"Love At First Bite" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kenyon Sherrilyn, Banks L. A., Squires Susan, Thompson Ronda)

Chapter Four

Anne wheeled to face him, nearly colliding with him, he stood so close. Her eyes made it past the dark hair teasing her from the open collar of his shirt, up across his broad shoulders, the dark whiskers on his chin and cheeks, to his icy eyes, but no, they were not cold. The heat was back in them. His gaze lowered to her lips and they parted as if he'd commanded them to do so. Would he kiss her again? Was that the something he wanted? And did it matter what she wanted? Or did she want the same thing?

He lifted a hand, almost touched her hair, then quickly withdrew it. "You wanted to ride astride like a man, and today you will."

Merrick turned from her and walked to the stallion. He unsaddled the horse in short order while she stood reeling from the onslaught of his nearness, her lips tingling in anticipation of a kiss that had not come.

"You are going to do it this time, aren't you?" he asked while carrying the saddle to her mount and laying it on the ground. "I'd hate to go through this trouble only to see you bolt and run away like you did last night."

A teasing light had entered his eyes, but Anne did not find him amusing. Staying last night had been out of the question. No telling what might have happened had she not regained her senses and fled to the safety of the house. And no telling how often she would wonder exactly what would have transpired between them if she hadn't escaped when she did.

"I will ride astride," she assured him.

He didn't comment but unsaddled Storm, then saddled the mare with the lightweight English saddle he'd used on the stallion. Merrick adjusted the stirrups, then turned to her.

"Up you go."

Anne glanced down at her skirt. "I wish I owned a pair of men's trousers. And tall boots like you are wearing."

He placed a hand against his heart. "I might not survive such a sight. You have lovely legs, lass."

She fought down another blush. Had Merrick seen her legs? And how had he seen anything at all when she hadn't been able to make out so much as his silhouette in the darkness? He couldn't have, she assured herself.

"I'm not sure how to proceed," Anne tried to change the subject. Only she had to bring it back around when she glanced meaningfully at the skirt of her riding habit.

Merrick motioned her closer with a jerk of his head. "Come on, I'll help you up, then you'll have to figure out the rest."

"And you won't say anything to my aunt or uncle about this?" She wanted reassurance.

"You have my word."

For some reason, Anne believed him—felt certain she could count on his word. Why, she had no idea. Maybe the man really had cast a spell over her. She allowed him to give her a leg up. In order to sit the saddle astride, she had to bunch her skirt up around her knees. It left her stocking-clad calves bare to his eyes, but she hoped he wouldn't look. He did.

"Very nice," he said. "Just like I remember."

Ignoring him, Anne urged Storm forward, awkward at first with her position astride the horse. It took Anne only a few paces to become braver and urge the bay into a trot. The sensation was strange, to say the least. Anne decided a gallop might prove less disturbing and soon she was on the path, racing along astride and realizing how cruel it was to make women ride sidesaddle.

She laughed out loud with the sheer freedom she felt, glanced behind her, and saw Merrick riding bareback behind her. He looked like a barbarian and her heart made a funny lurch inside of her chest.

"So what do you think?" Merrick called, quickly catching up to her.

"It's wonderful," she called back. "It's the way a horse was meant to be ridden. I shall never want to ride sidesaddle again."

"And what about riding in your underwear, bareback, at midnight across the moors? Are you still brave enough to do that?"

Anne slowed her mount. Was Merrick teasing her? "Not with an escort," she assured him.

He smiled in answer. Just at breakfast Anne had wondered what it would be like to see him smile. She decided she was better off not knowing. He had a smile that could melt winter.

"Would you do it if you had a pair of men's trousers and boots?"

She cocked a brow. "And where would I get those?"

He shrugged. "I could get them for you. The lad who sweeps out the stalls, Brennan, he's not much bigger than you."

What Merrick said was true. The stable boy was only ten but tall for his age. And Anne supposed his feet were still small. Did she dare? She had wanted to dare last night. But last night had proven a mistake, and she had a feeling meeting the new stable master in the dead of night for a midnight ride again would be another one.

"May I go alone?"

He shook his dark head. "I cannot allow that. You can go if you let me go with you, to watch after you."

His suggestion annoyed her. If her aunt and uncle were not particularly affectionate people toward her, they had made certain Anne had been well chaperoned all of her life. She wanted the freedom of riding alone.

"I don't need looking after," she said. "I'm a grown woman and, as you said yourself, a skilled rider."

