She had pulled the bodice of her gown back into place and was holding the jacket up in front of her breasts. "I-I have to get back," she said, her aqua eyes huge and liquid, looking for all the world like the innocent she often appeared.
"This is what you want," he said, his annoyance building, tired of playing the game. "We both know it. There's no need to pretend any longer."
Vermillion nervously moistened her lips, her gaze still wary. "Perhaps when the time is right but... not yet. Not today." Turning, she fled toward her horse, reaching down to pick up her bridle along the way.
Two long strides and Caleb caught up with her. Frustrated and furious, he snatched the bridle out of her hand. "Give me the damned thing. If you're determined to leave, I'll be happy to do it for you. That's what you pay me for, isn't it?"
Vermillion said nothing as he bridled the horse and knelt to remove the hobbles. But she pulled her jacket back on and began to button the front.
"I'll tell you what I ought to do," he said, turning to face her, his eyes hard and dark. "I ought to strip you out of those clothes and haul you down on that blanket. I ought to give you exactly what you've been asking me for, practically since the moment I got here."
Her eyes widened. Then her chin shot up. "I didn't ask you for anything, Caleb Tanner. You're a clod and a boor, and I was a fool for thinking you were anything else!" She grabbed the reins out of his hands and started leading her horse over to a fallen log.
She never quite got there. Caleb caught her around the waist and swung her up on the gray, slamming her bottom down hard on the saddle.
Her aqua eyes blazed. "You are... you are... the most infuriating man I have ever met!"
A corner of his mouth curved up. "I'm going to have you, Vermillion, and we both know it. The only question is how long you want to play the game."
An angry growl slipped from her throat. Whirling the gray, she set her small heels into the animal's ribs, jolting the horse into action, and started racing away.
Caleb watched her ride over the bill, velvet skirts rippling in the wind, red hair flying, thinking what a magnificent picture she made.
Wanting her more than ever.
He was still hard and aching. He reminded himself it was only a matter of time until he found relief. As he had said, he meant to have her.
Caleb felt the pull of a smile as she disappeared over a distant hill. Perhaps Newmarket would prove more interesting than he had imagined.
With renewed determination, he swung up on the back of the bay. Newmarket would come. In the meantime, he had other, more pressing matters to attend. As soon as he got back to the house, he would pen a note and ride to the village. He needed to send word to Colonel Cox.
He needed to discover what had happened to Mary Goodhouse.
9.
The races at Newmarket were different from those at Epsom, where the racecourse was closer to London and attended in great numbers by the social elite.
The town of Newmarket was far more rural and though it was a major center for the sport, there were no grandstands and not nearly the fanfare that Epsom offered-though the populace of turfites, thimbleriggers, card sellers, and prostitutes was at least as large.
Men were the main spectators here, and a few women less concerned with creature comforts than the ladies in the city. In Newmarket, the races were viewed mostly from carriages parked along the perimeter of the course. They were lined up there already, some of the occupants wandering about, others spreading blankets on the grass beside their vehicles, where they laid out baskets of food and flagons of wine. It wouldn't be long before Aunt Gabriella and her party arrived to begin the day's festivities.
But Lee had come far earlier. Knowing Caleb would be there and considering what had transpired between them the last time they were together, it had taken all of her will to come to Newmarket. But Parklands' Thoroughbreds were her responsibility. Jimmy Murphy and the rest of the grooms would be expecting to see her and she didn't intend to disappoint them, certainly not because of Caleb Tanner.
She tried not to think of his hot kisses and arousing caresses in the meadow. If she did, she wouldn't be able to face him. In truth, instead of being embarrassed, she should be grateful. Caleb had provided her with her first real taste of passion.
Unfortunately, now that she'd had a glimpse of the world of pleasure she would be entering on her nineteenth birthday, she was more uncertain than ever. She had let Caleb kiss her, touch her as no man ever had, but the thought of another man taking those same liberties seemed completely repulsive.
She didn't understand it. None of the women of her acquaintance seemed to feel that way. They took their pleasure with whomever they wished and exclusivity wasn't a consideration.
Of course, Aunt Gabby was committed to Lord Claymont, but it hadn't always been so. In her wilder years, she had taken any number of lovers. Perhaps in some way Lee was different. Inwardly she worried it might be so. Even if it were, there was nothing she could do to change things or alter the course of her fate.
