Read Online Marrying the Marquis by Patricia Grasso - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Patricia Grasso
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practice, I’ll take ye to the Rowley Mile,” Ross said, his voice low. “Pegasus must pick up speed before the Devil’s Ditch because the race ends uphill.”
“Peg’s problem is not speed.”
“There’s a copse of trees beyond the finish,” Ross told her. “If ye win, ride straight into the path to switch places with Rooney.”
“Why do we need to switch places?”
“Ye canna take yer place in the winner’s circle if yer ridin’ her,” Ross answered. “I’ll be waitin’ with Rooney and hurry ye back to the winner’s circle. Wearin’ yer gown beneath breeches and racin’ silks will even the weight between Rooney and ye.”
Blaze could not suppress her doubts. “Do you think this will work?” She believed in her horse but not their ability to succeed in deception.
Ross shrugged, his black gaze holding hers captive. “Do ye believe Pegasus can win?”
“Yes.” No hesitation there.
With their tea finished, Ross rose from his chair. “I’ll take ye home now.”
Blaze stood when he did, her thoughts on the lonely mare in the pasture. “Will you please sell me Juno?”
“I’ll consider yer offer,” Ross said, stepping closer, “if ye allow me a kiss.”
Staring into his dark eyes, Blaze remained silent for a long moment. Surely, one kiss was a small price to pay to save the mare’s life.
“What should I do?” she whispered.
The innocence of her question brought a lazy smile to his lips. “Close yer eyes, darlin’.”
When she did, Blaze felt his fingers caress her cheek. She heard him murmur, “Soft and sweet.”
And then their lips touched.
His lips were warm and firm, his scent reminding her of mountain heather. The muscular planes of his body pressed against her, his warmth heating her, and Blaze relaxed against his powerful frame.
“Are you bringing your doxy into my home?”
“Mind yer manners, Celeste.”
Blaze leaped away from the marquis and whirled toward the intruders. The image of Ross as an older man stood there. Beside him was a middle-aged woman.
The Duke of Kilchurn possessed the same black hair and rugged good looks as his son. And he was smiling at her, warmly, as if he knew her.
The Duchess of Kilchurn was an attractive blonde, graying at the temples. And she was definitely not smiling at her. In fact, the duchess appeared hostile.
“Yer Graces, I present Miss Blaze Flambeau,” Ross said, holding her hand. “Blaze, the Duke and Duchess of Kilchurn.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintances,” Blaze said, managing an ambiguous smile.
“We’re happy to meet ye,” the duke said. “Celeste?”
“Ecstatic.” The duchess’s frigid gaze shrieked the word bastard at Blaze.
“Child, ye resemble yer father’s aunt Bedelia,” the duke told her. “We shared high times with Bedelia and her long-sufferin’ husband, Colin.”
“My father told me.” Blaze smiled at the duke, adding, “I wish his aunt Bedelia hadn’t given me her freckles, though.”
“Freckles do handicap to a young lady’s appearance,” the duchess agreed, and then looked at Ross. “You will dine with us this evening?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Ross ushered Blaze toward the door. “I will be movin’ my belongin’s into the Rowley Lodge.”
“The girls want to visit with you,” the duchess said.
“I’ll see them before leavin’. By the way, where is the Feathered Flock?”
“The flock is soarin’ in the village,” the duke answered, and then looked at Blaze. “Tell yer father I’ll see him soon.”
“I will, Your Grace.” Blaze smiled with genuine pleasure at the Duke of Kilchurn. She flicked the duchess a frigid glance and then walked out of the dining room.
Standing in the foyer, Dodger opened the door for them. “Enjoy your ride home, Miss Flambeau.”
“Thank you, Dodger.”
Climbing into the phaeton beside her, Ross asked, “Well, did ye enjoy the tour?”
“I never appreciated my own wonderful stepmother until I met yours.”
“In a
“Peg’s problem is not speed.”
“There’s a copse of trees beyond the finish,” Ross told her. “If ye win, ride straight into the path to switch places with Rooney.”
“Why do we need to switch places?”
“Ye canna take yer place in the winner’s circle if yer ridin’ her,” Ross answered. “I’ll be waitin’ with Rooney and hurry ye back to the winner’s circle. Wearin’ yer gown beneath breeches and racin’ silks will even the weight between Rooney and ye.”
Blaze could not suppress her doubts. “Do you think this will work?” She believed in her horse but not their ability to succeed in deception.
Ross shrugged, his black gaze holding hers captive. “Do ye believe Pegasus can win?”
“Yes.” No hesitation there.
With their tea finished, Ross rose from his chair. “I’ll take ye home now.”
Blaze stood when he did, her thoughts on the lonely mare in the pasture. “Will you please sell me Juno?”
“I’ll consider yer offer,” Ross said, stepping closer, “if ye allow me a kiss.”
Staring into his dark eyes, Blaze remained silent for a long moment. Surely, one kiss was a small price to pay to save the mare’s life.
“What should I do?” she whispered.
The innocence of her question brought a lazy smile to his lips. “Close yer eyes, darlin’.”
When she did, Blaze felt his fingers caress her cheek. She heard him murmur, “Soft and sweet.”
And then their lips touched.
His lips were warm and firm, his scent reminding her of mountain heather. The muscular planes of his body pressed against her, his warmth heating her, and Blaze relaxed against his powerful frame.
“Are you bringing your doxy into my home?”
“Mind yer manners, Celeste.”
Blaze leaped away from the marquis and whirled toward the intruders. The image of Ross as an older man stood there. Beside him was a middle-aged woman.
The Duke of Kilchurn possessed the same black hair and rugged good looks as his son. And he was smiling at her, warmly, as if he knew her.
The Duchess of Kilchurn was an attractive blonde, graying at the temples. And she was definitely not smiling at her. In fact, the duchess appeared hostile.
“Yer Graces, I present Miss Blaze Flambeau,” Ross said, holding her hand. “Blaze, the Duke and Duchess of Kilchurn.”
“A pleasure to make your acquaintances,” Blaze said, managing an ambiguous smile.
“We’re happy to meet ye,” the duke said. “Celeste?”
“Ecstatic.” The duchess’s frigid gaze shrieked the word bastard at Blaze.
“Child, ye resemble yer father’s aunt Bedelia,” the duke told her. “We shared high times with Bedelia and her long-sufferin’ husband, Colin.”
“My father told me.” Blaze smiled at the duke, adding, “I wish his aunt Bedelia hadn’t given me her freckles, though.”
“Freckles do handicap to a young lady’s appearance,” the duchess agreed, and then looked at Ross. “You will dine with us this evening?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Ross ushered Blaze toward the door. “I will be movin’ my belongin’s into the Rowley Lodge.”
“The girls want to visit with you,” the duchess said.
“I’ll see them before leavin’. By the way, where is the Feathered Flock?”
“The flock is soarin’ in the village,” the duke answered, and then looked at Blaze. “Tell yer father I’ll see him soon.”
“I will, Your Grace.” Blaze smiled with genuine pleasure at the Duke of Kilchurn. She flicked the duchess a frigid glance and then walked out of the dining room.
Standing in the foyer, Dodger opened the door for them. “Enjoy your ride home, Miss Flambeau.”
“Thank you, Dodger.”
Climbing into the phaeton beside her, Ross asked, “Well, did ye enjoy the tour?”
“I never appreciated my own wonderful stepmother until I met yours.”
“In a
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