Dare to Love. Alleigh Burrows
the ride thins my waist
that I would find cheer
astride a horse?
Who would have guessed
that despite all my work,
the man whom I love
would remain so remote
astride his horse?
Why would I think, dream,
believe, guess, or pray
that a man such as he
would…
Hmmm, would what? Fall madly in love? No. Be enthralled by my form? Not likely. Drop to his knee and pledge undying devotion? Ugh, that was too much to hope for.
Fall in love would do for now. Especially since no one else would ever hear it. With a contented nod, she continued her verse.
* * * *
Dare was bored. Bored, bored, bored. There was nothing to look at except trees and sky and the nodding of his horse’s head as it meandered down the road. Clop, clop, clop, bored, bored, bored.
Lord, how he hated the country.
There was always something in London to keep him entertained, to keep his thoughts at bay. But not here. Surely Nivea could exert some energy to entertain him, instead of bobbing along, smiling to herself. Ignoring him.
“Women are here for a man’s pleasure,” his father had always said. “Their happiness should be solely dependent upon making you happy.” While he did not see eye to eye with the marquess on most things—hell, on scarcely anything—Dare had always been partial to that sentiment.
He spotted a large oak tree up ahead, split in half long ago by a bolt of lightning. Oh, yes, this would make things interesting.
He pulled his horse alongside Nivea’s. “We’ll stop here for a brief meal.”
Startled by his sudden pronouncement, Nivea jerked, causing her horse to dance.
He flashed her an innocent smile as she got her mare under control. It served her right. If she had been paying attention to him, it wouldn’t have happened.
“Where do you propose we eat? There’s nothing around for miles.”
“Au contraire, I know a charming little spot, just up ahead.”
As they passed the charred oak, he turned his horse down a narrow trail. The trees were overgrown, but the path was still distinguishable. It wasn’t long before the brush gave way to a clearing. Sunlight filtered through the trees, giving the spot a magical appearance. A grassy area sloped down to a babbling stream, dotted with moss-covered rocks. Tiny white, yellow, and pink flowers bloomed riotously along the banks. In the center of the clearing stood two large L-shaped stones, with a third flat rock between them, forming a table and chairs.
He had stumbled across the path once when staying with William, and since then, had taken advantage of this inspired location with a number of young ladies. Surely, a brief flirtation with Nivea couldn’t hurt.
Pulling his horse to a stop in the sundrenched center of the field, he announced, “The innkeeper packed us a lunch. There is bread, cheese, and a jug of cider in my saddlebag. Why don’t you lay out the meal while I take care of the horses?”
He handed her the bag and led their mounts to the stream for a drink. Tethering them to a stump, he returned to the field to watch Nivea arrange the food on the stone table. Now, the game would begin.
As she sliced off a sliver of cheese, he removed his gloves and ran his hands through his hair before refastening it back into a neat queue. Women loved his hair—said the sunlight turned it inky blue. And once they had touched it, they couldn’t keep their hands off, saying it was silky as a cat’s. It was sure to draw her attention.
Nivea did not seem to notice.
Once she finished with the cheese, she did look up, but her attention was on the surroundings, her eyes full of wonder. “How did you know about this place?”
Warming up to his plan, he flashed her a wolfish grin and eased himself onto the boulder facing hers. With measured stealth, he reached for the cheese and removed it, while oh-so-gently caressing her palm. “There are few places in England where I have not discovered a convenient backdrop to attract a woman’s fancy.”
As expected, her eyes grew wide. Content he now had her interest, he slowly brought the cheese to his lips. Then he closed his eyes and waited for her to speak.
It took her a few moments longer than most women. In fact, it was such an unusually long lull, he almost peeked from under his eyelashes to see what she was about.
Finally it came.
“This spot is truly wonderful. Eager as I am to get home, I could remain here for hours. Thank you.”
That was it. She was silent again.
Now, he did have to open his eyes. Most women would take this opportunity to prattle on, hoping to dazzle him with their wit or entice him with their list of virtues. Little response or even interest was required on his part.
But that did not seem to be her strategy.
So, he smiled in acknowledgement and waited for her to continue.
But no, that was all. This woman remained stubbornly silent.
It was maddening. It appeared she had forgotten he was even there.
How was such a thing possible? Women always paid him attention. The slightest nod of his head, or smile in their direction, ensured a blush from a virgin, or an appreciative gleam in the eye of an experienced woman.
But not this blasted woman. She leaned over, broke off a bit of bread, and then took a sip of cider. Ate a slice of cheese, smiled at him for a for a brief moment, and returned her gaze to the riverbank.
Really, what was she about? Yes, the area was beautiful, but it was supposed to be an attractive backdrop to set the mood. And because he was so thoughtful, the attention would be focused back on him—thank you very much.
He narrowed his eyes to stare at her while puzzling on his next step.
There she sat, with the sun shining on her hair and the blue of her gown enhancing the azure color of her eyes. As she leaned forward he could see the full, soft curve of her breasts straining against the fabric of her gown. In fact, if he tilted his head just so, he could see down the gap in her dress and into the valley of delicate white flesh. It was quite alluring.
A little shiver of desire prickled through him.
What the devil? This was just plain, plump Nivea. There was nothing desirous about her. But that wasn’t true. Just this morning, after he’d apologized, her eyes grew soft, her smile sweet. Then she touched his hand and there’d been a spark. Heat. Like the intimate warmth of a lover’s touch.
No, that couldn’t be right. Nivea didn’t make him burn.
Peeking at her from under his lashes, he once again eyed up her lush curves, her breasts rising up with each breath. Taunting him. Then her tongue darted out to lick a drop of cider from her red lips and whoosh, fire flashed to his groin. Try as he might, he could not tear his eyes away from her.
Damnation, what was going on? He had no business eyeing up his friend’s sister. His oldest friend’s unmarried, unfashionable, untouched sister. His code of conduct was fairly flexible, but that rule was unbreakable.
He ripped a bit of bread off with his teeth, desperate to regain control. Of course, Nivea chose that moment to hold a conversation. “I did not expect to enjoy myself this trip. At least once the carriage broke. But I will admit, it has not been as much of a nightmare as I feared.”
“Hmph,” he answered, his mouth full.
“Can