The stable loomed ahead, a large stone building surrounded by paddocks and stalls, humming with the hustle of grooms rushing to complete their tasks and the nicker and whinny of horses. Vermillion steeled herself for her inevitable encounter with Caleb and walked inside.
He was there in one of the stalls, brushing a big black gelding named Sentinel. He turned at her approach and her pulse surged with awareness. Dear Lord, the man could make her heart pound with merely a glance.
"Good morning," he said casually. "I see you've arrived safely."
She studied his face, trying to spot any trace of anger. She had worried that he would mock her in some way, but his expression was mild, even friendly, she noted with no little relief, and there was nothing in his manner that hinted at the intimacy they had shared.
"The journey passed quite pleasantly, thank you." She made a quick assessment of the black and a sorrel named Hannibal's Prize that would also be running. "It looks as if the horses also fared well."
Caleb slid the brush over Sentinel's glossy black coat. "According to Jack Johnson, the walker, they managed without a hitch."
They talked for a while of the race the animals would be running later that day, then she left to speak to each of the grooms. She praised Jack Johnson for taking such good care of the horses, then walked over to the jockey, Jimmy Murphy.
"What do you think, Jimmy? You and Noir seem to have been working well together. How do you assess his chances of winning against such a difficult field?"
Jimmy realized he still wore his flat felt cap and jerked it hurriedly off his head, exposing his rumpled bright red hair. "Noir's the best, ma'am. He's gonna win for sure and certain."
"What of Sentinel and Hannibal's Prize? Are they ready for this, do you think?"
"They don't have Noir's experience, o' course, but they're fast, ma'am. And they surely do like to win."
"Then let them," she said with a smile. "Sentinel runs best if he stays in the field until the last leg of the race. Hold him back until then." She flicked a glance at Caleb, who had walked up beside her. It felt a little harder to breathe with him standing so near.
"Just don't bury him," Caleb told Jimmy. "Keep him somewhere toward the front or outside of the pack. When you make the last turn, cut him loose. Sentinel will do the rest."
"And with Hannibal," Lee added, "don't go to the whip. He hates it. He'll draw back rather than move ahead. I imagine you've figured that out already."
"Yes, ma'am. Mr. Tanner done cautioned me on that."
"Good. As to the rest of it, listen to Mr. Tanner. He knows what he's doing." She didn't look at Caleb this time, but a blush crept into her cheeks. Caleb had known only too well what he was doing that afternoon in the meadow.
"Yes, ma'am," Jimmy said. "I surely will."
Jimmy left but Caleb remained where he was, just a few inches behind her. She could feel his solid presence and her pulse kicked up.
"He'll do a good job. Jimmy wants to please you." His voice softened into the same tone he used to gentle the horses. "I'd like to please you, too, Vermillion. I think we both know exactly the way I might do that."
Her cheeks burned. Her skin was tingling, her heart thumping. He wanted to please her and he knew exactly the way. Sweet God in heaven. She remembered the way he had feasted on her breasts, the fierce, searing pleasure, and suddenly felt hot all over.
"M-my aunt will be waiting," she said. "I have to go."
His mouth edged up. "Perhaps you'll need to come back a little later. This evening, perhaps... to talk about tomorrow's race?"
Oh, God. Her legs felt shaky, her mouth dry. "No, I... I don't think so. I have to go." She turned away from him and practically ran from the barn. Her heart was still hammering when she spotted Aunt Gabby's carriage. Wingate's vehicle sat behind it, and one belonging to Elizabeth Sorenson.
She took a deep breath and walked toward them, trying not to think of Caleb and hoping they wouldn't notice the heightened color in her cheeks. Lord, the man was a menace to the female population.
She forced a smile to her face and headed for the group ahead. Lord Claymont had not yet arrived, but he would get there soon. Women were mostly excluded from the masculine world of horseracing, the reason Parklands' Thoroughbreds raced under the earl's blue-and-gold colors, a ruse that fooled no one but satisfied the rigid lines of conduct established by the powerful Jockey Club.
