A flash of brown caught in the corner of his vision. “What the devil?” Drew straightened in his saddle. Damn and blast. A woman walked the road, parallel to the path he bore down. A straw bonnet sat on her head, but her focus was at the ground. Never once did she look up. Lost in her thoughts? He waved an arm in the hopes of gaining her attention. “Get off the bloody road!” Anxiety built in his chest, for this was yet another problem waiting to strike.
Either she didn’t hear him, or she didn’t care, for her course wasn’t altered. Ares tossed his head and whinnied, perhaps trying in his own way to warn the pedestrian.
“Move, you stubborn female!” His bellow finally reached her ears. As he raced to her location while pulling tight on the reins, the woman dove into the slight depression that followed the road. The basket she carried went flying from her hand; the contents decorating the meadow grass, and the bonnet she wore tilted crazily off the back of her head.
“Bloody hell,” he muttered as the horse slowed to a trot. Manipulating the reins, Drew turned his mount about and returned to the woman’s location. His chest was still tight, and his pulse pounded in his temples. “Why the deuce wouldn’t you move?” She sat, apparently stunned on the ground, the ugly brown bonnet askew, the silver-rimmed spectacles dangling off one ear, her plain brown skirting rucked up to her knees revealing sturdy brown half-boots and slender calves encased in black stockings. From the cut and style of her clothing, she wasn’t a member of the ton.
Thank God.That would have been a disaster. Adding accidental murder by equine to the list of his various shortcomings wouldn’t do at all. As it was, begging the pardon of a villager would come with its own issues, but he would manage.
Then annoyance surged to cover the relief and mix with the crushing anxiety. “It would behoove you in the future to have some intelligence and move off the road if you see a rider approaching at a fast clip.” His tone was cold and short as he glared at the outraged female person in the ditch. “Otherwise, you’re liable to find yourself in jeopardy.” Honestly, who didn’t have enough sense to put themselves out of danger?
“Is that so?” Both her blonde eyebrows rose. Ice hung from those few words. She dusted her gloved hands together, presumably to rid them of dirt.
“I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t.” Would she now treat him to tears or a hysterical display? Damn, but he didn’t have the patience for such. “I could have killed you.”
“Oh, I’m well aware of that, you dim-witted nob.” Slowly, as if cataloging possible injuries, the woman managed to stand but favored her left foot as soon as she put weight on it. Wrinkles and dust covered the brown skirting, and a sprig of meadow grass rested on the top of her equally brown spencer. She reminded him of a drab sparrow or some other dull bird. “Because you’re apparently too addlepated to make use of common sense, I would caution you to mind your surroundings when you’re racing like an imbecile down a public road.”
What the deuce? Who did this woman think she was talking to, with insults to boot? Another spear of anger stabbed through him. Well, he wouldn’t tolerate it. He drew himself up fully in the saddle as Ares danced impatiently. “If I were you, I would hold my tongue.”
“And if I were you, I’d correct my behavior post haste before you do even greater damage.” She huffed, and the breath ruffled an escaped tendril of blonde hair. Since the bonnet no longer covered her head, her tresses gleamed like gold in the sun. “What sort of man tears about the countryside as if all the demons of the Underworld were on his heels anyway?” With a trembling hand, she put the spectacles back into place on the bridge of her narrow nose. The lenses slightly magnified the richness of her brown eyes, turned a honey-hue in the bright morning light.
No matter that fury wove through the dulcet tones of her voice and spoke to gentle breeding, Drew couldn’t let her challenge go unnoticed. “One who has the power to do what he pleases, especially in this area. A man, I might add, that you have no business addressing in such a manner.”
“Ha!” She shook her head. A smudge of dirt marred her angular chin, and his gaze dipped further to along the slender column of her neck. “It’s people—men rather—like you who make the world we live in unstable and completely unfair, which leaves people like me always struggling for survival.”
He rolled his eyes. Damnation. She was one of those crusaders or rabble-rousers that believed everyone in England should stand on the same societal footing. “Spare me your lectures, madam.”
The woman sailed on regardless of his warning. In fact, she popped her hands on slightly rounded hips and glared. “You men, no doubt high on the instep, think all of us mortals should dance attendance on your every whim, as if we don’t matter or have our own thoughts, dreams.” She paused, no doubt because she’d run out of breath. Mottled red color filled her cheeks as fire flashed in her eyes.
