He made a curt nod of his head. "Good night, Miss Durant."

She stiffened a little where she sat in the straw. "Good night, Mr. Tanner."

He started walking, trying not to wish she had called him Caleb instead.


Caleb saw Vermillion again the next day. She came to check on the kittens and their mother, all of whom appeared to be doing very well, then ordered Jimmy Murphy, the youngest of the grooms, to saddle Grand Coeur for a late-morning ride. She was wearing her tailored men's breeches and a pair of Spanish riding boots, her hair in a single thick braid. She had never brought one of her lovers into the stable and he thought that perhaps this was her refuge, the place she could simply be Lee.

Unless, of course, she rode out each day for some more nefarious purpose.

Caleb's jaw hardened. There was every chance the woman was a spy, that she or her aunt were responsible for the deaths of thousands of British troops, a thought that sent him striding through the barn in search of a suitable mount. Saddling the big bay gelding he had ridden before, he set off behind his quarry, riding at a leisurely pace some distance away.

Careful to keep her in his sight but remaining far enough back that she wouldn't know she was being followed, he watched her gallop over the rise and for a moment disappear out of sight. When Caleb saw her again, she was riding less recklessly than she had been before but no less skillfully, putting the horse through its paces with perfect timing and precision, apparently enjoying the sun and the wind in her face.

She met no one during the ride, encountered none of her lovers or anyone else, and as she turned and started back to the stable, Caleb sat a little easier in his saddle. As yet some distance from home, he watched her ride into a copse of trees and gave in to a sudden urge to follow, knowing she would spot him the minute he rode out on the opposite side.

She was waiting, as he had expected, sitting astride the gray, her back ramrod straight and her pretty mouth thinned into an angry line.

"You're following me again. I believe you gave me your word that you wouldn't interfere."

"I'm not trying to interfere. If you recall, you agreed to give me some pointers. Or are you the one who intends to break her word?"

Her spine went even stiffer. "I believe I said I might be willing to give you some pointers. We both know you ride as well as or better than I do."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I can hardly argue with a compliment." He looked out over the rolling fields, at the sheep that grazed in one of the upper pastures and the black-and-white dog there to watch over them.

"I guess, since you don't think I'm in need of a lesson, we could simply enjoy ourselves, take a couple of fences before we head back to the stable."

She eyed him with a look of suspicion that turned to one of interest. She glanced toward the stable, judging the distance. "The bay is faster than Coeur but I'm a good bit lighter, so we should be fairly evenly matched. What do you say we race back to the barn?"

Caleb looked at her small frame perched on the gray and found himself smiling. "All right—if you promise not to fire me if you lose."

Vermillion rolled her eyes. "I vow your employment is in no jeopardy. Now… what shall we wager? It is always more fun if one has something at risk."

He knew exactly what he'd like to win—a good, long taste of her, but the woman in his bed would have to be Lee, not Vermillion.

"I have it!" she said with a grin. "If I win, you muck out the stalls for Jimmy Murphy the rest of the week."

Caleb cocked an eyebrow. He didn't mind the work. He had done his share in his father's barn as punishment for one indiscretion or another. Besides, he didn't plan to lose. "And if I win?"

"If you are the winner, you may take the balance of the week for yourself—with pay, of course."

He shook his head. "Not good enough. If I win… let me see… How about, if I win, you muck out the stalls for Jimmy Murphy for the rest of the week?"

The gray pawed the ground, eager to be away. "You can't be serious."

"What's the matter? Afraid you'll lose?" He could almost see her mind working, spinning around the possibilities, intrigued by the challenge. Unable to resist.

"All right, fine. If I lose, I'll muck out the stalls for the rest of the week." She whirled her horse toward the stable. "Are you ready?"

Caleb turned the bay. "Whenever you say the word."

Vermillion grinned. "Go!" she shouted and dug her small heels into the side of the gray. The animal leaped into action and she settled low over its neck, urging the horse into a flat-out run. Caleb watched the mesmerizing sight for an instant longer than he should have, then set his heels to the bay.

