Apparently, he could also add talking to himself to the list.

He was having the drink.

Kate, no doubt, had gone to her room to sulk. Women always took to their rooms when they were in a snit.

Brow furrowed, he rose from his chair and headed for the study.

CHAPTER Eighteen

Lord Brentworth kept the best brandy in the house in a cabinet behind his desk. Hunter helped himself to a small drink and made a mental note to repay the man for the expense with a new bottle. Raising the gla.s.s, he took the first sip and let the heat of it burn away some of his anger.

A bit of time to think, and a spot of fine brandy to do it with, that was all he needed.

He imagined Kate had her own rituals for settling her temper. She'd not remained angry with him for long after their last argument-a night and part of a day until...well, until he'd apologized for doubting her word.

She wouldn't be receiving an apology this time round...probably. He'd see how he felt about it when he was through with his drink. The possibility of an apology, however, did not mean he was willing to change his position on any matter regarding her safety. There wasn't enough brandy in the world to see that accomplished.

But if he'd said something that had led her to believe he thought her an idiot- "Ow! Let go of me!"

Hunter set the gla.s.s down. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, he knew that screech. Miss Willory was in a scuffle with someone down the hall.

"Let go of me this instant instant!" Her voice reached a painful and very unattractive pitch. Clearly it wasn't an act. The woman was a dedicated actress, but she wasn't a particularly talented one.

Gritting his teeth, he abandoned his drink and headed for the door. How many ill-mannered sots could there be at one b.l.o.o.d.y house party?

To his complete shock, he found Miss Willory struggling not with an overenthusiastic admirer, but with, of all people, Lizzy. Even more astounding, was that Miss Willory appeared to have very good reason to struggle. Lizzy was forcibly dragging the woman along by-holy h.e.l.l, he couldn't be seeing this correctly-her ear. ear.

"What the devil is going on here?" he demanded.

"Oh, Mr. Hunter! Thank goodness you're here." That statement would have come as no shock at all, if it hadn't been uttered by both women simultaneously.

"Lizzy, let go of Miss Willory's ear."

"I'll not. She'll bolt." As if to discourage Miss Willory of the idea, Lizzy gave the woman's ear an extra twist.

"Ow!"

"Now, Lizzy."

Lizzy grumbled, but did as he ordered.

"Thank you. Now someone explain to me-"

They both began talking at once.

"I saw her-" Lizzy began excitedly.

"She accosted me," Miss Willory panted, rubbing at her ear.

"-giggling in a stall-"

"She's a lunatic. lunatic."

"-she broke that piano bench-"

"Enough!" He turned cold eyes on Miss Willory. "Explain yourself."

"She lies," Miss Willory cried. "I cannot believe you would give credence to the word of a mere servant over my-"

She broke off with a yelp and jumped back when Lizzy reached for her again.

"You'll tell him the truth," Lizzy demanded, "or I swear I'll twist your ear clean off."

"I'll have you sacked!" Miss Willory shrieked, swatting wildly at Lizzy's hand. Lizzy merely reached up and grabbed hold with the other.

"Ow! Mr. Hunter!"

"I believe Lizzy means what she says."

"You can't be-ow! All right, all right! Let go!"

Lizzy looked to him. He nodded.

"It was just a spot of fun," Miss Willory whined, rubbing her ear when Lizzy once again let go. "I thought it would wiggle under her a little, that's all. It wasn't supposed to break."

Hunter held back his growing-or regrowing to be precise-anger. "And what was supposed to happen with Mr. Potsbottom?"

It was only a guess that Miss Willory had been involved in what had transpired outside the music room, but the coincidence of her showing up with two friends just moments after a typically good-natured man had been pawing at Kate made it an educated guess. A good one, by the way Miss Willory's eyes briefly widened before she pasted on an innocent expression.

"I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea what you're referring to." Her tone turned wheedling. "Did something unsavory occur between Mr. Potsbottom and Kate? I'd not be surprised. Everyone knows she's been hoping for a kiss."

"A notion you fed him along with drink, no doubt. And you brought the ladies around in the hopes of finding the two of them in a compromising position, is that it?"

"I've no idea what you mean-"

"Tell him what else you've done," Lizzy demanded. "She's done something else," she informed him before Miss Willory could answer. "She was giggling in the stables as Kate left and I know she's done something nasty."

Kate had gone for a ride instead of her room? Fear, cold and painful, seeped into his bones. "What did you do, Mary Jane?"

Miss Willory gasped at him. "You haven't permission to call me by my Christian name. I-"

"What did you do?" he barked.

She took a step back, but tipped her chin up and pressed her lips together in a thin, mutinous, and very guilty line.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l." He could argue with her all day and not receive an answer. He spun and took off down the hall at a dead run.

"I've not done anything!" Miss Willory shouted after him. "I was only in the stable for a-ow!"

Aside from dancing and playing the piano, riding was one of the few physical activities Kate was able to perform with some grace. The sound of hoofs. .h.i.tting the ground and the feel of the horse moving beneath her had a similar effect as the sea, except that it didn't silence the music in her head, it simply gave it a rhythm to follow. Knowing an abrupt change in that rhythm sometimes caused her problems, Kate had learned to take extreme care in how she handled her mount. After all, a fall from a horse could be so much more than just embarra.s.sing. It could be deadly.

Not that she hadn't hadn't ever embarra.s.sed herself by falling from her horse. She had, but those few occasions had occurred when she'd let her mind wander while her mount meandered around at a leisurely walk and admittedly, once while her horse had been standing perfectly still. ever embarra.s.sed herself by falling from her horse. She had, but those few occasions had occurred when she'd let her mind wander while her mount meandered around at a leisurely walk and admittedly, once while her horse had been standing perfectly still.

