Untamed Rogue, Scandalous Mistress

His gaze drifted the length of Aurora’s form, half of it under the warm plaid blanket, the other half encased only by his arm. He knew her, and knew her not. He could no more predict what Aurora Calhoun would do when she awoke than he could predict next month’s weather. The woman in his arms was a marvellous mystery. In most cases, he’d be happy to let a woman’s mysterious history lie untouched. Not so with Aurora. He found he wanted to know everything about the groom’s daughter from Curragh.

Aurora gave the semblance of waking, her body stretching against his. Crispin decided to encourage that behaviour, his curiosity getting the better of him. What would she do when she awoke? He didn’t want to wait any longer to find out. Neither did his rising member, which apparently had a mind of its own and was fairly certain what it thought Aurora’s response would be. Crispin pulled her firmly against him, letting his not-so-bashful erection greet her buttocks. He pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, his hand tenderly massaging a naked breast.

‘Good morning,’ Aurora murmured in appreciative, husky tones. She turned in his arms to face him, her hair spilling thickly around her in a morning mess of tumbled curls. He watched her study him through sleepy green eyes, the beginnings of a smile flirting on her lips. Then she tugged at him, pulling him on top of her, her legs parted, ready to take him into her. ‘I want you, but we’ll have to be quick. The horses need to be fed.’

Crispin laughed softly. ‘They can wait a few minutes more, Princess.’ He entered her, finding her slick and eager even after their night. He quickened at her welcome, his body throbbing with the intensity of his need. This coupling would indeed be swift and urgent. Such an outcome would please them both. Crispin could sense the fervent urgency in her body as well. She was impatient in her desire to achieve her ecstasy, like a child who couldn’t wait for Christmas morning. Beneath him, she cried out.

‘Almost, hold on, Princess,’ Crispin groaned, his own pleasure about to overwhelm his sensibilities. Somewhere in his passion-addled mind a distant jangle of sound registered. He crested and let his release swamp him.

With a surprising amount of haste, Aurora squirmed beneath him. ‘The horses are fine, they can wait,’ Crispin repeated.

‘I know they can,’ Aurora said tartly. ‘But the blacksmith cannot.’ She gently pushed him aside and leapt out of bed, grabbing up clothes from where they’d fallen the previous night.

Crispin rolled over and folded his arms behind his head, appreciating the view of Aurora dressing at rapid pace. She struggled into her boots and strode out of the rooms into the stable. Crispin gave full rein to the smile he’d sought to suppress. He let out a low whistle and raised his eyes to the low-beamed ceiling. He could not recall having ever been thrown over for a horse or a blacksmith before. It was quite a novel experience really. He couldn’t blame her. In her position, he would have done the same. Clearly, this was his kind of woman.

Chapter Five

Reality pierced the morning and Crispin suddenly remembered. The blacksmith wasn’t coming. The realisation served to hurry Crispin out of bed. He dressed hastily. If that wasn’t the blacksmith, then who was it in the stable yard? Recalling the conversation from the tavern made him worry for Aurora’s safety.

Crispin moved into the dim hallway between the apartment and the stable, still tucking his shirt into his breeches. If he had to make his presence known, he didn’t want to do it half-dressed and broadcast to everyone where he’d spent the night. Until then, he’d wait and watch. From his vantage point in the hall, he had a good view of Aurora in the yard.

‘Where’s Mackey?’ Aurora stood her ground, arms crossed, disgust evident in her expression. Crispin could see that Mackey had not come. Instead, he’d sent one of his assistants, a drunken lout named Ernie who still looked hung over.

‘He sent me to tell you he’s not coming. He said to give you this.’ Ernie fished a crumpled sheet of paper out of his pocket with grimy hands.

Aurora scanned the note, fighting to keep her temper in check. Mackey wasn’t just not coming today, he wasn’t coming again, ever. Well, she’d see about that.

‘Shall I tell Mr Mackey anything?’ Ernie sneered.

Aurora’s gaze hardened. ‘I’ll tell him myself. Now, get off my property.’ She turned hard on her heel and swept past the hallway where Crispin stood, not seeing him in the dim light of the passageway. She threw open the first stall door she came to and swung up bareback on the sturdy gelding. Her intentions were clear. Crispin could read her thoughts plainly. If she went cross-country, she’d beat the worthless Ernie back to the forge and get Mackey out of bed with a wake up he wouldn’t soon forget. Crispin couldn’t allow that to happen. Such an action would be more damaging than helpful.

Aurora flew out of the stables, urging the gelding to full speed. Concern spurred Crispin into motion. She had no idea what she might be riding into. She hadn’t heard the anger directed at her last night at the tavern, but he had.

Crispin flung open the door to Sheikh’s stall, not bothering to go back for a coat. ‘Come on, boy, we’ve got to stop her.’ He led the stallion into the aisle and leapt up on to the Arabian’s lean back. Aurora hadn’t taken time to tack up, so he couldn’t either.

He sighted her veering off the Dursley road and followed, pushing Sheikh into a hard gallop. Aurora’s gelding might not be fast, but she had a head start. Crispin had ground to make up. With sure feet, Sheikh overcame the distance.

‘Aurora, hold up!’ Crispin shouted over wind and hooves, pulling alongside the gelding.

The gelding slowed slightly in response to Sheikh’s presence. Crispin grabbed for the reins and missed. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Aurora railed.