She joined the group in Aunt Gabby's carriage, but her thoughts remained on Caleb and the heat in his eyes and what it did to her when he looked at her the way he had in the barn. Thank God, the races were getting ready to start, a match race, first, between two rival owners, then heat-racing, where the horses that won each heat then raced against each other. Several sweepstakes races were to follow, events that would include Sentinel and Hannibal's Prize. Noir wouldn't be racing until day after the morrow, when the Newmarket Gold Cup was scheduled to be run.
By the end of the afternoon, Sentinel had won his race and Journey had finished third in another. Parklands' Thoroughbreds had made a very good showing thus far and the big race was yet to come.
"My, what a day," Aunt Gabby said laughing. "You can be proud of yourself, darling. Whether you get credit or not, you have proved yourself a worthy opponent."
Vermillion didn't care whether her name appeared on a sweepstakes' cup. She cared about the horses and watching them run. "It isn't the most important thing, but it does feel good to win. I cannot deny it."
Later that night, she attended the party Aunt Gabby threw to celebrate the day and didn't get to bed until nearly dawn. She was exhausted. Her feet ached from dancing for so many hours and her head hurt from too much champagne. She slept far longer than she intended and woke up grumpy and out of sorts.
"I hate being late," she grumbled as she traveled with Jeannie to the racecourse later that morning in one of the open carriages. "It makes a bad impression on the grooms." Since none of their horses would be racing today, the rest of their party remained at the house her aunt had rented-most of them still abed.
"I need to speak to Jimmy Murphy," she said. "Go over a few things concerning tomorrow's race."
"The boy will be 'ere-'e adores you for letting 'im race. And that new trainer will be here as well. What was 'is name?"
Vermillion ignored a faint leap of her heart. "Tanner. Caleb Tanner."
"Oui... now I recall. 'E is very handsome, n'est-ce pas?" Jeannie cast her a glance. The woman had been her maid and her companion for years. Jeannie knew her well, better even than her aunt. Lee prayed Jeannie didn't suspect that Caleb was the man she thought to take as her first lover.
"I suppose he is attractive... in a rather basic fashion."
"The man is built like a stallion, no? I have seen him working. All those beautiful muscles and those eyes... so dark and hot."
"I'm afraid I haven't noticed."
Jeannie said no more, but her lips curved in a knowing smile Lee purposely ignored. There was no way her friend could know for certain and this was one subject Lee didn't intend to discuss any further.
Fortunately they were nearing the racecourse and Jeannie's attention fixed on the colorful sights and sounds. The coachman parked the carriage in the shade of a plane tree and Lee set off to make a check of the horses.
As she had expected, the animals were being well cared for. Caleb was a conscientious head groom, as capable as Jacob had been, perhaps even more so. But as she wandered through the barn, stirring up dust motes and inhaling the scent of new-mown hay and freshly oiled leather, she saw no sign of him.
She spoke to Jack Johnson and a small blond boy named Howie Pocock, now the youngest of Parklands' grooms.
"I'm looking for Jimmy. Do you know where he might have gone?"
" 'E went off wi' Mr. Tanner," Howie said. "I ain't exactly sure where they went, ma'am."
"Thank you, Howie. I'll just have a quick look round." With the races yet to start, she wandered out of the barn in search of them, wanting to be certain everything was in place for tomorrow's all-important Gold Cup Race.
Perhaps they're in another one of the buildings, she thought, not seeing Jimmy or Caleb among the grooms or trainers milling about.
Deciding to take a shortcut between two low-roofed wooden structures that housed other owners' horses, she was halfway down the narrow path when a man stepped out of the shadows along the wall. She hadn't noticed him when she entered the path. If she had, she would have gone the longer way round.
"Top o' the mornin', luv." He smiled down at her and she wished she hadn't left her bonnet in the carriage. She wasn't wearing one of her low-cut gowns, but his hazel eyes slid over her as if she were. "Looks like today's me lucky day."
There was something in that too-bold glance that set warning bells off in her head. "Excuse me. I'm afraid I've made a wrong turn somewhere." Turning round on the path, she started back the way she had come. At the sound of his footfalls in the grass behind her, she quickened her pace, but a big hand closed over her wrist and he spun her back to face him.
"What's yer hurry, luv?" His eyes wandered again, fixed on the roundness of her bosom. "Surely, ye've a minute or two ta spare." He was a young man, blond, big through the shoulders, not unpleasant to look at, though his clothes were badly worn, his hair shaggy at the nape of his neck, and he badly needed a shave.
