A Countess by Chance(3)

She drew in a sharp breath and her cheeks flushed a deep, becoming shade of pink. He smirked. She was remarkably easy to fluster.

Her eyes glinted with determination and she extended a dainty hand. “Very well, my lord. You have a deal.” He took it in his own and shook. “But you won’t win.”

He dismounted and walked around to her. He placed his hands on her slender waist and lifted her off her horse, then onto his grey gelding, Champion. Hiking her skirts up to accommodate the saddle, she exposed her smooth, shapely calves to his gaze. Tantalizing. More tantalizing than they should be for a man of his experience. Images flashed in his mind: her naked, writhing, those calves hooked around his waist as he slowly pushed into her…

She glanced quickly at the ground, and then snapped her head up, gripping the reins tight. Her skin had a white, sickly pallor.

“Are you well, Miss Dewhurst?”

She pressed her lips into a firm line and nodded stiffly.

Uneasiness swelled unwelcome in his chest. Sitting atop Champion, she looked so small, so damnably vulnerable. Deuce it. He unfastened the sidesaddle on her horse, untangled it from the reins, and threw it aside. “We can call this off if you like. We don’t have to race.”

She glanced at him then flashed him a tight smile. “Afraid of being bested, my lord?”

The formal use of my lord grated—especially coming from her lips. To her, he’d always been Adam. Her use of his formal title was testament to the wide, yawning gulf that had opened up between them since last they’d spoken.

He smirked. If she won, it would be by his design, not by chance. Using a nearby boulder as a step, he mounted her mare.

“Very well, we race from here…” He pointed to a copse of trees in the distance, across the wide expanse of the neatly trimmed lawn. “To those trees.”

With a tilt of her chin, she looked out over the distance. She appeared much the same as she had two years ago, with wide green eyes and honey-colored curls, pulled up, exposing her slender neck. She was still stunningly beautiful. Not in the conventional sense, but in a wild, untamed sort of way that never failed to make his breath catch and hold.

His gaze flicked over her pale green riding habit, that looked as though it’d been mended one too many times, the seams slightly frayed, worn—but despite her obvious hardships, she held herself with the grace and dignity of a queen.

“You aren’t afraid, are you, my lord?” She gripped the reins tighter as Champion shifted restlessly beneath her.

He chuckled. Even in the face of her own fear, she challenged him. “Not in the least. And to prove it, I’ll give you the advantage. Thirty seconds.”

She lifted a brow, clearly surprised by his chivalry. “A smart woman would take it, so I will.”

And with that, she was off. Thirty seconds later, she was already several lengths ahead. With a curse, he gripped his riding crop and cracked it over the mare’s flank, causing the creature to bolt. He gained on Olivia quickly, then surpassed her, his eyes firmly fixed on the trees ahead.

Triumph boomed in his chest as he reached the first tree. Pulling back the reins, he brought the mare to a halt and smacked his palm against the nearest tree trunk.

Victory.

He turned, expecting to see her barreling toward him. She wasn’t. Champion had veered to the right and was heading away from the copse of trees, toward the house. Olivia glanced over her shoulder at him, hair tumbling out of her bonnet, a smile stretched across her face.

Christ. She was pushing Champion too fast.

If she didn’t slow down, she’d injure the horse, which would put her own foolish life at risk. But instead of slowing, she seemed to be gaining speed. Too late, she seemed to realize her mistake. Desperately, she tried to pull back the reins, to no avail. She let out a shriek, and he instantly bolted into action. Spurring his horse on, he moved up behind her. He had seconds to react, a mere window of time before Champion would be too far ahead to catch. When she was within reach, their horses galloping just inches apart, he reached over and took hold of the reins. With his right hand, he pulled back with such violence Champion was forced to slow his pace. He guided Champion to a halt. The horse’s sides heaved, and rivulets of sweat dripped down his flanks.

The moment the horse was stationary, Adam dismounted, gripped Olivia by the waist and lifted her to the ground as well. Anger flooded him. “What in God’s name were you thinking?” he snapped.

She glared, though her hands were shaking. “You had no right to do that. I could have stopped him, if I’d wanted to.”

He gripped the handle of his crop tighter. She’d deliberately put herself in danger, deliberately pushed his horse to his limit to prove a point. Good God, did she have any sense at all? “You could have killed yourself!”