It took longer than he thought it would to catch her. With her lighter frame and skillful handling of the horse, the pair flew over low rock walls and thundered across the open green fields. They were riding neck and neck, saddles groaning, legs brushing, hooves thundering as they approached the final stretch of the race and headed toward the big stone barn behind the house.

The bay began pulling ahead. He was going to beat her, but not by much. An image appeared of her small figure shoveling the heavy muck out of a stall and at the very last minute he found himself easing back on the reins. Vermillion shot past him with a whoop of glee, streaking into the courtyard in front of the stable, her braid bouncing up and down on her back. Tendrils of fiery hair whipped around her smiling face and he found himself smiling, too.

"I did it! I won!"

Caleb pulled his horse to a stop and swung down from the saddle, the laughter still in his eyes. "Yes, I guess you did."

Vermillion kept a tight rein on Grand Coeur, who snorted and blew and danced beneath her, then finally began to settle down. Caleb reached up and clamped his hands around her waist to lift her down and tried not to notice the feminine flare of her hips, how light she felt in his hands. For a moment, her breasts crushed into his chest as he swung her to the ground and he could feel the weight of them, the softness. They were round and full and he went instantly hard.

Swearing softly, Caleb took a step away.

"That was marvelous," Vermillion said, oblivious to the havoc she wreaked in his body. "Grand Coeur ran like the wind." Leading her horse next to his toward the door of the stable, she gave him a saucy grin. "Tomorrow morning, I expect you shall make Jimmy Murphy very happy."

Caleb chuckled. They continued leading the horses and had nearly reached the entrance when a man stepped out of the shadowy interior of the barn. It was Oliver Wingate, a colonel of the Life Guards. Spying Vermillion without her sophisticated rice powder and rouge and dressed in men's clothes, his face went utterly pale.

"My God, Vermillion! I can't believe it. Is that really you?"

She blinked as if waking from a dream. Caleb saw the transformation in the squaring of her shoulders, the haughty look she gave the colonel down her small, lightly freckled nose.

When it came to men, Vermillion gave no quarter.

"I wasn't expecting you, Oliver. Had you sent word ahead of your arrival, I should have been able to greet you in a more proper manner. The fault lies with you and not me."

The colonel's gaze ran over the tight brown breeches that curved over her small round bottom and Caleb could see the lust seep into his eyes. Caleb had never met Oliver Wingate, though he had a full dossier on the man and had seen him many times there at the house. Wingate, a high-ranking officer of the Guards, had access to a good deal of sensitive information.

"My apologies," the colonel said, making a very slight bow. "I can't say I approve your choice of garments, my dear, but I daresay I shouldn't quibble if you wished to wear them for me in private sometime." His look said he wouldn't mind peeling them off her right now, and Caleb's jaw knotted.

Vermillion paid not the slightest attention. Turning away from the colonel, she handed Caleb her reins. "Give Coeur an extra ration of oats, won't you? And see he gets a good long rubdown."

Caleb made a slightly mocking bow, wishing he hadn't let her win the race, wishing instead the colonel had come upon her shoveling manure out of one of the stalls.

"Your wish is my command… Miss Durant." Of course she probably would have reneged on the bet, at any rate. Undoubtedly would have, he told himself.

Vermillion didn't miss the sarcasm in his voice. As if they hadn't been laughing together just moments ago, she cast him a speaking glance and started walking back toward the house, allowing Colonel Wingate to trail along in her wake. All the way back to the mansion, Wingate's eyes remained glued to her rump and Caleb knew the man was thinking of the hours he hoped to spend in her bed.

Caleb made a mental note to find out what secrets the colonel might know that could be valuable to the French. What might Wingate be willing to divulge for a chance to spill his seed in Vermillion's delectable little body?

As Caleb turned to lead the horses back into the barn, unconsciously his hand tightened into a fist.






4


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Caleb received a summons from the footman the following morning. Miss Durant would be traveling to Tattersall's Auction House in the matter of the purchase of several more head of blooded stock and she required his expertise in helping her make her selections.

As soon as his duties in the stable had been performed—including, to Jimmy Murphy's great delight, mucking out the stalls—Caleb freshened and changed into clean clothing and made his way up to the rear of the house.