Merrick leaned forward in the saddle and scratched his chin. "Have you ridden bareback before, then?"

Anne frowned. "Well, no, but—"

"When I feel you know what you are doing, then you can go alone and I'll keep your secrets."

Anne wasn't a mistrustful person by nature. But she wasn't as innocent as she'd been just the day before. "Why would you do that?" she asked.

He glanced at her and winked. "To see you in the trousers of course."

She had no idea if he was teasing her. Considering what had happened between them the night before, she thought she should ask, "You won't try anything like you did last night, will you?"

Merrick shrugged. "Probably. It's in my nature to ravish any young woman who stumbles across my path in the night." His expression was perfectly serious.

"Then I must decline."

The serious expression he wore disappeared and he surprised her by laughing out loud. Anne didn't care to be laughed at.

"What is so funny?" she asked stiffly.

He pulled up and stopped his horse. Anne did likewise. "Last night I didn't know who you were. Today I do. That changes everything, lass."

Anne ignored the slight sting she felt to her ego. "You said you would not forget," she reminded him.

Heat flared to life in his eyes as he stared at her. "Oh, to be sure, I won't. But a maid looking for sport with her lover, and a lady only wanting a midnight ride on her horse are two different things. You're safe with me… I think."

It was his afterthought that made Anne nervous. But that trepidation was easily outweighed by a chance to do something she'd wanted to do for a long time. It was a chance that might never come her way again.

"All right," she said. "Meet me at midnight in the stable. Have the clothes with you."


Merrick had to wonder if he'd taken leave of his senses. Making offers, keeping secrets, getting too close to a woman he had no right to get close to. Lady Anne was a proper lady. He was a bastard, a stable master who made a good enough wage to support a common lass, but not a grand lady like his employer's niece. Not that Merrick was thinking of wedding the tempting Lady Anne, but he was damn sure thinking of bedding her.

He had the clothes, paid for with a coin to the lad and a promise from the boy that he'd not ask why the new stable master needed them. He had the horses saddled and ready. He had everything but a brain in his head. He almost hoped she wouldn't come. It would be better for the both of them if she regained her senses and decided he wasn't a man to trust with either her secrets or her virtue. She'd probably be right in thinking that, although he'd always tried to be a man of his word before.

There was little in life Merrick had besides his word and his skill with horses. He recalled giving his word to another woman. His mother on her deathbed. She'd told him not to go looking for his past. She'd told him to be content with what he'd been given in life. Not to dream of things beyond his reach. And Merrick had promised.

Now he was sniffing around a woman's skirts he should not be sniffing around. Merrick and Lady Anne were as different as night and day. Merrick was, in fact, different from any man he knew. He had strange abilities that his mother hadn't even known about. He had his secrets even if he chose not to acknowledge his differences most of the time. He did not understand his "gifts" or why they had been given to him. He wasn't sure they were gifts. Perhaps they were instead a curse.

Although his mind told him it would be better if Lady Anne did not appear tonight in the stable, Merrick watched the door for her. He willed her to him, and by doing so he went back on his word to his mother. He wanted all he promised her he would not want. Deep inside, he resented that his blood was somewhat blue but still ran red like that of the common man he was.

His mother, God rest her soul, had taken his father's name to the grave with her. Whoever the man had been, Merrick resented the hell out of him. How could a man treat a child like a dirty secret? Like a mistake, easily ignored and then forgotten? While the man was alive, he'd made certain that Merrick and his mother were provided for, but after his death, it was as if he'd wanted to bury his secrets along with him. Merrick, only a young man at the time, and his mother were suddenly forced to work at whatever jobs they could find in order to support themselves. He supposed that made them no different from most, but he had wondered if while he and his mother scraped and starved, somewhere the man's legitimate children were living in the lap of luxury.

The horses had always come naturally to Merrick. He knew a good bloodline when he saw one. He knew what mare to breed to which stallion in order to produce a better horse. He knew how to care for the animals, how to clean up after them, how to ride them. He'd made a name for himself in his profession, if it wasn't the grandest profession a man might strive for, and if his name was only his first name. Still, he'd learned to be content… until last night.

He caught Lady Anne's scent before she reached the stable. Why did she have to smell like that, like a gumdrop, all soft and sugary and melting on the tongue? Why did she have to feel like fine silk beneath his calloused hands? Why did she have to taste like heady wine, warm and wet and intoxicating? Why did she have to trust his word when already his body stirred to life with want for her and he was thinking of going back on it?

