s reigns and taking Sam’s from Phoebe. “It comes with years of Cavalry service I suppose.”

Phoebe shook her head. “No. I’d guess your ability runs deeper than that.”

“Perhaps.” James dropped Sam’s reins in front of him, ground tying him as he came back to stand directly beside Phoebe. “I’ll give you a leg up.” He reached for her.

Phoebe took a deep breath and glanced nervously at Jupiter.

“The best thing for both of you is to get back in the saddle,” James coached in a calm, steady tone. “Your mare can’t get away with thinking she’s boss. You must climb back up and show her that you’re in charge.”

“Yes, I know.” Phoebe passed the reigns over Jupiter’s head and shifted to her side. James supported her foot and knee and boosted her up into the side-saddle.

Gently he took her hands and positioned them differently on the reigns. “This will allow you more control without being overly harsh to your animal’s mouth.” James’s roughened palms rested warm and friendly over her hands.

Phoebe nodded, gazing down into his handsome face. No hint of the rogue lined his expression now. One of his broad palms shifted from her hand to her thigh. Thrills shot up her leg and dried her throat.

“Are you ready to ride then?” He lingered at her side, gaze soft upon her.

“Yes,” Phoebe murmured breathlessly though what she really wanted was to slide back off her horse and into his arms.

“Very well then.” At long last James averted his gaze and returned to his own mount. He swung lithely onto Sam’s back and flashed her a jaunty grin. “Tally ho, Milday.” Without further preamble he nudged his mount into a brisk trot.

Phoebe followed suit, a grin spilling forth as she urged Jupiter to draw up alongside him. This—she and James—was the start of something special.