The Many Sins of Lord Cameron

Ainsley had learned that as a child, and she’d seen it watching Cameron every day. If you had a nervous horse, you let them wander about the paddock and investigate the scary new landmarks, preferably with a horse who was calm and sedate. The new horse needed to feel safe, needed time to get used to things.

The groom sighed. “Well, Lord Pierson likes it, and I like me job, so in she goes, begging your pardon, m’lady.”

Ainsley folded her arms and let him go. What happened after Lord Pierson left would be different.

Jasmine didn’t fight the groom, though she danced nervously. All would have been well, except for the stallion.

He didn’t want to be shut up for the night. As soon as Raphael’s Angel was backed out of his cart, he snorted and danced and threw off the two grooms trying to keep him quiet. Cameron started for him, and Angelo clenched his fists as he watched, not daring to interfere.

Jasmine heard the stallion and looked back to see what was happening. Not in fear, but with the calculating eye of a mischievous child.

“Watch her,” Ainsley warned.

The groom gave her an irritated scowl. She, a mere lady of the manor, was presuming to tell an experienced groom how to handle horses.

The stallion danced out of reach, spied Jasmine, and headed toward her. Jasmine swung her hindquarters around and flicked up her tail—the horse equivalent of a lady sashaying her hips at a randy gentleman.

The stallion let out a low, rumbling neigh and ran for her, two thousand pounds of black horse barreling into the narrow yard. Stable hands scrambled out of the way, and Ainsley danced aside as Jasmine, at the last minute, got the jitters.

Jasmine threw up her head, breaking the halter rope, and whirled around, frantically looking for a way out. The stallion charged to pen her in, and both horses swung straight toward Ainsley.

Chapter 24

Ainsley’s world slowed. She saw Angelo’s eyes widen, the groom lunge for the stallion. Jasmine’s sweaty brown hide coming too close, the mare’s back undulating as she bucked. The stallion, a huge wall of horseflesh, ducked Jasmine’s flailing hooves, and swerved directly at Ainsley.

Ainsley heard her own shout, felt herself raise her arms, her attempt at scaring them off. Then the acrid odor of excited horse, the forequarters and flying hooves of the stallion, his huge chest, his hot breath, wide red nostrils, white-rimmed eyes.

Dimly she heard the stable hands and Daniel shouting, the whinnies of the other horses, and over it all, Cameron’s voice, terrible and harsh.

The instant before the combined might of Jasmine and the stallion came to crush Ainsley alive, she felt herself rising into the air. A tight band squeezed her chest, choking out her breath, but she slid rapidly upward and over the top of the stall behind her.

Both horses crashed into the wall where Ainsley had been standing, smashing through the boards. Ainsley landed in the soft hay in the back of the stall, rolling over Angelo, who seemed to be tangled up with her.

Jasmine and the stallion whirled from the corner stall and out the way they’d come. They charged from the yard and lit out for the fields, two streaks of horse on the green.

Angelo scrambled to his feet. “Are you all right, my lady?” He held out his hand to Ainsley, who took the bronzed lifeline.

I think so. Ainsley opened her mouth to speak, and nothing came out.

Cameron threw open the broken door and snatched Ainsley to her feet. Ainsley found herself crushed against him, Cameron’s strong arms like iron.

“Ainsley.” His voice was broken. “Dear God . . .”

I’m all right. Again, the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t feel. She tried to put her hands on his shoulders, but they slid limply off. Shock, she thought. I’ll be fine once my heart starts beating again.

Cameron lifted a flask to Ainsley’s lips, the metal cool, and the burn of whiskey trickled inside her mouth. Ainsley coughed, swallowed, and coughed some more.

“Cam,” she whispered. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over.

Cameron held her. Ainsley sank into him, closing her eyes as chill terror rushed through her. That had been too close.

“Make sure Jasmine is all right,” she said worriedly.

“Angelo’s gone after her.”

“Angelo.” The word choked in Ainsley’s throat. “He pulled me out of the way.”

“Aye, and I’m having a medal cast for him. Damn it, Ainsley.” Cameron cupped her face in his hands. “I thought . . .” His throat worked, and moisture formed on his lashes. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Angelo is a quick thinker.” Her whisper was still too faint, and the words were lost.

Cameron’s lips shook as he kissed her. Ainsley held on to him, Cameron the anchor in her spinning world. He was the only thing that kept her from tumbling down, and she clung to him, loving him hard.

“Mackenzie!” Lord Pierson’s voice rang through the yard. “I told you to keep that Romany away from my horses.”

Cameron set Ainsley aside, gentleness itself, and then he ripped open the stall door and went for Lord Pierson. The volley of broad Scots and filthy swearing that followed flooded the yard and drowned out Pierson’s bleated protests.

By the time Ainsley picked her way out of the stable yard, her knees wobbling, Cameron was throwing Pierson into his carriage.

A ring of men stood about, Pierson’s coachman and grooms doing nothing to help their master. Cameron’s grooms and jockeys glowered their anger and disgust. The unruly stallion had been caught by Angelo, the Romany speaking gently to it while it lowered its great head to Angelo’s hands.