"Merrick," she whispered in the darkness, and even the sound of his name on her lips nearly caused him to groan.

"Here," he said, then had to clear the huskiness from his throat.

"Do you have the clothes?"

"In the tack room," he answered. "I've draped them across your sidesaddle. The boots are there on the ground next to them."

"You will stay out here while I change?"

She was still wary of him. Which proved she was smart as well as pretty. "Unless you need my assistance," he answered.

"I won't," she assured him.

"Hurry up, then. We don't have all night."

His abnormal hearing tortured him with sounds of her undressing a moment later. The brush of cloth against skin. The pictures forming in his head. He wanted to see her in the moonlight. See her beautiful face light up with laughter as it did when she rode astride earlier. Why had such a woman not already been claimed? Were the men of her station all daft? She was everything he would want in a woman and nothing he could have.

"I'm ready."

Lost in his thoughts, Merrick hadn't been listening for her approach. He saw her outline in the darkness. If he wanted to, if he looked long and hard enough, he could make out her features clearly, but they needed to get away from the stable.

"I'll give you a hand up. We'll unsaddle the mare once we're away from the house, and I'll teach you to ride bareback."

She brought her sweet scent and her soft woman's curves around the horses to stand next to him. When his hands encircled her small waist, he wanted to teach her far more than just to ride bareback. Her lips were innocent last night. Lush and ripe and he thought she might have never been kissed before. At least not properly.

He lifted her easily and she scrambled into the saddle. Merrick walked around her and mounted the black. Like thieves, they rode quietly from the stable, only daring to pick up their pace once they'd gone a distance from the house.

Finding the meadow again, Merrick drew the black to a halt, dismounted, and went around to assist Lady Anne. She came into his arms perhaps more easily than was wise, then stood before him, staring up. The moonlight bathed her lovely features in soft white light. Her eyes sparkled and her hair hung down her back almost to her hips. He ached inside just looking at her. Ached as he had never ached before. Wanted as he had never wanted before.

"You're so beautiful," he said, staring down at her. "You turn a man's mind to mush and make him forget his promises."

The smile hovering about her lush lips faded. She met his stare and he thought he saw the same hunger he felt staring back at him from her warm brown eyes. Then she shook her head as if to clear it. "You gave me your word. Was I a fool to trust you?"

So it would seem. Merrick had never been subtle about his wants and desires. "I want to kiss you again."

Even in the darkness, he saw color creep into her cheeks. "Then I should demand that you take me back to the stable and end this fool's errand."

He agreed, but his desire to know her more intimately kept him from saying so or doing what he knew would be best.

"Why do you think doing something you dream of is foolish, Anne?"


Anne had expected him to either try to kiss her or take her back to the stable. She was surprised that instead of doing either, he'd asked her a question and seemed genuinely interested in her answer. She wasn't used to anyone really caring about her feelings. She wasn't used to anyone really caring about her. Oh, she liked to fool herself into believing her aunt and uncle simply had trouble displaying affection, but she knew that was not the case. And she somehow blamed herself for being unlovable.

"What difference does it make if I learn to ride bareback, or if I ride astride?" she said with a shrug. "Neither are subjects I can discuss with anyone. Neither are skills I can show to anyone. And neither are certainly accomplishments my aunt and uncle would be proud of."

His warm hands closed around her shoulders. "Have you never done anything just for yourself? Just because it pleases you, and to hell with everyone else?"

Nothing except her riding, and ladies were certainly known to enjoy a good jaunt, if few might admit they had an interest in all that Anne was interested in. Breeding, racing, all things related to horses. There were men who loved such things, as well, but so far, she hadn't met one who she thought would understand her own love of them.

"It would be different if I were a man," she explained. "Because I am a woman, I must be pleasing. I must be kind and considerate to others. I must want what all young women of my station want. To dream of doing or being something other than what is expected is foolish."

He pulled her closer. "It is never foolish to have dreams of your own. For some of us, that's all we can have. And why do you seem resentful of your life when it seems to me that you have everything?"

"Not everything," she argued, then realized she was revealing too much about herself to him. How pathetic she would sound if she told him she did not have the one thing she wanted most in life. To be loved. Just for herself. "But I sound shallow and unappreciative," she added, lowering her gaze. "You must understand that all that is really expected of me is to make a good match. To be pleasing so that a man will want to marry me. It's a woman's place to make her husband's life comfortable. To bear his children and run his home. At least it is that way for women of my station." Oddly enough, Anne's guardians had not pushed her to marry, had not seemed concerned over her lack of suitors even though Anne was nearly twenty-one.