Bloody hell.No, she wasn’t an uninspired bird at all. In fact, in the avian world, she’d be a hawk, going in for the kill regardless of the other danger around her. Drew stared at her from his perch in the saddle while attempting to calm Ares, who danced with restless energy. Never had he been given a dressing down like that from a woman. It was both unsettling and exhilarating to exchange words with her. She had spirit, and for that she had his respect. Then he cleared his throat as a sense of responsibility sank in to mix with everything else running roughshod through him. Long seconds of silence stretched between them, before he finally broke it and said, “I beg your pardon for turning you off the road.”
The harsh frown pulling at her lips lessened slightly. “Actions will prove louder than words. I trust you won’t do such a thing again.”
“I can’t promise that, for riding has been the one thing to date that has the ability to…” At the last second, he cut off his words. She didn’t deserve to know more about it.
“Ah.” She roved her bright, inquisitive gazed over his person, and for one insane moment, he held his breath. “It’s quite obvious you rarely apologize or you don’t mean the one you just gave to me.”
How the devil could she know that? His jaw dropped. The nerve of this tart-mouthed woman! Anger surged through his chest in a familiar hot rush. One of the buttons popped off his jacket. It sailed between his horse’s ears to fall onto the road. God, his valet wouldn’t be pleased that he’d done it… again. “You have no idea who I am or what my word means.” Second-guessing wormed its way into his confidence and ire. What exactly did his word mean in Derbyshire? He hadn’t been the earl his father was, didn’t know if he ever would be…
When the woman attempted to take a step forward, she winced. Pain flitted briefly over her plain face. “Then perhaps you should enlighten me. Who are you? I can hardly wait to discover how you explain your importance.” A trace of mocking had set up in her tone as she crossed her arms at chest level.
“Who am I?” He gripped the reins so tight in his hands that Ares tossed his head and danced about. Slowly, Drew released his hold, but his anger hit the boiling point. When he caught her cool gaze, calm trickled over him for a glorious second before annoyance trampled it into oblivion. How exceedingly odd. Nothing about this woman proclaimed peace or a safe haven. “I am the Earl of Hadleigh.”
“Oh, drat.” The response was said beneath her breath. Red color stained her pale cheeks as she executed an awkward curtsy. “I apologize, my lord.” She kept her eyes downcast.
And damn if he didn’t prefer the spitfire that had berated him over the demure picture she now made. “I’ll wager you don’t,” he said in a quiet voice. His lips twitched with amusement, and he almost smiled when she snapped her gaze to his once more, her chin tilted at a stubborn angle. “An argument like that carries some truth.” When he expected a cutting response, he received silence instead. A niggle of cold disappointment bored through his chest. “Regardless, do you require assistance reaching your home?” The least he could do was not be such an arse… or needle her into displaying that high temper, for he rather enjoyed their conversation. It provided the same sort of freedom galloping did.
Indecision warred with defiance on her expressive but plain face. “While pride demands I say no, the two miles I’ve yet to go argue otherwise.” She shrugged. “I’d rather not hobble there, and I also hope there’s no permanent damage to my ankle.”
“Perhaps you do harbor some intelligence after all,” Drew couldn’t resist saying as he dismounted. When she sputtered and searched for a reply, he flashed a grin. God, how long had it been since he’d been properly entertained and… relaxed enough to smile? “Let me help.”
Her chin went up again into a stubborn set that tagged his interest. “I can manage.”
“That I rather doubt, and since from your own admission I’m little better than a nodcock, I’m certain I can gather your belongings.” After plunging into the depression, he recovered the willow basket and then tracked down her scattered possessions—a silk fan, two red apples, a few candles, a packet of tea, a bag of peppermints, and most surprising of all, a pair of while silk stockings embroidered with green vines, pink roses, and a few blue birds. Immediately, his imagination leapt to life and he saw her slender legs encased in the hosiery that was much different than what she currently wore. A moan echoed through the chambers of his mind as he imagined caressing those legs before he went to roll one of the stockings down a delectable limb…
Get hold of yourself, man. You aren’t in the market for a woman in any capacity.
No, he wasn’t, but this one had managed to intrigue the hell out of him with one meeting. And he had no bloody idea of who she was. Without a word, he handed her the basket, being careful not to brush gloved fingers with hers, but those damned stockings or that vision wouldn’t leave him alone. What was her situation and why did he suddenly hope she wasn’t attached?