Sir Peter met her at the door of his study, face beaming with smiles. “Eugenie, good, good. Look who has come to take a second look at our mare?”
Eugenie had already seen and her feet took root. Her father had to grasp her arm and tug her into the room.
“Good morning, Miss Belmont.”
His voice was even, his mouth smiled, but his eyes were full of fury.
Feeling sick, Eugenie looked away. “Your Grace.”
“The duke wants you to ride the mare for him, so that he can assess her suitability as a mount for his sister. I said you’d be only too pleased,” her father warbled on.
“I don’t think—”
Sir Peter leaned close to her, lowering his voice for her alone. “And I don’t want any excuses from you, my girl,” he warned. “You’ll do as you’re told.”
“I thought Miss Belmont and I could ride out on the lane,” Sinclair was saying in a pleasant voice, totally at odds with the expression Eugenie knew was in his eyes. “If I have your permission, Sir Peter?”
“Certainly, certainly.”
Dizzy from lack of sleep and too much emotion, Eugenie found herself out at the stables and tossed up onto the mare’s back. Behind her Sinclair was listening to her father pushing up the price, and she rode off a little way, hoping that they would fall out and she may not have to be alone with him. But the next moment Sinclair had mounted his own horse and set off through the gate and down the lane, away from the village.
Reluctantly she followed.
The lane was empty, with only a few farm workers busy in the fields either side. Eugenie’s stomach felt hollow and she remembered she’d had no breakfast. Last night’s meal of exotic fare seemed a long time in the past. Sinclair had fed her with tenderness, his smile warm, his eyes glowing with desire. The man she was riding with this morning might have been a stranger, with his face chiseled from marble and his black eyes blazing.
She’d been dawdling along the verge, hoping to turn back before he could accost her and spill his venom all over her, but now he had stopped his own progress and turned back to her, waiting for her to catch him up.
Coward that she was, Eugenie also stopped, leaving a good distance between them. Too far for conversation, at any rate. She didn’t see the puddle, but the mare did. As soon as she caught sight of her reflection, the creature started violently and jumped to one side. Eugenie, taken by surprise, was almost unseated. She screamed and clung on. Her hair, which she had tied back simply in a long braid, now came lose, hampering her efforts to regain control of the terrified animal.
He appeared at her side—the last man in the world she wanted to rescue her.
“What do you mean by such madness?” Sinclair roared. He looked furious, the icy arrogance she was used to completely vanished. Sinclair was out of control, and she had never seen him out of control.
“The puddle,” she gasped. “She’s afraid of them.”
He glared at her, his black eyes narrowed and savage.
“You read the letter then?” she said, her voice husky with dread.
“Oh yes. I read the letter.”
&
nbsp; She flinched, as though he’d struck her, but Sinclair wasn’t fooled by her act. She’d played him all along and he’d been taken in by her, but no longer would he act the besotted fool. Her written words were burned into his mind, into his soul, and he meant to pay her back a hundredfold for humiliating him.
“Perhaps you would allow me to explain . . .” she began, but her voice trailed off when she met his gaze.
“I’d like to hear your explanation,” he bit out. “Why would you write to your friends and make me a laughingstock? Tear apart my character and mock my pride and my position? Turn me into a game for your amusement!”
His voice was growing louder. He couldn’t remember ever being so angry in his life. She’d done all the things he’d accused her of, but there was something he wouldn’t say aloud. She had hurt him. Struck him to the heart. He’d trusted her as he’d trusted few women and she had betrayed him.
“I’m sorry if I made you a laughingstock,” she said, tears filling her green eyes. “I didn’t mean to. It’s all been an awful mistake. My wretched tongue ran away with itself and I was trapped and when I’m trapped I tend to make things worse . . . well, I’m not making excuses. I accept it was all my fault. I should have told them straightaway that I didn’t even know you, let alone expect to marry you. Your name just sprang into my head! I could just as easily have chosen an earl or a lord or someone else. It didn’t mean anything.”
“I’m glad my pursuit of you didn’t mean anything,” he said between his teeth. “I’m glad you were indifferent to me last night when I took your maidenhead.”
She jumped as if scalded by his anger, and it took all her courage to meet the heat in his dark eyes. “I wasn’t indifferent,” she said. “You know I wasn’t.”
He stared her down. “I thought I wanted to know why you acted as you did. I even thought I might receive an apology.”