Merrick suddenly released her and turned his back. "I see what you're saying. I suppose women of my class can only aspire to bear a man of your class's bastards and hope he doesn't die and leave them and the children to scavenge for themselves."

Anne realized she had been insensitive. She must sound like a total ninny to him, whining about her privileged life. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Is that what happened to your mother?"

He turned back to her. "We didn't come here to talk about me. I thought we came so you could dare to do what you've been wanting to do. If you don't have the spine for it, let's go on back. Some of us cannot sleep the day away when we've stayed out too late the night before."

She had wounded him. She had stirred resentment in him. Anne hadn't meant to do either. But he was right. She'd been given this one opportunity to do something just for herself. Merrick had given her the opportunity, and however wrong it was, she couldn't help but come close to loving him for it.

"All right," she said. "Enough talk about matters neither of us can control. Tell me what to do."

Merrick stared at her a moment longer and Anne was afraid he'd changed his mind. Then he sighed and moved past her to unsaddle Storm. Once he'd laid the saddle and blanket upon the ground, he swung up easily onto the mare's back.

"Watch me first," he said. "You have to hold on with your legs. Press them good and tight against the horse's sides. Like so."

Anne watched as he took the horse around in a circle. He walked the mare first, then nudged her into a trot, and then a gallop. Watching him made Anne feel odd again. All achy and feverish, as if she'd come down with an illness. Regardless of his bloodline, Merrick, with no last name, was quite something to look at. Again, Anne couldn't help but feel as if she had seen him somewhere before. Perhaps in her dreams.

Storm was known to be headstrong at times, but Merrick commanded her far better than Anne ever had, and the horse seemed to sense he was a man who would brook no nonsense from her. Anne wondered if he handled all females the same way.

"Are you ready to try now?"

"Yes," Anne answered. "But I believe you make it look much simpler than it is."

He drew the mare to a halt beside Anne, threw one leg over, and easily slid to the ground. "You'll do fine," he assured her. "You'll do fine because it's something you want to do. Maybe something you have to do."

Suppression and being a female born in a man's world went hand in hand together. Anne was used to suppressing her wants, her desires, her dreams, even her thoughts. She'd never met a man who encouraged a woman to be daring. It was a refreshing change for her.

"I'll help you up, since you have no stirrups," he said, and bent, folding his hands into a makeshift step.

Anne placed her hand upon his shoulder, feeling the sinewy muscles beneath his shirt. She put a booted foot in his hands and he hefted her easily up onto the horse's bare back.

"Remember to grip her with your legs," he instructed, and Anne tried not to blush in the moonlight.

Legs and gripping anything with them would be considered vulgar for a man to discuss in the presence of a lady. Recalling she wore men's clothing, Anne decided tonight that neither was she a lady nor was Merrick a gentleman. She nodded and took the reins draped across Storm's neck.

Anne started out slowly, getting used to the feel of the horse beneath her without a saddle. She walked Storm in a circle a few times before she felt confident enough to nudge her into a trot. The uneven gait nearly unseated Anne and she urged the mare into a smoother gallop.

"You're a fast learner," Merrick called. "You're doing fine."

Concentrating on keeping her seat, Anne called, "Can we go to the moors? Ride across them bareback in the moonlight as I dreamed I would do?" She glanced at him.

He shook his head. "Not tonight, lass. You need more practice before you dare that."

Who knew if Anne would have the courage to sneak from the house again and slip away with the new stable master? She could come to her senses at any time. Revert to her old ways of being good and chaste and totally boring. Her aunt could suddenly decide the country was too uneventful for her and demand they all pack up and leave for London. Tonight might be the only chance Anne had to realize her dream.

"I'm going," she decided. "Stay behind if you want. In fact, go back to the stable, so if I'm discovered or something happens to me, you won't be held accountable."

Having issued her orders, Anne turned Storm toward the path that would eventually lead her to the moors.

"Come back here, Anne," Merrick ordered. "I said you weren't ready yet."

Anne nearly obeyed simply out of habit. The need to rebel had taken root inside of her now and she wasn't sure she wanted to staunch it. Who was he to command her anyway? Merrick wouldn't tell on her, since he'd been a party to helping her tonight. Not unless he wanted to lose his position.