But Kate was not in the mood to walk her mount for long. She wanted to race. She wanted to feel the wind blow past her face and see the earth fly by beneath her feet. She wanted...

She groaned. What she wanted wanted was to march right back into the house, find the nearest liftable-and if at all possible, pointed-object and hurl it squarely at Hunter's irritating head. was to march right back into the house, find the nearest liftable-and if at all possible, pointed-object and hurl it squarely at Hunter's irritating head.

Blithely stroll into danger, indeed.

Kate stopped her mount, Whistler, when she reached the edge of Pallton House's grounds. It wasn't all that far to the bluffs, she thought with a wistful sigh. Pity she couldn't go. She imagined it would be safe enough. Smuggler's Beach itself was another quarter mile away from where she and Mirabelle had stood and looked out over the English Channel. And she knew for a certainty that there would be no smugglers about until night.

With another sigh, she turned Whistler about, intending to have him walk a bit longer, until she was sure his muscles were warmed, and then race him back to the house. She nudged him forward with her knees.

He balked.

She tried again and added a verbal command. "Walk."

He moved, but only in a series of prancing side steps.

"Good heavens, horse, whatever is the matter with you?"

She backed him up three paces to remind him who held the reins, and then turned him in a circle to do the same. "Now then, are you quite done misbehaving?"

He shook his head and snorted, which she might have found amusing, if he hadn't been acting so strangely. His ears were twitching back and forth, and he was swishing his tail as if annoyed. She scanned the ground around them, wondering if uncertain footing or a small animal might have frightened him.

Finding nothing amiss, she gripped the reins firmly and urged him forward with her heels.

He lunged ahead, then spun completely around, nearly unseating her.

And then he bolted.

Kate tried everything she could think of to make Whistler stop, or at least slow down. She used her knees, shouted commands, and applied steady pressure on the reins. But he continued galloping forward, head turned to one side. Battling her own panic, she shortened her grip on the reins and pulled with all her might. Once...twice...To her absolute horror, the left rein broke off in her hand.

She stared at the useless piece of leather for one baffled, horrified heartbeat, before letting it fall. There was nothing she could do now but reach for Whistler's mane and hold on.

CHAPTER Nineteen

Hunter stifled the urge to race his stallion across the countryside. He couldn't be certain where Kate was. The groom had seen her ride east, but she could have veered off to the north, or down to the beach after she'd been out of sight. He couldn't risk missing her in haste, or- He saw her, a dark spot in the distance-too far in the distance, well past the edge of the grounds, and moving much too fast. His heart stopped in his chest, the air backed up in his lungs.

Somehow, something Miss Willory had done had caused Kate to lose control of her horse.

Battling back a sick roll of fear, he gave the stallion his head.

Kate was a fine horsewoman, he a.s.sured himself as he closed the distance between them at a breakneck pace. He'd heard Whit mention as much more than once. She hadn't lost her seat when the horse bolted, so there was no reason for her to lose it now. If she could just hang on until her mount wore himself out- Kate's horse veered sharply, heading straight toward the bluffs.

The roll of fear became a wave of terror. He bent low in the saddle and pushed his mount for more speed. He had to reach Kate before her horse reached the bluffs.

No horse would run off a cliff intentionally, not even a panicked one. But the terrain was unfamiliar to Kate's mount, rocky and markedly uneven in places. The earth at the edge of the bluffs was loose and unstable in patches. The horse could slip, fall, and tumble off the cliff. Or come to a sliding halt at the edge and throw Kate off the cliff, or...

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, he wouldn't think about it. It didn't do either of them any good for him to think about it. Ruthlessly wiping his mind clear of all visions of Kate tumbling off the bluffs into the sea, he concentrated on going faster.

How far away was he, now? Fifty yards? How far away were the bluffs? Two hundred, three hundred yards? There was time, he told himself. He could see where their paths would intersect. They had time. He would make it.

Leaning low over the stallion's neck, he brought his horse alongside Kate's less than fifty yards before the cliff. Kate was clinging to her mount's back, her fingers tangled in the mane. Hunter stretched out his hand for the left rein, only to discover it was missing. He leaned farther to grab the bridle, only to have the horse toss his head and veer out of reach.

The cliff loomed closer.

b.l.o.o.d.y, b.u.g.g.e.ring, h.e.l.l.

He reached over one last time, grabbed Kate around the waist and dragged her off the horse.

"I have you," he said hoa.r.s.ely, setting her in the saddle in front of him. He wrapped one arm tightly around her and slowed his mount with his free hand. "I have you. You're safe."

He wasn't certain whose benefit he was speaking for, he only knew he needed to say the words.

As his horse slowed to a walk, he watched in horror as Kate's mount rushed the last few yards to the cliff. He came to a sliding stop not three feet from the edge, his hoofs digging deep grooves into the loose earth. Kate wouldn't have been able to keep her seat. She'd have been thrown clear off the edge into the water below.

Kate seemed to realize how close she'd come to catastrophe. He could feel her trembling, hear the way her breath came in ragged gasps. "The rein..."

He pulled her harder against him, brushed his lips through her hair. "It's all right, Kate. You're all right."

"The rein. It came off in my hands." She stared down at them now as if she expected to find an explanation there. "I pulled, and it came straight off."

"It's all right. It's over."

The trembling grew more p.r.o.nounced. "I'd have gone over. Right over the cliff."

Hunter stifled a frustrated groan. He couldn't hold her properly in the d.a.m.n saddle. And he couldn't pull her off and into his arms, not the way he wanted, while they were in an open field.