"I'm sorry, sir, I have business to attend. Please let go of my hand." Angry at herself for wandering off on such a deserted path, knowing there were blacklegs and sharpers about, she tried to pry lose her hand.
"Me name's Danny," he said, his hold going tighter. "I'm pleased ta make yer acquaintance." A glance up and down the narrow space between the buildings confirmed that she was alone and he started hauling her toward him. "Yer a fetchin' little baggage and no mistake. I can see ye don't come cheap, luv, but me blunts as good as the next man's." He held up two pieces of silver. "What ye say, lass? A quick tumble before ye go on yer way?"
Lee swallowed as realization dawned. Good Lord, he thinks I'm a doxy! She was hardly that and she never would be. What a courtesan did was different, her aunt had always said. She was the one in control, the one who did the choosing. It meant both pleasure and freedom. It was not in the least the same.
"My friends are waiting." She tugged on her wrist. "I have to go." She jerked harder, but he didn't release her.
Instead, he stuffed his free hand into the pocket of a pair of worn breeches and pulled out another coin. "Ye drive a hard bargain, luv, but I wager yer worth it."
She started to tell him she wasn't interested in his money but he moved so quickly, she only got out a squeak before she was flat on her back beneath him, his heavy weight pressing her into the grass between the buildings.
"Let... me... go," she said between panting breaths, truly angry now, shoving against his chest to dislodge him, trying to suck in a breath of air. "I'm not a... doxy... you fool! I don't want your money!"
Still gripping her wrist, which he dragged above her head, he dropped the coins into her palm and closed her fingers around them, then started to shove up her skirt. For the first time, real fear shot through her.
"Let... me... go!"
Instead she felt one of his hands groping her breast. She could feel his hardness pressing into her stomach and the edge of fear blossomed into fullblown panic. She tried to scream, but he muffled the sound with a wet, sticky kiss. She gagged, tried to turn her head away, and the bristles on his face roughly abraded her cheek. She struggled harder, tried to dislodge him as one of his callused hands slid up her thigh; then he started working the buttons on the front of his breeches.
Desperate now, she bit down hard on his lip and tasted the coppery flavor of blood.
"Ouch!" The jovial expression faded from his face. He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand. "Lit'le tart. I'll swive ye now and keep the blunt. I'll learn ye ta toy with Danny Cheek."
The sounds she made were muffled by the hand that covered her mouth and another of his breeches' button's popped free. She started fighting again, tried to bite him, tried to twist free, but he was big and strong and his heavy weight pinned her in the grass.
"Let her go." The familiar voice was soft with deadly warning, and hearing it now sent a wave of relief rushing through her so strong she felt dizzy. She turned her head enough to see him, standing a few feet away, his legs braced apart and his hands balled into fists. "I said, let her go."
Danny Cheek's big body tightened. Then his heavy weight lifted away as he slowly gained his feet. Tears of relief clogged her throat. Caleb was here. Everything was going to be all right. With shaking hands, she sat up and pulled her dress down, covering her garters and stockings. Using the wall of the building for support, she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet.
A short distance away, the two men faced each other as if they meant to tear each other limb from limb. The blond man's face was a fiery shade of red and she had never seen such fury in Caleb's dark eyes before.
Something shifted in the blond man's expression. He cast her a glance, then shrugged as if the matter were no longer important. "Ye want her that bad, me friend, ye can have her." Reaching down, he picked up the coins she had left in the grass and turned to leave, but at the very last instant he spun back.
Lee screamed at the powerful blow he unleashed at Caleb, who ducked the impact as if he had known it was coming and threw a hard punch in return. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of the blond man's mouth. Caleb's second blow landed with such force it knocked Danny Cheek clear off his feet. He hit the ground with a grunt and his head whacked hard against the wooden wall of the building. His eyes rolled up inside his head and his face went slack. He didn't move so much as a muscle.
The last of her fear disappeared, leaving her limp and shaken. Caleb remained exactly where he was, feet still braced and his hands still fisted. A slow breath whispered from his lungs and he lifted his gaze to her face.
Caleb frowned as he started walking toward her. She didn't realize she was crying until he hauled her into his arms.
"It's all right. I've got you."