Already knowing him a good deal better than she should, Anne wouldn't put it past him to come after her and drag her from the horse's back. Anne kneed the animal into a gallop. Behind her, she heard Merrick swear rather loudly.

The path was easy to follow due to the bright moonlight shining down from above… at least until Anne was deep in the woods. She heard the pounding of hooves behind her and knew Merrick followed. Anne also knew that he would easily catch her if she stayed to the path. In a split-second decision, she reined Storm off the path.

Because Anne had a good sense of direction, she thought she could make her way easily to the moors. What she didn't anticipate was the difficulty of maneuvering a horse through the thicker forage or the log in her path she saw too late. Jumping on horseback was a good deal more difficult when the horse wore no saddle. Anne lost her balance and fell.

The fall jarred her to the teeth. The breath had been knocked from her and once she could breathe again, she sat up, trying to determine whether she'd been hurt. She moved her legs back and forth, her arms; nothing was broken. As Storm had been taught, the mare had come to a halt with no one guiding her by the reins. Anne slowly rose from the ground, her bottom still stinging as she moved toward the mare.

Suddenly Storm's head came up. The mare snorted, then her eyes rolled back in her head, and she shied, taking off through the woods as though the hounds of hell chased her. Anne wanted to cry. She should have listened to Merrick. He had been right. She wasn't ready to attempt what she had. Now she was afoot, lost in the woods, and alone. Or was she?

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She had a feeling she was being watched. What had frightened Storm? The horse didn't usually shy easily. Glancing around, Anne noticed how much darker it was at night when the trees overhead blocked out the moonlight. She had trouble distinguishing shapes. She also had trouble telling direction. Where was the path? If she moved in that direction, surely she'd come across Merrick in search of her.

She took a step, but movement from the corner of her eye had her wheeling to the right. Anne squinted into the shadows. Another shape joined the first. And then another. Wolves. Her blood turned to ice. So, the legend was true. There still were wolves roaming parts of England.

Anne dared not take her eyes off the still shadows, wondering how much longer they would remain still. She needed a weapon. Glancing down, she tried to make out the shape of a branch, a rock, anything she might use in her defense. A shadow had moved closer when she glanced back up. Anne swallowed hard.

"Don't move."

The instruction was no more than a whisper; then she felt Merrick's heat at her back. Her knees nearly buckled with relief. A shadow crept closer. Eyes glittered in the darkness. Her heart rose in her throat. Merrick stepped in front of her, blocking out the danger, protecting her from her own foolishness, perhaps with his life.

The shadows continued to move in until they were surrounded. Frightened, Anne slid her arms around Merrick's waist and pressed her face against his back. His heart thudded beneath her ear, strong, steady, but not racing wildly the way hers did at the moment. Silence echoed around her; then very soft, very low, she heard a growl. It resounded not from the beasts of the night but from the man who stood before her against them.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms. Anne didn't know whether to release her grip around Merrick's waist and run or hold tighter to him. She closed her eyes and prayed. How long she stood clinging to him, she did not know. It seemed like an eternity.

"It's all right now, lass. They've gone."

Anne opened her eyes, although the darkness that surrounded them was much like having them closed had been. She didn't see anything in the shadows, but that didn't mean there was nothing there.

"Are you certain?" she whispered. "How do you know?"

"Because I know," he answered, turning to face her. "They've gone and taken their scents with them. They were only curious to begin with. Curious to know what kind of fool walks alone in the woods at night."

A touch of embarrassment mingled with her fear. He was right; she was a fool. Anne might have considered herself boring the day before, but she hadn't considered herself foolish until tonight.

"I'm sorry. You were right," she admitted. "I shouldn't have gone off on my own. It was foolish and dangerous."

He didn't respond, and when she glanced up at him, Anne gasped. His shadow stood tall and dark against the night, but his eyes glittered like those of the beasts of the forest.

"Your eyes," she whispered. "They glow in the dark like the eyes of an animal."

He glanced away from her, as if to shield her from the sight. Anne recalled the low growl he'd issued while she had clung to him in fear. And his scent, the one she smelled on him now. The one that overpowered fear and confusion and attracted her to him even when common sense said she should run away. There was something very strange about Merrick. But perhaps it was only hysteria that made her think so.

"Merrick?" she whispered. "Who are you? I mean, really?"