‘Saving you from yourself,’ Crispin shouted, angrier than he’d recognised. ‘You’re a stupid fool if you think you can ride into the village and call the blacksmith to account.’

‘Why is that?’ Aurora’s eyes flashed a lethal green. She urged the gelding to more speed. Crispin matched her.

‘Because they mean to pillory you. Your secret’s out. Mackey told everyone who would listen last night. I was there at the inn when it happened.’

That brought her to a full stop, the gelding’s sides heaving from exertion. ‘What secret is that?’

‘The girls ride astride,’ Crispin replied, choosing not to acknowledge the implication of her response. She had more than one secret. He wondered what they were? He would have to tread carefully if he meant to unearth them all.

‘How did he know?’ Some of the fire had gone out of Aurora’s eyes, replaced by a sense of betrayal. ‘Who would have told him? None of the girls would have. We’re all sworn to secrecy. They know it would be the end of the academy.’ She shot him a chilled look. ‘Was it you? Did you tell him?’

It had not crossed his mind that she would suspect him. The idea that she would was a slap in the face of his honour. ‘It wasn’t me,’ Crispin said defensively. ‘It doesn’t matter who told him. What’s important is that you don’t go charging into town and live up to their expectations. They’re ready to think the worst of you and ranting at Mackey will only prove it.’

Aurora looked out over the fields, away from him. ‘I haven’t a choice. If I don’t confront him, it will only serve to encourage him and others. They will think they have power over me, that they control what I do.’

Crispin stared at her. Had she not heard what he’d said or understood its importance? ‘I hardly think it’s a question of supply and demand. It’s larger than that. Someone means to see you run out of business and out of town if possible.’ He related what he’d heard at the inn.

Aurora snorted and fixed him with a baleful stare a lesser man might have shrunk from. ‘Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think this is the first time something like this has happened to me?’

The weariness in her voice cooled Crispin’s anger. ‘If you know what people are up to, what will shouting at the blacksmith solve?’

She didn’t have a ready answer for his question. ‘It will make me feel better.’

Crispin nodded. ‘Breakfast might make you feel better too.’ He was starting to feel the chill in the air now that the heat of emotions had been banked. He turned the horses in the direction of the stables.

Aurora put up one last effort at resistance. ‘Breakfast won’t solve the problem.’

Crispin grinned. ‘No, it won’t, but I always think better on a full stomach. I imagine you do too.’

Crispin stood at the hearth, making breakfast, intent on the cast-iron frying pan he held over the fire and presenting Aurora a glorious view of his backside encased in tight, buttock-hugging riding trousers. This morning was her turn to do the perusing, but the opportunity was lost on her. She might have found the sight arousing if she hadn’t been so angry. Empirically, there was something positively alluring about a man cooking breakfast. She was just too upset to appreciate it at the moment. Her mind was reeling with questions and conclusions. The battle had begun. She knew this pattern well, but what had provoked it? Crispin was wrong about one thing—it did matter who’d told Mackey.

Aurora drummed her fingers on the table, trying to follow the twisting paths of her thoughts. Who had spilled the secret to Mackey? On his own, Mackey wasn’t ambitious enough to care what went on at her stables.

‘Someone’s behind Mackey, using him,’ Aurora spoke her thoughts out loud.

‘A phantom puppeteer?’ Crispin asked.

The very notion gave Aurora chills. ‘It’s the most likely reason.’ She shrugged, trying not to let it show how much the idea bothered her. ‘Mackey has no reason to know such a thing or to share it. Someone has given him a reason and the information.’

‘Any ideas who might want that information spread around?’

‘None comes to mind,’ Aurora said quickly. It wasn’t true. One did come to mind, but surely he had come to terms with her rejection long before this? Surely he would not stoop to such levels?

Crispin turned towards the table with the frying pan in hand. ‘I’ve managed a fry-up of sorts.’ Crispin scooped eggs and sausage from the pan and popped them on to two wooden plates. ‘There’s toast too.’ He reached for the slices of bread he’d placed on a rack in the hearth, juggling them so as not to burn his hands as he placed them on the plates. ‘And coffee.’ He retrieved the tin coffee pot from the embers of the fire where he’d left it to heat.

‘Delicious.’ Aurora took a bite of the eggs, more than half-expecting they wouldn’t taste as good as they looked, but they did. ‘Where did you learn to cook like this?’ It was better talking about food than potential enemies.

‘The military,’ Crispin said between bites. ‘Most useful skill a soldier can have besides knowing his weapons. A soldier can’t fight on an empty stomach, although most quartermasters I’ve known have been hard-pressed to believe it.’ Crispin winked. He bit into his toast and sobered, returning to the earlier conversation.

‘You should tell Peyton.’

Aurora shot him a hard look. ‘If I went running to the earl every time someone troubled me, I’d never convince anyone I was anything more than the earl’s lackey. How could people take me seriously as a horse breeder, a horsewoman, if I couldn’t manage my own business? I would think you of all people would understand why I won’t mention it. You don’t strike me as the type to let your brother fight your battles.’

‘Touché.’ Crispin tossed her a wry smile. ‘Still, don’t let pride get in the way of your security.’

Aurora sensed a stalemate and tacitly returned to her eggs, but Crispin wasn’t content. ‘Are you sure one of the girls didn’t let it slip?’