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  Victoria walked away from him on legs that shook. How could she have imagined they might be friends! He was cold and cynical and hard; he had a vicious, unreliable temper; and besides that he was obviously unbalanced! No sane man could kiss a woman with tenderness and passion one moment, then become outrageously flirtatious, only to turn cold and hateful a mere moment later. He was no lapdog—he was as dangerous and unpredictable as the panther he resembled!

  Despite the fact that she walked as quickly as she could, Jason’s long strides kept him easily beside her and they arrived at the circular drive in front of the house at the same time.

  The Earl of Collingwood was waiting for them, already mounted on his splendid sorrel with John comfortably ensconced in front of him.

  Embarrassed and angry, Victoria bade the earl a brief good-bye, smiled lamely at John and handed him his sail-boat, then rushed inside.

  John watched her, looked at Jason, then turned anxiously to his father. “He didn’t give Miss Tory a thrashing, did he?”

  The earl lifted his amused glance from Jason’s wet shirt-front to his lordship’s face. “No, John, Lord Fielding did not give her a thrashing.” To Jason he said, “Shall I ask Caroline to call upon Miss Seaton tomorrow?”

  “Come with her, and we’ll continue our business discussion.”

  Robert nodded. Tightening his arm protectively around his little son, he touched his booted heel to his restive mount and the sorrel cantered off down the drive.

  Jason watched them leave, his bland expression fading to one of grim displeasure as he permitted himself for the first time to face what had happened to him beside the creek.

  Chapter Nine

  BY THE NEXT AFTERNOON, VICTORIA still had not been able to put Jason’s earthshaking kiss out of her mind. Sitting on the grass beside Willie, she stroked his proud head while he gnawed on the bone she had brought him. Watching him, she thought again of Jason’s easy, smiling attitude when the kiss was over, and her stomach knotted as she compared her own innocence and stupidity to his sophistication and brittle worldliness.

  How could he have held her and kissed her as if he were trying to devour her one moment, and then joked about it the next? And where, she wondered, had she ever found the ability to match his lighthearted mood when her senses were reeling and her knees were knocking together? And after all of that, how could he look at her with those freezing eyes of his and advise her not to make the same mistake “dozens” of other women had?

  What made him behave like that? she wondered. He was impossible to cope with, impossible to understand. She had tried to befriend him, only to end up being kissed. Everything seemed so different in England; perhaps here, kisses like that were nothing out of the ordinary and she had no reason to feel guilty and angry. But she did. Loneliness for Andrew swamped her, and she shuddered with shame for her willing participation in Jason’s kiss.

  She glanced up as Jason rode toward the stables. He had gone hunting this morning, so she’d been able to avoid him while she tried to gather her wits, but her reprieve was coming to an end—the Earl of Collingwood’s carriage was pulling up in the front drive. Reluctantly, she arose. “Come, Willie,” she said tightly. “Let’s go tell Lord Fielding that the earl and countess have just arrived, and spare poor Mr. O’Malley a needless trip to the stables.”

  The dog lifted his great head and regarded her with intelligent eyes, but he didn’t move. “It’s time you stopped hiding from people. I’m not your servant, you know, and I refuse to keep bringing your meals out here. Northrup told me you used to be fed at the stables. Come, Willie!” she repeated, determined to take control of this small part of her life, at least. She took two more steps and waited. The dog stood up and looked at her, his alert expression making her certain he understood the command.

  “Willie,” she said irritably, “I am growing excessively impatient with arrogant males.” She snapped her fingers. “I said come!” Again she stepped forward, watching over her shoulder, fully prepared to drag the obstinate animal by the scruff of his neck if he refused. “Come!” she said sharply, and this time he followed slowly in her wake.

  Buoyed up by her small victory, Victoria walked toward the stables from which Jason was emerging, his long rifle hanging loosely from his hand.

  In front of the house, the Earl of Collingwood lifted his wife down from the carriage. “There they are, over there,” he told his wife, nodding in the direction of the stables. Tucking her hand affectionately in the crook of his arm, he started across the lawns toward the other couple. “Smile,” he teased in a whisper when her steps lagged. “You look as if you’re going to face an executioner.”

  “Which is more or less how I feel,” Caroline admitted, shooting him a sheepish smile. “I know you will laugh, but Lord Fielding rather frightens me.” She nodded at her husband’s astonished look. “I am not the only one who feels so—nearly everyone is in awe of him.”

  “Jason is a brilliant man, Caroline. I’ve made enormous returns on every investment he’s been kind enough to recommend to me.”

  “Perhaps, but he is still horridly unapproachable and . . . and forbidding, for all that. Moreover, he is capable of giving the kind of crushing setdowns that make one positively wish to sink. Why, last month, he told Miss Farraday that he dislikes simpering females—particularly those who cling to his arm while they are simpering.”

  “What did Miss Farraday say to that?”

  “What could she say? She was clinging to his arm and simpering at the time. It was most embarrassing.”

  Ignoring her husband’s meaningful grin, she smoothed her white gloves over her long fingers. “What women see in him, I can’t imagine, yet they continually make cakes of themselves when he is about. True, he’s rich as Croesus, with six estates of his own and heaven knows how many pounds a year—and, of course, he’ll be the next Duke of Atherton, too. And I’ll do him the justice to admit he’s uncommonly handsome—”

  “But you can’t understand what women see in him?” her husband teased, chuckling.

  Caroline shook her head, lowering her voice as they neared the couple. “His manners are not at all nice. Quite the contrary—he is shockingly blunt!”

  “When a man is relentlessly pursued for his wealth and title, he should be excused for losing his patience now and then.”

  “You may think so, but for my part, I have the liveliest compassion for poor Miss Seaton. Only think how terrified she must be, living in the same house with him.”

  “I don’t know if she’s terrified, but I have the impression she’s lonely and in need of a friend to show her how to go on in England.”

  “She must be quite miserable,” Caroline agreed sympathetically, watching Victoria, who had just reached Jason and was speaking to him.

  “The earl and countess have arrived,” Victoria was saying to Jason, her manner coolly polite.

  “So I see. They’ve followed you here,” Jason explained, “they’re a few paces off to your right behind you.” He glanced at her again, then froze, his attention riveted on something behind her and to her left. “Move!” he ordered, pushing her roughly aside as he swung his rifle to his shoulder. Behind her Victoria heard a low, terrible snarl, and suddenly she understood what Jason meant to do.

  “No!” she screamed. Striking out wildly, she knocked the barrel of the weapon into the air and flung herself to her knees, wrapping her arms around Willie and glaring at Jason. “You’re insane! Insane! What has Willie done to deserve being starved and shot?” she demanded hysterically, stroking his head. “Did he swim in your stupid creek or—or dare to disobey one of your orders—or—”

  The rifle slid through Jason’s numb fingers until the barrel was pointing harmlessly at the ground. “Victoria,” he said in a calm voice that contradicted his taut, pale features, “that isn’t Willie. Willie is a collie, and I lent him to the Collingwoods three days ago for breeding.”

  Victoria’s hand stilled in midstroke.

  “Unl