The Royal Conquest(3)
Her sister Phillipa had warned Payton of the fickleness and the hypocritical nature of those who belonged to the highest echelon of society, but she had not believed. She’d been too enthralled by the excitement of attending lavish balls, picnics, and carriage rides. Though she had still been on the fringe, as an American with no ties to nobility, capturing the interest of the honorable Jensen St. John, heir to the Viscounty of Kenilworth, had been a sweet and thrilling coup.
He had been so friendly and obliging, always seeking her company. After weeks of walking out together and dancing at least once at every ball she had attended, St. John had proposed. He was a charming and very affable young man, and Payton had said yes to his offer without hesitation. And all it had taken for him to shatter her was the spreading of a rumor about her soon to be brother-in-law, Lord Anthony Thornton’s bastardy.
Payton closed her eyes against the bittersweet memory, grateful she had not been seduced into giving Lord Jensen her chastity. Now that the haute monde had been unsuccessful in crushing the Calydon bastards—as Lord Anthony and his kindhearted sister, Constance, now the Duchess of Mondvale—had been referred to, Lord Jensen must believe the disdain Payton had been shown by association would melt away.
How could he imagine she would welcome him back into her life and heart?
“I will not be made a fool of again, and I will never allow my heart to be bruised by another lord.” Her vow was snatched away by the icy wind.
With a jerk, the wind tugged the cap from her head, loosening the knot she’d tied her hair in. But she did not pause, reveling in the sheer freedom of her ride. A boom of thunder echoed across the land, and she drew on the reins, slowing the horse. “Easy,” she crooned, rubbing the nape of his neck as he reared at another rumble.
The sky had darkened, eclipsing the stars, and she could now smell the rain on the air. She spun the horse around, startled to realize she had been so lost in her thoughts, she had ridden farther than she intended. Payton stirred uneasily in the saddle as she made out a lone figure in the distance, also on horseback.
Who else would be up and about at this hour?
The first drop of rain splashed on her cheeks. Drat. She would not make it back to the main house before the deluge. Turning her horse in a sharp move, she nudged him toward a cottage in the far distance. She recognized the area surrounding it as the hunting grounds of the Calydon property. Was it a hunting cottage? Not that it mattered, she only needed a suitable shelter until the worst of the rain passed, then she could slip back to the main estate without being seen.
A fork of lightning split the sky and slammed into the ground. Sparks flew from the earth, and the stallion reared. Payton desperately tried to prevent her fall, hooking her legs into the stirrups. She failed abysmally. The breath rushed from her lungs as her body made the hard impact with the ground. Her landing was bone-jarring. She tried to stand, and nausea churned in her stomach. The sky opened, and it started to rain fat, cold drops. Within seconds she was trembling. Stumbling to her feet, she lurched forward and then crumpled, collapsing on the grass.
Chapter Two
Payton’s eyes fluttered open to see a dark angel hovering over her, concern etched in his shockingly handsome features. She shifted, and a moan slipped from her, alerting him to her conscious state. His gaze flew to hers, and her chest constricted. Glorious heavens. His eyes were the darkest blue of midnight—magnificent and distressingly sinful.
“Oh,” slipped from her lips, before she had the presence of mind to contain her visceral reaction to such a fine pair of eyes.
The stranger’s gaze caressed her form, and a sensual smile tilted the corner of his lips.
“Hello,” he said in a slow drawl that rippled over her skin with awareness. “I am Mikhail Konstantinovich. I saw you fall from the horse and brought you here for shelter since the main house was too far to travel in your state. I attended to you to the best of my capabilities.”
He had the most unique accent. One she had never heard before, but its husky dulcet tone sank into her body, stirring tantalizing heat.
I’ve gone mad.
She vaguely remembered the pain of landing in an undignified heap on her backside, the brutal cold of the rain and winds, powerful arms lifting her, the sensation of being on a horse, then someone removing her sodden tunic and trousers and tenderly drying her skin. Though a fire in the brazier warmed the room, a chill enveloped Payton.
He removed my clothes.
With a raw gasp, she lurched upright. She was swaddled in a blanket, but she could feel she was completely naked beneath. Naked! Payton swayed, her body trembled in reaction to the knowledge, and she felt certain she would expire from the shock.