What a Lady Needs. Kasey Michaels

opened her mouth to say something scathing, but then realized she had no answer for the man. He’d bested her. She tugged on the reins with more force than care, so that a confused Daisy actually turned her head as if to be sure who was atop her before setting off toward the fields of the West Run.

      Maybe somewhere along the way, Kate thought, she might discover why she felt it so important to keep Simon Ravenbill at arm’s length. She’d already thought up and discarded several reasons, from his hair color, to his and Valentine’s attempted deception, to her family pride. But did she really want him gone? Even her foolish plan to keep him away had hinged on deliberately drawing him closer.

      Was she afraid of Simon Ravenbill? Or was she afraid of how Simon Ravenbill made her feel? He made her feel like a woman, and she wasn’t certain she was comfortable with that.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      SIMON WATCHED AS Kate rode off, her spine ramrod straight, wondering if he looked long enough whether he’d see smoke emanating from her ears. She was the most interesting, maddening, not romantically inclined, exotically beautiful woman he’d ever encountered, and the more she pushed him away the more he longed to know her better.

      He might consider her actions to be a ploy meant to draw him closer. But, no, not Kate. He was more than certain she said what she meant. Or what she thought she meant...

      So. Did he now tag along after her like some lovesick swain hoping for crumbs—or possibly a rousing argument—or did he ride back to the Manor with Valentine to tell him what he was beginning to suspect?

      If he told Valentine without including Kate in the telling, he would be at least figuratively putting his life in her hands.

      Then again, chasing after her could pretty much guarantee the same result.

      Simon laughed softly as he considered his dilemma.

      But, if he was going to be hanged, it might as well be for a sheep rather than a lamb.

      “She says you allow her to ride unaccompanied,” he said, watching Valentine mount.

      Valentine settled into the saddle. “Oh, she did, did she? At least she almost got it right. It’s more that we’d rather she do it openly than sneak behind our backs. Either way, she rides when she wants to ride. Did you see the bell nailed to the stable wall?”

      “No, I haven’t yet visited the stables. But doesn’t the bell go on the cat?”

      Valentine laughed, acknowledging the joke. “Whenever Kate rides out alone one of the grooms rings the bell, an action repeated across the estate by those who hear it. Rather a heads-up to be on the lookout for her, you understand. If she’s off to the West Run, we know it by the bells. Toward the village, we know that, as well. Et cetera. She’s not as alone as she thinks, everyone watches for her. When she returns, the groom rings the all-clear. It sounds convoluted, I know, but believe me, it’s much simpler than trying to keep Kate to the rules.”

      “And she doesn’t realize this?”

      “Of course she does, unless she thinks some bloody angels are ringing mystical cowbells as they greet her along the way. She doesn’t acknowledge it, which to my sister’s mind is rather as if it isn’t happening. I suppose you could say she’s being accommodating. She may even think she’s won. You never know with Kate.”

      “Yes, I’m beginning to see that. No cowbells needed today, I’ll go after her. In a moment. What did that hen-witted twit say to you?”

      Valentine brushed at the sleeve of his riding jacket, as if attempting to remove a smut of something unpleasant that had got stuck there. “Nothing worth committing to memory, I assure you. He’s as ready to go as any young lad of his age, but with twice the brass because he’s been convinced he’s entitled. He’s a parrot for his father’s teachings, you understand. What randy young pup doesn’t want to hear women have been placed on this earth to please him? Men rule the world and are, again, entitled to anything they want. Oh, although we can thank our lucky stars Turner Collier hadn’t gotten so far in Adam’s lessons to actually show him how men gain strength and power by bedding as many women as possible, most notably during their supposed ceremonies. So everyone can observe and join in, perhaps applaud, you understand. The mind fairly boggles, doesn’t it?”

      “It’s disgusting,” Simon said, fighting back a mental image he could feel forming in the back of his brain.

      “Despicable, I agree. But useful for keeping members in line and blackmailing their carefully selected guests—the journals, remember? Gideon remarked that it comes down to a simple strategy of play tonight my good fellow, to the top of your bent, unaware you’ll pay tomorrow. You’ve had your every sexual whim provided for, and will so again—we just ask you to first do us this one small favor.”

      Simon nodded. “Such as the recent attempt to divert supplies meant for the troops massing on the Peninsula. Not traitors, not primarily, but weak-minded men who don’t want their pleasures taken away.”

      “As far as it goes, yes. You’re forgetting the implied or else. Lord only knows the forms the threats might take. We think the first favor is fairly innocuous, but then they’ve really got the man on their hook. After that, they own him pretty much body and soul, and the favors turn to outright crime, even treason, poor bastards. Didn’t Gideon share all of this with you in Perceval’s office?”