Sophy leaned forward to pat the horse's neck reassuringly but her hand froze abruptly in midair. An icy breeze rustled the branches overhead. Sophy shivered again, but this time she knew it was not the chill of the early spring afternoon that was affecting her. She straightened in the saddle as she caught sight of the man on the midnight black stallion coming toward her through a grove of bare trees. Her pulse quickened as it always did in Ravenwood's presence.
Belatedly Sophy told herself she ought to have immediately recognized the little frisson of awareness that had gone through her a moment earlier. After all, a part of her had been in love with this man since she was eighteen.
That was the year she had first been introduced to the
Earl of Ravenwood. He, of course, probably did not even remember the occasion. He'd had eyes only for his beautiful, mesmerizing, witchy Elizabeth.
Sophy knew that her initial feelings for the wealthy Earl of Ravenwood had no doubt begun as little more than a young woman's natural infatuation with the first man who had captured her imagination. But that infatuation had not died a natural death, not even when she had accepted the obvious fact that she stood no chance of gaining his attention. Over the years infatuation had matured into something deeper and more abiding.
Sophy had been drawn to the quiet power and the innate pride and integrity she sensed in Ravenwood. In the realm of her most secret dreams she thought of him as noble in a way that had nothing to do with his inherited title.
When the dazzling Elizabeth had succeeded in turning the fascination Ravenwood felt for her into raw pain and savage rage, Sophy had wanted to offer comfort and understanding. But the Earl had been beyond either. He had sought his solace for a time on the Continent waging war under Wellington.
When he had returned, it was obvious that the Earl's emotions had long since retreated to a cold, distant place somewhere inside himself. Now any passion or warmth Ravenwood was capable of feeling appeared to be reserved for his land.
The black suited him well, Sophy decided. She had heard the stallion was called Angel, and she found herself marveling at Ravenwood's sense of irony.
Angel was a creature of darkness meant for a man who lived in shadows. The man who rode him seemed almost a part of the animal. Ravenwood was lean and powerfully built. He was endowed with unfashionably large, strong hands, hands that could easily have strangled an errant wife, just as the villagers said, Sophy reflected briefly.
He needed no padding in his coat to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders. The snug-fitting riding breeches clung to well-shaped, strongly muscled thighs.
But although he wore his clothes well, Sophy knew there was nothing the finest tailor in London could have done to alleviate the uncompromising grimness of Ravenwood's harsh features.
His hair was as black as his stallion's silky coat and his eyes were a deep, gleaming green, a demon green, Sophy had sometimes thought. It was said the Earls of Ravenwood were always born with eyes to match the family emeralds.
Sophy found Ravenwood's gaze disconcerting not only because of the color of his eyes but because he had a way of looking at a person as if he were mentally putting a price on that poor unfortunate's soul. Sophy wondered what his lordship would do when he learned her price.
She reined in Dancer, pushed the plume of her riding hat out of her eyes and summoned up what she hoped was a serenely gracious smile.
"Good afternoon, my lord. What a surprise to encounter you in the middle of the woods."
The black stallion was brought to a shuddering halt a few feet away. Ravenwood sat quietly for a moment, regarding Sophy's polite little smile. He did not respond in kind.
"What, precisely, do you find surprising about this encounter, Miss Dorring? This is, after all, my land. I knew you had gone to visit Old Bess and guessed that you would be returning to Chesley Court along this route."
"How clever of you, my lord. An example of deductive logic, perhaps? I am a great admirer of that sort of reasoning."
"You were well aware that we had business to conclude today. If you are as intelligent as your grandparents appear to believe, you must also have known I wanted that business settled this afternoon. No, on the whole I cannot accept that there is any surprise in this meeting at all. In fact, I would almost be willing to wager that it was deliberately planned."
Sophy's fingers clenched on the reins as the soft words burned into her. Dancer's ears flicked in mild protest and she instantly relaxed her convulsive grip. Bess was right. Ravenwood was not a man who could be easily led about with a piece of string. Sophy knew she would have to be extraordinarily cautious.
"I was under the impression that my grandfather was conducting my business on my behalf, as is proper," Sophy said. "Did he not give you my answer to your offer?"
"He did." Ravenwood allowed his high-strung stallion to take a few prancing steps closer to Dancer. "I chose not to accept it until I discussed the matter with you, personally."
"Surely, my lord, that is not entirely correct. Or is that the manner in which such things are handled in London these days?"
"It's the manner in which I wish to handle them with you. You are not a missish little twit, Miss Dorring. Pray do not act like one. You can answer for yourself. Tell me what the problem is and I will endeavor to see if it can be resolved."
"Problem, my lord?"
His eyes took on a darker shade of green. "I would advise you not to toy with me, Miss Dorring. I am not given to indulging women who try to make a fool of me."
"I understand completely, my lord. And surely you can comprehend my reluctance to tie myself to a man who is not given to indulging women in general, much less those who try to make a fool of him."
Ravenwood's eyes narrowed. "Kindly explain yourself."
Sophy managed a faint shrug. Her hat tipped a bit farther forward under the small movement. Automatically she reached up again to push aside the bobbing plume.
"Very well, my lord, you force me to speak plainly. I do not believe you and I share a similar understanding of how a marriage between us could be made to work. I have tried to talk to you privately on the three occasions you have called at Chesley Court during the past two weeks, but you seemed totally uninterested in discussing matters with me. You treated the whole business as if you were buying a new horse for your stables. I admit I was forced to resort to drastic tactics today in order to get your attention."
Ravenwood stared at her with cold irritation. "So I was right in thinking you are not surprised to encounter me here. Very well, you have my complete attention, Miss Dorring. What is there you wish me to comprehend? It all seems very straightforward to me."
"I know what you want from me," Sophy said. "It is quite obvious. But I do not believe you have the least notion of what I want from you. Until you do comprehend that and agree to my wishes in the matter, there is no possibility of our marrying."
"Perhaps we ought to take this step by step," Ravenwood said. "What is it you think I want from you?"
"An heir and no trouble."
Ravenwood blinked with a deceptive laziness. His hard mouth curved faintly. "Succinctly put."
"And accurate?"
"Very," he said dryly. "It is no secret that I wish to set up my nursery. Ravenwood has been in my family's hands for three generations. I do not intend for it to be lost in this generation."
"In other words, you see me as a brood mare."
Saddle leather creaked as Ravenwood studied her in ominous silence for a long moment. "I fear your grandfather was right," he finally said. "Your reading habits have instilled a certain lack of delicacy in your manner, Miss Dorring."